The Adoration of Jenna Fox (Jenna Fox Chronicles 1)

‘It’s been empty for years, but it won’t take much to get it fixed up. I’m glad to see someone finally in it. When I saw you all moving in a couple of weeks ago, I was happy to see the place finally filled with a family.’

‘Two weeks ago? We’ve been here longer than that.’

Mr Bender’s brows dip. ‘Of course. Yes, you must be right. I lose track of time,’ he says.

But I sense he doesn’t believe me. Maybe he doesn’t want to argue. Neither do I.

‘Are you going to take a picture?’ I point to Pine Serpent.

‘Not yet. I need to wait for the sun to get a little lower. And if I get lucky, I’m going to coax a few birds to pose with it. A modern-day lion-and-lamb thing.’

‘You have birds?’

‘Here. I’ll show you. Over this way.’

He walks the slope toward an overgrown garden. Broken slabs of flagstone create a winding pathway through sprays of lavender, untamed boxwood, and lacy umbrellas of anise. A short distance in, the garden opens into a circular grassy area with a hewn-log bench at its center. Mr Bender sits and reaches beneath his seat for a small covered bowl. He scoops something into his palm. ‘Sit,’ he says. I do.

He holds his palm out, and instantly there are multiple chirps around us. ‘Hold still,’ he instructs. A small gray bird swoops over his palm without taking anything. Another one dives, hovers, and disappears like the other. Mr Bender doesn’t move. Still another one swoops, flutters, and then lands on his wrist. It pecks a seed and flies away. Within moments two more land on his hand and greedily peck at the seed, braver than the rest. I am mesmerized by their perfect tiny beaks, their creamy clawed feet, and their layered gray feathers that fold together like a beautiful silk fan. I reach out to touch one, and they both skitter away.

‘You have to be patient. Here, try it,’ he says. He hands me the tub of seed, and I scoop out a handful. I put my palm out and wait. They chirp from the nearby jacaranda but don’t budge from their perches. I thrust my palm out farther. We wait and are silent. I am careful not to move. I am patient.

They don’t come.

‘Maybe they’re full,’ Mr Bender says. ‘You come back anytime, Jenna, and give it another try.’

I wonder. Anytime? The expressions that have blended together since I came out

of my coma are beginning to emerge into patterns. Most of it centers in the eyes. Without words, the lids shape sounds. They speak different things just by the faintest of angles. It is coming to me now, the expression on Lily’s face yesterday. Pain. And now, today, on Mr Bender’s face, truth. He really does want me to come back. How can eyes speak so much? It is another thing that I find curious.

‘I will,’ I tell him. He stands and throws his few remaining seeds into the boxwood. A ruckus of chirps follows. They weren’t full.

‘I have to get back to work now, Jenna, but I do thank you for coming by.’ We walk back down the pathway, but he stops at the garden edge and rubs the back of his neck. ‘Be careful about where you wander, though. We’ve had a few incidents around here. Broken windows. Pets gone missing. And some other things. Most of the neighbors are friendly enough, but some, well, you never know.’

‘And you do?’

‘Let’s just say there’s not a thing you can’t find on the Net, and I’ve made it a point to know my neighbors.’ He looks off in the distance at a white house at the end of our lane.

‘Thank you, Mr Bender. Careful is a word I pay attention to.’

Known

I have a friend. It changes everything. He may not be the normal sort of friend for a seventeen-year-old, but I am not normal either. For now, normal doesn’t matter.

I don’t know if I will ever remember Jenna. The Jenna I was, at least. Father seems to think I will. Mother desperately wants me to. But letting go of something old and building something new that is all my own feels good. I want more of this feeling.

I smile and I don’t even have to think about lifting the corners of my mouth. It happens on its own. Mr Bender is curious. So am I. I’m not lost. I am no longer not known. Mr Bender knows me.

I can see our house as I make my way back down Mr Bender’s slope. I walk into the eucalyptus grove to where the pond is dammed with earth and a weave of gnarled tree roots. I step on the first stone that rises above the trickling creek, but then something catches my eye. A white shimmer. The glare off the pond. It shoots up at me. Blinds me. Pulls me into it.

My foot slips from the rock into the creek. I hear noise.

Screams.

I feel myself fall, but I can’t see where I am falling to. The world spins. My mouth opens. Screams. My hands thrash. Water pours in.

My nose. My mouth. Blackness. Gulps. Pain in my chest.

The pond is everywhere.