Savannah Burning

Chapter Eleven

Walking to Bayview Park, arm-in-arm with Savanna Skye, felt more like a fantasy than reality.

“So,” Savanna said, startling me out of my Robbie-approved thoughts.

“Soda pop and bubble gum,” I responded back.

Savanna stared at me incredulously. “What?”
 “What, what?” I responded, smiling smugly at her bewilderment.

“’Soda pop and bubble gum.’ What the hell is that?”

“I don’t know,” I responded with a grin.

“You’re an ass!” She said it as though I was the epitome of all asses, as though I were the one specific asshole she had been looking for. I smiled at her and tugged her along. “Anyway,” Savanna drew out. She shot me a quick look and when I didn’t interrupt she continued, “I was going to ask before I was so rudely interrupted what it was you did in your free time. You know, besides watching me from your window.”

“Um,” I said, rubbing the back of my neck, trying to cover up my embarrassment. “I like to cook. And to surf.”

Savanna’s eyebrows shot up. “Wow,” She said, nodding. “Cooking. Gotta admit I wasn’t expecting that.”

By now my entire face was on fire. “It’s lame, I know.” Savanna yanked her arm from mine and punched me in the shoulder. “Ow,” I said, rubbing my arm. “What was that for?”

“Never down-play what makes you happy,” she said, slipping her arm back through mine. “To be honest I was half-expecting you to say video games or, like, jerking off or something. Then again, if you were any other boring boy I probably wouldn’t think you were so cute.”

There was that word again: cute. “Thanks,” I said bashfully. We continued along for a bit in silence. “What about you?” I asked her. “What do you like to do?”

“I tend to get into trouble a lot,” Savanna said, kicking an orphaned rock with her black boots.

“That’s your hobby?”

“Yeah,” she sighed. “I can’t help myself. That’s how I got caught. Found. Whichever.”

“Oh,” I said, struggling not to press for details.

“Yeah. A few of my friends and I we decided to go do ‘shrooms and play in the old abandoned psych ward. Everything was going hunky dory until Bernie, who was – is, sorry, is – my best friend, started having a bad trip and freaked out. Security busted us and got us arrested. Then, the next thing I know I’m on a flight to New York.” Savanna slipped her arm from mine and reached up behind her ear for her cigarette. “Mind?”

“Kind of,” I responded honestly.

Her fingers paused near her ear. “Wow. That’s a first,” she said, her hand falling to her side. “I’ve never met anyone who minded cigarettes who was actually honest about minding cigarettes.” She paused in her steps, eyeing my suspiciously. “Why do you mind them?”

I took a deep breath, resting my arm across her shoulders. “You have your story,” I said slowly, “and so do I.” She frowned up at me, a million questions swirling behind those technicolor eyes. “Plus,” I added, “they’re bad for your health, so.”

“Soda-pop-and-bubble-gum,” Savanna yelled out in a breath. She grinned at me. “See? I can do it, too.”

I laughed, completely enamored by this beautifully freckled creature strolling along with me. We turned a corner and I pointed to a park a bit further down the street.

“Bayview Park,” I stated and Savanna skipped a step excitedly.

“Excellent. Anyway, where was I in my tale?”

“Your friend was freaking out. I think his name was Bernie?”

“Her. Her name is Bernie,” Savanna corrected. “Short for Bernadette. Her parents are like, super religious. But whatever. You’re ruining my story.”

“I whole-heartedly apologize. Continue,” I said with a grin.

“Thank you, sir. Anywhoosers, Bernie started freaking out. She’s always been the cautious one of the group. You know, that friend that, every time you try a new drug, she’s the one whose hand you have to hold?” I shrugged. I had never broken into a place or done any drugs. I had a puff of a joint once at one of Robbie’s lacrosse parties, but it just made me cough a lot.

“But that’s why I love Bernie.” Savanna was plowing along in her story, oblivious to my naivety. “Because she’s so goddamn innocent and she still loves getting into mischief with me. So – don’t you dare interrupt me – there we are, inside of the psych ward, doing our thing and Bernie starts sweating, like seriously sweating. At first I thought it was just nerves but then the girl goes as white as a ghost, which is kind of impressive considering how dark her skin is, but the girl literally turned as white as a sheet of paper and she starts hyperventilating.” Savanna paused here, reaching back up for the cigarette with her free hand. She pulled it out from behind her ear and put it between her lips, backwards. “I’m not going to smoke it,” she said, “but God do I want to.”

“Thank you,” I said. “Now how does the story end?”

