Unspeakable Things (Jess Lourey)

PRAISEFORTHECATALAINBOOKOFSECRETS
“Life-affirming,thought-provoking,heartwarming,it’soneofthosebookswhich―ifyouhappentoreaditexactlywhenyouneedto―willhealyourwoundsasyouturnthepages.”
―CatrionaMcPherson,Agatha,Anthony,Macavity,andBruceAlexander–winningauthor
“ProlificmysterywriterLoureytellsofamatriarchalclanofwitchesjoiningforcesagainstage-oldevil…Thenovelistightlyplotted,andLoureyshineswhendepictingrelationships―romanticonesaswellastangledlinksbetweenCatalains…Loureyemphasizesthetiesthatbindinspiteofsecretsandresentment.”
―KirkusReviews
“LoureyexpertlyconcoctsaGothicfusionoflong-heldsecrets,melancholy,andresolve…Exquisitelywritteninnaturallyflowing,expressivelanguage,thebookdelvesintothespecialrelationshipsbetweensisters,andmothersanddaughters.”
―PublishersWeekly
PRAISEFORSALEM’SCIPHER
“Afast-paced,sometimesbrutalthrillerreminiscentofDanBrown’sTheDaVinciCode.”
―Booklist(starredreview)
“[A]hair-raisingthrillride.”
―LibraryJournal(starredreview)
“Thefascinatinghistoricalinformationcombinedwithastorylinerippedfromtheheadlineswillhookconspiracytheoristsandactionaddictsalike.”
―KirkusReviews
“FansofTheDaVinciCodearegoingtolovethisbook…oneofmyfavoritereadsof2016.”
―CrimespreeMagazine
“Thissuspensefultalehassomethingforabsolutelyeveryonetoenjoy.”
―SuspenseMagazine
PRAISEFORMERCY’SCHASE
“Animmersivevoice,anintriguingstory,awonderfulcharacter―highlyrecommended!”
―LeeChild,#1NewYorkTimesbestsellingauthor
“Bothasweepingadventureandrace-against-timethriller,Mercy’sChaseisfascinating,fierce,andbrimmingwithheart―justlikeitsheroine,SalemWiley.”
―MegGardiner,authorofIntotheBlackNowhere
“Action-packed,greatwritingtautwithsuspense,anappealingmaincharactertorootfor—whocouldaskforanythingmore?”
―BuriedUnderBooks
PRAISEFORMAYDAY
“JessLoureywritesaboutasmall-townassistantlibrarian,butthisisnogenteeltraditionalmystery.MiraJameslikesguysinabigway,likesbooze,andisn’tafraidofmotorcycles.Shefleesadead-endjobandadead-endboyfriendinMinneapolisandendsupinBattleLake,alittletownwithplentyofdirtysecrets.Thefirst-personnarrativeinMayDayisfresh,thecharactersquirky.Minnesotahasmanyfinecrimewriters,andJessLoureyhasjustenteredtheirranks!”
―EllenHart,award-winningauthoroftheJaneLawlessandSophieGreenwayseries
“Thistradepaperbackpackedapunch…Iloveditfromtheget-go!”
―TulsaWorld
“Whatarompthisis!Ifoundmyselflaughingoutloud…”
―CrimespreeMagazine
“Miradigsupaclosetfulofdirtysecrets,includingsexparties,cross-dressing,andblackmail,onherwaytoexposingthekiller.Lourey’sdebuthasalikeableheroineandsurfeitofsass.”
―KirkusReviews
OTHERTITLESBYJESSLOUREY
THRILLERS
Salem’sCipher
Mercy’sChase
MAGICALREALISM
TheCatalainBookofSecrets
SevenDaughters
YOUNGADULT
TheToadhouseTrilogy:BookOne
COMICCAPERS
MayDay
JuneBug
KneeHighbytheFourthofJuly
AugustMoon
SeptemberMourn
OctoberFest
NovemberHunt
DecemberDread
JanuaryThaw
FebruaryFever
MarchofCrime
AprilFools
NONFICTION
RewriteYourLife:DiscoverYourTruthThroughtheHealingPowerofFiction
Thisisaworkoffiction.Names,characters,organizations,places,events,andincidentsareeitherproductsoftheauthor’simaginationorareusedfictitiously.Anyresemblancetoactualpersons,livingordead,oractualeventsispurelycoincidental.
Textcopyright?2020byJessLourey
Allrightsreserved.
Nopartofthisbookmaybereproduced,orstoredinaretrievalsystem,ortransmittedinanyformorbyanymeans,electronic,mechanical,photocopying,recording,orotherwise,withoutexpresswrittenpermissionofthepublisher.
PublishedbyThomas&Mercer,Seattle
www.apub.com
Amazon,theAmazonlogo,andThomas&MerceraretrademarksofAmazon.com,Inc.,oritsaffiliates.
ISBN-13:9781542008785
ISBN-10:1542008786
CoverdesignbyCarolineTeagleJohnson
IllustrationsbyTonyVanDenEindeofLittleElephantInteractive
ToPatrick,whoshowedmethewayout.CONTENTS
AUTHOR’SNOTE
PROLOGUE
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER1
CHAPTER2
CHAPTER3
CHAPTER4
CHAPTER5
CHAPTER6
CHAPTER7
CHAPTER8
CHAPTER9
CHAPTER10
CHAPTER11
CHAPTER12
CHAPTER13
CHAPTER14
CHAPTER15
CHAPTER16
CHAPTER17
CHAPTER18
CHAPTER19
CHAPTER20
CHAPTER21
CHAPTER22
CHAPTER23
CHAPTER24
CHAPTER25
CHAPTER26
CHAPTER27
CHAPTER28
CHAPTER29
CHAPTER30
CHAPTER31
CHAPTER32
CHAPTER33
CHAPTER34
CHAPTER35
CHAPTER36
CHAPTER37
CHAPTER38
CHAPTER39
CHAPTER40
CHAPTER41
CHAPTER42
CHAPTER43
CHAPTER44
CHAPTER45
CHAPTER46
CHAPTER47
CHAPTER48
CHAPTER49
CHAPTER50
CHAPTER51
CHAPTER52
CHAPTER53
CHAPTER54
CHAPTER55
CHAPTER56
CHAPTER57
CHAPTER58
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
ABOUTTHEAUTHOR
AUTHOR’SNOTE
IwasoneofafewhundredkidstocomeofageinPaynesville,Minnesota,inthe1980s.Igrewupthinkingthateverysmalltownhadacurfewsirenthatwarnedthechildrenindoorsat9:00p.m.,thatChestertheMolesterwasacommonnicknameforthebogeyman,thatPeepingTomswerenotunusual.Ihadmyownproblemsathome,somechildish,othersmuchmoreserious,buttherumorsofamanhuntingchildrenbecamethebackbeatofmypreteenandteenyears.
Igraduatedhighschoolin1988andmovedtoMinneapolis.
WhenJacobWetterlingwasabductedonOctober22,1989,fromSt.Joseph,Minnesota,thirtymilesuptheroadfromPaynesville,Iwaspreparingtodropoutofmysecondyearofcollege.Thoserumorsfrommyearlyyears(don’tgooutatnightorChesterwillgetyou!)rushedbackintofocus.PicturesofJacobwereeverywhere.Peoplecametogethertosearchforthatsweet-facedeleven-year-oldwho’dbeenabductedbyamaskedmanwithagun.Dayspassedintoweeksintoyears,andJacobwasneverfound.NotuntilalocalbloggerbeganwritingaboutthepotentialconnectionbetweenJacob’sdisappearanceandtheabductionandreleaseofeightboysinandaroundPaynesvilleinthe’80swasJacob’sabductorarrested,twenty-sevenyearslater.HeledauthoritiestoJacob’sremains.
Theexperiencehashauntedme.It’shauntedmanyofusintheMidwest,upendingwhatwethoughtweknewaboutruralcommunitiesandthesafetyofchildren.Thetrueversionofeventshasbeentoldwellinotherplaces,mostnotablyinseasononeoftheIntheDarkpodcast.ItwastheemotionalrepercussionsofthoseeventsthatIneededtogivevoiceto.Ineededtocreatecoherenceoutofmymemoriesofgrowingupinchronicfear.WhenCassieMcDowell,thefictionalheroineofthisstory,cametomeandbeggedforherstorytobetold,Isawmychance.
Whilethestoryisinspiredbyrealpeopleandevents,itisentirelyfictional.However,it’smyhopethatthecharacterofGabrielhonorsthegoodnessinallnineofthoseboys.
Thankyouforreading.
PROLOGUE
Thelonely-screamsmellofthatdirtbasementlivedinsideme.
Mostlyitkepttoashadowcornerofmybrain,butthesecondI’dthinkLilydale,it’dscuttleoverandsmotherme.Thesmellwasapredatorycavestink,thesuffocatingfunkofagreatsomnolentmonsterthatwasallmouthandhunger.Ithadcanningjarsforteeth,asinglestringhangingoffalightbulbitsuvula.Itwaitedplacidly,eternally,forcountrykidstostumbledownitsbackbonestairs.
Itletusswingblindlyforthatuvulastring.
Ourfingerswouldbrushagainstit.
light!
Thereliefwascandyandsunandsilverdollarsandthelastgoodthingwefeltbeforethebeastswalloweduswhole,digestingusforathousandyears.
Butthat’snotright.
Myimagination,I’dbeentold,wasquiteathing.
Thebasementwasn’tthemonster.
Themanwas.
Andhewasn’tpassive.Hehunted.
Ihadn’treturnedtoLilydalesincethatevening.ThepoliceandthenMomhadaskedifIwantedanythingfrommybedroom,andI’dsaidno.I’dbeenthirteen,notstupid,thoughalotofpeopleconfusethetwo.
Nowthathisfuneralhadcalledmehome,thatcellarstinkdoubledbackwithavengeance,settlinglikeafishhookwaydeepinmyfacewheremynosemetmybrain.Thesmellcreptintomysleep,even,convincedmethatIwastrappedinthatgravedirtbasementalloveragain.I’dthrashandyell,wakeupmyhusband.
He’dholdme.Heknewthestory.
Atleasthethoughthedid.
I’dmadeitfamousinmyfirstnovel,shareditsinspirationonmycross-countrybooktour.ExceptsomehowI’dnevermentionedthenecklace,nottoanyone,notevenNoah.Maybethatpiecefelttooprecious.
Ormaybeitjustmademelookdumb.
Icouldclosemyeyesandpictureit.Thechainwouldbeconsideredtooheavynowbutwastheheightoffashionin1983,gold,samemetalasthepaperairplanecharmhangingoffit.
I’dbelievedthatairplanenecklacewasmyticketoutofLilydale.
Ididn’tactuallythinkIcouldflyit.Bigduh,aswesaidbackthen.Buttheboywhoworethenecklace?Gabriel?Iwasconvincedhewouldchangeeverything.
AndIguesshedid.
CHAPTER1
“Fifteentwo,fifteenfour,andapairforsix.”Sephiebeamed.
Dadmatchedhersmileacrossthetable.“Nicehand.Cass?”
Ilaiddownmycards,tryingtokeepthegloatoffmyfaceandfailing.“Fifteentwo,fifteenfour,fifteensix,andarunforten!”
Mommovedourpeg.“Wewin.”
Ishoulder-danced.“Icangiveyoulessonsifyouwant,Sephie.”
Sherolledhereyes.“Inbeingapoorsport?”
Ilaughedanddugintothepopcorn.Momhadmadeahugebatch,supersaltyanddousedinbrewer’syeast.Thathadbeenanhourearlier,whenwe’dstartedgamenight.Thebowlwasgettingdowntotheoldmaids.Idugaroundfortheonesshowingapeekofwhite.Part-poppedoldmaidsareworththeirweightingold,taste-wise.
“Needarefill?”Dadstood,pointingatMom’shalf-fullglasssweatinginthestickyMayair.Summerwascomingearlythisyear—atleastthat’swhatmybiologyteacher,Mr.Patterson,hadsaid.Wasreallygoingtomesswithcrops.
He’dseemedbotheredbythis,butIbetIwasn’ttheonlykidlookingforwardtoahotbreak.SephieandIplannedtoturnasbrownasbakedbeansandbleachourdarkhairblonde.She’dheardfromafriendofafriendthatbabyoilonourskinandvinegarwaterspritzedinourhairwouldworkaswellasthoseexpensivecoconut-scentedtanningoilsandSunIn.We’devenwhisperedaboutfindingaspotattheedgeofourproperty,wherethewoodsbrokeforthedrainageditch,tolayoutnaked.Thethoughtmademeshiver.Boyslikednotanlines.I’dlearnedthatwatchingLittleDarlings
MomliftedherdrinkandemptieditbeforeofferingittoDad.“Thanks,love.”
Hestrodeovertohersideofthetable,leaninginforadeepkissbeforetakingherglass.NowIwasrollingmyeyesrightalongwithSephie.MomandDad,mostlyDad,regularlytriedtoconvinceusthatwewereluckytheywerestillsoinlove,butgross
DadpulledawayfromkissingMomandcaughtourexpressions.Helaughedhisair-onlyhehhehlaugh,settingdownbothglassessohewasfreetomassageMom’sshoulders.Theywereanattractivecouple,peoplesaiditallthetime.Momhadbeenbeautiful,everycloudypicturetakenofherprovedthat,andshestillhadtheglossybrownhairandwideeyes,thoughincubatingSephieandmehadpaddedherhipsandbelly.Dadwashandsome,too,withaCharlesBronsonthinggoingon.Youcouldseehowthey’dendeduptogether,especiallyafterMomdownedaglassofwine,andshe’dletspillhowshe’dalwaysbeendrawntothebadboys,evenbackinhighschool.
Myimmediatefamilywassmall:justMomandAuntJin;mybigsister,Persephone(myparentshadathingforGreeknames);andDad.Ididn’tknowmydad’ssideofthefamily.Theywouldn’tbeworthsweepingintoadustpan,atleastthat’swhatmygrandpaonMom’ssidesworetomygrandmathewinterhediedofamassiveheartattack.Mygrandmahadn’targued.She’dbeenadocileladywhoalwayssmelledoffresh-bakedbreadnomattertheseason.AfewweeksafterGrandpapassed,shediedofastroke,whichsoundslikeaswimmovebutisnot.
They’dlostason,mymom’sparents,whenIwasthreeyearsold.He’dbeenawildone,Iguess.Diedplayingchickenina’79Camaro,probablydrinking,peoplesaid.IcouldonlyrememberonethingaboutUncleRichard.Itwasathisfuneral.Jinwascrying,butMomwascryinglouder,andshewentuptoGrandpaforahug.Heturnedawayfromher,andshestoodthere,lookingsadderthanalostbaby.
Iaskedheraboutitonce,aboutwhyGrandpawouldn’thugher.ShesaidIwastooyoungtorememberanythingfromRich’sfuneral,andbesides,thepastshouldstayinthepast.
“Ithinkyourmotheristhemostbeautifulwomanintheworld,”Dadsaidinthehereandnow,rubbingMom’sshoulderswhilesheclosedhereyesandmadeadreamyface.
“Finebyme,”Isaid.“Justgetaroom.”
Dadswepthisarminawidearc,hissmiletippedsideways.“Ihaveawholehouse.Maybeyoushouldlearntorelax.I’llrubyourshouldersnext.”
MyeyescuttoSephie.Shewasflickingabentcornerofaplayingcard.
“I’mokay,”Isaid.
“Sephie?Yournecktense?”
Sheshrugged.
“That’smygirl!”Hemovedtoher,layinghishandsonherbonyshoulders.Shewastwoyearsolderthanmebutskinnynomatterwhatsheate,allbuckerooteethanddimples,adeadringerforKristyMcNichol,thoughI’deatmyownhairbeforeI’dtellher.
DadstartedinonSephie.“It’sgoodtofeelgood,”hemurmuredtoher.
Thatmademeitchinside.“Canweplayanothergameofcribbage?”
“Soon,”Dadsaid.“First,Iwanttoheareveryone’ssummerdreams.”
Igroaned.Dadwasbigondreams.Hebelievedyoucouldbewhateveryouwanted,butyouhadto“seeit”first.Hippie-dippie,butIsupposeapersongotusedtoit.BothSephieandIswappedalook.WeknewwithoutsayingitthatDadwouldnotapproveofourplantotransformourselvesintoblondes.Girlsshouldnottrytobeanythingforanyone,he’dtellus.Weneededtocommandourownmindsandbodies.
Again,gross
“IwanttovisitAuntJin,”Ioffered.
Momhadbeengoinghalf-lidded,buthereyespoppedopenatthementionofhersister.“That’sagreatplan!WecandrivetoCanadaforaweek.”
“Excellent,”Dadagreed.
Myheartsoared.WehardlyevertraveledfartherthanupthehighwaytoSt.Cloudforco-opgroceries,butnowthatMomhadherfull-timeteachingjob,there’dbeentalkofroad-trippingthissummer.Still,I’dbeenafraidtosuggestwevisitAuntJin.IfMomandDadwereinthewrongmood,they’dkillthatideaforeternity,andIreallyneededsomeAuntJintime.Ilovedhertodeath.
Shewastheonlyonewhodidn’tpretendIwasnormal.
ShewastherewhenIwasborn,stayedonforafewweeksafterthattohelpoutMom,butmyfirstactualmemoryofherwasfromrightafterUncleRichard’sfuneral.AuntJinwasadecadeyoungerthanMom,whichputheratnomorethanseventeenatthetime.I’dcaughtherstaringatmythroat,somethingalotofpeopledo.
Ratherthanlookaway,she’dsmiledandsaid,“Ifyou’dbeenborntwohundredyearsago,they’dhavedrownedyou.”
Shewasreferringtothered,ropyscarthatcircledwheremyneckmetmyshoulders,thickasoneofMr.T’sgoldchains.Apparently,I’dshotoutofMomwiththeumbilicalcordcoiledaroundmythroat,mybodyblueasaBerryPunchFla-Vor-Ice,eyeswideeventhoughIwasn’tbreathing.Iexitedsofastthatthedoctordroppedme.
Oratleastthat’sthestoryIwastold.
ThereIhung,ahumandingleberry,untiloneofthenursesswoopedinandunwoundthecord,uncoveringanamnioticbandstranglingmebeneaththat.Thequick-thinkingnursecutit,thenslappedmetillIwailed.She’dsavedmylife,butthebandhadbrandedme.Momsaidmylesionlookedlikeanangryscarletsnakeatfirst.Thatseemeddramatic.Inanycase,Isuspectthenursewasalittleshakywhenshefinallyhandedmeover.Thewholefiascowasn’texactlyajobwelldone.Plus,Rosemary’sBabyhadhittheatersacoupleyearsbefore,andeveryoneinthatroommusthavebeenwonderingwhathadpropelledmeoutofthewombwithsuchforce.
“Itwouldhavebeenbadlucktokeepababywhoseownmothertriedtostrangleittwice,”AuntJinfinished,chuckingmeundermychin.IdecidedonthespotthatitwasanokayjokebecauseMomwashersister,andtheybothlovedme.
Here’sanothernuttysayingAuntJinlikedtotossmyway:“Earth.Ifyouknowwhatyou’redoing,you’reinthewrongplace.”She’dwaggleherthickeyebrowsandtipanimaginarycigarasshespoke.Ididn’tknowwherethatgesturewasfrom,butshe’dgigglesohard,herlaughlikemarblesthrownupintothesunshine,thatI’dlaughalongwithher.
That’showeveryAuntJinvisitbegan.Thejokeaboutdrowningme,somemeatylifequotes,andthenwe’ddanceandsingalongtoherSurvivorandJohnnyCougartapes.She’dspillallabouthertravelsandletmesipthehoney-coloredliqueurshe’dsmuggledfromAmsterdamoroffermeapacketofthebiscuitsshelovedsomuchandthatI’dpretenddidn’ttastelikeoldsaltines.Sephiewouldwanttojoinin,I’dseeheronthesidelines,butsheneverquiteknewhowtohopontheridethatwasAuntJin.
Idid.
AuntJinandmewerethickasthieves
ThatmadeitokaythatDadlikedSephiewaymorethanme.
Iwrinkledmynose.Hewasreallygoingtotownonthatmassage.MomhadlefttorefillherandDad’sdrinkseventhoughhe’doffered,sinceitwastakinghimsolongtorubSephie’sshoulders.
“Sephie,”Iasked,becausehereyeswereclosedandIwantedthattostop,“what’syourdreamforthesummer?”
Shespokequietly,almostawhisper.“IwanttogetajobattheDairyQueen.”
Dad’shandsstoppedkneading.AlookIcouldn’tnamesweptacrosshisface,andIthoughtI’dmemorizedeverytwitchofhis.Healmostimmediatelyswappedoutthatweirdexpressionforagoofysmilethatliftedhisbeardahalfinch.“Great!Youcansaveforcollege.”
Sephienodded,butshelookedsosadallofasudden.She’dbeennothingbutmoodsandmysteriessinceDecember.Thechangeintemperamentcoincidedwithhergettingboobs(SantaClausdelivered!I’dteasedher),andsoIdidn’tneedtobeRemingtonSteele’sLauraHolttounderstandthatonewasconnectedtotheother.
Momreturnedtothediningroom,afreshdrinkineachhand,herattentionhookedonmydad.“Anothergameofcribbage?”
Ileanedbacktopeekatthekitchenclock.Itwastenthirty.EverykidItoldthoughtitwascoolIdidn’thaveabedtime.Isupposedtheywereright.Tomorrowwasthefirstdayofthelastweekofseventhgradeforme,though.“I’mgoingtosleep.Youguyscanplaythreehanded.”
Momnodded.
“Don’tletthebedbugsbite!”Dadsaid.
Ididn’tglanceatSephieasIwalkedaway.Ifeltaqueaseaboutleavingherupwiththemwhenthey’dbeendrinking,butIwroteitoffaspaybackforheralwaysfallingasleepfirstthenightswewereleftalone,backwhenwe’dsometimessleeptogether.She’dletmeclimbinbedwithher,whichwasnice,butthenshe’dcrashoutlikealight,andthereI’dlayagonizingovereverysound,andinanoldhouselikeourstherewaslotsofunexplainedthumpingandcreakinginthenight.WhenI’dfinallydriftoff,everythingbutmymouthandnosecoveredbythequilt,she’dhaveasleepspazandwakemerightbackup.
Icouldn’trememberthelasttimewe’dsleptinthesamebed,hardasItriedonthewalktothebathroom.Irinsedoffmyface,thenreachedformytoothbrush,planningouttomorrow’sclothes.IfIwokeupforty-fiveminutesearly,Icouldusethehotrollers,butIhadn’tokayeditwithSephie,andI’dalreadyexcusedmyselffromthetable.Ibrushedmyteethandspit,rinsingwiththesamemetallicwellwaterthatturnedtheendsofmyhairorange.
Icouldn’treachmyupstairsbedroomwithoutwalkingthroughacornerofthediningroom.Ikeptmyeyestrainedontheground,myshouldershigharoundmyears,sinkingdeepinmythoughts.Myhomeworkwasdone,myfoldersorganizedinsidemygarage-saleTrapperKeeperthatwasasgoodasnewexceptfortheScotch-tapedripneartheseam.
FirstperiodtomorrowwassupposedtobeEnglish,butinsteadweweretoproceeddirectlytothegymforanall-schoolpresentation.ThepostersslappedarounddeclareditaSummerSafetySymposium,whichsomeclevereighthgradershadshorthandedtoSnakeSymposium.SSS.I’dheardtherumorsthisweekthatLilydalekidsweredisappearingandthencomingbackchanged.Everyonehad.Aliens,theolderkidsonthebusclaimed,weresnatchingkidsandprobingthem.
Iknewallaboutaliens.WhenIwaitedinthegrocerycheckoutline,thebig-eyedgreencreaturesstaredatmefromthefrontcoveroftheNationalEnquirerrightbelowtheshotofElizabethTaylor’svampiremonkeybaby.
Right.Aliens.
Probablythesymposiumwasmeanttoputthoserumorstorest,butIdidn’tthinkitwasagoodideatoholdittomorrow.Thebreakinourroutine—combinedwithitbeingthelastweekofschool—wouldmakeeveryoneextrasquirrelly.
IwashalfwayupthestairswhenIheardaknockthatshiveredthebabyhairsonmyneck.Itsoundedlikeitcamefromrightbelowme,fromthebasement.Thatwasanewsound.
Mom,Dad,andSephiemusthaveheardit,too,becausethey’dstoppedtalking.
“Oldhouse,”Dadfinallysaid,ahotedgetohisvoice.
Ishotuptherestofthestairsandacrossthelanding,closedmydoortightly,andslippedintomypajamas,tossingmyT-shirtandterryclothshortsintomydirty-clotheshamperbeforesettingmyalarmclock.IdecidedIwouldtrythehotrollers.Sephiehadn’tcalleddibsonthem,andwhoknew?ImightendupsittingnexttoGabrielduringthesymposium.Ishouldlookmybest.
