The Forbidden Answer - Chapter 1 Shyla
Shyla Harris walked into her bedroom and yanked the tie out of her hair. No matter how windy or wet the weather, the boys on the school bus kept their windows open the whole way between Seaview and Ilwaco. Thanks to them, she had to redo her hair every morning when she got to school, and every afternoon when she got home. She hated loose hairs tickling her face.
Shy brushed the wavy mass together, and re-braided it. It was no use fighting the boys. Her dad always said, “Choose your battles,” and she knew she couldn’t win this one. She tossed the heavy braid behind her.
What did hair matter, anyway? There were more important things to think about. Like why wouldn’t anyone talk about anything? She was sick of having her questions hushed with, “Everything’s fine. Think happy thoughts.”
Shy had known there was a secret ever since she first heard her parents using familiar words in ways that didn’t make sense. Other adults did the same thing. Like when Mr. Chang, the middle school principal “went.”
“Went where?” she had asked. “Is he coming back?” Everyone she asked answered, “No, he’s not coming back. Everything’s fine, though. Don’t think about it.”
The secret must be something unpleasant. Twice she had come upon adults who were sad, even crying, but when they saw her, they suddenly put on smiles. Her teachers talked so much about thinking happy thoughts that Shy concluded there must be something really unhappy out there. Shy named the unknown something The Grimness, and tried to stifle her curiosity. If she learned the secret, she could never unlearn it, and it would weigh her down just as it did those adults. She was sure that was what changed Jeffrey.
Shy adored her big brother Jeffrey. He used to love adventures the way she did, and his blue eyes sparkled with fun. But his eyes rarely sparkled now. She remembered the day he changed—just after she started seventh grade. He was sixteen. She was in the living room when he came home from his violin lesson. Rather than springing over the threshold as usual, he slipped inside and just stood there. She looked up from her book to see him gazing at her with something like fear in his eyes—fear for her.
Shy loved to listen to Jeffrey play his violin. He was home now and she could hear him playing. He often let her and her best friend, Harrie, sit and listen to him practice. Once he told them, “When the strings sing like this, the inside of me aches for something.”
But he didn’t practice much now. He spent his weekends at the library. The library was small, so he requested books from other branches. Most he couldn’t get because they were restricted. In fact, the big yellow R—which meant “restricted from children under eighteen”—appeared on whole shelves at the library as well as in bookstores. Other kinds of shops in town had it posted on their doors and windows, too. Shy didn’t know what they sold.
When Jeffrey used the Internet, he got messages like: Forbidden. You don’t have permission to access religious/Books/ on this server. Shy knew because she saw the message once when she was in his room. Well, Jeffrey was seventeen now. It wouldn’t be much longer before he could get the information he wanted.
But here was what puzzled her: If Jeffrey already knew what The Grimness was, what was he searching for? Did he think there was a solution to The Grimness, an answer to make it go away? And if there was an answer, why all this secrecy stuff? Part of Shy wanted to help Jeffrey in his search, but another part of her was afraid.
Jeffrey’s music suddenly stopped. Shy rubbed her nose and put aside her thoughts. She changed into a green t-shirt and shorts. Green was her favorite color. It made her hazel eyes look more cat-like. She meowed at Sniffers napping on her bed, then hopped down the stairs and rushed to the kitchen for a snack—almost bumping into her parents.
“Oh, sorry.”
“Hello, Shy,” her parents said at the same time. Shy smiled. Sometimes she thought her parents’ brains were hooked together.
They pulled her to them and told her that Grampy Harris had “gone” during the night.
“Gone?” Shy asked. “When will he be back?” Her parents looked at each other.
“He won’t come back,” Dr. Harris said. “That’s why Grammie needs us to help her for a couple days.” Shy could see sadness in their eyes.
“Then you mean gone like Mr. Chang, don’t you.”
“Yes, Shy. But everything is fine. There’s nothing to worry about. You and Jeffrey will have the house to yourselves this weekend.” Shy looked up at Jeffrey and he winked at her. Their parents instructed Jeffrey to keep Shy within sight at all times, and told Shy she could not play with Harriet until they returned. Shy’s straight eyebrows lifted and her mouth opened. She didn’t argue, but she phoned Harrie with the bad news.