Savanna sucked in a big breath and let it out in a whoosh. She plucked the cigarette from her lips and rolled it between her fingers. “She just started freaking out. She was screaming and nobody could get her to stop. I’ve never seen anything like it before. She started clawing at the walls, trying to get out. We were all trying to stop her but we were tripping so hard. She just wouldn’t stop screaming that there was someone trying to hurt her and then she started throwing up. It was like something out of The Exorcist.” Savanna shuddered.

“What ended up happening to her?”

“We knew that we had to wait it out but the security patrolling the place caught us after hearing her screaming. After whisking Bernie away to the hospital they called the police and arrested all of us. That’s how they found out who I was,” Savanna finished with a shrug.

“Wow,” I said. “That’s quite the story.”

“Yeah. Not exactly the way Karen and Brady wanted to find their long-lost daughter. I can only imagine what went through their heads when they got the call, ‘hey, we found your daughter but she’s super f****d up on hallucinogens right now.’” Savanna shook her head and laughed, “they hate me.”

“They could never hate you,” I said, stopping her in her tracks. “They just have to get used to you and they will because they never stopped loving you and I doubt they ever will.”

Savanna blinked slowly at me and I noticed for the first time a freckle on her upper-lip.

That’s adorable, I thought and suddenly she was leaning in and I thought – I hoped – she was going to kiss me. Instead she threw her arms around my neck, pressing her body up against mine. Startled, I wrapped my arms around her waist and held her tight to me.

“Thank you,” she whispered. We stayed like that for a minute, locked in each other’s arms before Savanna took a step back and turned away from me. I looked away, letting her compose herself. When she was ready she turned back around, arms folded across her chest.

“Besides tripping out on mushrooms, what else do you do in an abandoned psych ward? Play ghost-hunter?”

Savanna tipped her head back and laughed, surprising me by going from one extreme to the next. “That and other things.”

“What are those other things?”

“I would tell you,” she said, leaning in towards me, “but then I’d have to kill you.”

I laughed, waiting for her to cave. When she didn’t, I laughed again at my inability to keep up with her. “What else do you like besides mischief,” I asked, giving up on the subject.

“I like live music,” she stated. “Particularly country-rock. Something with a lot of harmonica in it.”

“Harmonica?” I questioned. “That’s different.”

“It’s easily the sexiest instrument anyone can play. Especially if that someone is tall and lanky.”

My stomach did a summersault. “What about a tall and lanky kid who doesn’t know how to play the harmonica, but would be willing to try for a pretty girl?” I wondered out loud.

Savanna laughed. “Are you flirting with me, Tyson?”

“Depends on your definition of flirting,” I answered, causing her to laugh again.

By this time we had neared the entrance to the park, a large sign welcoming us. As a kid, Bayview Park had seemed like the coolest-f*****g-playground-ever. It had everything a playground should have – a swirly slide, monkey bars, a swing set (for both little and big kids), tire swings, wooden bridges and multiple ways to climb up and around the playground. Since growing out of my playground-days, the park had lost its magic, but being here with Savanna for her second-first time made my skin tingle with anticipation. Despite the fact that I knew I was too tall for them I longed to swing on the monkey bars and climb up the rope ladder to the top of the slide to impress the girl I had a crush on.

“I can see why five-year-old Katie may have liked this place,” Savanna said, leading the way to the swing set.

“Eight-year-old Tyson liked it, too,” I said, “especially the monkey bars. Not to mention the ice cream parlor across the way.”

“You should take me there,” Savanna suggested, sitting on the edge of the sandbox. She pulled her map out and laid it flat on the dirt in front of her.

“When?” I asked, sitting down beside her.

“Today, dingus,” she laughed. She pointed to the picture of her at the park she had pasted next to the gold-star. The photograph showed Savanna – Katie– in a bucket swing. Mr. Skye was behind her, laughing and pushing her. He was, as usual, wearing a button down shirt. No tie, though, surprisingly. Savanna-then-Katie had to be just about two years old. Her mouth was open with laughter, eyes twinkling in the sunlight and her mop of blonde hair was falling into her face.

“That’s adorable,” I said.

“Thanks, punk,” Savanna grumbled, rolling the map back up. She stood up, wiping the sand off her backside. I honestly couldn’t help but watch. She made her way towards the swings, dropping her backpack and the map in the sand next to one of the swings.

I positioned myself in front of her, holding the Polaroid camera up in front of me. “Ready?” I asked.

“Ready,” she nodded. “Take more than one photo, just in case you’re a terrible photographer.”

I lowered the camera and glared at her, causing her to laugh. “You have no faith in me,” I responded, bringing the camera back up. Still laughing, I watched through the viewfinder as Savanna kicked off the ground. She stretched her impossibly long legs out in front of her, sailing forward, and then tucked them under, flying backwards.

“One!” she yelled as she came back down.

“Two,” I chimed in.