Iwasjelly-bonetired,butmycopyofNellieBly’sTrustItorDon’tguiltedmefromthetopofmytreasureshelves.AuntJinhadsentittomeasanearlybirthdaypresent.Thebookwasfullofthemostfantasticalstoriesanddrawings,liketheaccountofMartinJ.Spalding,whowasaprofessorofmathematicsatagefourteen,orBeautifulAntonia,“theUnhappyWomantoWhomLoveAlwaysBroughtDeath!”
I’dbeensavoringthestories,readingonlyoneanightsothey’dlast.I’dconfidedtoJinthatIwasgoingtobeawritersomeday.Attainingsuchagoalrequiredpracticeanddiscipline.Didn’tmatterhowtiredIwas.Ineededtostudythenight’sNellie.
Iflippedthebookopentoarandompage,drawninstantlytothesketchofaproudGermanshepherd.
Ismiled,satisfied.Icouldwritethat.MyplanwastobegindraftingoneNellieaweekassoonasschoolwasout.I’dalreadywrittenacontract,whichI’dcalledCassie’sSummerWritingDuties.ItincludedaplanforgettingmyportfoliotoNellieBlyInternationalLimitedbeforeLaborDayandapenalty(notelevisionforaweek)ifIdidnotfulfillthetermsofmycontract.I’dhadSephiewitnessmesigningit.
Isetthehugeyellow-coveredbookonmytreasureshelfandstretched,checkingmymuscles.Didtheywanttosleepstretchedoutlongunderneathmybedorcurledupshortinmycloset?
Long,theysaid.
Allright,then.Igrabbedapillowandthetopquiltoffmybedandslidthepillowundertheboxspringsfirst.Ifollowedonmyback,draggingthequiltbehind.Ihadtosquishtoreachthefarthestcorner.ThemoonspilledenoughlightintomyroomthatIcouldmakeouttheblackcoilsoverhead.
TheywerethelastthingIsawbeforedriftingofftosleep.
CHAPTER2
“Yourdad’sstillasleep,”MomsaidwhenIsteppedintothekitchenthenextmorning.“Don’tmaketoomuchnoise.”
Thatwascodeforcerealforbreakfast
Iscowled.“Youthinkit’sfairhegetstosleepin?”
Momwasrushingaroundthekitchen,takingoutmeattothawfordinner,makingsureDadknewwhatleftoverstoeatforlunch,packingherownmiddaymeal.“Iflifewerefair,there’dbenostarvingchildren,”shesaid,notevenglancingmyway.
Iwasn’tinthemood.“MaybewhenI’moldIcansleepinallday.”
Momstiffened,andIworriedforasecondthatI’dpushedtoofar.Shetoleratedalot,butwhensheflipped,shewasgone.“He’skeepingartist’shours,”shefinallysaid,dippingbackintotherefrigerator.“He’sgotanewproject.”
Thatexplainedwhyhe’dbeenextraweirdallweekend.
DonnyMcDowellwasanartistandasoldier,that’swhathetoldpeople.Onehechoseandtheotherhedidn’t,he’dsay.Afterhisdischarge,heandMomtriedtomakeagoofitinSt.Cloud,butthecitywastoobusyforhim.Hedeclaredthatthefuturewastobefoundinthecountry,wherehecouldreturntohisrootsandlivelikeapioneer,naturalandfree.
MomandDadpulledupstakesandheadedtoLilydalewhenIwasfour.MyonlymemoryoflivinginSt.Cloudwascominghomeearlyfromafriend’sdowntheblocktofindDadnakedinbedwithMom’sbestfriend.Mom’sfriendwasnaked,too.IranoutlookingforMomandfoundherbikingaroundtheblock,crying.Shewouldn’ttalktome.I’dneveraskedheraboutthatagain,notlikeIaskedheraboutGrandpaturningawayfromheratUncleRichard’sfuneral.
Otherthanthat,Ididn’tremembermuchaboutthathouse.Forme,thiswashome,notaplacewe’dmovedto.IhadnorecollectionofDadandMomplantingtherowoflilacsthatnowshieldedthehousefromtheroad,thicklikefairy-talebriars.BythetimetheyconvertedthegranarytoDad’sstudio,Iwaswalking.WhentheyremodeledtheredbarnintoabillowyArabianden,Iwasoldenoughtohelppainttheinterior,thoughSephiecomplainedthatIspilledtoomuch.
Dad,helikedtobeoutside,atleastduringtheday.Atnighthe’dgrababottleandheadtohisstudioorthebasementtodo“privatework.”Orhe’dplopdowninfrontofthetelevision,drinking,andineithercasegettingtensequietorsupertalkyandtellingusallaboutswallowingabellyfulofleadinsomejungleandneverbeingabletosmellfishagainbecauseitwasthelastmealhe’deatenandhehadtowatchitpouroutwiththerestofhisguts.Ifhekeptdrinking—thisdidn’thappenveryoften,butithappened—he’dlookatmeorSephieinawaythatfeltlikeamonsterhadfoundyourhidingspot,andMomwouldsayitwasjustbestifwewenttobedearlyandstayedthereuntilthenextmorning.
Gamenightslikelastnightwererare,moreofDad’sweekendweirdness.
Anewprojectexplainedit.Hewasalwaysbraggingthathecouldsellhisworkforbigmoneybutthathedidn’twanttobeacoginthecapitalistmachine.Hissculptureswereimpressive,evenifhedidn’tmovemany.He’dcut,bend,andweldtheprettiestcreaturesandflowersoutofsharpmetal.Thecontrastslayedme,howhecouldcraftaten-foot-tallbleedingheartoutofsteelandcoloredtin,soreal,sosoftlooking,thatyouhadtotouchittomakesureitwasn’tatrueflower,youanantonitsstem.Butitwasmetalyou’dfeel,coldinthewinter,burninghotinthesummer.
He’dcreatedaWillyWonkawonderlandonourthirteen-acrehobbyfarm,onethatonlyheknewthescopeof.He’dreclaimedmuchofthewildness,forgingpathsthroughthewoodswithourhelp,twistingsecretrouteswhereyoucouldstumbleacrossasoaringmetalbumblebeeflashingwrought-ironeyelashesorplayhide-and-seekthroughametaldaisygarden.Peoplewereimpressedwhentheyvisited,whichmydadmadesuretheydidatleasttwiceayearduringhislegendary(hisword)parties.
“Howluckyyouaretohaveacreativefather!”theguestswouldburble.“Yourwholefamilyissounconventional.Iwishmychildhoodhadbeenlikethis!Doyouknowhowluckyyouare?”
Igetwhytheysaidit,andsometimestheyweresoconvincingthatI’dbegintoabsorbalittlebitoftheirdreamfluff.Thatwouldlastexactlyaslongasittookmetolookaroundandseewhatthegrown-upsweredoing.Mystomachtwistedthinkingaboutit.
“Icancookeggsquietly.”
“Notquietenough,”Momsaid.
Sephiestrolledin.“Ilikecereal,”shedeclared.
Iturnedtoglareatherbutwastoosurprisedbyherappearance.She’dslappedonafullfaceofmakeup.Probablyshethoughtshe’dbesafewithDadstillinbed,butfatchanceMomwasgoingtoletherleavethehouselookinglikesomenymphoinaZZTopvideo.
Icoughed.
Momkeptscurrying.
Icoughedagain,louder.
MomsparedSephieaglance.Hereyeswidened,andthentheygrewpinched.Thenherfacefellslack-tiredallofasudden.“I’llpacklunchesforbothofyou.”
Ipuffedup.NowaydidSephiegettoleavethehouselookinglikeMaryKayhadsneezedonherwhenIwasn’tevenallowedtoshavemylegs.BeforeIcouldformulatemyargument,though,Sephiesurprisedme.
“Maybeyoucouldgiveusaridein?”sheaskedMom.
Ilostallmywind.Nicejob,ItoldSephiewithmyface.ThehotrollersI’dusedthismorninghadnotgoneasplanned.AridetoschoolmeantIcouldpostponeintroducingtoday’shairtomyclassmatesforaslongaspossible.That’ssomethingwithsmalltowns.Everyoneknowshowyou’resupposedtolook,andwhenyoushowupdifferent,youbetternailitorelse.
Imostdefinitelyhadnotnailedit.
“Uh-uh,”Momsaid,unwrappingaloafofhomemadebreadsoshecouldslicesixpieces.“Ihavetogettoworktosignagrade-appealformbeforeseven.”
Ithoughtquickly.IfIendedupridingthemorningbus,IcouldexpectattheveryleasttobecalledCurlyTemple.PossiblyRoseanneRoseannadanna.“Myscienceteachersaidheneedsemptyplantingcontainersforsummerschool,”Isaid.“Doesn’tDadhavesomeinthebasement?Youcoulddropofftheappeal,driveusandthosepotstoLilydaletohelpoutanotherteacher,andbebacktoKimballbeforeyourfirstclass!Winwinwin.”
Mom’seyebrowsnarrowed,butIcouldtellshewasconsideringit.“Fine,”shefinallysaid.
SephieandIsquealed.
“Yourdadsaidthey’reinthebasement?”Momasked,whichwasherwayoftellingustogograbthembeforeshechangedhermind.
“Yep!”Isaid.
DadpreferredSephieandIavoidourdirtbasementandthebarn,thetwoplaceshesaidonlyadultsshouldgo.Inormallyhadnoproblemsteeringclearofthebasement,whichhadlookedlikeagravejustwaitingforabodytheonetimeI’dexploredit.SephieandIfiguredhewasgrowingmushrooms,amongotherthings,becauseofhowthebasementsmelledandbecausehepasseddriedshroomsaroundlikerootbeerbarrelswhenhispartiesstarted.IfIhadMom’spermission,though,andifitmeantaridetoschool,Iwashappytodashdownthere.IturnedtowardthebasementdoorandalmostransmackintoDad.
Allthreeofusfemalesfroze,Ithink.IknowIdid,myhearttrip-hammeringagainstmyribs.
Ibackedup,avoidingmeetinghiseyes.
“Ialsosaidnevertogointhebasement,”Dadgrowled,lowanddangerous.HewaswearinghiswhiteHanes,nothingelse.Cheekshot,Ilookedawayfromthefiercenessofthehairatthetopofhisthighs,thesamehairjustabovehisunderwearband.SephieandI’dsaveduptobuyhimarobeforChristmas.Theonlytimeheeverworeit,heleftitopen.
“Justtograbsomeoldpotsyou’renotusing,”Momsaid.Ididn’tlikehowhervoicesoundedlikeshewasbegging.“Cassie’sscienceteacherneedsthem.”
Dad’ssilencelaylikeaweaponbetweenhimandMom.Nowaywasshegoingtodisturbitfirst,sheneverdid,andsohefinallyspoke.
“Idon’tknowwhatnevermeanstoyou,”hesaid,“butitmeansnevertome.”
Momflattenedliketheydoincartoonswhenacharacterissqueezedbetweentwostonesandtheylooknormalfromthefrontuntiltheyturntowalkawayandyourealizethey’vebeensquishedlikeapancake.
“I’msorry,”shesaid.“You’reright.”
DadglaredlikedamnstraightI’mright,usinghissmirkandhiseyebrowstopointatherstupid.Ididn’tmoveatall.Ididn’twanthimtonoticemyhair,oranythingaboutmybody.
“Iwasgoingtodrivethegirlstoschool,”Momoffered,hervoicebrightlikewinterglass.
Nononono,don’tgivehimsomethingelsetobemadat.
IriskedapeekatSephie.Icouldtellshewasthinkingthesamething.Ididn’tknowwhyshewantedtheridetoschool,butwe’dbothalreadygottenexcitedaboutit.
“Thenyoubettergetgoing,”Dadsaid,sneeringattheclock.“Unlessyouhaveatimemachine.”
Iexhaled.
Momglancedatthesandwichesshe’dbeenmaking.Icouldseehercalculatingthemoneyitwouldcosttobuyuslunchversusthepeaceshe’dhavetocashintostanduptoDad.“You’reright,”shesaid,shovingtheloafbackintoitsbag.
Shewipedathereyesasshedidit.
Aftershetwistedthebreadbagclosed,shewalkedaroundtokissDad.IcouldsmellhimfromwhereIwasstanding:sourliquor,hairymorningbreath,sweat.Gross.Andwhatwasthebigwhoopsuddenlyaboutgoingintothebasement?
Sephiegrabbedmyhandandpulledmeoutside.
CHAPTER3
BesidesteachingEnglish,Momwasthecross-countrycoachinthefallandtheyearbookadviserstartinginDecember,andshecoachedspeechinthespring.Youhadtosignupforeverythingthatfirstyearortheywouldn’tgrantyoutenure,she’dsaid.AllIknewwasthatIlovedbeingatKimballHighSchoolwithher,evenifitwasonlyfortenminutes.
Shewasroyaltybecauseshewasfaculty,andSephieandmegottobepartofthat.Itdidn’tmatterthatMom’shairandclotheswereoutofdate.Peopleexpectedthatfromateacher.Allthatcountedwasthatshewassmart.Andgoodatherjob.Icouldtellitbythewaypeopletreatedher.
“Goodmorning,Mrs.McDowell!”theearly-birdstudentschirpedatMom.
Shesmiledback.Wewereheadingtotheoffice,meandSephiestruttingalongsideher.She’dsaidwecouldstayinthecar,butnoway.Ididn’tevencarehowridiculousmyhairlooked.
Whenwereachedtheoffice,Bettythesecretarywasalreadyatherpost.Shewasoneofthosefriendly,gossipywomenwhoworescratchy-lookingpantsthatrodetoohigh.Herfacelitupwhenwewalkedin.
“Loveyourhair,Cassie!”shetoldmebeforeIwasevenfullythroughthedoor
Istrokedmyhead.I’dpetapoodleonce.Itgotoffbetterthanme.Butmaybemyhairhadrelaxedsomeonthedriveover?Thatsurewouldmakeschoolalotlessstressful.“Thankyou.”
“AndSephie,thatblueeyeshadowlooksveryprettyonyou!”
Sephieglowed.
Thiswasthebestplace.Everythingwassonormalhere,likeaTVshow.
“Lookslikeit’llbeahotone,”Bettysaid,tippingherheadtowardthewindowasshehandedoversomepaperwork.
Momsmiled.“Butit’sonlyanotherweekuntilsummervacation.Wecanputupwithanythingforaweek.”
Bettynodded.“Itwasniceofyoutocometoschoolsoearly,Peg.Youknowyou’rethebestteacherhere,don’tyou?”
Iknewit.
“You’retookind.”Momscratchedhernameontheformshe’dbeenhanded.Whenshewasfinished,shetappedhermouthwiththepen,studyingthepaperforamomentlongerthanIwouldhaveexpected.“I’vegottorunthegirlstoschool,butI’llbebackbyseventhirtyifthere’sfollow-uponthis.”
“Yourworkethicissomethingelse.”Bettybeamed;thenthatsmilemeltedawaylikeplasticinacampfireashereyescuttomeandSephie.“YougirlsattendLilydale,don’tyou?”
Wenodded,stillpuffywithpride.Myhairwasnice,Sephie’sfacewaspretty,Mom’sworkethicwassomethingelse.WewaitedforthenextnicethingBettywasgoingtotellus,butshelookedsouncomfortableallofasudden.
“Whatisit?”Momasked,handingoverthepaperwork.“Areyouallright?”
BettytossedanotherworriedlookatmeandSephie,thensmiledtightlyandshookherhead.“I’mfine.Yougirlshaveagooddayatschool.”
Bettytriedswallowing,butherspitseemedtohavegonesideways.
Momcaughtit.“Something’swrong.”
DidBettyflinch?“It’sjust…therumors.”
Mom’seyebrowstriedtomeetinthemiddle.“Whatrumors?”
BettyglancedatmeandSephieagain.Sheclearlydidn’twanttosayanythinginfrontofus,butMomwashavingnoneofit.
“Idon’tkeepsecretsfrommygirls,”Momsaid.
Bettydrewinaroughbreath.“AboywasrapedinLilydalethispastweekend.”Shesaiditallasoneword:
aboywasrapedinlilydalethispastweekend
OnceIwasabletoparseoutthewords,itstilldidn’tmakesense.Boysdidn’tgetraped.Rapingwasforgirls.Unlessmaybetherewassomethingtothosealien-abductionstories?IstaredatMom,confused.
Sheappearedtobetransformingintostonefromthebottomup,though,soshewasnohelp.
“Whowastheboy?”Sephieasked.
Theclippedwhompwhompwhompsoundofahelicopterflyingoverheadmadeusalljerkourattentiontothewindow.Dadalwayssaidhelicopterswerebadluck.ThewayBettywasbehaving,sheseemedtoagree.
Bettyclearedherthroat,ignoringSephie’squestion.SheleanedtowardMom,hervoicelow.“PeoplearesayingthatitwasagangofmenfromMinneapoliswhodidit.”
Mypulsetripped.Gang.Amorningbreezeblewthroughthewindow,rifflingthepapersstackedontheradiator.Theairsmelledthickandcabbagey,likeslow-cookerskunk.Momstillhadn’tmoved.
Bettyspokeupagain,eventhoughnoonehadrespondedtoherlastcomment.“TheythinktheMinneapolisgangwasspyingonboys,huntingthem,pickingouttheeasiestonetoattack.”
Shetookamoment,fanningherface.“I’mnotheretofeedtherumormill,though.Itgetsplentyofgasonitsown.Ijustwantedyoutoknow,soyoucouldkeepyourownkidssafe.”
Ididn’tknowifshemeantmeandSephieorMom’sstudents.Probablyboth.
“ItonlyhappenedinLilydale?”Momasked.Hervoicesoundedfroggy.
Bettysideways-eyedmeandSephieagain.“Sofar.”
CHAPTER4
Mrs.Janowski,ourprincipal,strodeintothemiddleofthegym,asmileplantedonherface,chubbymicrophoneinherhand.“WelcometoourSummerSafetySymposium,everyone!”
Noonelistenedtoheratfirst.Iwatchedtoseehowshe’dhandleit.Shedidn’tcare.Shecouldoutlastanyoneofus;apersoncouldseethatbylookingather.Whenweeventuallysettleddown,sheplayeditlikeshe’dplannedit.
“Thankyou.”Hersmilewidened.“Today,oursymposiumisluckytohostaveryspecialguestspeaker,Lilydale’sownSergeantBauer.”
Abuzzsweptthroughtheaudience,whispersof“Brody”and“copper,”asifanyofusmiddleschoolershadareasontofearthepolice.Besides,Idon’tknowhowthespeakercouldhavebeenasurprisesinceSergeantBauerhadbeenstandingonthesidelinesinhisfullblueuniformsincewe’denteredthegym.HisyoungestdaughterwasinPersephone’sgrade—ninth.Iknewhimfromoneofmydad’sparties,knewhimbetterthanIwantedto.
HesmiledandambledovertohoistthemicfromMrs.Janowski.“Hello,kids,”heboomed.“Who’sreadyforsummer?”
Ahootingandstampingrockedthebleachers.
SergeantBauerhelduphisfreehand.Theoverheadlightsglintedoffhissilverwristwatch.“That’swhatIthought,”hesaid,chuckling.Hehadoneofthosethickredsmilesthatlookedirritatedbyhisbristlymustache.“Iwasastudentheremyselfnotthatlongago,soIknowyou’veearnedtheupcomingbreak.ButIneedyoutolistennow.”
Hetap-tap-tappedthemicrophonebeforecontinuing.“Becausethisisimportant.Wehaveanewprogramthissummer,onedesignedtokeepyousafe,andIneedtotellyouaboutit.Itstartswithacurfew.”
Thatincitedawaveofgrousing,andIbetmostkidsdidn’tevenknowwhatacurfewwas.Theyjustknewyouweresupposedtocomplainwhenanadulttoldyousomethingwasforyourowngood.Ijoinedinbecausewhattheheck.Theteachers,who’dclaimedthefrontrowofthebleachers,hadtostandandturntosilenceus.That’swhenIfinallylaideyesonGabriel,downatthelowerright.SeeinghimmademefeelthesamewarmkindofgoodasgettingaletterfromAuntJin.
Wheneveryonequietedagain,SergeantBauercontinued,hisexpressionpinched.“Thecurfewbeginsatninep.m.sharp.Everyoneofyoumustbeinyourhomesbeforethesunsets.”Somethinghadshiftedinhisvoice,icingtheroom.
Thatsentaquiverupmyspine.First,whatBettyhadsaidthismorningabouttheboybeingraped,andnowthis.Mom’dtoldusonthedriveoverthatwedidn’tneedtoworryaboutanything,butBettyhadmostdefinitelyseemedconcerned.Bauerdid,too.Hesuddenlyhadourcompleteattention.Heseemedtosensethat,pivotingsothepistolathiswaistwasinfullview.ThegunlookedtinyandpretendfromwhereIwassitting,strappedtohisviciousblackbelt,aleatherclaspsecuringitinplace.
Iwonderedifhe’devershotanyone.
Heswiveledhishipstofaceus,andIcouldnolongerseehisweapon.“You’llhearthetownsirengooff,”hecontinued,“thesameoneweusefortornadoes.It’lllastoneminute,andifyou’restilloutwhenitends,you’llbeinviolation.”
Therewasnosilencingtheoutcrythistime.Kidswerestandingandyelling.Istayedinmyseat,thewoodsolidagainstmybuttbones.Fourmilesoutoftown,Iwouldn’tbeabletohearthesiren,hadnoreasontocareaboutacurfew.Idon’tthinkIwouldhavemindedit,though,notifitmeantIcouldlivewhereIcouldwalktostoresormeetkidsatthepark.
SergeantBauerspokeabovethesquall.“Ifyouareaccompaniedbyaparentorguardian,”hesaid,“youwon’tgetintrouble.Makesureyouknowtheadultyou’rewith.”
Iscratchedabsentmindedlyatmyneckscar.Thatwasahoserthingtosay.Whowalksaroundatnightwithadultstheydon’tknow?Istaredathiswatchagain,imaginedIcouldseetheblackwristhairscurlingaroundit.He’dbeenwearingitwhenIaccidentallywalkedinonhimatmydad’sparty,thatandhisdogtags.Ibethehadn’tevennoticedme.
Allthekidswereoutofcontrolagain,soMr.Connelly,thebandteacher,hadtotakecharge.EveryonelovedMr.Connelly.Hewasthatteacher—young,smart,andtalkedtouslikewewerehumans.Ididn’thaveanactualcrushonhim,thoughmostofthegirlsinmyclassdid.Ijustlikedhowhesmelledlikecinnamonapplepotpourriandhadpleatsinhiskhakis.Hewaswearingthemnow,steppingontothegymfloorandwalkingtowardSergeantBauer,whoIswearstiffenedasMr.Connellyapproached.Iguessthesergeantdidn’twanttogiveuphisstage.
HeevenjerkedawaywhenMr.Connellyputhishandoverthemicrophoneandtriedtospeakintothesergeant’sear.WhateverMr.Connellysaidworked,though,becausehewassoonholdingthemic.
“Canwepleasegivetheofficerourfullattention?”Mr.Connellyrequested.
Hehadtorepeatitfourmoretimes,buteventuallyeveryoneclosedtheirpieholes.
“Thankyou.”Mr.Connellyhandedthemicbacktothesergeant,whoappearednonetoograteful.
Thesergeantcoughed.“AsIwassaying,it’simportantyou’reallinbytheninecurfew.Meandmyfellowofficerswillbepatrollingfrom8:30p.m.on,extracarsoutthere,lookingforkidsinviolation.Don’tletuscatchyou.”
SergeantBauer’swordsmademethinkofChittyChittyBangBang,amovieI’dwatchedontelevisionatmygrandmaandgrandpa’shousewhentheywerestillalive,obviously.Oneofthefilm’svillains,theChildCatcher,wasagrotesquehorrordollofahumanbeing.Hisnosewaslong,toolong,andhislipswerewetandred,kindoflikeSergeantBauer’s.TheChildCatcherheldoutgiantlollipopsandbrighttaffytolurethekidsintohiscage.
Don’tletmecatchyou.
Iwiggledthecreepsoffme.
“Onemorething,”SergeantBauersaid,drawingtoaclosetheshortestandcrappiestsymposiumLilydaleElementaryandMiddleSchoolhadeverwitnessed.“Alwaystravelinpairs.Idon’twanttoseeanyofyoukidsoutalonethissummer.”
Thatshushedusallup,everylastoneofus.
Thistimeitwasn’tthewords,orevenhistone.
Ithinkitwasthefirstmomentwecaughtawhiffofwhatwascomingforus.
CHAPTER5
“Cassie!”
Mynamewasalmostswallowedbytherumbleofvoicesstreamingtowardsecondperiodclasses.Icouldn’tseewhowasholleringforme.
“Cassie!Overhere.”
IfinallyspottedMr.Kinchelhoe,myEnglishteacher.Hewasashortred-hairedmanwithaBobHopeprofile.HespecializedinJaneAustenjokes.Ipushedsidewaysagainstastreamofkids.“Hi,Mr.Kinchelhoe.Theyhaveyouonherdingduty?”
“Someone’sgottomakesureyouding-dongscanfindyourwaytotherightrooms,”hesaid,winking.“Iwantedtotellyou,greatjobonthatpaper.”
Theflushwasinstant.Itwasn’texactlypride,moreembarrassment,actually,allmixedtogetherwiththeroller-coasterickfeelingleftoverfromBetty’swarningandthenthesymposium.“Youreadmypaperalready?”
