Atlas (Splintered fanfiction)

Chapter 07

Chapter 07 

     Once Dad and I get home, I add the stolen stash to my savings in a small pencil box secured with a rubber band and hide it behind my cheval mirror, the one on my side of the room.

     Plugging my phone in to charge, I text Hitch to meet me outside Underland around midnight and tell him why as Mionel curls up in my lap. He's the only one I know who can make a fake passport. I still can't believe I took Taelor's money and hid her purse. But like Dad said, we'll do whatever it takes to get Alison home.

     A low rumble shakes the windows and rain pelts the roof as another storm closes in.

     Spreading a palm along her aquarium's cool glass, Alyssa searches the back and flips on a soft bluish light. Aphrodite and Adonis perform a graceful dance, entwining their long bodies.

     Earlier, I explained everything to her and she agreed to join me in my quest, so at least I know that I'll have my sister with me. Still, it's only a small comfort.

     I volunteer to check her bug traps in the garage and on my way, I cut through the living room. Dad's there, sitting in his recliner while staring at those giant daisies Alison appliquéd all over the arms and back. He sobs.

     I want to hug him and make up for our fight, but when he sees me watching, he claims to have something in his eye and leaves to pick up burgers for dinner.

     Dust motes drift in the amber glow of the floor lamp beside his recliner, lumpy and worn. The weird lighting, coupled with the dark paneled walls, gives the living room a strange aura, like an aged sepia photograph.

     Photographs. Why did Alison say that about pictures . . . how people forget to read between the lines?

     I stand there, a few feet from the recliner, while everything she babbled skates along my mind like pebbles cast into an endless well. One keeps rising back to the top: "The daisies are hiding treasure. Buried treasure."

      The explanation is staring me in the face. It has been for months now. I shout for Alyssa and drop to my knees in front of the recliner, ignoring the slight ache in my knees as I hit the floor hard. My sister races in and I explain. She kneels, too, before the recliner, crumpling the layers of netting and lace beneath her miniskirt.

     Hard to believe it's only been seven or so hours since Alyssa was at school and I was painting with Mionel on my lap. So much has happened, I've lost track of time.

     I pluck at one of Alison's cloth daisies where two appliquéd petals curl down from frayed stitches. On a hunch, I slide my index finger between the appliqué and the upholstery, only to find a hole burrowed deep into the recliner's stuffing.

     Holding my breath, I tug at the appliqué until it's hanging by no more than one petal and a few threads. The dime-size hole stares back, too perfectly round to have been accidental. All this time, I thought she'd sewn the patches on to cover threadbare places. All this time, I was wrong.

     Alyssa gasps.

     Digging into the torn upholstery, I pull out stuffing until I hit something tiny, hard, and metallic. I trace the object, following a round shape that stretches to a long, thin leg that breaks off jaggedly. A key, but it's broken. My forefinger drags it to the hole's opening and tugs it out. An attached necklace chain coils on the cushion like a snake.

     The challenge from the website comes full circle: "If you wish to save your mother, use the key."

     But the key is broken, and the teeth are missing, broken off cleanly. So what could it possibly unlock, being broken like this? Suddenly, the necklace I always wear underneath my shirts starts to grow warm. I draw it out quickly, to prevent my skin from being burned, and when Alyssa spots the necklace I wear, she gasps again.