The Troll’s Summer Flame (Monsters in Uniform #6)

Chapter One Andrea

“Yes, I’m just... running a little... Where is he?” I’m panting as I slip my strappy summer sandal on over my foot, and I drag my last suitcase to the door. I need Meghan to get off the phone so I can find Chopin and make sure my UltraRyde is on the way.

“Who? Not Mr. Right, girl, because all of them are right beside me, sipping daiquiris and giving me the eye. Shane and Danica are already taking selfies with an entire law school fraternity under the Set Sail balloon arch. This is going to be insane!”

It is, and that worries me just a little. I need excitement, but I don’t want to end up on the internet as “drunk girl tries to kiss half of law school graduating class.” I don’t want my first year of teaching to be my last one.

“No, not Mr. Right, Chopin,” I puff, doing one more circuit around my apartment, looking for my cat. Yes, he’s named after my favorite composer.

“He’s probably under the bed. You need to leave, like, now.

It’s going to take you three hours to get to the dock, and then they have to check your passport and stuff.

” My cousin sounds slightly panicked. “If you miss the boat, you’ll have to charter a helicopter and get airdropped onto the deck, like they did in that old I Love Lucy episode. ”

“My broke ass cannot possibly afford to charter anything bigger than a bicycle,” I grumble, looking under the bed, my unease growing. “Damn it, Meg. I really need to go. I was making sure I took the trash out before I left for the week—”

“Ten days. Seven on board, three in glorious Bahama Mama Nassau!”

“Will you stop? You sound like a commercial for Vacay-go-go. I’m worried Chopin got out when I took the garbage down to the dumpster!”

“What? Well... Well, he’s a cat. Won’t he be okay for a couple of hours? He’ll probably be waiting at the door when your pet-sitter gets there.”

“But what if he’s not? What if he’s really lost?

” I lick my lips when they dry out, like they always do when I’m nervous.

My palms sweat, and my mouth turns into sandpaper.

It’s been that way since I was six and had my first piano recital, with my mother’s entire family from Manila sitting in the front row, cameras up and ready.

My mother was dead center, staring through me, her arms crossed, rosary clutched in one hand, mouth moving silently in prayers that still echo in my ears whenever I cross a stage, whether it's to conduct a bunch of kids through Frosty the Snowman or knock out a Mozart Concerto... “Please don’t let Andrea mess this up.”

“Cats are liquid! Did you see they actually did a study about it? He’s totally hiding from you in some tiny little space where you’d never think to look. Oh, God! He might be zipped into your luggage! Did you check?”

“No!” I gasp at the ridiculous (but possible) idea and start grabbing my suitcases back from their place by the door. “Chopin? Chopin, good boy, don’t do this to your mama right now!” I beg, ripping open zippers, throwing bikinis and sundresses over my shoulder.

“If you don’t leave in the next twenty minutes, you aren’t going to make it.”

“I’ll make it, I’ll make it.”

“If you don’t make the boat, you can still fly down to Nassau, right?”

“I am going to make it, Meghan!” I snap. “You’re right, he’s probably holed up in some hiding place I haven’t discovered yet.”

“I hope so. I have your excursion pass, and I have your welcome sunglasses from this cute steward, and—”

“I love you, I’ll be there soon. Don’t let Danica get drunk and fall overboard,” I groan.

“God, ask me to move the sun a little to the right, why don’t you?” Meghan grumbles. “Oh, no. They’re doing shots. Don’t they have any rules about serving alcohol before noon?”

“Danica and Shane specifically told us this was considered a ‘booze cruise,’ remember? And you said nurses and teachers could outdrink the professional seventy-something cruisers.”

“If you’d have listened to your aunties and become a nurse like the rest of us, you would know we can outdrink teachers, too,” Meghan quips. “Oooh! Shane said she signed us up for the Limbo to Lunch party. I have to run, sweetie!”

“The cruise is already serving food? We were only allowed to board at 11:30. You’re still at the dock until three!” They’re already drinking, and meeting hot guys, hot guys with money and law degrees, and having limbo contests... In other words, I’m missing out already.