I’dwrittenmycapstoneonthechronograph’ssymbolismin“ForEsmé—withLoveandSqualor.”Thepaperwasfivepagestyped,plusmyworkscitedpage.IhadspenteverystudyhallforthepastmonthinthelibrarylookingupmysourcesandhadnervouslyturneditinlastFriday.
“Twice,”hesaid,smiling.
Iduckedmyhead.“Thankyou.”
“You’reawriter,Cassie.Don’tfightit.”
Thatdidit.IsmiledsowideIwasindangerofthetopofmyheadcrackingoff.Thebellrang,yellingatusthatweshouldalreadybeinournextclasses,soMr.Kinchelhoewavedmeoff.Iwasswepttowardthebandroom,holdingclosethewarmthofhispraise.Itwasn’tthefirsttimehe’dtoldmeIshouldbeawriter,butsometimesteachershadtosaygooeystuffabouttheirstudentssotheydidn’tfeellikethey’dwastedtheirlifechoosingeducation.Ihopedthatwasn’tthecasewithMr.Kinchelhoe,butyouneverknew.
Therewasonewaytotestit.I’dwaituntilmyNellieBly’sTrustItorDon’tarticleswerepublishedandIwasupformyfirstaward.I’dinviteMr.Kinchelhoetothecitywheretheceremonywas,probablyNewYork,butnottellhimwhy.We’ddrivetotheauditoriumtogetherandevensitnexttoeachother.I’dwearglassesandaseriousexpressionbutalsoastraplessredgownfortheformaloccasion.We’dbetalkingaboutthegoodolddays,andthenthey’dcallmyname.I’dactallsurprised,excusemyself,andthensaunterontothestage,smilingandwaving.I’dreachthemicrophoneandsay,
IamonlyheretodaybecausemyEnglishteacherbelievedinme…
Ifhecriedthen,I’dknowhemeantitallalong.
Iwalkedintothebandroom,scanningtheseaofkids.Mostwerestilltalkingtotheirfriends,movingslowlytowardtheirseats.Outofhabit,IsearchedforLynnandHeidi,who’dbeenmytwotightbudsuntillastfall.Ourparentshungoutandeverything.Butthenwe’dstoppedbeingfriends,andI’dbeenbouncingfromgrouptogroupeversince.
Youwouldthinkwithonlyeighty-sevenkidsinourwholeclasswe’dallbetight.You’dbewrong.Small-townkidsarepebblesinariver,pushedaroundbytheflow,formingpocketsandpiles,reformingwhenthecurrentpicksupandwefindourselvesinawholenewcluster.Maybeit’sthesameinbigcities,Idon’tknow.
Ididn’tseeLynnorHeidi.
Gabrieleither.
Thecacophonyofinstrumentsbeginningtowarmuphitmelikeawall.NoMr.Connellyinthepit,whichwaswhereheshouldbe.Mymoodsoared.Maybehehadn’ttakenattendanceyet.
Ihurriedtograbmyclarinet.
Theinstrumentroomwasoneofmyfavoriteplacesintheentireschool.Ithadasecretdoorofftheback,usuallyhiddenbehindastackofmusicstands.Thedooronlycameuptokneeheight,aleftoverfrombeforetheadditionwasbuiltbackwhenmyparentswenttohighschoolhere.Itledtoacementroomthatusedtostoretheschool’swaterheaterandfurnacebutnowwasanemptyspacethesizeofalargebedroom.Thestorageroomusedtobelocked,butnowitwasleftopen,andyoucouldsneakintheretodostuff.Somekidssworetheysmokedinthere,butI’dneversmelledanyevidenceofit.
Ilikedtohideintherebecauseitwasquiet,anddark,apeacefultombcomparedtothenoiseofthemainroom,whichwascurrentlyalltrumpetstuningup,drumstickstapping,boyspushingeachotheraround,andgirlstellingstories.Clarinetswerestoredinthebackleft,mysecondhandcaseatwaistlevel.Iclickeditopenanddugaround,poppingareedinmymouthtowetitwhileIassembledmyinstrument.IwaswonderingaboutthelogisticsbehindaMinneapolisgangpassingunnoticedthroughLilydalewhenavoicefromthestorageroomstartledme.
“Cassie?”
Isqueakedandjumpedthreefeetofftheground.“Lynn?”
She’dbeenhidinginthedeadspacebetweentheshelvesandthehiddenroom’sdoor.Seeingitwasmyformerbestfrienddidn’tsootheme,though.Shelookedterrible,herfaceallashyandstreakedwithtears.SheandIhadcriedabuncharoundeachotherbackwhenwehungout,butnotlikethis.Thesetearslookedliketheresultofscaredcrying.Mytummytwistedfurther.Ididnothavethehairtohandlecrisis.
Shenodded,whichconfusedme.WassheagreeingthatshewasLynn?
“Whatareyoudoingbackhere?”Iasked,hearingmyjaggedheartbeatinmyvoice.“Band’sgoingtostartanyminute.”
Sheleanedforwardalittlebit,keepingherlowerbodyoutofsight.“Ican’tgooutthere.”
Iglancedovermyshoulderandoutthedoor.Theinstrumentroomwaslevelwiththetoptierofthebandroom,whichmeanttheonlypeoplewhocouldseeinwerethedrummerswhoringedthebackoftheU-shapedpracticespace.“Didyouforgetyourinstrument?”
Sheshookherhead,likeno,that’snotit
ItriedtothinkifIhadseenheryettoday.Myfollow-upthoughtchilledmyblood.HadLynnalsobeenrapedthispastweekendbythegangfromMinneapolis?She’dgivenmemyfirstfriendshippinbackinfourthgrade.We’dneverfoughtoveraboy.WhenshelikedLarryWilcox,ItookErikEstrada.ShewantedBoDuke?IwasfinewithLuke.We’dswornwe’dbefriendsforeveruntillastfall,whenshestoppedcalling.
Myvoicecameoutlikesandpaper.“Didsomeonehurtyou?”
“Igotmyperiod.”
Iblinked.“Justnow?”
Shenodded.“Ithinkso.”
Shesteppedintothelight.Thefrontofhertancordshadadarkerspot.Itcouldalmostpassasashadowifyouweren’tlookingstraightatit,butwhensheturnedaround,Isawtherewasnohidingtheblood.
“Thatallcameoutatonce?”
Sheignoredmyquestion.“WhatamIgoingtodo,Cassie?”
Itoremyeyesoffthestain.“Wehavetogetyoutothenurse’soffice.She’sgotsupplies.”
I’dneverhadtousethem.Infact,ifthecircumstancesweredifferent,I’dbejealousofLynnforgettingherperiodfirst.Shelookedtooscarednowtofeelanythingbutsorryforher.
“Ican’tgooutlikethis!Everyonewillsee.”
Iglancedovermyshoulderagain.Itwasstillchaosinthebandroom.“Maybenot.Mr.Connellyhasn’tshownupyet.”
Shestartedcryingagain,softly.
Ithurttoseeit.Shewasright.Everyonewouldsee.AndinatownlikeLilydale,theydon’tletyouforgetthosethings.Islippedoutofmyprettyaquajacket,theoneIonlyworeonceeveryninedayssoitwouldn’tstopbeingspecial.“Here.”
“Youlovethatcoat.”
Mysmilesurprisedme.Sheremembered.“It’sokay.Mymomcansewanotherone.Tieitaroundyourwaist,andnoonewillseefrombehind.I’llwalkinfront.”
Shecinchedthejacketatherwaistandrubbedathercheeks.“CanyoutellI’vebeencrying?”
“Onlyalittlebit,”Ilied.Shelookedlikeherfacehadbeenstungbykillerbees.“Butifyoulookawayfromthemainroomandtowardtheclock,likeyou’rereallyconcernedaboutthetime,Ibetnoonewillnotice.”
“Thankyou.”
Shegrabbedmyhand,anditfeltlikeChristmastohavesomeoneneedme.
Exceptweweren’tsafe,notanymore.
SergeantBauerhadmadethatclear.
CHAPTER6
LittleJohn’swasoneoffourbarsinLilydale.ItwastheonlyonewithPac-Man,butthatwasn’twhyitwasDad’sfavorite.He’dbeengoingtoLittleJohn’ssincebeforethey’dputinthegame.Iguesstherewerejustsomeplacesthatfeltmorewelcomingtoapersonthanothers.
WithLittleJohn’s,Ialmostunderstood.Itwasacornerbarwithaprivatefeeltoit,closeandsmoky,thecounterfeaturingbottlesofpigs’feetandpickledeggsfloatinginmurkyliquid,andbehindthat,shelvesofamber,green,andclearliquors.Dartboardslinedonewall,Pac-Manflashedfromanother,andeventhoughthemenatthebaralwaysstaredatmeandSephie,wefeltlikewewerepartofsomethingsecretwhenwesteppedinside.
“Canweeachhavefourquarters?”IaskedDad,blinkingtoadjusttothedarkcaveofthebarafterthebrightnessoftheMayafternoon.“TupeloHoney”playedinthebackground.
WhenmeandSephiehadsteppedoffthebus,Dad’dseemedlooserthanusual.Nothappy,exactly,butlikehewasn’tsodeepinhisheadthathecouldn’tholdaconversation.Heneededtocruiseintotowntopickupsomeweldingsupplies,he’dsaid,andSephieandmewouldhavetocomealongtohelploadthemintothetrailer.Ihadn’twantedtogo.Ihadmountainsofhomework,andbesides,Betty’swarningandthentheawfulsymposiumhadmefeelingjumpy.Forthefirsttimeinmylife,Iwasn’tsureIwantedtogototown.
Dad’dsaidwedidn’thaveachoice.
OncewereachedLilydale,he’dsuggestedstoppingintoLittleJohn’salmostlikeanafterthought.“It’sawarmone,”hesaid.“Benicetocooloffwithadrink.”
ThatwasA-okaywithme.Moreoftenthannot,whenwe’dstopbyLittleJohn’s,he’dbuyusasoda—grapeforme,strawberryforSephie—andinanycase,herarelystayedlongenoughtogetdrunk,notwhenitwasdaylight,notinpublic.ButwhenmyeyesadjustedandIspottedonlytwopeopleinthebar—thebartenderwipinghiscounterandSergeantBauerleaningagainstawallholdingacanofPepsi—Iknewbetter.
Itwasnoaccidentthatwewerehere.SergeantBauerandmydadwereuptosomething.Knowingthatmademythroatgooily.Dadwalkeduptothebar,restedhisfootontherail,andgrabbedtheedgesofthecounter.“Whiskeywater,”hesaid.
Ididn’trecognizethebartender.Hewasolderthanmostofmyteachers,withafacelikeabulldog.HekeptoneeyeonmeandSephieandtheotheronthedrinkhemixedformydad.Hewentlightonthewhiskey,Icouldseethat.IwassureDadwouldbeangry,butheonlysmirked,tossingafiveonthecounter.
“Geteachofmygirlsapop,”hesaid.“Andthechangeinquarterssotheycanplayyourvideogame.”
DadgrabbedhisdrinkandlopedofftowardSergeantBauer,whowasn’tinuniformbutheldhimselflikehewas.Heshouldbeoutcatchingwhoeverwasattackingboys,Ithought,notinabarwithmydad,uptoallsortsofnogood.
“I’lltakestrawberry,andmysisterwouldlikegrape,please,”Sephiesaid,yankingmyattentionbacktothebartender.
Hereachedintoacooler,pulledouttwosweatingbottlesofsoda,oneapurpleasdarkasnight,theotherthebrightredofamaraschinocherry,andhesnappedtheircapsoffusinganopenerhekeptonthelipofthecounter.Iswallowedtheanticipatoryspitgatheringinmymouth.Thebartendersetbothbottlesonthecounter.Isteppedforwardandreachedformine,tastingthesweetgrape,feelingitslidedownmygulletandfillmybelly.
Ialmosthaditinhandwhenhespokedirectlytome.
“Nokidsatthebar,”hegrowled.
Thewordshitmelikeaslap,andtheheattomyfacewasinstant.IglancedoveratDad,buthewasleaningintoSergeantBauer,almostkissinghisearhewassoclose.I’dbeenwaitingforsomeonetokickmeandSephieoutofLittleJohn’seversincethefirsttimewe’dsteppedinside.Thatwaspartofthethrillofbeinghere.ButIhadn’twantedthemomenttocome,andIforsurewasn’tpreparedforhowsmallitmademefeel.
Thebartenderseemedtobetryingnottosmile,butnotinaniceway.Heknewhewasbeingmean,openingthosepopsandthentellinguswecouldn’thavethem.Icouldn’ttakethatgrapesoda,notafterhe’dhitmewiththosewords.It’dbeabeggarthingtodo.Wefacedoff,heandI,andwemighthavelockedeyesforeverifSephiehadn’treachedforwardandsnatchedbothbottles,quick,carefulnottotouchanypartofthebar.
“Sorry,”shesaidtothebartender.“Sorryformysister,too.”
Thebartendergloweredather,buthetookDad’sfive-dollarbillandslappedfourquartersonthecounter.Ihadnoproblemgrabbingforthose,butIdidn’tmakeeyecontactwithhim.Sephienudgedmewithherelbow,butshedidn’tneedto.IwasalreadyonmywaytothecornerwherethePac-Manmachinewas,theonenearDadandSergeantBauer.
Itwasstillweirdtoseethemtogether.Upuntilayearago,Dadhadhatedthepoliceworsethanlice.Saidtheyweregovernmentshillstryingtotakeourfreedom.Thensuddenly,hedecidedtoinviteSergeantBauertooneofhisparties.ThatideahadalarmedMom,buthecouldn’tbetalkedfreeofit.RemindedherthatheandBauerwentbackprettyfar,allthewaytohighschool,andsoitwasnobigdealthatthey’drecentlydecidedtolookoutforeachother.Bauer’donlyattendedthatonepartylastfall,buthimandDadhadseemedtofindallsortsofreasonstorunintoeachothersince.
“I’llgofirst,”Sephiesaid,pullingmyfocusbackassheslidaquarterintothePac-Manmachine.Theboopingmusicgotmybloodmoving.IwasreallygoodatPac-Man.Sephiewascrapatit,butshekepttrying.
Outofthecornerofmyeye,IsawDadstridebacktothebar.Thebartenderhadanotherwhiskeywaterwaiting,plusabottleofbeerforBauer.Dadbangeddownsomemoneyandgrabbedboth.IwonderedhowmuchofMom’spaycheckhewasspending.
SephiekeptchompingdotswithherPac-Man.DadwalkedbacktoBauer.Theywerelouderwiththesedrinks.
“…fuckheruntil—”SergeantBauersaid,quietenoughthatyouwouldn’thavehearditunlessyouweremydad,orplayingavideogamenearby.
Mydadchuckled.
IleanedintothePac-Mangame,wishingIwerewearingarmor.
“…therearemushrooms,”mydadsaid,stilllaughing.
Iperkedupatthat.Oncehe’dboughtuspizzaatLittleJohn’s.Itwasoneofthoseperfectlyroundfrozenonesthatthebartenderslidintoatoasteroven.Icouldhaverolledinit,itwassodelicious.Itriedtohearmore,butthetwoofthemwerequieternow.
Ithinktheywereconversingabouttheboywho’dbeenhurttheweekendbefore.Thewords“raped”and“everyfewyearslikeaplague”floatedtowardme.
PartofmewantedtoaskBauerifaLilydaleboyhadreallybeenattacked,likeBettysaid.Ifitreallyhadhappened,I’dbetIknewhim.Kidshadbeenhot-whisperingaboutnothingelseafterthesymposium,butIdidn’thaveaclosefriendatthemomentIcouldaskabouttheattack.
ThenitwasmyturnatPac-Man.Ialmostearnedafreeplayonmyfirstround.
CHAPTER7
Therewasnopizza,onlymoredrinkingandbadwords.
SephieandIranoutofquartersandhuddlednearthesafetyofthePac-Mangame,takingthetiniestsipsfromourpopstomakethemlast.
NotallmenarelikemydadandSergeantBauerandthatrapinggangfromMinneapolis,Ithought.Therearegoodonesoutthere.
IknewthatbecauseofGabriel.
GabrielWellstone.
I’dbegunplanningafuturewithhimlastDecember.
I’dalreadyknownwhoGabrielwas,ofcourse.Hewasayearolderthanmeandcover-of-TV-Guidehandsome.RickySchroderhandsome.Hisdadwasadentistandhismomareceptionistathisdad’sclinic.Herodemybusandwastheonlytownkidwhonevermockedmyhand-sewnbluejeanswithnobrand,nobrandatall,notevenLee.(Momhadembroideredasmilinggoldensunonthebuttpocket,sonopretending.)Iwouldhavecrushedonhimsimplyforthathumandecency,butthencametheDecemberdaywhenIwasridingtheschoolbuswithoutSephiebecauseshewashomewiththevomitflu.Thatleftanemptyspot,whichGabrielslidrightinto.
Sittingnexttomeforthefirsttimeever
Myheartbeathadpickedup.I’dbeenstudyingthelacyfrostpatternontheinsideofthebuswindow,thinkingRorschachcouldhavesavedabuttloadoninkifonlyhe’dmovedtoMinnesota.Thosethoughtscrashedtotheground,splatontheirbacks,assoonasGabriel’sthightouchedmine,though.Therewereplentyotherseatshecouldhavetaken.ThiswasaLifeEvent.HewassoclosethatIcouldsmellthechemical-sweetdryersheetshismomused.Itsmashedmyhearttobethisneartohim.Werepeoplestaringatus?Washegoingtoaskmeout?Didhehaveatrue-loveconfessiontoshare?
Nope.
“Hey,here’ssomemittens.”Hestaredstraightaheadashethrustthemtowardme.Hisvoicewasglossyandtoofast.
Aforestfireofshametorchedmycheeks.Myhandsfellfrommyarmpits,wherethey’dbeentuckedfortheentirebusride,andeverybusridesincethetemperaturehaddroppedbelowEskimo.PrettysureI’dseenpenguinsinparkashuddledaroundaburningbarrelonthewayoutoftown.Theairwassocoldyoucouldseeit,abluish-grayfog,andifyoubreathedintoofast,yournostrilswouldfreezeclosed.Iownedmittens,ofcourseIdid,butIpreferredPopsiclefingerstowearingthehomemadeargyleatrocitiesthatMomhadrepurposedfromhand-me-downsweaters.(Really,wherewouldthemadnessend?)
Gabrielwassportinghisownpairofgloves,leather,acurveofthewarm-lookingfleeceinteriorpeekingoutathiswrists.Theoneshewasofferingmewerethesamestyle,butworn.Theylookedsotoasty,likeheatedhandpillows,andthebuswassoglacialthatIwassuresomeonehadleftadoorinhellopen.ButIcouldn’ttakethem,obviously.Iyankedmyscrubbyused-sweatermittensoutofmypocket.“Ihavegloves.”
Hisbrowbuckled.“That’swhatItoldmymom.”
Myblushgrewsonuclearthatitwasawonderthewholeorangepillofabusdidn’texplodeinflamesbeforerocketingustothemoon,poweredentirelybymymortification.Gabrielandhismomhadtalkedaboutme.I’msurethey’ddiscussedhowpoorwewere,howmywinterjackethadaglued-upripinthebackthatshotoutwhitefeatherslikeapopcornfartifIsatdowntooquickly,howmeandSephiehaddisplayedidenticalhairdos—longwithbangs—sinceIwasthreeandshewasfivebecauseit’stheonlywayMomknewhowtocuthair.Craponacracker,IbethehadapairofglovesinhispocketforSephie,too.Jeezus.Couldpeopledieofembarrassment?Becauseifso,signmeup.
Gabrielcontinuedtalking,staringstraightahead,andthat’swhenInoticedhewasnoRickySchroder.Hewascuter.Dangit,hewasRickSpringfieldhandsomeupclose.“ButMomsaidyou’dbedoingmeahugefavorbytakingthese.Thatifyoudidn’tacceptthem,I’dhavetolugthemtotheSalvationArmybecausewedon’thaveroomfortheminourhouseandthatI’dhavetobiketheremyself.Inthecold.”
Icouldtellhewaslyingtohelpmesaveface.God.Hewasjustthirteen.Howcouldhebesosophisticated?Clearly,myonlyoptionwastopullthisBand-Aidoffquick.“Thanks.”Isnatchedtheglovesandjammedthemintomyjacketpocket.Itwastoughwithmyhandsswollenfromthecold,butIcouldn’tslideintothemittencomfort,notthen.Ineededtowaitatleastadayformyblushroomcloudtorecede.
OncethegloveswereoutofsightandIwantedtodissolveintotheNaugahydeseat(becausewhat’sthesmall-talkprotocolafteryourlifehasended?),Gabrielslam-dunkedtheimpossible.Heslidmeasecret“parentsaretheworstbutwe’recool”smile.Idon’tknowhowhepulleditoff,butthatsmilemademefeelgoodforlettinghimdomeafavor.
Messedup.
That’swhenhetuggedathiscoatcollar,RodneyDangerfield–style,andIfirstspottedthenecklacethatwouldchangemylife.
Ipointedatit.“Isthatnew?”
Hesmiled,loopinghisthumbunderthechainsohecouldholdoutthecharm.Itwasatinygoldenpaperairplane.“Yeah.MymomgotitformeforChristmas.I’mgoingtobeapilot.”
“It’ssopretty,”Isighed.Myhandwenttomyneck.Imassagedthefamiliarropywarmthofmyscar.Iwaswonderingifthenecklacewouldcovermydisfigurement,butIswearitwasjustafleetingnotion.Ineverwouldhavegivenitasecondthoughtifnotforwhathappenednext.
“Itwouldlookniceonyou,”Gabrielsaid.
Andthat’swhenIfirstlegitimatelyimaginedhimasmyboyfriend.
Believeme,Igetit.Hand-me-downPete(guesshowIearnedthatnickname)me,datingthemostpopularboyinLilydale?Itwasalongshot,sucharidiculous,impossiblyfatchancethatI’dwalknakedacrossthetundrabeforeI’dconfessittoanyone,evenAuntJin.Buttherewassomethinginhiskindnessthatzappedstraightintomyheart,andwasn’tthatlove?ItwouldbeaCinderellastory,exceptinsteadofmyprincebringingmeashoe,Gabrielwouldoffermeanecklacethatwouldperfectlycovermyscar.Whenhewentofftoschooltobeapilot,I’dgowithhim.We’dbeoldenough.We’dmakeawholenewlifetogether,anormalone.
Eversincethatbusride,I’dbeencarryingmyloveforhimaroundinmypocket.Ishouldhavehandedittohimthenandthereinexchangeforthegloves,butthebriarsandbricklesofshamehadbeentoosharp.Bythetimetheyreceded,itfeltstupidtobringitup.Thenthatfaded,andallIcoulddowaswaitforanopening,somesituationwhereheandIwerehangingoutandshootinglovedartsateachother.
Whenitarrived,I’dsay,alljoshing,Hey,yourememberwhenyouthoughtIneededgloves?
Yeah,he’dlaugh.I’vewantedtogiveyoumypaperairplanenecklaceeversince.
Andourrelationshipwouldbloomfromthere.
Everyday,Ilookedforthisopening.
Itcouldbetomorrow.
“Timetogo,”Dadsaid,finally.Hisfacewasglistening.MeandSephie’spopsandquarterswerelonggoneandourstomachsweregrowling.We’dbeensittingnearthedoor,wishingDadwouldtakethehintandleave,buthe’dkeptupatthathotconversationwithBauer.Wefollowedhimoutside.
“Keepyourfriendscloseandyourenemiescloser,”Dadsaidwhenwefinallyslidinsidethevan,hisvoicefullofbravado.
ExceptIcouldtellhewasscared.
Momwasn’tgoingtobehappythatwewereoutsolateonaschoolnightandthatDadwasdrivingdrunk,butthatwasn’tit.No,helookedjumping-ghostscared,andthatmademeuneasy.
ItdidevenworsetoSephie.Itmusthave.That’stheonlyexplanationforwhyshebroketheruleaboutinvitingconversationwithDadwhenhe’dbeendrinking.“Areyouokay,Daddy?”
Shehardlyevercalledhimthatanymore.Ididn’tthinkhewasgoingtorespond,buthefinallydid,hisvoiceallbluster.
“Asokayasamancanbeinacountrywherenothing’ssacred.”
Iwonderedwhathemeant.HeandBauerhadtalkedaboutsomanythings.Well,Iwasn’tgoingtoask,notwithDadinthismood.Iglancedoutthewindow,myhandtotheglass.Iimaginedthesparkleoftownlightswereconnectedtomyfingertips,thatIcoulddirectthemlikeaconductorleadsanorchestra.Weneverhadpickedupweldingsupplies.
WhenneitherSephienorIaskedafollow-upquestion,Dadgrunted.“Bauersaidthey’redevelopingthelakepropertybyourhouseandputtinginnewpowerlinestofeedit.Willbeallsortsofdiggingandconstructioninthearea.Ourpropertytaxesaregoingtorocketthroughtheroof.”
