I had sent Sasha, my best friend since farts were cool and birthday parties included pony rides, a text when things went from weird to downright crazy, but the sun was barely up. I yanked my blanket back. “It’s still too early to do this.”
“What are you talking about? It’s two in the afternoon!”
I bolted upright. The day was over half over. “Come on! You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Nope.” Sasha held up her phone.
I jumped out of bed and ran to my dresser and grabbed my Barton High t-shirt and favorite cut-offs shorts. I rushed to dress in my closet.
“And if you think that’s bad, buddy, you should see the huge zit on your chin!” Sasha called through the door.
My fingers grazed my chin and touched the mountain of gross that had erupted dead center. Oh well. I had bigger things to worry about.
“So what gives?”
I joined her back on the bed. “Oh so much, Sasha. Way so much.”
~*~
It’d been a tense ride home. My father filled the car with the 947 reasons why going with Uncle Bollard would NOT happen. Dad complained about Bollard and his audacity to think he could waltz in here and fill my head with nonsense about Grandma’s disease and being the most important man in America. If this wasn’t bad enough, Dad practically called me a child, unqualified to make the decision to go off with some strange man, relative or not.
Meanwhile, Grandma kept repeating I had to go, that the crown depended on it.
By the time we pulled into our gravel driveway, I’d had my fill of talking about the situation. First chance, I ran to my room.
After the claims Bollard made, the internet had to be full of information on him. From the comfort of my bed, I fell into a rabbit hole of research for Uncle Bollard or rather, Bollard Tripps.
And of the 54,600 hits, I found nothing related to my uncle. I searched images and found pictures of cylinder barriers and boats. I typed different spellings and combinations like Bollard Trips, Bolly Tripp, Bollie Bollard, Bollard Industries, and Tripps Industries. Unless my uncle owned a Hungarian clothing line, he remained untraceable.
Hours later and one thing became clear to me: Bollard Tripps did not exist on the internet. Weirded out, I was ready to call a truce with my dad to talk about Bollard’s lack of cyber footprint when Grandma showed up at my door, all smiles and happiness. “Come with me, little princess,” she said, waving her hand for me to follow.
“I have to talk to Mom and Dad,” I told her.
Refusing to take no for an answer, she shook her head and grasped my hand.
In the dimly lit hallway, Dad’s upset voice traveled under the door and through the keyhole.
“I never liked him.” Dad protested, “Always feared the day would come when he’d expect us to hand over our kid. He recognizes she’s special, and he plans on using her, somehow.”
This confused me. Dad guessed Bollard would want to take me someday. Why? He never voiced this concern to me. Also, special? Me? I had no special anything. My grades averaged to an A minus, my artwork, so-so. My singing voice appealing but not exactly great. My driving skills acceptable or at least not dangerous. I had no special abilities, so what did he mean?
My hand raised to knock on my parents’ door, but Grandma pulled my arm and put the finger of her free hand to her lips. “Shh,” and we continued to her room.
My parents had filled Grandma’s room with the things we hoped she’d remember. Pictures of my mom as a child, Grandma singing on the stage, a photo from her wedding day. A portrait of Grandma as a little girl caught my eye. She was sitting on her front porch with her parents and her brother. Bollard used to look so normal. All of them did. I picked it up.
“He died in the war,” Grandma said, and she took the framed picture and placed it back on her dresser. “My real brother, Michael.”
“Well then, I definitely shouldn’t go with a stranger,” I told her in jest. “Bollard may be a serial killer for all we know.”
“Oh no. You will go like I told you earlier. Bollard would never hurt you or our family. He can’t; it’s against the rules. Oh, he can use his powers, but he can’t hurt you. He needs you to go with him and so do I. It is your destiny, child, just like it was my destiny.”
Grandma led me to the little ottoman next to her rocking chair where I had spent so much time with her growing up.
I sat down. “Oh, I don’t know about that, Grandma. I mean, I have college coming up.”
“Young Princess, don’t go doubting me now,” she said, sitting in her chair. She placed her hand on my shoulder, and I looked up into her silver eyes.
I couldn’t imagine how lonely it was for Grandma in her world of fantasy.
“I love you,” I said.
“Now, I will tell you a story.” She pulled my head onto her knee and ran her fingers through the curls of my hair. “I left too. I did. When I was young and beautiful like you. Believe it or not, yes, even I was once young. My parents, like yours, were deeply in love, but unlike your parents, mine never made time for their children, so for most of my youth, it was just Michael and me. It broke my heart when he went to war. My only friend, gone. Without him, I was so lonely. Bollard showed up one day out of the blue and I thought, he’s returned, only it wasn’t my brother. When he offered to take me to see America, I said yes, despite my misgivings. You too must