I pile everything back into my suitcase, wincing at how my neatly packed bag is now a disaster zone that will barely zip. My phone buzzes in my hand, a notification that my ride is here. “Meg! My ride is here! They charge a waiting fee after three minutes. What the heck am I supposed to do?”

“Leave the cat! He’s just hiding, girl!”

“I can’t leave him until I see him!” I hiss, dragging my bags behind me to the door.

“You can get a new cat?”

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.”

“Look, if he’s lost, the cat sitter will tell you, and they’ll look for him.”

“And what will I do, jump into the Atlantic and swim home to help? He’s my responsibility, not hers!”

“Maybe take a lifeboat?” Meg suggests, the wince in her voice letting me know that she can tell I’m close to losing it.

“I gotta go. I’ll see you soon. Don’t let that boat leave without me,” I say grimly.

The boat left without me.

In my defense, Meghan said Danica tried to bribe the guy who stands on the deck and rings the ceremonial bell with a drunken lap dance—and now she has to wear a red wristband with a scan code that means she can’t be served any more alcohol until noon tomorrow.

What am I doing at five on a sweltering June afternoon? Sobbing over my phone, texting my parents every five minutes, bugging St. Anthony, patron saint of lost items (which I hope includes cats), running around this stupid little town with an open can of tuna, and hating my life choices right now.

My cat is missing. He got out because I was busy worrying about my luggage and my ride to the city. What if he’s been run over by a car? What if he’s hopelessly lost? What if I never see him again?

Don’t think like that. Father, hear my prayer... I cross myself. This is bigger than St. Anthony, and I’ve already been bugging him since eleven with no results.

I’m missing the cruise, all the fun, and time with my besties.

I haven’t seen them since Christmas, since they all live about an hour south of the Jersey City area, and I moved up into this “quaint” little mountain town in rural New York state.

What was I thinking, going to school for music education, not nursing (when all the other girls in my family are nurses, and none of them has ever ventured into teaching or music), moving up here instead of waiting for a job near them?

I just keep messing up, and now I’m stuck in Pine Ridge, which is as different from my home city as day is from night.

This quaint little town is boring as heck if you’re young, single, and ready to mingle.

I mean, mingle responsibly. I’m a teacher, and according to my mother, one lucky break away from becoming a concert pianist. It’s not like I wanted to get drunk and flash the ship’s first mate or a frat guy from Harvard Law.

I just wanted a break from boring little towns, loneliness, and work.

You get the summer off, my snide inner voice (which sounds unpleasantly like my Tita Carla) reminds me.

Yes. Which means the boredom and loneliness can split me fifty-fifty, instead of taking turns with stress, exhaustion, and the busy-ness of being a perfectionistic first-year teacher four hours away from all of my family.

“Chopin!” I call, shaking off my tears and shaking my tuna can, tapping it with a fork. “Your favorite! People food!”

My phone buzzes. It won’t stop buzzing—hasn’t stopped buzzing in five hours.

Mom: Any luck? I will light candles to St. Francis.

Dad: Did you get your money back from the UltraRyde app? You need to file a claim if you didn’t. It’s not your fault you didn’t keep the appointment. It’s a family emergency.

Meghan: Okay, Shane says there’s a flight on Saturday morning from LaGuardia to Nassau for only $589. She said it would normally be cheaper, but it’s really short notice. There are only two seats left, she says. Want it?

Dad: Did you get travel insurance? I told you, always get travel insurance.

Mom: Your father is going on and on about travel insurance, but Tita Carla says if you missed the boat because you lost your cat, they won’t honor it. I told her I would light a candle to St. Christopher, but Tita Filamena says you haven’t traveled anywhere yet, and it might confuse him.

I sit down hard on the grass outside my apartment, not caring if I’m ruining my beautiful blue dress, the clingy one with cutouts in the shoulders, the sexy but chic one that I planned to wear on my first day aboard the ship, hoping to turn heads.

Me: Do saints get confused, Mom? I feel like they’d get it. Tell Daddy I’ll deal with the money after I find Chopin.

Mom: Tita Carla says you can always get another cat.

Dad: You can’t throw 1800 dollars away! You’re a teacher. Teachers make less than nurses. You should have listened to your mother and become a nurse.