Inodded.Thatmadesense.Dadwasscaredwewouldn’thaveenoughmoney.That’swhyhe’dbeensounsettled.
Butthatdidn’texplainwhyIfeltsohuntedallofasudden.
CHAPTER8
“Tomatosoup.Grody.”
Ishookmyhead.HeatherCawlwouldcomplainaboutwinningthePublishersClearingHouseSweepstakes.Tomatosoupwasfinebyme,especiallysinceitwasservedwithgrilledcheeseandasideofapplepie.I’dsavedupmylastpunchforthis.Alunchcardcost$8.50,eighty-fivecentspermeal,andI’dboughtitwithmybabysittingmoney.Ionlyatehotlunchformyfavoritemeals.TherestofthetimeIbroughtabrownbagthatsmelledlikeoldapplenomatterwhatwaspackedinsideofit.
“I’lleatyourtomatosoupifyoudon’twantit.”
Heatherturnedtoglare.Ididn’ttakeitpersonally.I’dknownhersincehalf-daykindergarten.Itwasjustherface.“Ididn’tsayIdidn’twantit.”
Iglancedaroundthecafeteriatofindaseat.Theairwasnoisywiththeclinkingofmetalforksonplastictrays,barksoflaughter,andhummeringconversations.Becauseschoolwasalmostoutforthesummer,theteacherswerenotridingournutsandshooingusoutafterourtwentyminutesofdesignatedeatingtime.
Thatmeanttherewasn’taguaranteedspotformetosit.
TheonlyemptyseatwasnexttoEvie,whohadalsobeeninmygradesincehalf-daykindergarten.Herlefteyewasbrown,poopbrown.Ifyousawarockthatcolor,youwouldn’tslowdowntokickit.Theotherwasasgreenasseaglass.Myneckscarandhereyesshouldhavebroughtustogether,buttheydidn’t.Ifwehungout,welostanyedgeouroddnessgaveus.Oneweirdo=quirky;twoweirdos=weird.
Eviecaughtmyeye.Shedidn’tsmile,justglancedattheopenspottoindicateIcouldhaveitifIneededit.Ilikedherforthat.Webothknewthescore.Nopretendingweweregoingtobefriends.
“Hey,”Isaid,slidingintotheseat.
“Hey,”shesaid,amarkerinonehandandacheesesandwichintheother.
Shewasfox-facedupclose.Youforgotaboutthatwithheroff-coloreyesovershadowingeverything.Shehadapointynoseandlittlesharpteeth,though,andthat’ssomethingIshouldhaveremembered.“What’reyouworkingon?”
Sheslicedoffanendofthatsandwichwithherrazorteeth,settherestdown,andheldupthesheetofpapershe’dbeendrawingon.Wewereatthemisfittable,kidswhosmelledlikefarm,fatkids,circusfreakslikemeandEvie,somenewkid,noneofusinteracting.ForsurenoonehereIcouldconfessmycrushonGabrielto.
IfocusedonEvie’shand-drawnflyer,readingitoutloud.“Playtime,everySaturdayfromeleventotwo,VanderQueenPark.”She’dcoloredinthebubblelettersandsketchedtwogirlsswinging.Iwinced.Itwassochildish.“You’resettingupplaygroundget-togethers?”
Sherolledhereyesandlaidtheflyerbackonthetable,drawingblueribbonsinthegirls’hair.“Youhaven’theard?”
Ifthere’saquestiondesignedtomakeapersonmoredefensive,Ihaven’texperiencedit.Besides,peoplewerenolongerwhisperingabouttheboygettingattackedovertheweekend.Theywereallbutyellingit.I’dheardeveryrumoryoucouldthinkofthismorning,andnotjustgangsandaliensanymore.Nowtherewerevampires,too.Insomeversionsofthestory,theboyhadbeentortured,madetodrinkthebloodofhiscaptors,andforcedtowalkhomenaked.Exceptnooneseemedtohaveanametogowiththeirstories.Whohadbeenattacked?
I’daboutdecidedthatnoonehad,thatitwasnothingmorethanarumordogrunningthroughLilydale,bitingpeopleontheway,beforedisappearing.
Itoreoffacornerofmygrilledcheeseanddippeditintothesoup.Poppingitintomymouth,Irelishedthecreamycheeseblendingwiththesaltysoup.IsearchedforGabrielandfoundhimacrosstheroom,sittingattheheadtable.Ofcourse.Hecouldbethekingofthislunchroom.Hewasthecutest,nicest,oldest.Hehadfriendswhoweremeanorsnooty,butnothim.Icouldn’tseethepaperairplanenecklacefromhere,butIwascertainhewaswearingit.
Heunexpectedlyglancedmyway,asmileignitinghisdimples.Myheartthudded,myeyesplummetingtomyplate,cheeksburning.HadhebeenlookingformeatthesametimeIwaslookingforhim?HadIbeenchewingwithmymouthopen?
“Kidsarebeingtaken.”
IlookedoveratEvie.I’dforgottenshewastalking.“What?”
Shetappedtheflyer.Evenherfingernailswerepointy.“Someoneisattackingkids.There’saPeepingTomintown,too.Ithinkthey’reprobablythesameperson.I’mnotgoingtoletthemstealmychildhood,though,soI’mcreatingaplaytime,someplacesafeandintheopen,wherealluskidscangettogether.”
I’mnotgoingtoletthemstealmychildhood,though.FortheloveofBetsy,whotalkslikethat?Nowonderwewereatthelosertable
ItippedmyheadtowardEvie’sflyer.“Goodluckwiththat.”
Sheshruggedandwentbacktoherdrawing.Somethingabouthermannerputmeonedge.Shewasjustso…confident.Everyoneelsewasswappingrumors,butEvieseemedtoknowsomething.Ididn’tlikethepricklychillthatsentacrossmyskin.
“Whatareyoulookingat?”Iaskedthenewkid,whoI’dcaughtstaringatmyneckscar.Hedidn’tlookolderthanten,maybeasmall-sizeeleven-year-old.
“Notmuch,”hesaid,hiseyesshootingbacktohislunchtray.
Iscowled.
“Hejustmovedhere,”Eviesaid,notglancingupfromherdrawing.Shetalkedlikeshewashistourguide.“Hisname’sFrank,andhe’llbeinsixthgradenextyear,buttheydidn’tknowwhattodowithhimtoday.Hisparentswantedhimtocometothelastfewdaysofschoolsohecouldmeetkidsbeforesummer.”
Isquintedathim.Hewasstudyinghisfoodlikeitcontainedalltheanswers.Well,therewasnopointingettingtoknowhimwithonlythreedaysofschoolleft.Ihadmorepressingconcerns.Forexample,Eviehadn’ttouchedherapplepie.Ithoughtofaskingherifshewasgoingtoeatit—she’dscoredoneofthecornerpieces,andthosechunksweredrippingwithextrapowderedsugarfrosting—butIdidn’twanttostartupanewconversation.Apatonmyshouldermademeforgetthepiealtogether.
“Here’syourjacket.”Lynnstoodthere,Heidiathershoulder.
Itookit,relievedtoseethatitappearedclean.
“I’mhavingabirthdayparty.”Lynnheldoutapinkenvelope.“Here’syourinvitation.”
Myheartdidacautioushappy-jumpassheslidtheenvelopeintomyhand.ItsmelledlikeJeanNateAfterBathSplashMistandwasdecoratedwithbubblegumstickers.Iwasafraidtolookatit,worriedthat“CassieLassieDog”oroneofmyotherlesssavorynicknameswouldbescrawledacrossthefront.Butithadnonameonit,noneatall.Shehadn’tplannedtoinviteme,notbeforewhathadhappenedinthebandroomyesterday.
IswallowedtheballoffoodI’dbeenchewing,butmywordsstillcameoutgooey.“Whenisit?”
ObviouslyIknewwhenLynn’sbirthdaywas.Itwasoneweekbeforemine,andwe’dcelebratedwitheachothereveryyearsincekindergarten.Onesummerourparentshadevenheldajointparty.
“ThisSunday.Itsaysontheinvitation.”Shesmiled,butitwassmallandtight.
“Thanks.”
Shenoddedandtwirledaway.HerjeanswereGuess.Isighed.
“Ithoughtyouguysweren’tfriendsanymore.”
IlookedoveratEvie.Shewasstillsketching.Smalltowns,everyoneknowseverything.Exceptwasthatsadnessinhervoice?Isuddenlyfeltuglyforholdinganinvitationtoapartyshehadn’tbeenaskedto.Ishoveditinmybackpocket.“ProbablyIwon’tgo.”
Evieslidhertrayclosertome.“Youcanhavemyapplepie.”
Ireachedforit,mymouthwatering.
“Becarefulifyougototheparty,though,”Eviesaid.“Youdon’twanttobeoutalone.Whenthekidsgettaken,it’snotforever.Theycomeback.Andwhentheydo,they’rechanged.”
Mystomachfull-onlurchedatthis.“Whatdoyoumean?”
ShepointedacrossthelunchroomtowardMarkClamchik.EveryonecalledhimClambecauseofhislastname,plushewasquiet.Hisdaddrovethe“WideLoad”pickuptruckthatfollowedhousesbeingdriventoanewlocation,sohewasontheroadalot,leavingClamandhisbrotherstomostlyberaisedbytheirmom.Theirhousewasliterallyonthewrongsideofthetracks,andI’mnotoneofthosepeoplewhosays“literally”whenwhatshemeansis“really.”TheClamchikslivedonthesideofthetraintrackswherefolks’lawnsweremoredirtthangrassandwherelouddogspacedbehindpeeled-paintfences.
LocalscalledthatareatheHollow.
AlltheHollowkidsrodemybus,soIknewthemwell.
Clamhadtakenhisunrulyenvironmenttoheart,whichmeantyoucouldfindhimsittingoutfrontoftheprincipal’sofficemoredaysthannot.“Clamwastheonewhowasattackedlastweekend?”
Shenodded.“MymomwasworkinganovernightatthehospitalandwastherewhenClamwasbroughtin.IthappenedSunday.That’swhytheyhavethecurfewnow.”
Thetomatosoupcurdledinmythroat.Thiswasn’tgossip-from-Bettyanymore,wasn’tarumordogatall.ThiswassomethingEvie’smomhadseen.Acrossthecrowdedroom,ClamheldRickyTinkinaheadlockasWayneJohnsonlookedon.Becausethethreeofthemwerefriends,itmighthavelookedlikeboyfuntoanadult’seyes.IfyougrewupwithClam,youknewthatsortofbehaviorwasawarningthathewasinafoulmood.“Buthecamebacktoschool?”
Evienibbledonherbottomlip,hersharpteethastartlingwhiteagainstherdeep-pinkflesh.“Yup.Theverynextday.Yesterday.”
Thelunchroomwasdousedinshadowasacloudrolledoverthesun.Today’shighwasforecastedatseventy-fivedegrees,butithadn’tbeenspringlongenoughtochasethechillfromthedarkcorners.“IsitgangsfromtheCitiesthatdidittoClam?”
Evierolledhereyes.“Itoldyou,it’sprobablythePeepingTomwhotookhim.ChestertheMolesteriswhateveryoneiscallinghim.MymomsaidClamhadtospendthenightinthehospital.Saidhehadtoweardiapers.”
Athousandneedle-footedantscrawledacrossmyanklesandbeganmarchingtowardmyscalp.“Idon’twanttotalkaboutthisanymore,”Iwhispered,mylunchbuckinginmybelly.“Ijustwanttogetthatairplanenecklace.”
“What?”
Ishookmyhead,grabbingmytrayandwalkingtowardthekitchen.
IfoughttheurgetoturnaroundtoseeifEviecastafox-shapedshadow.
Therewasagirls’bathroomattheendoftheschoolwherethewoodworkingshopwas.Itwasneverused.AfterIdroppedoffmytray,Iheadedtoit,needingsomealonetime.Therewerethreeemptystallsinside.Ichosethefarthestfromthedoor.Iperchedonthetoilet,grippingmykneessomyfeetwereofftheground.IfIdidn’tgetoutofheresoon,Iwasgoingtobelateforalgebra,butIhadtocatchmybreath.
Maybeitwasn’tmoneyDadhadbeenafraidaboutlastnight.
MaybeheknewsomethingaboutClambeingattacked.
Iheardsomeoneenteringthebathroom.
“—betterfortheschool,”awomanwassaying.ItsoundedlikeMrs.Puglisi,thehomeeconomicsteacher.Myheartsank.Beinginthebathroomwithteacherswastheworst.Itwasunsettlingtohearthemmakethosehumannoises.
Thewaterfaucetturnedon.Maybetheywerejustfresheningup.Ipeekedunderthestallandsawtwosetsoffeet.That’swhenIrealizedthatifthey’ddonethesame,they’dthinktheywerealoneinherebecauseIwasstillholdingmyknees,eventhoughmylegswerebeginningtoshakefromtheeffort.
“Mr.Connellyisgoodathisjob,andthat’swhat’sbestfortheschool,”theotherwomanresponded.IwassureitwasMrs.Janowski,theprincipal,andnowthattheyweretalkingshop,nowaycouldIletonthatIwasinhere.
“Evenifhe’sthePeepingTom?”
Mymouthgrewdry.Mr.Connelly?
“He’snotthePeepingTom,Carol,”Mrs.Janowskisaid.“I’dbetmycareeronit.”
“That’sexactlywhatyou’redoing,”Mrs.Puglisiresponded.“Youknowhe’saqueer.”
“Carol!”
Icouldalmosthearhershrugthroughthethinmetalpartitions.“I’mnottellingyouanythingyoudon’tknow.Agrownman,stilllivingwithhisparentsbesides.Hismotherhadaheartattacklastweek.Didyouhearaboutthat?Itwouldexplainwhyhewasn’tabletocontrolhisurgesanymore.Thatsortofstressdrivesamancrazy.”
Heelsclickedovertothestallnexttomine,followedbythewhirringoftoiletpaperbeingunwoundandthenthehonkofanoseblow.Mrs.Janowskiwasn’trespondingtoMrs.Puglisi’sbait,butthatdidn’tslowdownMrs.Puglisiatall.“Theboywhowasattackedcouldturnqueernow,too.Didyoueverthinkofthat?”
Thatsentathrillofterrorthroughme.Wasthatsortofthingcontagious?
“Whatdoyouwantmetodo?”Mrs.Janowskiaskedfromnearthesinks.“Kickachildoutofschoolforbeingattacked?”
Mrs.Puglisisteppedoutofthestallnexttome,alightphifftellingmeshe’dtossedherusedtissue.“Nowyou’rebeingridiculous,”shesaid.“I’monlytellingyoutobeprepared.You’regoingtohearthesamefromparents.”
Mrs.Janowskisighed.Ididn’thearherresponsebecausetheyclick-clackedoutofthebathroombeforeshegotachancetorespond.
Mrs.Puglisihadnotwashedherhandsaftershe’dblownhernose.
Idroppedmylegsandshookthecrampsoutofmyfingers.Iscrubbedmymittsandcheckedbothwaysbeforeleavingthebathroom.
Allclear.
ExceptIdidn’tthinkitwouldbeallclearinLilydaleeveragain.
CHAPTER9
Theairpouringinthroughtheschoolbuswindowssmelledlikefresh-squeezedlimes,anddespitethewackadoodleday,Iwasfullofwanderinghope.Summerwascoming.IwastellingSephieaboutwhatI’doverheardinthebathroom,butnotwithmuchinvestment.
“Youshouldn’thavespiedonthem.”
Shehadourregularseatsaved,thenewregularseatacrosstheaislefromGabriel,theoneI’dconvincedhertomovetoafterthegloveincident,buthehadn’tyetboarded.TheLilydaleschoolbusespickeduphighschoolersfirst,whichwasbackwardinmymind,butIsupposetheyfiguredtheolderkidscouldhandleextramotoringtimebetterthanthelittlekids.
Afterpickingupthehighschoolers,thebusesarrivedatthecombinationelementaryandmiddleschooltoloaduponusK–8kidsbeforetherouteofficiallybegan.Townkidsweredroppedofffirst,followedbytheHollowkidswholivedonLilydale’sperimeter,withdeep-countrykidsgettingoffverylast.Thatroutewasreversedinthemorning.ThatmeantthatSephandmewerefirston—thesunbarelypeachfuzzonthehorizon—andlastoff.
Anitty-bittybonusofthiscrapdealwasthatonthedaysherodethebus,IgottowatchGabrielwalktoandfromit.Someafternoons,hismomwaswaitingforhimonthefrontporchoftheirclean-looking,roomyrambler,arowofhostasborderingeachsideofthesidewalk,turningitintoagreencarpet.Shealwaysappearedhappytoseehim.Iwonderedwhatshe’dthinkofme.
Thethoughtgavemeashiverythrillandbroughtmebackintothemoment.
“Yeah,bigduhIshouldn’thavespiedonthem,”IsaidtoSephie.“Itwasn’tlikeItriedto.”
Clamswaggereddowntheaisle,hiselbowconnectingwithmyshoulder,maybeaccidentally.Istudiedhisback,lookingforevidenceofhimbeingattacked.Hestillseemedlikehewasbehavingrougherthanusual,butthatwasit.Irubbedthesorespothe’dmade,wonderingifSephieknewhewastheonethatBettyhadbeenreferringto.Clam’dbeenonourbusrouteforever.Sephieknewhimaswellasme,maybebetter.Plus,Clam’sbestfriend,WayneJohnson,hadacrushonSephie,andsheseemedtobereturningthefavor.Hewasayearyoungerthanherandevenpoorerthanwewere,butSephielikedtheattention.MaybeWaynehadmentionedsomething.
Idroppedmyvoice.“YouhearwhathappenedtoClam?”
Sephieshrugged,herfaceafull-onpout.Irealizedshe’dbeencrotchetysinceI’dboarded,onlygivingmehalfherattention.
“JeezLouise,Seph,what’syourproblem?”
Thebuslurchedawayfromthecurb.NoGabriel.
Karl,ourham-facedbusdriver,seemedtobecheckingoveralltheboys,maybewatchingforGabriel,justlikeIwasdoing.SephietooksolongtoanswerthatIthoughtshedidn’thearme.Finally,shelookedmesquareintheface.“I’mfailingchemistry.”
Thatjoltedmelikeasnakebite.“Dad’snotgonnalikethat.”Hehatedanyattentiondrawntousorourhouse.
Shestaredglumlyatherhands.“Iknow.”
Mygutsanklowerandlower.Dadwasanequal-opportunityrager.Ifhewasmadather,everyone’slifewasgoingtobemiserable.“Howcouldyou?”
Sheshruggedandkickedatthewornbookbagatherfeet.“It’sastupidclass,anyhow.”
Herchinquaked.Thiswasgoingfrombadtoworse.Sephie’dmadeherselfinvisiblebybeingashy,mostlyCstudentwhowasgoodatvolleyballandneversteppedoutofline.Ifsheweptrightnow,though,shewasdonefor.Tearsguaranteedheraterriblenickname,assoonasthedoofusesarounduscouldfigureoutanythingthatrhymedwith“crybaby.”
Thebuspulledawayfromtheschool.IcontinuedtomassagethespotClamhadbumpedassomethingoccurredtome.“Hey,yousaidyou’refailing.Thatmeansyouhaven’tfailedyet,right?Wantmetohelpyoustudy?”
Sephieleanedforwardtotuganenvelopeoutofherbookbag.“Youcouldtry,butitwon’tmakeanydifference.IstillneedMomandDadtosignthislettersayingIhavetwodaystogetmygradeuptoaD,orit’ssummerschoolforme.”
“SillySephie,itmakesallthedifference.Ifweworkhardtonightandtomorrowandyougetagood-enoughgradeonyourfinal,youpass.Ergo,nosummerschool,whichmeansnoangryDad.Youknowhealwayslikesitbetterwhenwecomeupwithaplanratherthanjustbringinghimbadnews.”
Icouldseeherwheelsspinning.“YouthinkIcouldlearnallofchemistryintwonights?”
Imoaned.“Youdon’tknowanyofit?”
“It’sahardclass!AndMrs.Tataristheworst.You’llseewhenyougettohighschool.”
Idoubtedit.Besides,Momalwayssaidabadteacherwasawindow,notawall.Iopenedmymouthtoargue,butbeforeIcouldsqueakoutaword,thewholemoodofthebusexploded.
“GreenGoblin!”
Idon’tknowwhoshoutedit,butourresponsewasautomatic.EveryoneonmysideofthebussuckedintheirbreathandgluedtheirfacestothewindowstosearchforthegreenChevyImpala.ThoseacrosstheaisleyelledatustoconfirmtheGoblinsighting.He’dhadthatnicknameforever,maybegottenitwhenhewasinhighschool.He’dgonetoLilydale,graduatedaboutthesametimeasDad.
Goblinhadaharshface,allanglesandstubble,lipssothintheyweren’tmorethanacut,blackporcelain-dolleyes.Helookedlikehesmelledsour,thoughhecouldn’tbeolderthanforty.Hemostlykepttohimself,butheexudedthatcreepyfrequencythatkids’radarspickedupon.Itwasahard-and-fastrulethatweallyelledout“GreenGoblin”andheldourbreathontheoccasionshiscarpassedourlumberingbus,whichwasmoreoftenthanyou’dexpectbecausehelivedattheendofthebusroute,justdowntheroadfrommeandSephie.Weweresupposedtoholdourbreathwhenweranintohiminpublic,too,butsincehewasourneighbor,Sephieandmeletthatruleslidesometimes.Thistimeofyearinparticular,we’dspothimwhenwe’dbikeovertocheckouthispatchofwildstrawberries.Theygrewjustofftheroad,onhissideoftheditch,butwewerebothalwaystoochickentorunoverandgrabthem,eventhoughtheyfruitedearlyandshonelikerubiesinthesun.
“Falsealarm.It’snotGoblin!”Iyelled,andairwhooshedoutofourmouthssolouditsoundedlikeanaccidentataballoonfactory.TheexcitementofapotentialGoblinsightingonthelastweekofschoolrevvedusallup,though,andKarlgaveuptryingtosilenceus,thoughhisdroopyeyeswerestillscanningtheboys.Sephieforgotabouthergrade,andalluskidslaughedandtalkedaboutsummer,andIfeltjustfinerightupuntilKarlpulleduptoourdriveway,Sephieandmethelasttwokidsonthebus.
Westeppedoffintotheroad-dustcloud,blinkingthedirtfromoureyes.Wewerelaughingandelbowingeachother,butthosegoodvibesfellawaylikeabadcoatwhenwesawwhatwaswaitingforus.Idon’tknowaboutSephie,butmypulsewasflutteringbecausetherestoodDad,astormbrewinginhisface.Histoplipwaspulledbackinthesneerthattoldyouhewasfeelingbadandthatyouwerewelcometojoinhim,thankyouverymuch.
CHAPTER10
Hestood,armscrossed,asthebuspulledaway,andIforgotallaboutwhatEviehadtoldme,whatI’doverheardinthebathroom,Clam,aGoblinsighting,Lynngettingherperiodbeforeme,evenGabriel’snecklacebecauseDad’sfacewaspointedatuslikeamissile.TheschoolmusthavecalledhimincaseSephie“lost”theletteronherwayhome.Somekidswoulddothat.Notus.Weweretaughtnevertolietoourparents.
Astripofsweatrolleddownmybackandwasabsorbedbymytrainingbra.Thecicadaswerewhirring,andtheairsmelleddustypurplefromthelilacstossinguptheirpollenlikeMardiGrasfloozies.Ilickedmylipsandtastedsalt.
DadandSephiestaredeachotherdownlikegunslingers,exceptshewasalreadywilting.WhenDadwasthismad,hisgreeneyeswhirredintheirsockets,flashingdragonanger.IwantedtohidebehindSephie,butthatwouldbecowardly.
“Hi,Dad,”Isaid,slicingthroughthetension.“What’sourchorelist?”
Heignoredme,whichpushedSephieovertheedge.Shehadalreadygonefloppy,buthisstonysilenceforcedhertears.“I’msorry,Dad,butI’mfailingchemistry,”shesniffled.“Imighthavetogotosummerschool.”
Igrabbedherhand.“Might.Notforsure.IalreadytoldherI’dhelpherstudy.Ifshedoeswellonthefinal,Ibetshe’llpasstheclass,andnoonewillcomeoutheretocheckuponher.”
Iwastalkingtoofast.Dadstillhadn’tlookedatme.Hehadn’tspokenyet,either,whichwasworsethanyellingtimesten.
AfteranotherfullminuteofstaringatSephielikeshewassomethinggrodyonthebottomofhisshoe,Dadabruptlyturnedonhisheelandstormedupthedrivewaytowardthehouse.
“Dad?”Iyelled.
Sephie’scriesescalatedtowails.
“It’snotthatbad,”Isoothedher.“Waituntilhe’soutofsightandlet’sseeifMomishome.”
MomcouldalmostalwayscoaxDadoutofhisspells.SometimesIthoughtitwashermainjobonthisplanet,otherthanpayingthebills.Dadveeredoffthedriveway,pacedthroughtheorchard,andstompedintothehouse,slammingthedoorbehindhim.Myshouldersdroopedinrelief.Thehousewasthebestpossiblelocationforhiminthismood.He’dbeoutofthesun,andifhegotadrink,hewouldcalmrightdown.