The Harrises had already discussed what to do with Shy over the weekend. They trusted Jeffrey to take care of her, of course, however, Mrs. Harris told her husband a few things he did not know—such as Shy and Harriet losing a shovel and a garden rake in the outgoing tide, and their experiment which had warped a cookie sheet and burned out the motor of a mixer. The two girls together might be a bit much for Jeffrey.
Dr. and Mrs. Harris left at five the next morning. Jeffrey went back to sleep, but the thought of two days with her brother to herself brought Shy wide awake. Why not make a special breakfast for him? Terry robe over her pajamas, she tiptoed down the stairs and opened the pantry door.
After the fire engines left, Jeffrey helped Shy clean up. Fortunately, the only damage was to Shy’s pride. Butter dropped on a burner had flared up and set off a smoke detector, and Shy had dialed 911 immediately. The flames were gone before the trucks arrived, but not the mess, because in reaching for the phone, Shy’s big terry sleeve had hooked the full carton of eggs, and in failing to save it she had knocked over the milk. The firemen complimented her for calling 911 so quickly, and Jeffrey was sweet about it, but this was one more embarrassment to add to a list as long as her life.
“Come on,” Jeffrey said. “Let’s get dressed and go to the beach.”
As they followed the sandy path through the trees, Shy suddenly heard someone—it sounded like an old person—crying and moaning. It came from the trees to the right of the path. She rushed over and searched all around where the crying was loudest, but no one was there. There wasn’t even any brush to hide a person. The moaning seemed to come from a particular pine tree, and as she walked toward it, a nauseating odor met her nose.
Shy started to say something to Jeffrey, but to her surprise he was not with her. She looked back to where he still stood on the path. He was calling to her, “Shy, please come back. Shy, no one is there. Come, Shy.” And she was totally puzzled, because Jeffrey was a hero—he had once saved a child from the surf—and he always cared about people. They both did.
“Come on, Shy,” he called again. And she walked back, leaving the moans and weeping behind. “It’s nothing,” he said. “Nothing you want to know.” Later that morning, Shy watched a black and yellow van move along the beach access road and stop where she had heard the crying.
Back to My Books
Home
Shy brushed the wavy mass together, and re-braided it. It was no use fighting the boys. Her dad always said, “Choose your battles,” and she knew she couldn’t win this one. She tossed the heavy braid behind her.
What did hair matter, anyway? There were more important things to think about. Like why wouldn’t anyone talk about anything? She was sick of having her questions hushed with, “Everything’s fine. Think happy thoughts.”
Shy had known there was a secret ever since she first heard her parents using familiar words in ways that didn’t make sense. Other adults did the same thing. Like when Mr. Chang, the middle school principal “went.”
“Went where?” she had asked. “Is he coming back?” Everyone she asked answered, “No, he’s not coming back. Everything’s fine, though. Don’t think about it.”
The secret must be something unpleasant. Twice she had come upon adults who were sad, even crying, but when they saw her, they suddenly put on smiles. Her teachers talked so much about thinking happy thoughts that Shy concluded there must be something really unhappy out there. Shy named the unknown something The Grimness, and tried to stifle her curiosity. If she learned the secret, she could never unlearn it, and it would weigh her down just as it did those adults. She was sure that was what changed Jeffrey.
Shy adored her big brother Jeffrey. He used to love adventures the way she did, and his blue eyes sparkled with fun. But his eyes rarely sparkled now. She remembered the day he changed—just after she started seventh grade. He was sixteen. She was in the living room when he came home from his violin lesson. Rather than springing over the threshold as usual, he slipped inside and just stood there. She looked up from her book to see him gazing at her with something like fear in his eyes—fear for her.
Shy loved to listen to Jeffrey play his violin. He was home now and she could hear him playing. He often let her and her best friend, Harrie, sit and listen to him practice. Once he told them, “When the strings sing like this, the inside of me aches for something.”
