The Frights of Fiji, Sunayna Prasad [best thriller books to read .txt] 📗

He had sent her gifts during holidays and special occasions and had taken her on fun trips.

He’d moved from Ohio to New Jersey after becoming her godparent so that he could’ve been near her church. But shortly after she had moved in with her aunt and uncle, he’d found a job in Ohio and had moved back. However, he had still called and e-mailed Alyssa every now and then.

All she wanted to do was talk to him. But she couldn’t right now. Her mind switched to Aunt Laura. She wished she and Hailey had never bought that chocolate box for Valentine’s Day three years ago.

When Alyssa and Hailey were in the fourth and third grade, Aunt Laura had run Hailey’s class as the class mom. Because Hailey’s classmates had appreciated her sympathy, they’d all given her candy gifts for Valentine’s Day.

The box Alyssa and Hailey had bought had contained no flavor charts on the outside. So when Aunt Laura had opened the box and looked at the labels, she had aimed for a milk-chocolate truffle filled with caramel. But she had accidentally touched a dark-chocolate truffle filled with raspberry. She’d had a fatal allergy to berries. Her face had reddened, her throat had constricted, which had decreased her ability to breathe, and then she had collapsed. Before the ambulance had arrived at the house, though, Aunt Laura had died.

Uncle Bruce’s depression had led him to blame Hailey and Alyssa for her death since they’d never warned her not to touch the chocolate that had looked like it’d been filled with raspberry. His stress had increased enough that he could never move on and treat them the way he’d used to. He’d placed new rules on Alyssa and Hailey that they’d disagreed with and still loathed now.

He’d even lost trust in so many other people whom he thought “spoiled” them with free fun since he believed it had to be earned. In fact, he’d pulled Alyssa and Hailey out of school last June because he’d thought that recess, friends, and other enjoyable times had distracted them from achieving acceptable results on their assignments. Starting last spring, the two hadn’t gotten past Bs, and Uncle Bruce expected straight As. That’d been when he’d decided that all those “distractions” had ruined them. When Alyssa was in fifth grade, he had pulled her out of tap, jazz, and ballet classes because her teacher had rewarded all the ballet students with lollipops. Despite her and Hailey’s thin bodies, Uncle Bruce only allowed earned junk food a few times a year, and it couldn’t be sweet or exceed a few hundred calories.

 

Uncle Bruce didn’t scare Alyssa and Hailey as if he were a monster. In fact, he allowed them to buy stylish clothes, even if they cost a lot. But he wouldn’t let them have any electronic devices. He believed that they would be too expensive and that the girls would become addicted to them. He let them use the computer in the study but only to write and print their assigned papers. They couldn’t use the Internet except to look up information related to their schoolwork. He’d also disconnected the TV since he’d found it distracting, and he had claimed that it had affected the girls’ ability to learn.

Alyssa pulled out her old photo album from the bookshelf and brought it to her bed. She turned the page to a picture of herself at the age of eight, Hailey at the age of seven, and Aunt Laura. They all stood with her in front of a place called Piper’s Village, which contained old-fashioned shops.

Aunt Laura’s diamond-white smile glistened like a midnight star. Freckles spotted her face. Chestnut curls spiraled to her shoulders. Wispy bangs hid her forehead. Everything about her made Alyssa miss her, including her cooking. Aunt Laura used to bake delicious double-chocolate-chip cookies, lasagna, and chicken parmesan. Uncle Bruce, however, only cooked plain white meat, fish, and vegetables and sometimes prepared salads. He’d never grilled burgers, boiled pasta, or baked desserts after Aunt Laura had died.

“Dinner’s ready!” Uncle Bruce called to Alyssa and Hailey.

The two went downstairs. Uncle Bruce had prepared grilled chicken over Swiss chard, arugula, leaf lettuce, avocado, onions, and chopped tomatoes. He forbade dressing unless they were vinegar based. But he’d run out two days ago.

“Okay, girls, time to eat,” he said. “I want your plates cleaned before you go to bed.”

Alyssa sighed, sitting down. She couldn’t bring up that incident again unless more magic came.

She ate her salad, and the phone rang.

Uncle Bruce hurried over to answer. “Hello?”

Alyssa continued to consume her food and ignore him. He probably talked to someone she didn’t know.

“Hey, Mr. Steinberg, how are you?”

Alyssa still tuned out.

“Great. So you’ll tutor Alyssa and Hailey from three-thirty to five tomorrow?”

All right. Mr. Steinberg was a tutor, so Alyssa paid attention to Uncle Bruce.