Iwasn’tworriedabouthimspankingSephieoranything.He’dneverhiteitherofus,andhetookgreatprideinthat.Hismom’sthirdhusbandhadbeenviolent.He’dbeatenDadforanyinfractionandsometimesjustforshitsandgiggles,Dadsaid.ThathadlasteduntilDadwasbigenoughtofightback.Dadwouldpause,slyly,atthispointinthestory.
I’mnotsomeonetomesswith,hiscurledlipwouldsay.
Butthereareworsethingsthanhitting.
Wecrestedthesmallhillbetweenthemainroadandthehouse.TheVWvanwasparkedinfrontofthesummerkitchen,whichmeantMomwasalreadyhome.Iletoutahugebreath.“Comeon,Sephie!Mom’llmixhimadrink,andwecanfigureallthisout.”
Wejoggedtowardthehouse,scaringupdandelionfuzz.Meander,mycalicokitty,dashedupandwantedmetopether,buttherewasn’ttime.Werushedthroughthesunporch,droppedourbackpacksonthelivingroomtable,andfoundMomandDadinthekitchen,where,sureenough,Dadheldatalldrink,noice.
Mom’seyeswerecrampedwhenweentered,butshetossedusasmile.Iwasstruckbyhowgood-lookingtheywere,evenwithMomwearingherworriedfaceandDadhismadone.
“Howwasschool?”sheasked.
ImademyselfastallasIcould.“Sephieisfailingchemistry,butI’mgoingtohelpherstudyandshe’sgoingtopass,andit’llbefine.”
MomkepteyecontactwithSephieeventhoughherwordswereclearlydirectedatDad.“Iagree.”
DadgluggedhiswholeglassofclearliquidandhelditouttoMom,whorefilleditwordlesslywithhalfvodka,halfwater.
Whenhehadagoodgriponthatsecondglass,hefinallyspoke.“Sephie,youknowhowimportantschoolis.”
I’mpositiveI’mnottheonlyoneinthatroomwhosebuttcheeksimmediatelyrelaxed.Sephiestoppedcrying,andthesqueezedlookleftMom’seyes,rushingoutlikebathwaterafteryou’vepulledtheplug.YoucouldtellhowDadwasgoingtoplayit,always,byhisfirstwordsafterasilenttime.Sometimeshe’dgodark,orcreepy.Buthewassayingnormalthingsthistime.Me,Mom,andSephiewerequicktoencouragethat.
“Yes,”Momsaid.“It’sthemostimportantthingatyourage.”
“Iknow,”Sephiesaid,wipingherface,eagertoagree.“Imadeamistake.Mrs.Tatarisimpossible,butIshouldhavegottentutoring.”
“YouthinkIshouldhelpher,don’tyou,Dad?”Myliverfeltyellowatthis,joiningincoddlingDadlikehewasababyman,butit’swhatworked.
Hetookaswigofhisdrink,finishinghalfinaswallow.“You’reluckyI’marationalman,Persephone,andIwantyoutolistentothis,too,Cass.Myownstepfatherwasanasshole.He’dbeatmebloodyifIfailed.Iwantbetterforyougirls.”
MomputherarmaroundDad’swaist.SephieandIdonnedoursympatheticfaces,exceptIthinkshereallymeanthers.We’dheardthisstoryahundredfiftyzilliontimes.
“YouknowhowreasonableIam?”hecontinued.“Istoppedmyoutsideworktohelpournewneighborsmoveacouch.Isn’tthatright,Peg?”
Momsmiled.“Lovelypeople,wethink.TheirlastnameisGomez.”
“Saltoftheearth,”Dadsaid,hiswordsgonewoollyaroundtheedges,“butnottooeducated.”
HeandMomnoddedateachother.Theywereproudofthemaster’sdegreetheyeachheld,Dad’sinarthistoryandMom’sineducation.
“TheoldSwensonplace?”Iasked.Wepasseditonourbusroute,rightbeforeturningatGoblin’sandthenastraightshottoourplace.Mrs.Swensonusedtohaveabeautyparloroffherkitchenwhereshe’dmakeextramoney.She’dpiercedmyearsforfivedollarsanear,thoughoneofthemhadgrownsoinfectedthatI’dhadtoremovethestudandlettheholesealup.
Momnodded.“That’stheone.”
“The‘ForSale’signisstilloutfront,”Sephiesaid.
“They’lltakethatdownsoon,”Dadsaid.Hewasrelaxing,histonegrowinghigh-minded.“Theyhavethreekidsandsaidthey’llneedbabysittersfromtimetotime.”
Sephielitup.ShewassavingforaMakeMePrettyBarbiehead.Forsurethiswasn’tthetimetotellMomandDadthatshe’ddecidedtoforgocollegetopursueherdreamofbeingahairdresser.
“Icandoit!”shesaid.
Dadsnorted.“Notifyoudon’tpasschemistry.Cassiecanbabysit.”
“Allright,”Isaid,tooquickly.
Hefinallyacknowledgedme,hiseyesbeadywithvodka.“How’sschoolgoingforyou,Cassie?”
Iknewwhathewasafter.Helikedtoendhislessonswithaglobofshame,nomatterhowtheystarted.Ididn’twanttoanswerhim,didn’twanttotakepartinhumiliatingSephie.“Fine.”
“Youstillhavethatbestfriend?Lynn?Haven’tseenherforawhile.”
Mycheeksburned.Nowwasn’tthetimetomentionthebirthdayinvitation.“Naw,notanymore.”
“Herparentsfinallycametooneofourpartieslastfall,isn’tthatright,Peg?Didn’tseemtoogoodforusthen.”
Mompattedhisarm.“CanIgetyousomemorewater?”
Hefinishedhisdrinkandhandedittoher.SephandIwatchedtenselytoseeifshe’daddvodka.Shedidn’t,thankgod,holdingtheglassundertheceramicwaterdispenser.Wefilledtenfive-gallonjugsatthepublicspoutinSt.Cloud.TheyfilteredthewaterstraightfromtheMississippi,andittastedcleanasclouds.Waybetterthanourmetallicwellwater.
“Girls,”Momsaid,“whydon’tyoubothgostudyuntilsuppertime?YourdadandIhavesomeplanningtodoforthenextparty.”
“What?”Iasked,clutchingmyhandstogether.ThepreviousonehadbeeninSeptember,thefirstandonlyoneLynn’sparentshadattendedandSergeantBauer’sfirst.Icouldhaveguessedanotherpartywascoming,butIalwayshopedthelastwasthelast
“Yep,Saturday,”Dadsaid.“We’llcelebratethebeginningofsummer.Thispartyisgoingtobebig.Biggerthananybefore.Maybeourlast,beforethestateputsinthosepowerlinesandweloseallourprivacy.”
SephieandIdidn’tlookateachother,butIdidn’tneedtoseeherfacetoknowthatshe—likeme—wouldbejustfineifthiswerethelastparty.Wetrudgedofftoherroomanddugrightintochemistry.Acouplehoursofmequizzingherandshehadthebasicsdown.She’dbeendumbaboutitbecauseshehadn’ttried,butshewassmartunderneaththat.Ifweworkedtogetheragaintomorrownight,Iknewshecouldpass.
“Hey,Sephie,”Iasked,onceshehadtheperiodictableasmemorizedasshecouldinasinglesitting.“Itriedtotellyouonthebus.Clamwastheboywhowasattacked,theoneBettytalkedaboutyesterdaymorning.Wehadasymposiumaboutitatschool,eventhoughtheydidn’ttellusexactlywhywewerethere.There’sgoingtobeacurfewintown.”
“Iknow,”shesaid.
Icouldtellshedidn’t.“Eviesaidhewashurtprettybad.Shedoesn’tthinkitwasagang.ShefiguresitwasthePeepingTom.You’veheardabouthim?”
“Everyonehas.”
Isighed.Sephiereallyneededtofeelsmart.“Sure.Buthere’swhatIthink.Ithinkthatitdoesn’tmatterifit’sonemanorawholegangof’em.IfsomeonehurtClamandgotawaywithit,they’regoingtotryagain.”
IwatchedSephierollthataroundinherhead.“Thepolicewillcatchwhoeverdidit.”
IpicturedSergeantBauer.Iwasn’tsosure.“I’mgoingtotrytogettothebottomofit,”Isaidwithouteventhinking.Butoncethewordswereout,theyfeltright.IwasgoingtobeawriterforNellieBly’sTrustItorDon’t,andwasn’tthatjustlikeinvestigativereporting?Besides,howmanypeoplewouldwanttobemyfriendifIfiguredoutwho’dhurtClam?
Lots,that’showmany.
Oncetheideatookroot,itgrew.BythetimeMomcalledusdowntosupper,I’devenstartedplanningwhatsortofclothesI’dwearwheninvestigating.
MyexcitementallbutdisappearedwhenIsawhowboisteroussheandDadwerewithpartyplanning.Herchickentastedlikeashtome,thinkingaboutwhatwascomingonSaturday.Sephiedidn’treallydigin,either.Weatequickly,didthedishes,andheadedtoourrooms.
BythetimeIfinishedmyhomework,itwasnearlyeleveno’clock.Mybedroomwindowwasopen,invitingthedirt-scentedcoolofalate-Mayeveningtodriftin,makingmyroomtheperfecttemperatureforsleeping.Iwasbeat,butIhadaduty.
IopenedNellieBly’s,jammingmyfaceinthepagestosmellthepaper,runningitalongmycheeks.Ipulledthebookbackandpretendedthewordswerewritteninbraille,closingmyeyesandtracingmyfingersoverthem.Whentherewasnothinglefttoreaditwithbutmyeyes,Idovein.
Iclosedthebookandsighed.SukarnoandIwouldhavehadalottotalkabout.SometimesIdidn’tknowwhereIstoppedandmyproblemsbegan,either.Lifewouldbefineifwedidn’thavetolivewithDad.I’dtoldMomthat,abunch.She’dsayIwasbeingdramatic.
Bedtime.Mybodywantedtosleepshort.
Insidetheembraceofmycloset,InestledintothecloudypurplequiltmygrandmahadsewnmethatwassopuffySephieandIcouldperformstandingsomersaultsonitwithouthurtingourshoulders.IfIstretchedoverhead,myfingertipscouldplaythehangerslikewindchimes.TheirsweetTinkerBellsongsettledmybones,usually.
Everythingwasarrangedperfectlyforsleep,butitwasanogo.AndIknewexactlywhy.Itwasthethirst.Ithadstartedtwohoursago,butIcouldn’tleavemyroom.Dadwaslumberingaroundinthekitchenbelow,hissoundsmagnifiedbythegrateinmyfloor.
Thegratehadbeeninstalledtoallowwarmthtorisetothesecondstorybackwhenthiswasadraftyoldfarmhousewithwoodheat.Wehadafurnacenow,soSephieandIhadrepurposedthefloorholeintoaspyhole.We’dspenthourswithourearspressedtothewroughtiron,listeningtoMomandDadfight,orparty,ordogrossstuff.Oncewe’devenriggedupanemptyoatmealtubebypunchingholesinitssidesandlacingtwinethroughthem.We’dremovethegrateanddroptheoatmealdumbwaiterthroughthehole.Mom’dinsertfoodintoit,andwe’djerkthecanisterbackupandeatwhateverwasinside,gigglinguntilourstomachshurt.Thatlasteduntilweforgottocleanouttheapplecoreswe’dtossedbackinandshegotslimed.
Distractingmyselfwithmemorieswasn’tworking.
Mythirstwasdrivingmebonkers.
Ishifted,burrowingintomyquiltnest.Iswallowed,butmyspitonlyrolledhalfwaydownmythroatbeforeitwasabsorbed.Itdidn’thelpthatifIopenedtheclosetdoorandpeekeddownthroughthatgrate,I’dbeabletoseethewaterdispenser.OneflickoftheknobandI’dhaveenoughliquidtofillmeuptomyeyeballs.Isupposedthat’showthelionssuccessfullyhuntedtheantelope,justlurkedaroundthewateringholeuntiltheweaker,fleshyanimalscouldn’tstanditanymoreandcameforadrink.
Iwouldn’tbesostupid.
Momhadgonetobedaroundnine.Ifshewerestillup,ImighthavehollereddownforhertohandmeupaglassofwaterandhopedDaddidn’tintervene.
Whatwashedoing?Thistimeofnight,heusuallyparkedhimselfinhischairontheoppositesideofthehouse.Tonight,heseemedtobemovingbetweenthegarageandthepantry,withitsdoortothebasement.Hisbreathingsoundedheavierthanusual.
Iwassothirsty,butIcouldn’tleave.
Thatwasoneofmyhandfulofliferules,thoseluckycharmsthatIrattledtostaysafe.
Sleepwhereyou’reprotected.
NoleavingtogotothebathroomafterMomwasinbed.Istoredabucketundermybedjustincase.
Anddefinitelynogettingadrinkofwaterafterdark.
CHAPTER11
“Next!”
Ourmiddleschoolbandroomhasapeculiarlockerroomtang,aproductofallthehornsectionspitthatpooledinthebrassinstruments,thendrippedontothefloor.Iplowedthroughthatodor,yankingthereedI’dbeensuckingonoutofmymouthandsecuringittothetipofmyclarinetwhileIhurriedtowardthesmallpracticeroomMr.Connellywassummoningmeinto,oneofitswallsabankofwindowslookingoutontothebandroomfloor.
I’dmanagedtoscrapeoutafewhoursofshut-eyelastnight,whichmeantIlookedlikeaDarkCrystalMuppetthismorning.IwasalmostgratefulGabrielhadn’triddenthebus.Normally,abrightspotwouldbethatIhadmybandlessonfirstthingonWednesdays,whichmeantIgottohangoutwithMr.Connelly.AfteroverhearingMrs.PuglisiandMrs.Janowskitalkabouthiminthebathroom,though,Iwasfeelingapprehensive,notexcited,formylesson.IfConnellywasapotentialsuspectintheattackonClam,Ineededtoinvestigatehim.
“Hi,Mr.Connelly,”IsaidasIclosedthedoorbehindmeandtookmyseat.HeatherCawlandIhadn’tacknowledgedoneanotherasherlessonendedandminebegan.Shewasfirstchair,methirdwithnochanceofpromotion.Iwasinbandtoroundoutmyrésumé,let’ssay.
Hesmiledthatmovie-stargrin,anditmadeallmyworryaboutwhatI’doverheardinthebathroommeltaway.NowaywasConnellysomeonewhocouldhurtakid.Wealllovedhim.LotsofmyclassmatescalledhimConnelly,allinformal,orMr.C.Iwantedtobecoollikethatandhadrehearseditathome.Hey,Connelly!Didyoupartyheartylastweekend?
That’sasfarasI’dgotten.
Hepointedatmygarage-saleclarinet.“How’sthegoosewhistle?”
“Sweetlikeicecream.”Ihelditup.I’dwantedtoplaytheflute,butMomandIhadn’tfoundonedespitescouringeveryrummagesaleinthecounty.Theonlyotheroptionwasthisclarinetordrums—stickswerecheapenoughwecouldbuythemnew.Unfortunately,Icouldn’tkeepabeattosavemysoul.
Connelly,whichIatleastcalledhiminmyhead,laughed.“It’sabeautifulinstrument,youknow.”
Idroppedintothepracticechair.Itwasafamiliarconversation.“Arealworkofart.”
“YouknowwhatArtieShawandBennyGoodmanhadincommon?”
“Notsmartenoughtoplaythesaxophone?”
Hechuckled.“You’renotgoingtomakefirstchairwiththatattitude.”
“Orthesefingers.”Iwaggledthemathim.“Yettheworldcontinuestoturn.”
Thisonegotaroaroflaughter,loudenoughtoturntheheadofCharlieKloss,whowaswaitingontheothersideoftheglassforhispiccololesson.Poorkidhadn’tgotthememoaboutwhatinstrumentswerecoolforboystoplay.
“Let’sstartwith‘Apache.’”Connellyopenedmymusicbookandstartedthemetronomebeforeblowingontheroundpitchpipetunerthatmightaswellhavespurtedglitterforalltheuseitwastome.Ireadiedmyhandsforthefirstnoteanddovein,makingupinvolumewhatIlackedintalent.
Weranthroughthesongfivecompletetimesbeforehewassatisfied.“You’recomingalongnicely,Cassandra.”
Heusedmyfullname.Ilikedthat,too.“Thankyou.”
Hefoldedupmypracticebookandhandedittome,standingasIstood.Ourfingersbrushed.Itwasanaccident,buthejerkedhishandbacklikeI’dburnedhim.
“Sorry,”Isaid,fiddlingwithmyclarinet’skeys.
Heslidhishandsintohispantspockets.Itfeltlikeaninvisiblewallhaddroppeddownbetweenus,andIcouldn’tfigureoutwhy.
“Youinforsellingsomepopcorn?”Connellyasked,ignoringthatwall.
Itriedtoswallowbutmadeaclickingsoundinstead.“Isthatthisyear’spromotion?”
Itwastraditionforthefourthtoeighthgraderstosellfood,usuallychocolatebars,overthesummertoraisemoneyforthefallbandtripthehighschoolkidstookeveryyear.IrarelysoldmuchbecauseofhowfaroutoftownIlived.Mostfarmswereatleasthalfamileapart,andtheycouldbuytheirownchocolatebarsatthestore,thankyouverymuch
“Yep.”Heopenedthecardboardboxnearhisfeetandyankedoutaglossybrochure,itsfrontcoverfeaturingninevarietiesofpopcorn.Hehelditouttome,carefultokeephishandsfarfromtouchingmine.“Instructionsinside.”
IgrabbedthebrochureandwalkedoutasCharliewentin,myeyespinnedtothebrightimages.Itwasthebestwaytoholdbackthetears.Ididn’tknowwhyithadgrossedoutConnellytotouchme,butthereyougo.Bettertothinkaboutthepopcorn.Ibetthecornfettiflavorwasthebest,cheerfulredsandpurplesandbluesinfruitflavors.IwasstillstudyingitasImademywaytotheinstrumentstorageroombuthadtosetitdowntodismantlemyclarinet.Hand-letteredmaskingtapemarkedmycase,notthatanyonewouldwanttostealasecondhandclarinet.
Oncemyclarinetwastuckedaway,Ipeekedtowardthebandroom,mythroattightening.Noonewascoming,whichmeantitwasallclear.Icouldlookthroughpeople’sstuff.I’dbeendoingitsinceIcouldremember,riflingthroughmyclassmates’backpacksandpursesandinstrumentcases.I’dfindLipLickers,TwinkiesthatI’dsmell,notes.Inevertookanything.Ijustlikedtoholdit.Iwasn’tproudofthebehavior,soItriednottothinkaboutittoomuch.
MypulsewashammeringnicelyasIknelttopulloutHeather’sclarinetcase.Iknewforafactshe’dstoredhernewAvonlipglossinthere.Itwasshapedlikeachocolatechipcookie.Acoupleweeksago,she’dscrewedoffthetopandshownherfriendsthetwoseparateflavors—caramelandchocolate—inside.After,she’dtuckeditinthecompartmentinhercasewhereshekepttheextrareeds.Iwasn’tgoingtouseanyofit,Iwasprettysure.Ijustwantedtoholdit.
“What’sagoodgirllikeyoudoingdigginginpeople’sstuff?”
Ispunguiltily,shovingthechocolatechipcookiecompactintomypockettogetitoutofsight.IwassurprisedtoseeClamstandinginthedoorway.Heworehigh-waterjeans,anoversizebeltbuckle,andadated’70scollaredshirt.
“You’renotinband.”Itwasastupidthingformetosay,butmychestwasfear-knockingtooloudtothink.Mydecisiontosolvethecaseofwho’dhurthimsuddenlyseemeddistantandridiculous.
Clamtwitchedandlookedoverhisshoulder.Wassomeonebehindhim?Hisfacewasshadowedwhenheturnedback.Hewassmallforhisage,buthehadropymuscles.HecouldripthroughyouliketheTasmanianDevilifhewanted,everykidknewthat.Iwasn’tafraidofhim,though,atleastI’dneverbeenbefore.Clamonlybeatupboys.
Exceptthisdidn’tseemliketheClamI’dgrownupwith.
IthoughtofEvie’sstory,thathe’dspentthenightinthehospital,thathe’dbeenputinadiaper.Mymouthgrewdry.I’dbeenababytothinkthiswassomeNancyDrewmystery.
“Youherealone?”Hemovedastepcloser.
Icouldsmellhimnow,thescentoffriedfoodonhisclothes.HiseyesheldawildnessthatI’dneverseenbefore,somethingbetweenterroranddanger.
Icouldn’trunpasthim.Trapped,Imademyselflarger,hopinghecouldn’tseemykneesshaking.“YoucomeonestepcloserandI’llslapyou.”
NowIwasinDynasty?ButIstillcouldn’tmakesenseofwhatwashappening.IwasinLilydaleElementaryandMiddleSchool,standinginalitroom.Mr.Connellywasn’tmorethanfiftyfeetaway.IcouldevenhearCharlieKloss’sraggednotessplittingtheair.Butmystomachheldabagoficesuddenly,andIgrewlight-headed.Iwasafraid,reallyandtruly,andI’dknownClammywholelife.
JustnotthisClam.
Hesneered,hookinghisthumbsintohisbeltloops.Hisfloodpantswerethickdenim,thegrommetsandzipperanuglycopper.“Icouldhurtyou,”hewhispered,“butIwon’tifyoudowhatIsay.”
Hiswordssoundedweird,likeanecho,oranewlanguagehecouldrecitefrommemorywithoutunderstandingit.Mybrainpingedoffreassuringmarkers,likethelightswitchthatI’dflickedonahundredtimesortherainbowTrapperKeeperstoredundermyclarinetcase.Noneofithelped.SomethingwaswrongwithClam.
“Iknowsomeoneattackedyou,”Isaid.
Hegrewstillandclear,likehiscolorsbecamebrighter.“Youdon’tknowshit.”
“Whodidit?”Iasked.Itcameoutasarush.Myjawfeltlocked,andIcouldn’tseemtodrawafullbreath.
Clamopenedhismouthlikehewasgoingtosaysomething,andthenheslammeditshut.Themovementworkedlikeabellows,lightingthecrazyfireinhiseyes.SomebodyhadhurtClam,andhewasgoingtodothesametome.
Charliecontinuedtosqueakthroughhispiccololessonamillionmilesaway,andIfoundIcouldn’tevenyell,becauseI’dfeelstupidifIwasmakingabigdealoutofnothing.Clammusthaveseenthesurrenderinmyeyes,becausehelungedcloser.Isteppedback,trippingoveracornetcasethathadn’tbeenpushedfullyin.Myfallbroughtastackofcymbalscrashingtotheground.
Adooropenedinthemainbandroom.Footstepsrushedtowardus.Mr.Connellyappearedinthedoorway,hiseyeswide.Icouldhavecriedwithreliefatseeinghimthere.
“Heavens,Cassandra,areyouokay?”
Inodded,jumpingtomyfeettostackthecymbals.MyrightwristsmartedfromwhereI’dlandedonit,andmyscarpulsedwithmyracingheart.IhatedhowashamedIsuddenlyfelt.
“Good.Gladtohearit.”Mr.Connelly’sfacetightenedashisfocusshiftedtoClam.“Mr.Clamchik,Icanonlyassumeyou’vedecidedtotaketheyard-workjobIofferedyou?”
Clam’sshouldersslumped,andhisthumbsdroppedoutofhisloops.Mr.Connellydeflatedhimjustlikethat,lettingallthebadairoutofhisballoon.“Naw,”Clamsaid,pushingpastMr.Connelly.
Mr.Connellywatchedhimgobeforeturningbacktome.“Yousureyou’reokay,Cassandra?”
Iblinkedbacktears.Ididn’twantConnellytoseemecryingbecauseitwasstupid,thiswasallsostupid.Ididn’tevenknowwhathadjusthappened.“Yep,justputtingmyclarinetaway.IsCharlie’slessondone?”
“Wemightaswellfinishearly.”Hewaslookingatmefunny.“Wantmetowalkyoutoclass?”
“No,thankyou.”
Connellysteppedtothesidetoletmepass.Mylegswerestilltrembly,butIgrabbedmypopcornbrochureandTrapperKeeper,puttingonefootinfrontoftheothertowardtheexit.
IshruggedoffthecrummypanicofhavingClamgoallanimalonme.Noonehadseenit.
Imadeitallthewaytofourthperiodcivicsbeforeaworried-lookingsecretarycalledmetotheprincipal’soffice.
CHAPTER12
MyfingersandtoesitchedonthewalktoMrs.Janowski’s.I’dneverbeencalledinbefore.DidsheknowI’dspiedonherandMrs.Puglisiinthebathroom?Myheartsank.Maybeitwasevenworse.MaybeConnellyhadtoldthemaboutClambeingweirdintheinstrumentroomthismorning.Weretheyaskingmeinasawitness,totellonhim?ThistheorygatheredstrengthwhenIspottedClamsulkingoutofMrs.Janowski’sofficeattheendofthehall.Ishudderedatthesight.Hedidn’tglancemyway.
