I shrugged and walked over to the computers with the catalog access and looked up books on Charleston gardens. I remembered my grandfather telling me our garden was pictured in several books. I wrote down some call numbers and headed into the stacks. I picked out four books and checked them out, updating my old library card in the process.
I passed the children’s section on the way back to James. I knew how much it would hurt to face memories of reading with my mom every Saturday morning as a kid, but I had to walk in. The tears flooded without warning. It was like I was never going to get over her death. I ran to the restroom and dried my eyes. I looked at my reflection in the mirror; my eyes were slightly puffy, but nothing too obvious. I glanced at my watch and realized that it had been nearly an hour since I left James; it was almost four thirty.
“What’s wrong?” James asked, looking up as I approached the table. Clearly, my eyes were puffier than I thought.
“Nothing.” I hoped he’d drop it.
“So, you’re crying for no reason,” he pressed.
“Yes.” I picked up my backpack to let him know I wanted to leave.
“Likely,” James said, not moving.
“I was thinking about my mom, who’s been dead a long time, okay?” I said in a huff.
“Oh, I’m sorry… I heard she died in a car accident.” I froze for a second. I wondered why anyone would have been discussing my mom’s accident with him. I decided to let it go, but it unsettled me.
“I’m fine. You ready?”
“Sure.” He packed his bag, and we walked out together. The slightly chilly air cleared my head, making me feel better. James opened the car door for me again, and this time he waited until I was buckled in before starting the car. We drove home in relative silence. James looked over every once in a while, but luckily, he kept his mouth shut. He only commented about the books I checked out. “Interesting reading?” he asked a few blocks from my house.
“Yeah, I figure it might be fun to know more about my family’s house.”
“Definitely. You’ll have to let me know what you find out.”
“Sure.” I assumed he was just being nice because he felt bad that I had gotten so upset about my mom.
A minute later, James pulled up in front of my house. “So, you want a ride tomorrow?”
“No thanks. I’ll just go in with my brother, but thanks for asking.” My anger at James had dissipated; he didn’t seem like as big a jerk as I initially thought. Still, I couldn’t help but feel a little unnerved that he knew how my mom had died.
“I’ll see you in class, then,” James said, as I stepped out of the car. As I turned to pull the front door closed behind me, I saw that James was still waiting by the curb. He waved as he pulled away.
I ran up the stairs as fast as I could and closed myself in with my library books. I knew that I didn’t have much time before Monty and Kevin got home. I found the pages I was looking for quickly. The oldest book was the most helpful. From the time I was a child, the gate had been covered in overgrown moss and vines, but looking at the picture I could tell that originally it had been stunning. In one close-up, I noticed that there was a keyhole on the lower right side. I had always assumed the gate was welded shut or just for show and not meant to be opened, but if there was a keyhole, then perhaps it could be unlocked. Suddenly, I knew that I had to find out what was behind the gate; all I needed was the key.
I walked across the hall to the room that had been my grandfather’s study. My dad had never emptied out the old desk, even though it had been years since my grandfather’s death. The old wooden desk was full of papers and, after sorting through piles of documents, I did manage to uncover two pencil drawings of the gate. Even though the pages were smudged, the pictures were detailed, and I guessed that my grandfather had been just as intrigued by the gate as I was. I kept searching for more, but got sidetracked when I found my mother’s old jewelry box.
Dark wood with a blue ‘E’ written on the top, the box wasn’t particularly fancy. Still, the box brought back so many memories of my mother. When I was little, I would help her pick out jewelry for special occasions. She always humored my selections, even though I was sure they weren’t always best. I sat on the floor of the study holding the box and, for the second time that day, I cried. All of my pent-up emotions about my mother spilled out. I couldn’t bring myself to open the box, so I brought it across the hall to my bedroom and put it in my own desk drawer. I knew I was running out of time before Monty and Kevin got back, so I went out to examine the gate. I found the keyhole behind years of overgrown vines and moss.
Chapter Five
Kevin
As the referee blew his whistle, I made my move. It was the fourth quarter against Myrtle Beach High School, and we were down by one point with only seconds left. Liam had the ball at the courtside ready to pass. First, I led my opponent into a screen by Mike before becoming open at the three-point line. Liam threw me the ball. I began a fake shot, only to dribble toward the goal around a startled guard. I ran around the defense and performed a reverse layup. As the ball hung in the air, a silence fell over the crowd. The ball gently kissed the glass as the buzzer rang, then fell through the hoop, winning the game.
Man, it felt good to be back on the court. It was my first game since getting back to Charleston and, even though I would have preferred to start with a home game, playing somewhere else took off some of the pressure. It was also fun to be playing on Monty’s team. He had always been a great coach, even though I had never gotten the impression that basketball was his favorite thing. He seemed more into his music.
I went along with the post-game motions, shaking hands with the opposing team and accepting congratulations from the few fans that had come to watch, but I could tell that some of the guys on the team were annoyed with me. It wasn’t like I didn’t get it. I showed up here a few weeks into the season and, in theory, took away some of their playing time, but the guys who looked angry weren’t the ones who would have had the chance to make the final shot. If anything, Liam should have been mad; he’s the one who could have made the shot, but it was pretty obvious that he didn’t care. He just seemed to be glad that we had won. I just hoped that the next game wouldn’t come down to a last-minute shot; I would have preferred a large lead.
We got back on the bus, and I sat in the back with Liam and the rest of the varsity team. The same players were still giving me rude looks, so I decided to call them on it.