But he didn’t practice much now. He spent his weekends at the library. The library was small, so he requested books from other branches. Most he couldn’t get because they were restricted. In fact, the big yellow R—which meant “restricted from children under eighteen”—appeared on whole shelves at the library as well as in bookstores. Other kinds of shops in town had it posted on their doors and windows, too. Shy didn’t know what they sold.
When Jeffrey used the Internet, he got messages like: Forbidden. You don’t have permission to access religious/Books/ on this server. Shy knew because she saw the message once when she was in his room. Well, Jeffrey was seventeen now. It wouldn’t be much longer before he could get the information he wanted.
But here was what puzzled her: If Jeffrey already knew what The Grimness was, what was he searching for? Did he think there was a solution to The Grimness, an answer to make it go away? And if there was an answer, why all this secrecy stuff? Part of Shy wanted to help Jeffrey in his search, but another part of her was afraid.
Jeffrey’s music suddenly stopped. Shy rubbed her nose and put aside her thoughts. She changed into a green t-shirt and shorts. Green was her favorite color. It made her hazel eyes look more cat-like. She meowed at Sniffers napping on her bed, then hopped down the stairs and rushed to the kitchen for a snack—almost bumping into her parents.
“Oh, sorry.”
“Hello, Shy,” her parents said at the same time. Shy smiled. Sometimes she thought her parents’ brains were hooked together.
They pulled her to them and told her that Grampy Harris had “gone” during the night.
“Gone?” Shy asked. “When will he be back?” Her parents looked at each other.
“He won’t come back,” Dr. Harris said. “That’s why Grammie needs us to help her for a couple days.” Shy could see sadness in their eyes.
“Then you mean gone like Mr. Chang, don’t you.”
“Yes, Shy. But everything is fine. There’s nothing to worry about. You and Jeffrey will have the house to yourselves this weekend.” Shy looked up at Jeffrey and he winked at her. Their parents instructed Jeffrey to keep Shy within sight at all times, and told Shy she could not play with Harriet until they returned. Shy’s straight eyebrows lifted and her mouth opened. She didn’t argue, but she phoned Harrie with the bad news.
The Harrises had already discussed what to do with Shy over the weekend. They trusted Jeffrey to take care of her, of course, however, Mrs. Harris told her husband a few things he did not know—such as Shy and Harriet losing a shovel and a garden rake in the outgoing tide, and their experiment which had warped a cookie sheet and burned out the motor of a mixer. The two girls together might be a bit much for Jeffrey.
Dr. and Mrs. Harris left at five the next morning. Jeffrey went back to sleep, but the thought of two days with her brother to herself brought Shy wide awake. Why not make a special breakfast for him? Terry robe over her pajamas, she tiptoed down the stairs and opened the pantry door.
After the fire engines left, Jeffrey helped Shy clean up. Fortunately, the only damage was to Shy’s pride. Butter dropped on a burner had flared up and set off a smoke detector, and Shy had dialed 911 immediately. The flames were gone before the trucks arrived, but not the mess, because in reaching for the phone, Shy’s big terry sleeve had hooked the full carton of eggs, and in failing to save it she had knocked over the milk. The firemen complimented her for calling 911 so quickly, and Jeffrey was sweet about it, but this was one more embarrassment to add to a list as long as her life.
“Come on,” Jeffrey said. “Let’s get dressed and go to the beach.”
As they followed the sandy path through the trees, Shy suddenly heard someone—it sounded like an old person—crying and moaning. It came from the trees to the right of the path. She rushed over and searched all around where the crying was loudest, but no one was there. There wasn’t even any brush to hide a person. The moaning seemed to come from a particular pine tree, and as she walked toward it, a nauseating odor met her nose.
Shy started to say something to Jeffrey, but to her surprise he was not with her. She looked back to where he still stood on the path. He was calling to her, “Shy, please come back. Shy, no one is there. Come, Shy.” And she was totally puzzled, because Jeffrey was a hero—he had once saved a child from the surf—and he always cared about people. They both did.
“Come on, Shy,” he called again. And she walked back, leaving the moans and weeping behind. “It’s nothing,” he said. “Nothing you want to know.” Later that morning, Shy watched a black and yellow van move along the beach access road and stop where she had heard the crying.
Back to My Books
Home