Thesecretaryledmestraightbacktotheprincipal’soffice,whereshewasonthephone.
“Shejustwalkedin,”Mrs.Janowskisaidintothemouthpiece.
Myearsburned.Whowasshetalkingonthephonetoaboutme?
Shehungupandindicatedthechairinfrontofherdesk.Icollapsedintoit,Ithink,butmybodyhadgonecoldandIcouldn’treallyfeelanymore.
“DoyouknowwhyIcalledyouhere,Cassandra?”
Myfullnamedidn’tsoundasgoodinhermouthasitdidinMr.Connelly’s.“No,ma’am.”
Herlipstightened.“Canyouemptyyourpocketsforme?”
Iwasfalling,plummetingdeepdowninsidemyself,lookinguptowardtheholesthatweremyeyes.Heather’schocolatechipcookiecompactwasstillinmyfrontrightpocket,whereI’dshoveditwhenClamsurprisedme.Iglanceddownatitsoutlineinmyjeans,thenbackupatMrs.Janowski.Shelookedsodisappointed.Iyankedoutthecoolplasticandhelditouttoher.
“Isthatyours?”
Ishookmyhead,myhairfallinginmyeyes.Itsurewasn’t.
“Whodoesitbelongto?”
“Heather,”Iwhispered.
“Cawl?”
“Yes,ma’am.”Theshamewascomplete.Tearsthreatened,butIcrammedthemdown.
Mrs.Janowskidroppedherfaceintoherhandsforamoment.Forabriefflash,Ithoughtshewasgoingtoletmego.
“I’vecalledSergeantBauer,”shesaid.
Mybreathintakewasloudenoughtostartleher.
“Hewon’ttakeyoutojail,”shesaid,misreadingmyshock.“He’sjustgoingtotalktoyouaboutwhatwillhappenifyoudothisagain.ImustsayI’msurprisedyoustoleatall,Cassandra.You’reoneofmybeststudents.Istheresomethinggoingonathome?”
Thewordshotoutlikeacannonball.“No.”
Mrs.Janowski’seyesglittered.Foramoment,IthoughtI’dblownit.Peoplewon’tunderstandhowcreativeweare,Dadalwayssaid.Ifyoutellthemhowwelive,they’llsplitusup,makeyoukidslivewithstrangers.It’syourchoiceifyouwantthat,butIsuredon’t.
Butshedidn’taskafollow-upquestion,notaboutmyhomelife.“You’llhavetoapologizetoHeatherforstealingfromher.She’sonherwayrightnow.”
Godhimselfcouldn’thavestoppedmytearsthen.WhyhadClamtoldonme?Iwasn’tgoingtokeepthelipgloss,butMrs.Janowskiwouldn’tbelievethat.NeitherwouldBauer.Ijustwantedtosmellit,topretendIownedit.Yeahright.
“Finally,you’llhavedetentionafterschooltoday.”Mrs.Janowski’svoicegrewkinder.“ButIwon’tnotethisonyourpermanentrecord,Cassandra.Stopcryingnow.Weallmakemistakes.Ifyoudon’trepeatit,you’llbefine.”
Inodded,miserable.NeverinmylifehadIgottendetention.SamewithSephie.Detentionmeantparentsgettinginvolved,andDadhadbeenclear:staybelowtheradar.ThiswasforsureworsethanSephiefailingchemistry.ThesunshoneoutsideMrs.Janowski’swindow,itsbrightnesssurreal.Ididn’tfeellikeIdeservedtoevenlookatit.SergeantBauer’sblack-and-whitepulledup.Hemusthavebeenpatrollingnearbywhenthecallcamein.
“Thereheis,”Mrs.Janowskisaid.Hervoicewasbusinesslikeagain.
Heatherbeathimtotheoffice.Sheappearedscared,asIhad,whenshewasusheredin.Ajealousyburnedinme,fastandhot,andthendissolved.Shewasgoingtogettowalkoutofhere.
“Mrs.Janowski?”shesaid.
Theprincipalpointedatme.“Cassandrahassomethingtotellyou.”
Icouldn’tmakeeyecontactwithHeather.IsnatchedtheplasticchocolatechipcookiecontainerofftheedgeofMrs.Janowski’sdeskandhelditout.“Itookyourlipgloss.I’msorry.”
Heatherpluckeditoutofmyhandbutdidn’timmediatelysayanything.
Ipeekedather.Shewasstaringatthelipgloss,alinebetweenhereyebrows.
“IsaidI’msorry,”Isaid.
“IforgotIhadthis.”ShelookedatMrs.Janowski.“CanIgo?”
“Yes,Heather.Thankyou.Andthere’snoreasontosharewithyourclassmateswhathastranspiredhere.”
ProbablyMrs.Janowskimeantwell,butshesuredidn’tunderstandhowmiddleschoolworked.Iwonderedwhatmynewnicknamewasgoingtobe.
HeatherleftasSergeantBauerentered.Heturnedtowatchhergobeforestudyingme,hisheadcocked.Isawhimputtingthepiecestogether.Mrs.Janowskimustnothavetoldhimmynamewhenshe’dcalledhim.
Oneofourstudentsisathief.CanyoucomebyandputthefearofJesusinher?
Mypleasure.
“You’reDonny’sgirl?”
“Yessir,”Isaid.Ikeptmystarelockedonhis.I’dbeenashamedinfrontofMrs.JanowskiandHeather,butIwouldn’tbeforhim.IrememberedwhatIsawhimdoingtoKristiatDad’sparty,allhunchedover,theireyesslammedshut,theirskinsweatyandsoupysmelling,himwearingonlythatsilverwristwatchanddogtagsthatmadeametallictinktinksoundashethrust.
“I’lltakethisfromhere,”BauersaidtoMrs.Janowski,likehecoulddismissherfromherownoffice.
“I’llstayifyoudon’tmind,”shesaid.
Iwantedtohugher.Fucking,heandDadhadtalkedaboutatLittleJohn’s.Fuckingandmushroomsandeveryfewyearsliketheplague.I’donlyheardthosecrudebits,thewordsgratinglikeout-of-tunepianoblonks.
“Allthesametome,”Bauersaid,perchingontheedgeofherdesk,hishatinhishand.Hedrewapenfromhisshirtpocket,buthedidn’treachforpaper.Hejustpressedthebuttononthepen.Clickclick.Clickclick.“Youknowstealingiswrong,don’tyou?”
“Yeah.”Doyouknowthatwhatyoudidatmydad’spartywaswrong,too?
“What’sthat?”Clickclick.Clickclick.
“Yessir.”
“Yourdadwouldbeverydisappointedtohearhisdaughterisathief,”hesaid.“Don’tyouthink?”
“Yessir.”Butonlybecauseitmightgethimintrouble.
“Youdothisagain,you’llendupinjuvie.”Clickclick.Clickclick.“Doyouwantthat?”
“No,sir.”
Thewayhestaredatme,Icouldtellhedidn’tlikethatIwasn’tmoreashamed.AndIwas,butlikeIsaid,Iwasn’tgoingtolethimseeit.
“Allrighty,”hefinallysaid.
CHAPTER13
We’dreadTheScarletLetterinHonorsEnglishlastyear.AfterwalkingoutofMrs.Janowski’soffice,boy,didIunderstanditonawholenewlevel.Theworstpartwasn’tthewaykidsstaredatmetherestoftheday.Itwashowacoupleteachers,likeMr.Kinchelhoe,treatedmeextranice.PityfeedshumiliationlikespinachtoolsupPopeye.Isurvivedtheday,though,andwalkedthelongmiletodetentionattheendofclasses.Oncethere,Ifocusedonmyhomeworklikemylifedependedonit.
Ididn’tknowwhowasgoingtopickmeup,MomorDad.
Obviously,IwantedittobeMom,exceptIdidn’twanttoseehowbummedoutshe’dbe.Icouldn’ttellherthetruthofwhatIhadbeendoing,either,becauseitwouldmakehersosadthatI’dfeltcompelledtosmellsomeoneelse’sstuff.ThemoreIthoughtaboutit,themoreIhopeditwasDad.He’dbemad,raging,butit’dkeepsomeoftheheatoffSephie.
Bythetimehestrolledthroughthedetentiondoor,Iwasalmosthappytoseehim.
“Comeon,”hegrunted,notbotheringtoacknowledgetheroommonitor.
IscrambledtogathermybooksandTrapperKeeper.“Thankyou,Mrs.Cunniff,”Isaidtotheteacheronmywayout.Shenoddedwithoutlookingupfromthebookshewasreading.
Dadmarchedstifflytowardthefrontdoor.Thehallsweremostlyemptyexceptforkidsfinishingupwithtrackandmakingtheirwaytothelockerroomsandacoupleeighthgradersstayinglatetoworkonprojects.IwassohappythatGabrielwasn’taroundtowitnessmeleavedetention.
ItriedtoreadDad’smood,buthewaswalkingsofastandsayingnothing.Ipreparedfortheworst.Iwouldtakemyknocks,nocomplaining.Iwouldbegroundedandgivenextrachores.Icouldhandlethat.ProbablySephiewouldgetthebabysittingjobsnowthatIwasinthehotseat,andsheneededthemoneymorethanme.
Thesunoutsidetheschoolwasblinding.IttookmeasecondtonoticethatSephiewassittinginthefrontseatofthevan.Herfacelookedgrim.Dang.Okay.ThiswasworsethanIthought.Iopenedthesidedoorandslidin.Sephiedidn’tturnaround.Dadcrawledintohisseat.
Wesatinasuspendedsecondbeforeheswiveled,hisfacesplitintoawidegrin.“Brokeyououtofthere,didn’tI?”
Hehelduphisrighthand,andSephiehigh-fivedit.Heturnedthehandtome,palmout,andIdidthesame,confused.
“Mydaughterthecriminal,”hesaid,chuckling.“Guessyoureallyneededyourselfsomelipgloss.”
Sephieturnedtofaceme,nodding,hereyeswide.“Didyouhavetogiveitback?”
“Yeah,”Isaid.Mybrainwasspinning.“You’renotmad,Dad?”
Hestartedupthevanandchuggeditintoreverse,peeringatmeintherearviewmirror.“Iwillbeifyoudoitagain,buteveryonegetstomakeamistake.Plus,it’sbullshittheybroughtinBauer.Idon’ttruckwithbullshit.”
TheicethathadbeenaroundmyheartsinceI’dbeencalledintoMrs.Janowski’sofficemelted.“Thanks,Dad.”
“Yep.Nowlet’sgetsomeshoppingdone.Weneedtostockupfortheparty.”
Mybreathhitched.Thatexplainedhisgoodmood.Well,I’dtakeit.
“Whatdoweneedtoget?”Sephiepipedup.
Dadhelduphislist,readingwhilehedrove.“Whiskey,beer,mix,potatochips,cheese,andcoldcuts.”
Mystomachgrumbled.Wegottoeatwellduringtheparties,thatwassomethingatleast.Istartedtogetintothespiritofthetrip.“IsSephiegoingtodriveonthewayhome?”
“That’sagreatidea!Whatdoyousay,Pers?”
Sheshotmethestinkeyeoverhershoulder.Sephiewasaprettygooddriverinanautomatic.Inthisbigmetalsuppositorywithaball-toppedsticktoshiftwith?Notsomuch.IfeltsmallaboutbringingitupbuttoldmyselfI’ddoneittohelpher.
Dadcaughtherglare.“Practicemakesperfect,Persephone.”
“Fine,”Sephiesaid,hermoodbuoyedaswepulledintotheliquorstorethatgaveoutTootsiePops.Shemightbefifteen,buthertoothwassweeterthanmine.That’swhenIspottedtheLilydalepolicecruiserinthelot.Itwistedtheskinatmywrist.WhatweretheoddsitwasSergeantBauer?
Thereweretwoopenspotsinthenearlyfullparkinglot.Onewasnexttoawhitesedan,theothernexttothepolicecar.IthoughtforsureDad’dparknexttothesedan,buthepulledinalongsidethecruiser.Heturnedofftheignition,steppedoutofthevan,closedthedoor,andtappedonthepolicecar’spassenger-sidewindow.Theofficerstretchedovertounrollit.
Yup.ItwasSergeantBauer.
“Hello,Donny,”hesaidtoDad.“WhatcanIdoyoufor?”
Dadleanedinthroughthewindow.Theyexchangedwords,followedbyashareddarklaugh.BothSephieandIhadsteppedoutofthevanandwerewaitingbehindDad.ShegrabbedmyhandwhenDadsteppedasidesoSergeantBauercouldaddressus
“Twiceinoneday,girl,”hesaidtome.“YourdadandIagreeIwon’teverbeseeingyouagaininanofficialcapacity.Isthatright?”
“Yessir,”Isaid,thewordgluckyinmymouth.Theywerebothpretending,playingtheroleofConcernedAdults.Iwassurethey’dmostlybeentalkingabouttheparty.
Ithoughtofthesymposium,therumorsoftortureandalienabduction,howevilClamhadturned,ofEviecoloringherplaytimeposters.I’mnotgoingtoletthemstealmychildhood.Ididn’twanthiseyesonme,butIneededtoknowthetruth.“SergeantBauer,whyisthereacurfew?”
Dadglaredatme.
Sephiehuddledcloser,butIwasn’tgoingtobackdown.IstudiedmyownreflectioninSergeantBauer’smirroredsunglasses.Iwasgnat-sizeandupsidedown,meandSephietwolollipopheadsblockingthesunlightfromreflectingaperfectcircleineach.
Bauerfinallyspoke.“Nothingtooserious.Noneedforkidstoberunningaroundgettingintroubleisall.”HeturnedhisfacetowardDad.“Keepaneyeonyourgirls,hear?”
Dadsalutedhim,twostifffingerstappinghisforehead.
Ifyouwereacrosstheparkinglot,youwouldhavemissedthelookDadandSergeantBauerpassedeachotherrightthen,aquicksmirkfromonemantotheother.Theysharedasecret,thetwoofthem,somethingcoiledandwet.Seeingitmademewanttotugonasweatereventhoughthesunwasshiningdownlikealavaball.
“Ibestbeoff,”SergeantBauersaid,rumblinghiscartolife.“LookslikeI’llbeseeingyougirlsSaturday!”
Sephie,everpolite,said,“Soundsgood.”
Iglowered.
DadslappedthetopofthecruiserandsteppedbacksoSergeantBauercoulddriveaway.Whenhepulledoutoftheparkinglot,DadthrewhisarmaroundSephie.“That’showyoudoit,honey.Ifthepoliceareattheparty,theywon’tbustit,right?”
Sephiebeamedupathim.“Makessense.”
Iwassimultaneouslydisgustedandjealous.IhateditwhensheplayeduptoDadlikethat,butIhadtoadmit,therewereperkstobeinghisfavorite.Ifollowedthemintotheliquorstore,Dad’sarmstillaroundSeph.IwasrunningthroughwaysIcouldbutterhimupwhileweighingifitwasworthit,solostinthoughtthatIdidn’tseethemantrampingaroundthewhiskeyaisleuntilIcollidedwithhim.
“Sorry!”ThewordshotoutmymouthatthesametimemyskinshiveredlikeIhadtopee.
Iwasstandingface-to-facewithGoblin.
EveryrumorI’deverheardabouthimrushedatmelikeawaveasIsuckedinandheldmybreathoutofhabit.Hetorturesanimals.HeworshipsSatan.Heeatsfingers.Whenhetastesblood,hegoesberserkandturnsintoademon.Heusedtobeafootballstaruntilhegotinaterriblecaraccidentthattookoffthetopofhishead,whichiswhyhealwayswearsahat.Hesitsaloneathomeandrocksinachair,onlyleavinghistrailertobuyfoodandbeer.
Goblin’sfeedcapwaspulledtighttohisears,hisholloweyesshadedunderitsbrim.Hehadawormytattoo,likethe“Don’tTreadonMe”snake.Itsheadlickedoutofhiscollar,thenshowedupagaincoilingaroundhisarm.Iwonderedwhatitlookedlikeunderhisshirt,whereitended.Hewasbulkyandbarrel-chestedbutnotoverweight.
I’dneverstoodthisclosetohimbefore.
Irealizedthathedidn’tsmelllikesouroldmanbutratherlikemydadfirstthinginthemorning,beforehehadachancetoshower.ItembarrassedmetoknowthataboutGoblin.Ifoundmyselflaughing,butIswalloweditquick.Itdidn’tstaydown,risingasaburp,fullofblackoilandstink.
That’swhenIrealizedIwasstillholdingmybreath.Iletitoutinawhoosh.
“Excuseme,”Isaid,caughtinGoblin’sstare.Hewasglaringatme.
“Cassie,standbehindme.”Dadsqueezedmyshoulder,andforthefirsttimeinmylife,Iwelcomedhistouch.ItflushedmewithagratitudesostrongImomentarilymistookitforanger.
“Ofcourse,Father.”Mywordswereformal,weird,butwewereonalargestage,actingoutaplaythatnoneofushadrehearsed.Myfatherfeltit.SodidGoblin.
Theystaredateachother,neitherbackingdown,theirhacklesraised.Wewerecountryneighbors,withGoblin’shouseoneofthenearest,butMomandDadnevertalkedabouthimoranyoftheotherpeoplewholivedaroundus,exceptthatGomezfamilywhohadmovedintotheoldSwensonplace.Itwasbesttokeeptoyourself,Dadsaid,butheclearlyknewGoblin,thewaytheywerepunchingeachotherwiththeireyes.
Goblinkeptswitchinghisweightfromonelegtotheother,makingasoft,repetitivesoundinthebackofhisthroat,anervoustic,likecuk-cuk-cuk.Somethingaboutmydadmadehimterriblyuncomfortable.
Goblinbrokefirst.“Youseenmydog?”hesputtered.
Dadwaitedabeatbeforeanswering.HewantedGoblintoknowhewasincharge.“Youshouldkeepthatthingtiedup.Itchasescars.”
“Iaskedyouseenit?”
“No.”
Goblinseemedtochewonthis,separatingseedfromshellbeforespittingthewholeworksout.HepushedpastDad,jostlinghim,butDadkeptsolidonhisfeet,watchingGoblinmarchoutempty-handed.
“Bothofyou,nevergotohishouse.Hisdogisamangything,”Dadsaid,talkingtousthoughhiseyesstayedonGoblin.“I’dassoonshootthebastardasbringhimback.”
Hesqueezedmyshoulderoncemore,butthistimewasdifferent.Hewastestingme,seeingifIintendedtofinallyjoinhisteam,andthepossessivenessinhiseyeswhenhelookedmywayconfirmedit.
“I’mtalkingabouttheman,notthedog,”hesaid.
CHAPTER14
Supperwasalmostfestive.DadhadrecoveredfromthestrangenesswithGoblin,andhewason.HetoldMomaboutrescuingmefromschool,andthewayhespunit,wewerealmostButchCassidyandtheSundanceKid.Besidesspringinghisyoungest,he’dgotteneverythingonMom’slistfortheparty,hesaid,andhe’dsavedhermoneybyusingcoupons.
Hedidn’ttellheraboutGoblin,butmaybehedidn’tgetachancebecausewhenhementionedthenewcurfew,Mom’sfacecloseduplikeshe’dpulledazipperoverit.
“Lilydale’sundercurfew?”
Dadhadscoopedabigspoonfulofmashedpotatoesandstoppedwithitalmosttohismouth.“Yeah.Twoboysclaimedtheywereabducted.”Hespitouttheword“claimed”likeit’dbeensoakedinvinegar.“Supposedlyonlyoneofthemwenttothepolice.”
Mymouthdroppedopen.Twoboys.Thatwasn’tright.
AyearofMom’slifeseemedtofallaway.SheturnedtomeandSephie.“Doeitherofyouknowanythingaboutthis?”
Sephieshrugged.
“IhearditwasonlyClam.MarkClamchik,”Icorrected,whenMomlookedconfused.“He’saneighthgrader.”
“Thatpoorboy,”Mommurmured.
“Ifit’seventrue,”Dadsaid.“Kidslie.”
“Iheardafterhewasabducted,heendedupinthehospital,”Ioffered,notsureexactlywhatIwassaying.Ihadn’twantedtousetheword“raped,”butneitherwasI100percentclearonwhatitmeanttobeabducted.
“Afriendofmine’smomisanurse,”Icontinued.“ShesaidClamwasinbadshape.”
“Who’stheotherboy?”Momasked.
WeallstaredatDad.Hewasdiggingintohisgrub,thistimegoingforthecowliver.Helovedthestuff,saidtheironinitgavehimsuperpowers.Thetexturemademewanttogag.Itwaslikechewingonawetbook.
“AnotherHollowboy,”Dadsaid.
Sephietwitched,lookingasstartledasIfelt.IfwhatDadwassayingwastrue,itmeantthesecondboyalsorodeourbus.
“What’shisname?”Iasked.
Dadkeptchewing.
“What’shisname?”Irepeated.
“That’sotherpeople’sbusiness,”Dadsaid,hiseyessliding.Hewashidingsomething,Icouldtell.IwonderedifitwasconnectedtothesecretheandSergeantBauershared.
“That’senough,”Momsaid.“We’renotgoingtospeculateaboutotherpeople’stroubles.”Shereachedintotheradishbowl,comingoutwithoneasbrightandplumpasacherry.She’dgrownitherself.Alongwiththespinach,itwasthefirstcropoftheyear.Shebitin.
ThecrunchmadeSephieandmejump.
MomandDadmovedtothelivingroomwhileSephieandIcleanedupsupper.Mombroughtoutastackofpaperstograde,andDadsettledinfrontofthetelevisionlikehedidmosteverynight.HewatchedalotofTV.Iguessmanypeopledid.Maybelikehim,theypreferredtheirlivesdeliveredtotheminabox.
“Doyouknowwhotheotherboyis?”IaskedSephie.
She’dofferedtowashdishes,metodryandputaway.ShestopperedthesinkandsquirtedoutsomegreenPalmolivebeforetwistingonthehotwater.“There’salotoftalk,butit’sjustrumors.Clamseemedfineonthebus.”
Iscrapedtheleftoverpotatoesintoaplasticcontainer,lickingthespatulawhenIwasdone.“Helooksokay,buthe’snotthesame.Hecorneredmeinthebandroomtoday.”
“Clam?”
“Yeah,”Isaid.“Exceptdifferent.”
Sheseemedtochewonthisforawhile,rilingupthewatertomakebubbles.“Why’dyoustealthelipgloss?”
“Ididn’t.”Ifittedtinfoiloverthetopoftheplasticbowl.“Ijustwantedtoseeit.That’swhenClamfoundme.Ishovedtheglossinmypocketwithouteventhinking.”
“What?Whydidn’tyoutellMrs.Janowski?”
“BecausethatsoundsevenstupiderthansayingIstoleit.”
Sephiebegandippingdishesintothehot,soapywaterintheorderMomhadtaughtus.Glassesfirst,sotheydidn’tstreak.Thensilverware.Platesandbowlscameafterthat,potsandpanslastbecausetheygreaseduptheworks.
“I’msorry,”Sephiesaidfinally.
Iloopedmyhandsaroundherwaistandsqueezed.“Thanks.”
“Getoffame!”shesaid,laughing.“Hey,you’regoingtohelpmestudyagaintonight,aren’tyou?”
“Dobearspoopinthewoods?”
I’dcrammedallthechemistrythat’dfitintoSephie’sheadbeforepaddingbacktomybedroom.
Thenightwashumid,thecolorofink.Astormwascoming,Icouldsmellitintheair,allhotandelectric.Itwasdefinitelyastretch-out-under-the-bednight,butifIdidthat,Iwouldn’tbeabletoflipmypillowtoharvestthecoolnessunderneath.That’swhyIchosethecloset,andIstuckwithmydecisioneventhoughamosquitofoundme,buzzingandburrowingintomystickyskinwhenI’ddriftoff.
Totakemymindofftheheatandthebug,Iimaginedmysummer.Tomorrowwasthelastdayofseventhgradeforme.SoonI’dberunningthroughthecornrowswithmyhandsouttocatchthepollen,theairexplodingwiththesmellofgreenjuiceandearth.Summermeanteverythingdetonatinginfruitandflowers.Cloudsthecolorofrosequartzwouldfluffoverhead,andSephieandIwouldpedalsofastthatwe’dmakeourownbreeze,racingthroughtheair,richandspicywiththesmellofsecretforestandwaterbugswamps.
MaybeGabrielwouldwanttojoinus.ShamethreatenedtocreepbackintomyheartwhenIthoughtofhim,butIwouldn’tletit.Gabrielmightnotknowaboutthelipgloss,andevenifhedid,hewouldforgivemeonceIexplainedmyself.Sephiehad.We’dbondoverthatmistake,maybe,andfallinlove.
He’dgivemehispaperairplanenecklace.
Buthowtostayincontactwithhimonceschoolwasout?NowaywouldIaccidentallystumbleacrosshim.Weranindifferentcircles,youknow?TheonlywayIwasguaranteedtorunintohimthissummerwasifIjoinedhischurch,whichseemedunlikely.Wewereanatheistfamily,atleastthat’swhatDadsaid.WhenIaskedwhy,hesaid,“Overin’NamIrealizedtheonlygodisthesuncominguponemoreday.IsworeifIsurvived,I’dnevertakeanothersunriseforgranted.”
