The Soulkeepers by G. P. Ching Read Free Book Online

the snow-covered yard. Dead leaves swirled behind the
wrought-iron fence. For a second, just a fraction of a moment,
Jacob could've sworn he'd seen a face staring at him through the
front window. He closed the garage door and hurried inside.

Chapter Eight
    Ancient History
     
    Days of school turned into weeks, then
months, hours carved out of a forced routine. The weather was cold,
school was hard, and Jacob got very good at coming up with reasons
to avoid getting too close to the Laudners.
    The one light in an otherwise dismal winter
was Malini. He ate lunch with her every day because he wanted to,
not for the obvious reason that he couldn't have sat anywhere else.
She was the only thing he looked forward to most days.
    "You know Jacob, I never told you what P.S
meant," Malini said, as she picked at her french-fries, eating only
the brown crispy ones. Friday was always hamburgers and fries. The
burgers were leathery frisbees but the fries were tolerable.
    "Yeah. I hear them calling you that. I
haven't asked you because it's pretty obvious it's not a term of
endearment," He reached across the table and dipped a fry into her
ketchup.
    "It means push start. They're making fun of
me because I'm Indian. You know how some Indian women wear a
bindi?"
    "The makeup on their forehead?" Jacob said,
touching himself between his eyes.
    "Yes. Well, Dane and his friends seem to
think a better term for the women who wear them is push start or
P.S."
    Jacob was speechless. "That's the stupidest
thing I've ever heard."
    "You have to consider the source."
    "Is that why you don't wear one?"
    "No. If I wanted to wear one, I wouldn't let
those morons stop me. I don't wear it because it's sort of a Hindu
thing and I'm Christian. I know that people now just wear them as
makeup and it doesn't mean what it once did, but I've never gotten
into the habit. Most of the time I don't even wear mascara." She
laughed and then shifted her attention toward the corner of her
orange tray.
    "Effing idiots," Jacob said. The knot in his
stomach tightened. Malini was joking about this now but he knew how
it must feel. It wasn't right. He forced himself to smile for her
sake. "Do you want me to pound them for you?"
    "Yeah sure, right now."
    He faked to stand just long enough for
Malini's eyes to grow wide and her face to flush, then fell back
into his chair, laughing. She clocked him on the shoulder. The
truth was Jacob thought he could take Dane and he had it coming,
but taking on all of them in the cafeteria would be suicide. It
wasn't the right time. But someday, someday soon, Jacob was going
to teach that guy a lesson.
    "Malini, what are you doing after school
today?"
    "Walking home, as always."
    "Do you want to study together again? I'm
supposed to meet my uncle at his shop but then we could go to
McNaulty's."
    "Sure."
    McNaulty's was a six-table family restaurant
next to the Peterson's Clothier up Main Street. Malini and Jacob
had gone there a couple of times after school. It was usually empty
on the weekdays and Mrs. McNaulty let them sit at a table for hours
sipping free refills of soda.
    After school, they made their way down the
cracked squares of concrete along Main Street. Malini pointed out
the green necks of crocuses sprouting in the muddy patches on
either side of the walk. The snow had melted, but Jacob had to take
her word for it that spring was coming. The cutting wind seemed to
disagree.
    "You know, my father says your uncle's shop
has been here since Paris was settled."
    "Really?"
    "Your family has been in Paris over one
hundred and fifty years, Jacob."
    "Wow, a hundred fifty years and I didn't
know they existed until just after Christmas."
    "What?" Malini turned toward him but Jacob
ducked inside the shop. The last thing he wanted to talk about was
the Laudners. But Jacob noticed for the first time the crumbling
red brick around the entrance, the worn marble floor, the
hand-carved sign: Laudner's Flowers est. 1858.
    "Jacob, is that you?" Katrina's