“THREE!” She yelled as the swing flew forward.

I snapped a picture of her and the Polaroid slowly churned the photo out. I took three more photos of her, at her request, before she threw herself off of the swing in mid-air. She landed in front of me and I managed to snap one last photo before she stumbled into my chest. I grabbed her waist, steadying her as she laughed and laughed and laughed.

“I haven’t had that much fun on a swing set in forever,” she said, sitting right down in the sand.

“I think you’re the only seventeen-year-old who can still have that much fun on a swing,” I stated, sinking down next to her.

She frowned suddenly, her mood changing from happy to frustrated in a snap.

“Oh, no,” I said, watching her cup handfuls of sand and dump them onto her boots. “I struck a nerve again, haven’t I?”

She looked up, narrowing her eyes at me. “You’re freakishly perceptive.” I shrugged in response.

“Most people just don’t pay enough attention,” I said quietly. Savanna’s eyes flashed to mine for a second curiously. When I didn’t offer up another explanation she sighed, dusting the sand off her boots.

“It just sucks,” she stated. “Everything about my life was a lie. Even my birthday was a lie.” I went still, holding my breath. Savanna had acknowledged her kidnapping several times now but this was the first time I’ve heard her actually speaking about it. I was curious. “Do you know what she said my birthday was? August eighth. Do you know what August eighth is?” I shook my head; I had no idea. “It was the day she picked me up.” Savanna covered her face with trembling hands. “f**k,” she said quietly, “I’m sorry. I didn’t want this to be a pity-fest. I’m just . . . confused. I grew up thinking I was a Leo when in reality I’m just a Taurus.” Her joke fell as flat as her voice.

“Well, on the bright side, Virgos and Taurus are the dynamic duos of the astrological world. Virgos and Leos?” I shuddered. “Awful. Disastrous. Positively catastrophic.”

Savanna blinked at me in surprise before bursting out laughing. “How are you such a good kid?” she asked, still laughing. “I don’t understand.”

“My mom raised me pretty good,” I joked.

Savanna snorted and shook her head. “I think you and your friends are the only people who haven’t asked about my kidnapping.”

“It’s not really fair to ask you about that,” I said with a shrug. “We all have our pasts. Doesn’t mean we want to be reminded of them.” She didn’t respond. “However, I would like to know something that sort-of involves your . . . mess,” I confessed.

“Because you’ve been so polite, I’ll allow you one question.” She held up her index finger to emphasize on that only one question would be allowed.

“Do you remember Oyster Point at all?”

Savanna raised her eyebrows. “That’s not what I was expecting,” she murmured with a smile. She ran her fingers over the wood border of the sandbox. “No. Not here in particular. I remember some things, though, kind of like how you can’t remember if something was a dream or a memory. I remembered my front lawn. Isn’t that bizarre? I remember the tree at the end of the driveway. As soon as I laid eyes on it, I had this flashback where I was running – or maybe riding my tricycle, I don’t really know – towards it. I remember the color purple, which I absolutely detest and have detested as long as I can remember. I also have a memory of cutting my foot open on the pool patio and having to get stitches, but there’s no scar on my foot, so I don’t even know if that’s a real memory or not. But that’s it, really. That’s all I remember so far.”

We were quiet for a few moments. I stood up, holding my hand out to her.

“How about that ice cream?” I asked. As she stood up, I glanced down to see the engraving she had been tracing with her fingers: TB, RG + DB.

#

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After a stop at the ice cream parlor, where Savanna insisted that we picked out each other’s flavors, I walked her back to her house where I could see Mrs. Skye peeking out from behind the window curtains.

“I get it,” Savanna said as we walked up the driveway, “but she drives me nuts.”

“She’s afraid of losing you again, but I don’t think I need to tell you that,” I said, nudging her with my shoulder. “Can I ask you something personal?”

“Sure,” she shrugged. “Why not?”

“What’s the deal with your parents? Are they living together permanently or . . .” I realized, while asking her this, that it was none of my business, but Karen’s ever-present watching eyes did not go unnoticed by me.

“I have no idea,” Savanna shrugged, scuffing her shoe against the driveway. “I don’t think they know, either. They’re not sleeping in the same room. In fact, I hardly ever see them in the same room and when they are it’s so tense. It’s so uncomfortable. It’s obvious that they hate each other, that the only reason Karen is here is because I am. Just another reason why they must hate me.”

“Savanna,” I said, more scolding than sympathetic without meaning to.

“It’s okay,” she shrugged again. “It was like this before, too. I remember it. I remember them fighting a lot.” My heart sank into my stomach. I, too, remember the fighting. Not theirs. Not the Skye’s. A different family, a lifetime ago, one that is tucked so far back in my memory that I can’t remember if it was told or remembered.