Thatstartedoutokay,hesaid,butthentherewereonlysomanykindsofsunrisesafterawhile,andtheyallstartedtolookthesame.
Sonoworshippinganythingatourhouse.
No,Ihadoneday—tomorrow—toconnectwithGabrielbeforeschoolwasout,andtheonlywayIcouldthinkoftodothatwastohavehimsignmyyearbook.Thatideacametomewhole.OnceIhadmyplan,Iwasabletofallrightasleep,mosquitoorno.
Iwokewithastart,mybloodpumpingawarning.IheldmybreatheventhoughIdidn’tknowwhathadwokenme.Myclockwasoutsidetheclosetdoor.I’dhavetoopenittoseethetime,butsomethingundermyskinwastellingmetobestill.
Thecrackofthundermademesqueal,butthenIrelaxed.
Astorm.
That’swhathadwokenme.Theweatherhadfinallybroken.Isniffed,inhalingtheclosesweetnessofaspringrain.Thetemperaturehaddroppedacoupledegrees.Isnuggledintomyquiltnest,asmileonmyface.
ButthenIheardtheclip
Andanother.
Clip.
Twomore.
Clip.Clip.
Itsoundedsonear.Dadmustberightbelowmyfloorgrate,clippinghisnails.
HowmanynailshadhetrimmedbeforeIwoke?Howmanyleftbeforehecametothebottomofthestairs?Thesilencecrackled.Myarmhairswereelectric.Ismoothedthemover,tryingtoquietthebloodthumpofmyheart.
Theslapoftheclipperhittingthekitchencounterchilledme.
Dadsaunteredtothebottomofthestairs.
He’ddonethisonandoffsinceDecember.Momhadstartedasyearbookadviserthesamemonth.Itmeantsheworkedlate,andshe’dbesotiredwhenshefinallygothomethatshe’dstumbletobed.
Someofthosenightsshewasgone,noteverybutsome,Dadwouldcliphisnailsandthencreeptothesteps,everyfloorboardgroanlikeamapofwherehestood
He’dwalktothebaseofthosestairsandstandthereforminutesatatime,neverputtinghisfootonthefirsttread.Mybedroomwasthefirstoneoffthestairs,Sephie’sattheendofthehall.Therewasaroombetweenus,mostlystorage.Ididn’tknowwhatDadwantedoutofthestorageroom,butitmademefeeltrapped-in-a-haunted-housethathecouldneverseemtoremembertograbitduringtheday.
Thefirsttimehe’dstoodatthebottomofthestairswasthelastnightI’dsleptontopofmybed,likeanormalgirl.Dad’dnevergonebeyondthatfirststep,notanyofthosenights,buthecould.
Tonighthecould.
IknewthatIshouldhavehollereddownoneofthosenightsthatitwasokaytograbwhateveritwasheneededtograbalready,that…thatifhewasworriedaboutwakingupmeandSephie,lurkingatthebottomofthosestairswasjustabouttheworstwaytogo.ButIcouldn’topenmymouth.Thathaunted-housefeelingwouldn’tletme.Thenmorningwouldcome,andtherewouldbethesunallbrightandsafe,andIcouldn’tfindasinglegoodreasontobringupthestairsthing.
ButI’dlandrightbackhere,quiveringundermybedorinmycloset,wonderingwhytheheckIhadn’tbroughtitupbecauseDadwasstandingthere,atthebottomofthestairs,Icouldalmostseehimthroughthewoodandthewalls.Icouldn’tquitemakeouthisface,butIknewhowitwouldlook,half-erasedfromdrinking,hisbodyswaying
hurryup,morning
Itriedtoslowmyheartbeattokeepthefearpoisonfromspreading.IbetthiswashowClamhadfeltwhenhewasabducted.Theotherboy,too,iftherewasone.Iwantedtohelpthemsobadrightthen,findoutwho’dhurtthemandmakeitstopevenifClamhadgoneweirdonme.Anotherripofthundertorethroughthesky,andIbitmytonguetokeepfromyelping.Thewindstretchedthebranchesasclosetothehouseastheycouldreach,whippingleavesandtwigsatthesiding,warningDadnottowalkupthosestairs.
Hedidn’tlisten.
Hesteppedonthatfirsttreadslowly,Icouldtellbythetoneofthecreak,likehewastastingitwithhisfoot.Thencamethesecondstair,itscryasfamiliartomeasmyownname.Myintestinesgurgled,andIsuddenlyhadtopoopsobadIthoughtI’ddie.Ishifted,scaringupthewindchimenoiseofthehangers.Itriedtosqueezemyeyesshutandbreatheregularly
Mom,Isaid,butmythroatwastoobleachedtomakenoise.
Dadpausedonthethirdstep.
He’dnevergottenthisclose.
Feargobbledme.
Mysensesfellaway,leavingonlyatwo-worddrumbeatinmyskull.Run.Hide.Run.Hide.
Excepttherewasnowheretogo.
ThewindscreamedatDad,thelightningslicedthroughthenight,turningthecrackundertheclosetdoorasbrightasday.
Dadlistenedtothatlastwarning,finally,backingdownthosethreesteps.HeshuffledofftohisandMom’sbedroom,bangingthedoorclosedbehindhim.
Iunclenchedmyhands,feelingtheridgesmyfingernailshadtattooedintothesoftmeatofmypalms.
I’ddieifheevercameallthewayupthosestairs.
Itwasatruethought,truerthananyI’deverhad,andsuddenlyIwantedtowriteaboutit,notinawaythatpeoplewouldknowwhatIwassayingbutlikeamessageinabottle,asecretcodethatDadcouldn’tcrack.Ireachedforthepencilandspiral-boundnotebookthatIstoredinsidemycloset.Icouldn’triskturningonalight,butthelightningcameoftenenoughthatImanagedtowritethewordsburningupthespacebetweenmybrainandhand.
Writingittooklongerthanitshouldhave,butwhenIwasdone,IfeltlikeIcouldsleep.Iclosedthenotebookandtuckeditbackintotheshelfalongwiththepencilbeforefallingintoaheavyslumber.
CHAPTER15
Badnewsstillfindsyouonsunnydays.
IfthatsayingofAuntJin’swastrue,thentheconversemustholdaswell:goodnewscouldarriveduringamonsoon,andman,wasthisatree-bender.Usuallystormsfinishedoffbeforemorning,butthisonewasholdingon.IwonderedwhatMr.Patterson,mybiologyteacher,wouldhavetosayaboutthedownpour.Anearlysummerwithalotofrainseemedlikeit’dbeagoodthingforfarmers.
Butofmoreimmediateconcern:todaywastheday.
Notthelastdayofseventhgrade,thoughitwasthat.
TodayIwasgoingtoaskGabrieltosignmyyearbookandcementourrelationship
Eeeeeeee.
ThewayIenvisionedit,asGabrielwasleaningintosignmyLilydaleLedger,I’dmakeajokeabouthowhardMr.Kinchelhoe’sfinalswere.ThenGabrielwouldsaythathewaslookingforwardtoseeingCujoattheLilydaleCinemacomeAugust,andI’dsaynowaymetoo,andbeforeyouknewit,he’dofferhisphonenumberandoursummerwouldbeablissofdateswithhisdaddriving,SevenMinutesinHeavenforthatfirstmeltylove-and-rocketskiss,andhimpushingmeonaswingwithmytoespointedtowardthemoon.He’dtellmemyscarwasbeautifulbutoffermehisnecklacejustthesame.He’dremovethelinkthatwouldmakeitjusttherightlength,drapeitaroundmyneck,andclaspit.
Theairwouldfloodwiththepink-honeysmellofroses.
Likethat,mydisfigurementwoulddisappear.
I’drehearsedtheinteractionuntilIknewitbyheart.
Unfortunately,Icouldn’tlocateGabriel.
Hehadn’triddenthemorningbus.Asifthatweren’tbadenough,Wayne,Ricky,andClamweremoreaggressivethanusual.Madesensewithitbeingthelastdayofschool,butIwonderedifitwassomethingmore,ifWayneorRickyweretheotherHollowboywhohadalsobeenabducted.SephieandItalkedaboutitanddecidedwecouldn’ttellforsure.
Gabrielmissedband,theonlyclassweshared.Also,nopassinghiminthehallwayduringmorningclasses,thoughIkeptmyyearbookclutchedtomychestjustincase.Imadeitallthewaytolunchwithoutspottinghim,whichIhopeddidn’tportendanything.
Istartedtoplanandorganizeamillionmilesaminute,whichiswhatIdidwhenIfeltnervous.IfIdidn’tseeGabrielfortherestofthedayandhedidn’tridethebus,I’dwalktohishouseafterschool.Iwould.I’ddoit.Ineededthatnecklace.
Ifyouwantit,goforit.AuntJin.
“Freelunch!”someoneyelledasIcruisedintothecafeteria.Istoodupstraighter.Momhadwokenearlytopackournoonmeals,whichwassomethingshehardlyeverdidnowthatshewasfull-time,butIsupposeshewantedtosendusofftoourlastdayfeelinggood.Unfortunately,Icouldguesswithoutlookingthatthebrownbagheldtoo-thickhomemadebreadslatheredwithco-oppeanutbutter,thekindyouhadtostirwithacementmixertogettheoiltoblendbackintothenuts,anapple(ofcourse),andmaybesomealmonds.
Heather’sfriendBonniewasstandingnexttomewearingtheprettiestrainbowshirt.Forsuresheknewaboutmeandthecookielipgloss,butIdidn’tcare,notinthatmoment.“What’sthisaboutafreelunch?”
Shestoodonhertippy-toestopeekatthemenu.Shehadtoraisehervoicetobeheardovertherainpeltingatthecafeteria’sroofandwindowbank.“Ithinkthey’recleaningoutthekitchens.Doesn’tmatterifyouhavealunchcardornot,”shesaid,managingnottoglanceatmybrownbag.“Wegettoeatuntilit’sgone.”
“Thankyou!”Isaidtooloudly,evenconsideringthestormhappeningoutside.
Iwovethroughthecrowdtodumpmybrownbaginthetrashandthenjoggedallthewaytotherearoftheline.WhenIfinallyreachedthefront,therewasn’tmuchdepth,buttherewassomuchbreadth!Greenbeansandfishsticksandcinnamonrollsandapplesauceandwhite-bread-and-buttersandwichesandinstantmashedpotatoes.ItuckedmyyearbookundermyarmsoIcouldholdthetraywithtwohands;thenIstackedthefoodupashighasIcouldbeforesearchingforaspottosit.
TheonlyfeasibleopeningwasacrossfromEvieandFrank,sameasbefore.
Ohwell.Nothingwasgoingtobreakmystride,notwhenIwasholdingatrayoffreelunch.
“Hey,guys!”
Eviesmiledatmewithhersharplittleteeth.“Hey,Cassie.”
“Hi,Frank,”Ievensaid.Freecinnamonrollsmadememagnanimous,awordIdidnotknowhowtopronouncebutappreciatedwhenIreadit.
“Hi.”Hesoundedmad.
“What’swrongwithyou?”Iasked.
Hescowled.“Yourface.”
“Gawd,”Isaid,diggingintothelump-freemashedpotatoes.“What’syourprob?”
Whenhedidn’tanswer,Istudiedhim.Hewastryingtomakeanangryfacebyclenchinghisjaw,buthislowerlipwasquivering.Ishifteduncomfortably.Thekidwasamess.
“It’shardbeingnew,”Eviesaid.Iwasn’tsureifshewastellinghimorme
“Yeah,”Isaid,asifIhadanyidea.ReallywhatIwasthinkingwasthathe’dmovedtotownaboutthesametimeasClam—andmaybeanotherHollowboy—hadbeenabducted.Probablyitwasterrifyingforhim.“Youshouldn’tbesodefensive,though.There’sbetterwaystomakefriends.”
Herolledhiseyesandignoredme.Finebyme.IwolfeddownmylunchwhileEviepickedathers.Eventually,adeepsighandlongstaresignaledsomeonespecialhadcrossedherlineofvision.IglancedovermyshoulderandsawGabrielstridingintothecafeteria.Mypulsetrippedoveritself.Thatwasn’twhoEviewaslookingat,though.Mr.Connellystoodontheperimeterofthecafeteriacrowd,jokingwithsomestudents.EviewasflashingMr.C.theloveyeyes.
Well,shewasoneofmany.
Igrabbedmynearlyemptytraywithonehandandmyyearbookwiththeother.“Igottaskedaddle.IneedMr.Connellytosignthisbadboy.”
Ihadn’tplannedonhavingthebandteachersignit,butnowthathewasinthelunchroom,itgavemeanexcusetogetawayfromFrankandEvieandthenmakemywaybacktoGabriel.
Eviecouldn’thavecaredless.She’dgonebacktotappingandtoyingwithherfood.Frankdidn’tevenlookup.AsIwalkedawayfromthemandthelosertable,acloudditchedthesun.Thebrilliancelitupthebankofwindowsoppositethegym,refractedathousandtimesbytheraindropsstillfalling.
Iwovethroughthejostlingcrowdtodumpmytwomilkcartonsandthatsecondcinnamonroll.I’deateneverythingelse,includingthesoupygreenbeansandapplesauce.Idroppedmyforkintothesoakingbucket,slidmytrayintothestackforthewide-hippedkitchenladiestoclean,andspeed-walkedtowardthecloseddoorsofthegymintowhichGabrielandthenMr.Connellyhaddisappeared.
“Where’sthefire?”WayneJohnsonsaid,droppingahandontomyshoulderwhenItriedtosqueezebetweenhimandRickyTink.Waynewasn’tagreat-lookingkid,andhecamefromtheHollow,sameasClam,butthreeyearsagohe’dsaidthisfunnythingthathadinstantaneouslylaunchedhimtothetopofPopularityMountain.
Thefourth-andfifth-gradeclasshadbeenoutsideforrecess,playingTrollUndertheBridge.WehadaGermanforeignexchangestudentthatyear,aquietkidwitheyeslikelakes.Healsosmelledlikesausage.Thekid’snamewasDeter.Deter,Wayne,andalltherestofuswerewaitingourturntodashoverthetroll-bridgejunglegymwhentheicecreamtruckdroveby,dingle-ingingitsbellinthehopesoftemptingtheday-carekids.
Withoutasecondofself-consciousness,sausage-scentedDetershouted,“Icecream!”—onlyhisrwaslongandhiseawasshort,anditsoundedlike“icecrrrim!”
“No,”Wayneyelledlouder,proudly.“Thatbellmeansthey’reoutoficecream.”
We’dgonesilent,allofuswithinearshot,wonderingforasplitsecondifwe’dbeenliedtoourentirelives.Thensomeonelaughed,andjustlikethat,WaynewaspromotedfromtroubledkidtoOfficialClassClown.
Thethingwas,it’dbeenanaccident.IcouldtellnoquestionsaskedthatWaynehadbelievedwhathe’dsaid,thaticecreamtrucksonlymadenoisewhentheywereoutoficecream.He’dbeengloatingthatheknewsomethingDeterhadn’t,nottellingajoke.He’dwipedthatconfusionoffhisfacelickety-split,though,andjumpedintothelaughterbecausewhileWaynewasnotthesharpestknifeinthedrawer,hewassmartenoughtorecognizewhenhe’dhitabull’s-eye.
That’sthethingaboutsmall-townboys.Alltheyhadtodowascomeupwiththatoneshtick,acrackatjusttherighttime,oraHailMarytouchdown,ornailthepartofRomeointheclassplay,andtheywereset.Theyneverhadtotryagain.Here’sthethingaboutsmall-towngirls:weletthemgetawaywithit.Butnotnow.Ididn’thavetimeforit.
“It’sagasfire,andit’sinyoursmellypants,”Iresponded,twistingfreeofWayne’sgrip.Rickysniggered.Hewasayearyoungerthanme,twoyearsyoungerthanWayne,bestknownfortheBand-Aidscoveringhisfingerwarts.HewastheonlyoneoftheHollowboyswhowasinband.Heplayedoneoftheschool-issuedtrombones,andnooneelsewouldtouchitbecauseofthewarts.Ithoughthewasanicekid.Heneverbotheredmeonthebus,anyhow.
Waynedidn’tfollowup,soIslippedintothegymnasium,breathinginthequiet,theraucousnoiseofthelunchroommellowedintoabackgroundhum.Twohighwindowsletinsquaresofmurky,stormysunlight,dustmotesfloatinglazilyinsidethem.Thebleacherswererolledbackandpinnedtothewall,revealingaglossyseaofgoldenoakflooring.Overhead,thebasketballhoopsweretuckedintight,readyforthelongsummerslumber.
GabrielandConnellywerenowhereinsight.Iwasaloneinthegymforthefirsttimeinmylife,andallthatspacewaswhisperingatmetorunacrossthatbigfloor.Studentsweren’tsupposedtobeinhereunsupervised,butitwasthelastdayofschool,andIwasn’ttheonlyonebuckingtherules.Iglancedatallthedoors.Ireallywasaloneinhere.Ichargedofftowardtheoppositeside,towardthelockerroomdoors,myChinaflatsasquietasbutterflywings.
Iwasracing,flying,free,speedingwithsuchpowerthatmyhandsmadeanechoingslapwhentheyhitthecoolcinderblockofthefarwall.
“Cassandra!”
IsqueakedasMr.Connellyappearedfromtheshadowsatthetopofthelockerroomstairs.Myonlyconsolationwasthatheappearedmorestartledthanme,hisfacewhite,hishairmussed.Heflickedonthestairwelllights.Theywereharshagainsttheamberglowofthefloor.
Iglancedaround.Connellywasalone.Myheartbeat,whichhadbeenpleasantlypumpingfromthejog,skippedalurchbeforeitgotbackontrack.Iheldoutmyyearbook.“Willyousignitforme?”
Connellyranhisringfingeracrosshisforehead,movingastrayhairbackintoplace.Hiseyeswerehiddenforamoment,andthentheretheywere,hiswarmsmileinplace.Thatgrincouldlightuparoom.“Youcaughtmemeditating.Myapologies.”
Ismiled.ItfeltlikeIhadlessliptoworkwiththanusual.ThiswasthefirsttimeI’dbeenalonewithConnelly.Wherenoonecouldseeus,Imean.Hegaveprivatelessonstoeveryoneinband,butthelessonswerestacked,whichmeantsomeoneelsewasalwayswaitingfortheirlessonafteryou,soyouwerenevertechnicallyalonewithhim,especiallysincethelessonroomhadwindowsforwalls.Still,it’dalwaysfeltgoodtositinthatsmallpracticeroomwithConnelly,whosmelledlikeanItalianactoranddressedlikeafreshenvelope.
Buthereweweretrulyalone,andsomethingfeltoff.
Mrs.Puglisi’swordsplayedacrossthetelevisionscreenofmybrain.Agrownman,stilllivingwithhisparentsbesides.Hismotherhadaheartattacklastweek.Didyouhearaboutthat?Itwouldexplainwhyhewasn’tabletocontrolhisurgesanymore.Thatsortofstressdrivesamancrazy.
Myhandwasshaking.Connellywasn’ttakingtheyearbook.Ipulledittowardmybody.
Thesoftwheezeofoneofthelockerroomdoorsclosingbelowwaftedupthestairs.Webothtensedatthenoise,swathedintheoilysmelloftheantiquelockerroomheatersthatwereneededtoheatthewetandfrigidbasementnomattertheseason.
Softfootstepspaddedtowardus.
Gabrielappeared,aconfusedsmileonhisface.
Gabriel!Myheartthumped.Heremindedmeofafeather-hairedGreekgod.Hewassoclose,sounexpected.Theairgrewsyrupylikeitdoeswhenlifetumblesoutofyourhands.
ConnellyseemedtoblendintothedarknessofthebleachersbeforechanginghismindandsteppingtowardGabriel,whoworeaturquoiseT-shirtthatmatchedhiseyes.Gabriel’stoplipwasdustedwiththelightestofincomingmustaches.Myglanceshottohispaperairplanenecklace.TheworldshiftedasIimaginedthecoolmetallickingthetenderskinatmythroat.
“Youhaveone,too,”Gabrielsaid,pointingtowardmyneck.
Mykneesbuckled.CouldGabrielseemyimagination?
Connellyreachedoutandheldmeup.“Whoathere!”
Isteadiedmyselfandblinked,whichwasallthetimeIneededtorealizethatGabrielhadbeenreferringtothegreenpaddedyearbookIwasclutchingtomychest,identicaltotheonehewasholding.Ofcoursehecouldn’tseeintomybrain.Iswear,sometimesIfeltlikeamonkeywearingclothes,hopingnobodynoticed.“I’mhavingMr.Connellysignit.”
“Heaskedmeformine,too,”Gabrielsaid,smilingthathoneysmile.Beingonthereceivingendofitfeltlikereturningtothesunshineafteralifeunderground.
“Can’tletmybeststudentsleavefortheyearwithoutapropermessagetocarrythemthroughthesummer!”Connellyproducedapenoutofhisbackpocketwithaflourish.Hiswordsandjovialtonemademesmile,eventhoughIknewIwasfarfromhistoppupil.Idecidedtowriteoffthemomentaryweirdvibehe’dgivenme.Whohadtheenergytobefreakedoutwhenalltheirdreamswerecomingtrue?
“IsConnellygivingyousummerlessons,too,Cassie?”
Connellyhadannouncedtoallbandstudentslastweekthathe’dbeprovidingprivatemusiclessonstointerestedstudentsthissummer.Hesaidhe’donlycharge$20anhour,whichmightaswellhavebeen$2,000anhourformyfamily.Thegoodnewswas,whowantedtolearnhowtoplaytheclarinetbetter?
“Naw,I’mjustheretogetmyyearbooksigned.”Ihelditouttohim,proudofhowcoolIsounded.Hishairappearedsosoft.Iimaginedrunningmyfingersthroughit,andgoosebumpseruptedonmyforearms.“Youmightaswellsignit,too.”
“Heynow.”Mr.Connellylaughed,snatchingitfrommyhand.“Mefirst.AndifIwon’tseeyouforlessons,Icanatleastcountonyoutosellthosepopcornkits.”
“Sure!”
“Great.Stopbymyhousethissummer.MaybeyouandGabrielcanselltogether?”
“Willdo!”
Andwestoodthere,inthatsafepocketofsmilesandlaughter,summerdreamsandyearbookautographs,anditwasthelasttimewe’dallthreebetogetheragain.
Alive,Imean.
CHAPTER16
SephieswiveledherkneestowardthemiddleofthebussoIcouldsquishinnexttothewindow.Shetookinmygrinningface,myhairgonepancakeinthehumidity,mybackpackstuffedtocapacitywiththeend-of-schoollockercleanout.
“What’swrongwithyou?”sheasked.
Iignoredher.Instead,Istoodandrestedmyelbowsonthepaneoftheopenwindow,chininhands,andstudiedthefrontoftheschool,hopingtospotGabrielwalkingout.
I’dwaiteduntilfinalperiodtoreadhisinscriptioninmyyearbook.
Cass,sweetlass,hopeyoursummerdoesn’tgotoofast!Iwillseeyouaround,promise.
Sweetlass.
Iwillseeyouaround.
promise
ThefirsttimeIread“swoon”wasinoneofLynn’smom’sromancenovelsthatIborrowed(secretly)backwhenLynnandIweretight.I’dbeenimmediatelydisgustedbytheword.Asifagirlcouldn’tevenholdupherownheadforthesheermanlinessofsomeguy.ButhereIwas,swooningoveracursive-scribbledyearbooknote.
Sephietuggedonthebackofmyjeans.“Icanseeyourplumber’scrack.”
Impossible.Myshirtwastuckedin.Still,Ifellbackintothebusseat,eyesclosedandsmileintact,lettingthesweetsmellofrain-washedlilacsandthelast-daybusfumeswashoverme.“Gabrielsignedmyannual.”
“ShouldIbookthechurchnow?”
Hertonechiseledthroughmyjoy.Iopenedoneeye.“What’sridingyou?”
Herheaddrooped,theearnearestmepokingthroughherbrownhair.Sheclutchedaletter,theLilydaleHighSchool,ISD734,rubberstampmarkingitscorner.Itwascrumpled,asifshe’dbeentwistingit.
Botheyeswereopennow.“Sephie!Youdidn’t?”
“Ifailedthefinal.Ihavetogotosummerschool.”Shewastoodespondenttoevenweep.
“Dang.”Iscrambledforawaytomakeitbetter.“Buthey,Dadalreadyknewitcouldbecoming,andbesides,thisweekendisaparty,sohe’llbeinagoodmood.Thisisperfecttiming!”
“Easyforyoutosay.”
“Guesswhat?”Iasked,hopingtodistracther.Ileanedover,unzippedmybackpack,andrummagedarounduntilIlocatedthepinkinvitation.“DidIevertellyouuptightLynninvitedmetoherbirthdayparty?”
SomethinglikejealousydarkenedSephie’sface,butherinnersunwonout.“Noway!Ithoughtyouguysweren’tfriendsanymore.”