“Okay, text me the directions to your house. I’ll see you tomorrow. Bye.” He hung up.

“Dad, is that guy going to tutor us?” asked Hailey.

“By ‘that guy,’ you mean Mr. Steinberg,” Uncle Bruce said. “And yes, he will be tutoring you tomorrow. In fact, every Friday from three-thirty to five.”

“Why?” asked Hailey.

“Because even in homeschooling, your grades still aren’t that good. All you get are Bs and Cs. I want straight As.”

“What’s wrong with Bs?” asked Hailey.

“They’re below my standards. We’re not the only family like that, though. Lots of other parents expect straight A’s.”

“I really don’t think Bs are that bad,” said Alyssa.

“Well, I do,” said Uncle Bruce. “Now finish your dinner. No more talking until everything on your plate is gone.”

Alyssa sighed, piercing a piece of grilled chicken with her fork. Uncle Bruce had relaxed his attitude more, but that meant nothing. Alyssa still wouldn’t get to visit Madison on Saturday. She would get to have nothing her way, and tomorrow, she’d receive a heavy load of work from Uncle Bruce.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

3

 

Last night Alyssa had set her alarm for seven o’clock in the morning so that she could talk to Alex. Uncle Bruce had sent her and Hailey to bed right after dinner. Every time she’d tried to enter the kitchen, Uncle Bruce still worked in there. At one point, Alyssa had struggled to stay awake and had fallen asleep.

Her alarm rang, so she shut it off. She hopped out of bed, sweating in her flannel pajama pants and long-sleeved purple shirt. She’d change after talking to Alex.

Cracking the door open, Alyssa peeked out and looked around. Silence filled the hallway. Alyssa stepped outside and crept toward the staircase. Despite the quiet, tingles still prickled her skin. She hoped to avoid getting caught aiming for the kitchen phone.

She stepped on the top step and walked down. She quickened breaths out of her mouth as she approached the middle of the staircase. But she made her way to the first floor without disturbing Uncle Bruce or Hailey.

 

She looked back, checking to see if either one had woken up. There were no sounds or movements. Okay—good. She headed into the kitchen to look up Alex’s number.

Alyssa picked up the phonebook from a drawer and flipped the pages to the K tab. She found names like Keenan, Khan, and Kriesberg but no sign of the name, Alexander Kress.

How could his contact information be unavailable? Alyssa would check her e-mail—except that Uncle Bruce had locked the study last night. She sighed, putting the phonebook back. Did anything else contain Alex’s phone number? Even though she had never been able to find it or even convince Uncle Bruce to let her talk to him, she resumed searching.

Sorting through the stationery, Alyssa saw old letters from earlier this year, vendor brochures, and some envelopes. No luck—until she thought she saw a double S on the last envelope. Pulling it out, she saw the name, Alex Kress, on it.

She looked inside and saw a folded piece of paper. She opened it and saw that it’d been written a week after her parents had died.

 

January 22, 2005

 

Dear Laura,

My heart still breaks for you after hearing about the deaths of Ashton and Clara. I can imagine how much it hurt to lose your younger brother and his wife at the hands of a drunk driver. And poor Alyssa—seven is just far too young to be left without parents.

I’m glad Emily was able to convince the cops to let her take Alyssa to your house. I wish all nineteen-year-old babysitters had that power in them.

Please accept my sincere sympathy and take good care of Alyssa. If something happens again, let me know since I am her godfather.

Wishing you peace and healing,

Alex Kress

 

P.S. If you need to reach me, my house address is 50 Gemini Road, Brock Hills, Ohio, and my phone number is 740-555-7722.

 

Alyssa formed a weak smile. She picked up the phone and dialed his number. Then she walked into the living room with the phone up to her ear.

“Hello?” Alex answered.

“Hey, Alex, it’s Alyssa, your goddaughter.”

There was a pause.

“Alyssa? Really?”

“Yes. I . . . I . . .”

“I haven’t heard from you in three years. What’s been going on?”

“It . . . It’s my uncle.”

“What about him?”

Alyssa spent several minutes explaining how Uncle Bruce had changed and how he’d treated her and Hailey since Aunt Laura’s death.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe that,” said Alex.

“My uncle even grounded us for something we didn’t do.”

“What was it?”

“Um . . . it may sound stupid to you.”

“Still—it would help me if you said it anyway.”

 

“All right.” Alyssa breathed and told him the reason.

“Magic?”

“Yes, Alex. Hailey saw it too. If she were standing here