“My turn for a question,” Savanna said as we reached her front door.

“Sure,” I said, grateful for the change in subject even though it had been me who brought it up.

“Invite me over for dinner,” she demanded.

“You should come over for dinner sometime,” I immediately responded.

She grinned. “I’ve been waiting for that invite ever since you told me you could cook. I’d love to come over tomorrow night.” She turned the doorknob but paused before opening the door. “Thanks,” she said. “For today. It means more than you know.”

“Anytime,” I assured her. “All you have to do is throw rocks at my window.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “See you tomorrow night, Romeo. I’ll be wearing a dress so make it fancy.” Savanna Skye then slipped through the doorway and shut the door, leaving nothing but the smell of coconuts behind.

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Later that night as I was trying to concentrate on Netflix, I couldn’t help my eyes from wandering towards Savanna’s window. Her light was still on, but I couldn’t see anything else. My eyes darted back and forth between my laptop and my window, hoping she would come into view. My fingers tapped anxiously along my keyboard.

Don’t do it bro, I cautioned myself. I snuck a glance to the window again, but Savanna’s figure still didn’t appear.

She trusts you, man. Don’t do it.

But I want to know, I whined back to myself.

Don’t be an ass. I ignored my voice of reason and clicked out of Netflix.

She’s going to hate you if she finds out, voice-of-reason-Tyson said. I tried to ignore it as I typed Katie into Google. Hey, man, what did I say? I’m just trying to help you. Don’t do –

“Shut up,” I groaned to myself. I froze, my eyes darting to the window as if she had just caught me talking out loud to myself. Nothing but the dust stirred.

The first page of links to pop up was all about Heather and Emily’s interview. I shook my head, disgusted, and went back up to the search bar and typed Katie, full story, hoping it might lead me towards what I was looking for. A link to an article from the local paper looked promising enough to click on.

Katie Skye; Lost then Found

By Janette Archibald

Twelve years ago on August eighth, Katie Skye disappeared into thin air off a popular beach on Long Island.

Five-year-old Katie was under the care of Melissa Waters, a registered and well-known child care provider who had taken Katie and three other children, with permission, on a day trip to the beach.

She was handing out their afternoon snack when she first noticed Katie’s absence.

“I panicked,” Waters said later of the incident. “I grabbed the other children and had them walk with me to look for her. That’s when we found her sandals.” After finding Katie’s flip-flops by the shoreline, Waters notified a lifeguard and soon the beach was on lockdown. Brady Skye, famed in the tennis world, was notified and he and his wife, who had been in Manhattan at a press conference, rushed to the scene.

The authorities searched the beach and ocean but weren’t able to find any evidence of Katie’s whereabouts. After several days with no signs of improvement, the Skye’s and authorities officially announced Katie dead, believing that the current took her out.

They’re calling it a miracle; Katie Skye was found seemingly unscathed in New Mexico late Thursday night. According to our sources, the girl had been taken off the beach and raised by her kidnapper, Emily Miller.

“I never stopped dreaming that I’d see my baby girl again,” Karen Skye said.

Katie, raised as Savanna, had lived a relatively normal childhood, sources say.

“She was good in school,” Gerard Kane, Principal of Albuquerque High School claimed. “She was fairly popular. A troublemaker, for sure, but it was hard not to like Savanna.”

According to school records, Jenny Miller had home-schooled Katie from the age of her kidnapping until she was seven years old. Classmates refused to be questioned.

Jenny Miller is still an on-going investigation. She is currently still at large with no leads as of yet. Any and all information about ‘Jenny Miller’ should be reported to the Katie Skye hotline. Katie Skye is now content and safe at home with her biological parents on Long Island, right where she belongs.

Underneath the article was a blown-up picture of the supposed Jenny Miller. While I had been reading about this horrible woman, I half expected her to look evil and cold. I expected a drug addict, a piece of trash. Instead this woman looked painfully normal. She had a soft face, the kind that women born to be mothers usually do. Her blue eyes were gentle and clear. Her hair was curly and blonde, like Savanna’s, except a few shades darker. This woman could have been anyone’s mother.

This woman was absolutely terrifying.

I slammed my laptop shut, feeling sick with guilt. I shouldn’t have peeked into Savanna’s private life, no matter how public it may have become. I glanced at my window and saw, with a sinking stomach, Savanna’s figure standing there. There was no way she could have seen what I had been looking at, but the nausea rocked my stomach all over again. I leaned over and switched my light off without going to my window to see her.

Instead I did the cowardly thing; I pulled my blankets up to my chin, rolled over away from the window and tried not to think of Savanna Skye of Jenny Miller’s smiling face.