Mom: Don’t listen to your father. You should have become a concert pianist. It’s not too late to move back home and try to get into Juilliard.

“Arghhhhhhhh!” I let out a long, wailing scream of frustration. “Everything is driving me nuts!” I shriek.

“Mew?”

I look up into the tree above me so fast I pop my neck. It’s so leafy, and the light is fading, but I can just make out a shadowy bulge on one branch. “Chopin!” I gasp. “Is that you?”

“Mew!” Chopin’s voice is louder now.

“I have tuna, boy. Come here! Come down,” I coax, scurrying to my feet and over to the tall tree. Chopin is on a branch that’s close to the second story of the apartment building.

Chopin lets out a noise that’s very much in disagreement with what I just said.

“You just ruined my entire summer vacation!” I scold. “Do not be a drama king on top of it! Climb your fluffy behind down here right now,” I try to sound firm, even though my insides are shaking with relief.

Chopin remains where he is, peering down at me, almost accusingly.

“What? You don’t want the guilt trip? Well, sorry, fluff butt, you’ve earned it.

I spent all my savings on this trip, I wasted some UltraRyde guy’s entire afternoon, and I bet you I get a ding on my profile—not that I get to use it in this tiny place, I have to pay a pet-sitter fifty percent for canceling the day of, not to mention messing up her plans, and I’m stuck here.

” I put the tuna down and begin looking for a way up this tree.

It’s not going to happen in this dress or these shoes, that’s for sure, but I’m also afraid to leave Chopin in case he runs off.

Chopin, not surprisingly, doesn’t say anything to my tirade, just peers down at me, tail swaying lazily.

I circle the tree, trying to see if I can pull myself up into the lower branches. “Maybe I can meet you halfway,” I grunt, jumping and barely grazing my fingertips against it. “How the hell did you get up there?”

“Ssss,” Chopin hisses at me when I rattle the whole tree with my next attempt to run and jump—and succeed in snapping the bendy lowest branch into several others and losing my grip.

“Don’t sass me, mister. You and me are about to have a whole lot of quality time,” I grumble, glaring up.

“Yeah, that’s right. Because even if I get my money back—which I won’t—my friends are all going to be working the rest of the summer.

I need to make teacher buddies with the summer off.

And, rrrgh—” I try pulling myself up again, and fail again, “even if I get all my money back and they miraculously get another two weeks of vacation, we won’t be going on a cruise with a bunch of hot law grads to a tropical paradise, because people book those cruises months in advance! ”

Like I did during winter vacation, when all of my cousins and a bunch of family friends who might as well be related because they’re like family were all sitting around after eating way too much and talking about how much we missed each other, and how tough work was.

We escaped the aunties gossiping and the uncles arguing, snuck out to drink tsokolate and scroll on our phones while we commiserated about the realities of being working adults, no longer college students.

Danica was the one who suggested a cruise, saying it would be a bargain vacation with all food, drinks, swimming, and entertainment included, plus traveling to a destination.

My family isn’t the “cruising” type. We’ve always saved our big vacations to meet family halfway or simply gone to the Jersey Shore.

It’s fun, but it’s never been relaxing (nothing with Tita Carla is ever relaxing).

When I agreed to go with my cousin and two of our best friends to celebrate our first “adult summer vacation,” I was knee-deep in flu season, kids who leave germy, sticky fingerprints on the school piano, two all-school choirs, and four ensemble groups.

Three months into my first “real” job as a music teacher at Pine Ridge Elementary and Pine Ridge Middle School (mornings at one and afternoons at the other), and I was already wondering how teachers survive until Christmas Break, let alone summer vacation.

Come to think of it, I’m still wondering. I think I know, though... We live for these complete and total breaks, unfamiliar sights, carefree days, sultry nights...

“You have so much to answer for, little man,” I growl. “I still love you, though. Please come down?” I let out a sigh and hold up my arms for Chopin to descend.

“Mrowwwwwr,” Chopin lets out a decidedly unhappy noise, and it dawns on me. He’s not being stubborn. He’s stuck.

I’m gonna have to call the fire department.

And after the fire department laughs at me and I die of embarrassment and/or disappointment, I’m going to leave Pine Ridge.