Anotherbusdriversteppedontothebus.Helookedoveruskidslikeanauctioneeratacattlesale,thenleanedtowhisperintoKarl’sear.Karlglancedupatallofusinthemirror,hisjowlswaggling,eyesseemingtosettleonmeandSephie,onlythatdidn’tmakeanysense.Henoddedattheotherbusdriver,whogotoff.
Thebuslurchedawayfromthecurb.NoGabriel.Ohwell.We’dalreadydecidedweweregettingtogetherthissummer.Theplanwasinmotion.
ItappedSephie’skneewiththeenvelope.“Ididn’tthinkwewerefriendsanymore,either!Probablythey’regoingtosacrificeme.”
Ididn’tknowWaynehadbeenlistening,buthesnickered,leaningovermetosnatchtheenvelope.“It’dbeavirginsacrifice.”
SephiehadWayne’searinonehandandmypinkpartyinvitationintheotherbeforeIspunallthewayaround.
Igrabbedtheenvelope,feelingbigwithSephieonmyside.“IheardwhathappenedtoClam,”Isaid.Iwassafesayingit,mostlybecauseClamwasn’tridingthebus.He’dgottendetentionontheverylastdayofschool.
Wayne’sfaceslammedclosedlikeshuttersinthewind.“Youdidn’thearshit.”
SephieandIexchangedalook.ItfeltlikeIwasontheedgeofsomethingbig.“Didtoo.Iknowsomebodywhosemomworksinthehospital.”
Hepinchedandtwistedasoftbitoffleshathisthroat,quickandviolent.Hiseyesappearedextrashiny.“Yeah,well,itwashisownfault.”
“Howdoyoumean?”
Wayneshrugged,onlyitwasdisjointed,likesomeonehadyankedhisshoulderstrings.
“Wayne?”Sephieasked.
Hewasn’tgoingtorespond,soIaskedthequestionIwassurebothSephieandIwerethinking.“Didyougetattacked,too?”
Hestoodabruptlyandmadehiswaytowardthebackofthebus.Middleschoolersneversatthere.Itwasn’tawrittenrule,justthewaythingswere.SephieandIstayedquietuntilallthetownies,includingtheHollowkids,steppedoffthebus.WithoutWayneandhisweird,angrysadness,wecouldfinallyrelax.Itwasthelastdayofschool,afterall.
Karlevenagreedtocrankuptheradiowhen“TheStroke”cameon.I’dalreadygottenburnedbythinkingOliviaNewton-John’s“Let’sGetPhysical”wasaboutexercise,soIwasgoingtoassumethisonereferredtosex.Onebyone,thecountrykidsstreamedoffthebusuntilitwasonlymeandSephiechokingonthegraveldustplumingintheopenwindowsasKarlswungpasttheoldSwensonhouse,theonethatanewfamilyhadmovedintolastweek.Iwashardlypayingattention.Summer.Ifeltwildandlarge,biggerthanthebus,hugeasthesky.
StraightaheadwasGoblin’shouse.Lookingatit,Iwasgrippedbythebestidea.
“Sephie!Let’sgopickthosewildstrawberriesfromGoblin’sditch.”
Sheshookherheadsohardthatherhairfellacrosshereyes.“You’recrazy.”
“Amnot!”Istood,grabbedmybackpack,andholleredtoKarl,“Letusoffhere,please!”
Karlneversaidmuch,andhelookedlikeagrumpyhounddog,buthehandedoutjellybeansonHalloweenandEaster,wouldn’tyellatakidwhogotsickonthebus,andbrokeupafightacoupleyearsagowithoutturninganyonein.He’dbeenstaringatsomeofuslongerthancomfortablethispastweek,butIimagineditwasthesameonallthebusessinceClamhadbeenattacked.
Karlgruntedaresponse.Iwonderedwhatbusdriversdidinthesummer.Constructionwork?Inanycase,hepulledover,tappinghisblinkerlightsandpullingoutthestopsign.
“Comeon,Sephie!”Isquealed.Ididn’tlook,butIknewshewasfollowingmeevenbeforeIheardherfeethitthegravel.Wewatchedthebuspullaway,lumberingdowntheroadandfinallypastourhouse.
“Dad’sgonnabemadthatwegotoffearly.”
“Hewon’tevennotice,”Isaid,grabbingherhand.“Andifhedoes,we’lltellhimwehadtopickstrawberries.He’llgetakickoutofthat.”
Sephiedidn’trespond.Therewasn’tmuchtosaybecauseherewewere.IcrunchedacrossthegraveluntilIwasstandingonthelipoftheditchseparatingthepublicroadfromGoblin’sprivateland.Summerbugswerewhirringandclicking.Ismelledcloverandtherich,grittyscentofrain-soakedgravel.Theditchloopeddown,sandybytheroad,turninggreenasitnearedGoblin’s,andbetween,thepatchofearlywildstrawberries,rubyjewelslikeIremembered.
Iswallowed.Ibettheytastedlikepinklemonade,sweet-tartandhappy.
Goblin’sfarmhousewasonehundredyardsbeyondthewildstrawberrypatch.SephiepointedattheNOTRESPASSINGsigndrivenintotheground.
Ipursedmylips.“Theberriesareonoursideofthesign.Technically,wewouldn’tbetrespassing.Comeon,Sephie.Youonlyliveonce.”
IthoughtI’dhavetodoalotmoreconvincing.Iwaswrong.
Tothisday,I’mnotsurewhatmadeSephieboltacrosstheditchandgrabatthoseberrieslikeastarvinganimal.I’dalwaysbeentheonetolead,alwayspushingtheline,butwithoutwarning,itwaslikesheneededtogetatthoseberriesmorethansheneededtobreathe.
IwaslaughingwhenItookmyfirststepintotheditch,followingher.Shelookedsosillystuffingthosestrawberriesintohermouth,likeCookieMonsteronabinge.Iswearshewasevenmakingthegobblingnoises.IkeptgigglingasInearedher,wouldhavelaughedallthewaytotheberriesifGoblin’sdoghadn’tcaughtwindofusandstartedbarkingtobeatthebandfrominsidethehouse.
Webothfroze.
Goblinchargedoutofhisfarmhousemomentslater,ferociousdogathisankles,shotguninhishand.Onlyhismouthwasvisiblebelowthebrimofhishat,anangrysliceofredacrosshisface.Herackedhisgun,thecrackechoinginthecountryside.
Sephiescreamed.SodidI.
Wesprintedtowardourhouse,notlookingback.
Itwasalmostamile,butweatethatroadupinrecordtime,runningsohardthatoursneakersslappedourbutts.Onceweweresafelyontheothersideofourmailbox,wefellintoagigglingheap.Ifeltsoalive.Mysidewasallstitchedupfromrunningfast,andithurttolaugh,butIcouldn’tstophooting.
Ilookbackatthatdayandwonderwherewe’dbenowifI’deatenthosestrawberries,too.
Itwasn’tfairthatonlySephiehadtobearthat.
CHAPTER17
Birdssang,cricketsrubbedtheirrearlegstogether,thegreen-juicetangofcrushedfiddleheadfernsdriftedupfromthebottomofoursneakers,thechickensinourcoopcluckedandwarbled,andafar-offcarzoomed.
Buttherewasnonearbysoundofnailing,ormowing,orsawingorwelding.
“Idon’thearDadworking,”Ifinallysaid,stillonmyrump,thegigglestitchfading.
“Meneither.”Sephiestoodandbrushedherselfclean,offeringmeahand.Aratty-lookingblackcatranuptoher,twiningbetweenherlegs.
“Hey,Bimbo,”shesaid,pettinghim.I’dnamedhimthatbecausehe’dletanyonepethim,butheespeciallylikedSephie.
“Raceyoutothehouse!”Icalled,dashingahead.
Shedidn’teventrytocatchup.Probablythatletterwasweighingherdown,nowthattheexhilarationofbeingchasedbyGoblinhadpassed.
“Downhere!”
Momwaskneelingintheone-acregardenatthebottomofthehillthattiltedawayfromthedrivewayandbarn.Shewavedherspade.Mystomachdropped.Nowaywasshegoingtohaveusslaveinthegardenonthelastdayofschool.Whatwassheevendoinghomesoearly?
“Iknowyouseeme!”sheyelled,laughing,whenIhesitated.
“Mom!”Iwhined.“Can’twehaveadayoff?”
“Yes,Peg,”Dadholleredfrombehindme.Ijumped.Ihadn’theardhimcomeup.“Can’tthegirlshaveadayoff?”
Hisgreeneyesweredancing.Heheldasketchpadwithatigerlilydrawingonitsopenpage.Itwouldmakeagorgeoussculpture.Itiltedmyhead,gauginghismood,hisalcohollevel.Heseemedbothsoberandhappy,whichmadenosense.ItossedanervousgazeatSephie.Herexpressionsaidshewasasconfusedasme.
Momstood,wipingdirtoffthefrontofhercutoffsbeforegrabbingabasketandstrollingtowardus.“Istillhaveplantingtodo,”shesaidwhenshereachedus.“AndIhavetodriveinearlytomorrowtogetmygradesin,soithastobetoday.”
“Wecouldplant,orwecouldgototown,”Dadsaid.“Whowantstojoinme?”
“Me!”Sephieraisedherhand.
Momhadprobablyanhour’sworthofseedpacketsinherbasket.
“Metoo!”Isaid.IwasworriedDadwasmeetingupwithBadBauerformoreoftheirBadBusiness,butitwouldbebetterthanworking.
DadgaveMomhisfullattention.“Whatdoyouthink,love?”
Momsmiled.Itwastired.“I’llkeepCassie.We’llplanttherestoftheseseedsandhavesupperwaitingforyoutwowhenyougetback.”
Dadleanedovertokissher,infullprepartymode,aregularRichardDawsonstridingontotheFamilyFeudset,readytocharmtheladiesandwinkknowinglyatthemen.
Istink-eyedhimandSephie’sbackastheywalkedaway,towardthevanthatwouldtakethemtofreedomandtown.“That’snotfair,”Isaid.
Momwipedabugoffherarm.“Lifeisn’tfair.Ifitwas,I’dmakeamillionbucksforteaching.”
“ButwhydoesSephiegetoffandIhavetodochores?”
Momstartedwalkingtowardthegarden.“Theschoolcalled.WeknowSephhastogotosummerschool.Yourdadwantedtotalktoher.Ifthatsoundslikeagoodtimetoyou,wecouldarrangeit.”
Islammedmymouthclosed.Thatwasnotmyideaoffun.IwonderedifMomhadreceivedthecallaboutSephiewhileshewasatwork.“Howdidyougethomebeforeustoday?”
Shehandedmeapackofseeds.GardenSweetBurplessCucumber.“Ileftthesametimeasmystudents,”shesaid.“Ihaveapileofgradingtodo,andIcanworkfasterhere.”
Inodded,mullingthingsover.“AreyouguysmadatSephie?”
“Disappointed.”Shereachedforahoeandhandedittome.
Isankitintothemuckydirt,buildingahillbeforeslicingadivotacrossthetop.“HaveyouheardanythingmoreaboutLilydalekidsgettingtaken?”
She’dbeenrippingasprigofapplegrassoutofherspinachbed.Shestoppedweedingbutdidn’tturn.“Notmuchmore.Theboywhowenttothepolice,MarkClamchik?Hesayshewastakenbyamanwearingamask.”
Mychestgrewhot.Theagonyofit,ofbeinggrabbedbyafacelessman,thewhiteterroroffeelingsopowerless.IfeltiteverytimeDadclippedhisnails.“Amask?”
“Yes,”Momsaid.“Poorboy.Yousaidyouknowhim?”
Inoddedmutely.Shecouldn’thaveseenit,butshewentontalking.“We’resafeouthere,inthecountry.ThepolicearefocusingontheHollowareaontheedgeoftown.”
Iheardthedistasteinhervoice,thedisdainforpeoplewholivedintrailers.Shewouldn’tsayitoutloud,butthereitwas.Iwantedtoaskherwhatshethoughtofpeoplewholivedinhouseswithscarydrunks,butIdidn’t.Thosesortsofquestionsonlymadeherangry.
Sherubbedherhandsonherpants,leavingstreaksofmud,andturned,hermouthinanOlikeshe’djustrememberedsomethingneat.“How’dyouenjoyyourlunchsurprise?”
ForasecondIthoughtsheknewaboutfreelunch,butthatseemedunlikely.“What?”
“TheGirlScoutThinMintsIstashedinthere.Iknowthey’reyourfavorite.IboughtaboxlastFebruaryandwassavingitfortoday.”
Mycheststuffedwithemotion.I’dthrownawayGirlScoutCookies.MomwouldbedevastatedifshediscoveredthatI’dwastedherthoughtfulness.“Thanks.”
Shesmiledbutdidn’thugme.She’dneverhuggedSephieorme,notthatIcouldremember.Butthethoughtofhersavingcookiesformewasasgoodasanyembrace.
CHAPTER18
Thelateafternoonsmelledlikepurplecloverandthen,asIduckedmyheadtoenterthechickencoop,likesmut,feathers,andtheacridpastesmellofbirdpoop.Thechickenhouseusedtobeastorageshed,threeroomslong,andbrieflyagloriousplayhouseformeandSephie.Nowthethreeroomsweredividedintolayinghensinthefarwestroom,withoff-the-groundnestingboxestochoosefromsotheskunksdidn’teattheirbrainsatnight;amiddleroomforeatinghens;andintheeastroom,astoragespacethathousedchoppedcornthecoloroflemonsandoranges,oystershellsforgrit,andsparewaterersandfoodtroughs.
Wewouldbutchermostoftheeatingchickenstomorrowmorning.Fornow,Iplacedthehalvedplasticmilkjugovertheheadsofthenestingchickenstocalmthembeforeslippingmyhandunderthemtoremovetheirwarm,smootheggs.Thechickenswarbledsuspiciously,aheyyyybroody,heyyyybroody,butwiththeirheadscovered,theyletmeslideouttheircackleberries.WeusedtoownAraucanas.Theireggswerepastelgreens,blues,andpinks,ready-madeforEaster.Nowwehadplainoldrust-coloredhens,withboringbrowneggs.
Theegg-gatheringrhythmsoothedme.IthoughtaboutClam,howfrightenedhemusthavebeenwhenthemaskedmantookhim,andWayne’sface—angryandbroken—whenI’daskedhimaboutitonthebus.WhathadWaynemeantbyitwasClam’sownfaulthe’dgottenattacked?IfDadreallyknewthedetails,hewasn’ttelling.HimandSephiehadbeenextraquietsincethey’dreturnedfromtown,Sephie’sfaceredandpuffyasifshe’dbeencrying.Momputherstraighttoworkwhileshemadesupper.Me,Ihadn’tstoppedworkingsinceSephieandI’drunhomefromGoblin’splace
Aswarmofgnatsbuzzednearmyface,tryingtodrinkthewateroffmyeyes.IswattedatthemasIreturnedtheegg-pickingjugtoitsnailandunlatchedthewiredoorbeforesteppingoutside.Myskinlappedupthefreshair.Itwascoolnow—lateMaychilly—butthestillnesstoldmetomorrowwasgoingtobeascorcher.
Dadappearedfrombehindthechickencoop,rollingthebutcheringstumpinfrontofhim.Apparentlywewerereturningtochoppingoffheads.That’showwekilledthemthefirstyear.Sephiewouldholdthembythebeak,pinchingitbetweenchubbygirlfingers,andDadwouldholdthelegswithhislefthandandswingthehatchetwithhisright.
Chop.
You’dthinkafterwarthatDadwouldn’twantallthatbloodandviolence.Heseemedtocraveit,though,alwaysgrimlyhappyonbutcheringday.
Oncethechickenswereheadless,Iwassenttoretrievetheanimatedcorpses.Theyjiggledwhenheldupsidedown.I’dbringthemtothefeatherpotboilingoverthecampstove,anenormousmetalvatinwhichwe’ddunkthenewlykilledhens.Thedirtysmellofwetfeatherswouldbeinmyhairfordays,nomatterhowmuchIscrubbed,butIpreferredthisjobtoholdingthebeakssonearDad’sswinginghatchet.We’dwatchedRootsinschool,andthatscenewhenKuntaKinteloseshisfootstuckwithme.
Thunk.
Icouldn’tholdthatbeak,notforloveormoney.
Dad,hedidn’tmindthegore.Hemadesuretomentionthatanychancehegot.
“Howmany?”heasked,stillpushingthebutcheringlog,pullingmebackintothehereandnow.
“What?”
HestaredatthebucketIwasholding,thenbackatme.“Howmanyeggs?”
Ihadn’tevencountedthem.“Nine,”Iguessed.
Hestoppedrollingthestumpdirectlyinfrontofthecoop.Thechickenbloodthathadpooledinthehatchetdivotshadgrownblack.Isquinted.Thesunradiateddirectlybehindhim.Hewaswearingraggedyworkclothes,buthepossessedtheoutlineofthestatueofDavid.Tall,strong,muscled.WhenIthoughtofsteppingforwardandhugginghim,Ishuddered.HecouldjustaswellbecrawlingwithmaggotsforhowcloseIwantedtogettohim.Irealizedthatwithcuriosity.IthadbeenthatwayforaslongasIcouldremember.Maybethat’showitwasforallgirlsandtheirdads.
Hespunonhisheeltowardthechickencoop.
“Dad?”
Hestoppedbutdidn’tturn.“Yeah?”
“Sincewehavetobutchertomorrow,canSephieandIhavetherestoftonightoff?”
Hesteppedintothecoopwithoutansweringme.Heappearedaminutelaterwithanegginhishand.“Youmissedone.”
Istoodinplaceashebroughttheeggoverandplaceditinmybucket.Itwascoveredinpoop.It’dbeapaintoclean.Aroaronthegravelroaddrewmyattention.Iturned.Ahugetruckwasrollingpastonourquietroad.Ithadabucketonitsback,STEARNSCOUNTYELECTRICALonitsside.
Dadtensed.“Goddamnedinvasionishappeningalready,”hesaid.
Icouldhearthehateinhisvoice.He’dmovedusoutheretoescapetherealworld,tofindaplacewherehecouldholdhispartiesandbuildhissculpturesandcreatehismagicalforestpathwayswithoutanyonetellinghimdifferent.
“Theycan’ttakeourland,”Isaid,heated.
Hewasquietforawhile.“Yeah,youcanplay,”hefinallysaid.“Butnocomplainingwhenitcomestobutcheringtimetomorrow.”
“Okay,”Isaid.Istartedtowalkawayandthenstopped.“Dad?”
Hehadn’tmoved,hiseyespinnedonme.“Yeah?”
Ialmostlostmynerve,butIcouldn’tshaketheimageofWayneonthebus,scaredandmadatthesametimewhenIaskedhimaboutClam.“DidSergeantBauertellyouanymoreaboutHollowboysgettingattacked?”
AclotofblackbirdstooktotheairinMom’sgarden,probablyscaredoffbyMeander.
Dadlaughed,anuglycutofasound.“They’renotgettingattacked.”
Itookastepback.“Whatdoyoumean?”
“Imeanthey’relyingiftheysaytheyare.”
Buthecouldn’tknowthat.Hehadn’tlookedintotheeyesoftheanimalthat’dtakenuphouseinClam’sbody,ortheterrorinWayne’sface.Dadwashidingsomething.Somethingdifferentthanheusuallyhid,Icouldfeelit,somethingtodowithBauer.
I’dhavetopokethroughhisdrawers.
I’ddoneitbefore.Ithadn’tfeltgood,diggingthroughthosedirtymagazines,thosered-and-blackpictureshesketchedthatweresodifferentfromhissculptures,thatbookheclaimedtoalwaysbewritingbutthatreadlikeadiaryexcepteveryoneownedlaserguns.Ihadn’tdiscoveredanythingsurprising,nothingexceptsomelettersthatAuntJinwrotehimwhenshewasalittlegirl.Shecalledhimherbestbigbrother.Thatcaughtmeoffguard,butIsupposethey’dallhadalifebeforeIwasborn.
I’dneversnoopedinhisstudio,though.Orthebasement.That’sprobablywhereIshouldstart,assoonasMomandDadwerebothoutofthehouse.MaybeIcouldtalkSephieintohelpingme.
Ifoundheronherkneesinthebathroom,cleaningthebathtubgroutwithanoldtoothbrush.“Dadsaidwecanhavetherestoftonightoff!”
Shesatbackonherheels.“Doubtit.”
“Forreal!Cuzwehavetobutcherchickenstomorrow.Hesaidweonlygetitoffifweplaywillowacks,though.”Igrinned.Itdidn’tmatterifsheknewthatlastpartwasalie.Itwasfunnyeitherway.
We’dbeenplayingwillowackssincewewerefiveandseven.Itinvolvedcoveringourselvesinsheetswithaheadbandoveroureyesholdingtheminplace,tyingourselvestooneanother,removingourshoessoweweresock-footed,andblunderingthroughthewoodscirclingourproperty.Whereweendedupwasanyone’sguess.Welosthoursplayingwillowacks,laughing,collectingcockleburs.Itwasthebestfun,butSephiehadrefusedtoplaysincelastsummer.She’dsaiditwasbecauseshewasstartinghighschool.I’dtoldheritwasprobablyherlittleboobiesthrowingheroffbalance.
Sephrolledhereyes,buttheyhadasparkinthem.“I’mtoooldforthat.”
“You’renevertoooldtobesheet-seeking.Please?Weonlyhavealittlebitbeforeit’ssuppertime.”
Shelookedatthetoothbrush,andatthelineofgroutshe’dcleaned.Itwaswhitetotheremaininggrout’sgray.Icouldtellshewaswonderingwhatmoreshecouldsqueezeoutofthisdeal,butherbetternaturewonout.“Fine.”
“Yee-haw!”Iwasn’tgoingtoallowhertimetochangehermind.Ispedofftolocatethematerials,thenledheroutside.ThegigglingstartedafterwewerecoveredinthesheetslikeHalloweenghostsbutbeforewe’ddonnedtheheadbandsthatwouldholdtheminplace.
“Weshouldtieourselvestogetheratourankles,”Sephieoffered.
That’swhenIknewshewasfullin.Theankletiewasthemostchallenging.Itrequiredustoorchestrateeverysteporfalloverlikeasackofpotatoes.IletSephietietheknots.Shewasalwaysbetteratitthanme.
“Hey,”Isaidwhileshewoundthetwinearoundmyankle,“IreallydothinkWaynehasacrushonyou.Heaskedaboutyouinschoolyesterday.Iforgottotellyou.”
Icouldn’tseeherface,butIknewshewasgrinning.“What’dheask?”
“Whatyourfavoritecoloris.”
Ayankonthetwinetoldmeshe’dwoundherendoftheropearoundherownankle.Bimbopeekedundermysheet,andIpushedhimaway.
“DoyouthinkhewasattackedbyChestertheMolester,likeClam?”Sephieasked.
ThehumiliationandfearI’dfeltwhenClamcorneredmeintheinstrumentroomreturned,wrappingitselfaroundmyribslikeatoo-tightrope.“IthinkDadmightknow.IthinkhimandSergeantBauerhavetalkedaboutit.Wanttohelpmelookthroughhisstufflater?”
“Whatwouldwebelookingfor?”
Ishruggedunderthesheet.“Idunno.”IthoughtofwhatMomhadsaid,thatthemanwho’dattackedClamworeamask.“Clues,Isuppose.LikemaybeBauergaveDadacopyofapolicereport,anditliststhenamesoftheboyswhowerehurtandwhathappenedtothem?”
Wewerequietforawhile.
“DoyoureallythinkWaynelikesme?”sheaskedsoftly.
“What’snottolike?”Ishookofftheuneasinessandsteppedforward,testingtherope.Sephieglidedwithmewithoutneedingtobetold.“Exceptthatyousnore.Oh,andyousmelllikedonkey.Butotherthanthat…”
“Idon’tsnore.”
Wewerecruisingnow,nearlyrunning,handsheldinfront,theanticipationofacollisiontinglingalongmyskin.Themowedlawngavewaytothethickgrassandcrunchysticksattheforestperimeter.Weheadedintothewoods,thesmellofsecretsandrottingleavesgrowingstronger,theaircooler.
“Andbesides,yousmelllikeadonkey’ssister,”Sephiefinished.
Ilaughed,andshedid,too.“Tree!”Icalled,myhandmeetingthesolidwood.Webothshiftedtotheright,bonkingagainsteachother.
“Anothertree!”Sephiegiggledandstumbled.
Icaughtherhandbeforeshefell.“Hey,Sephie.IbetMomandDadwillbeokaywithyouwantingtobeahairstylist.”Theywouldn’tbe.Iwasfeelinggood,though,andIwantedtosharethat.
“Youthinkso?”
“Forsure.”Wecrunchedalongsilentlyforseveralminutes.Whenanarrowvalleyappearedbeneathus,webothpitchedintoit.MyelbowgrazedsomethingsharpasIcrashedtotheground.“Ow!”
“Wherearewe?”Sephieaskedfrombesideme.Therulewasthatwecouldn’tlook,couldn’tremovethesheetsuntilwewerehopelesslylost.Hervoicewastoothin,though.
“Idon’tknow.Areyouokay?”
Aflurryoffabrictoldmeshewasremovinghersheet,whichwasexpresslyagainsttherules.“Sephie!”
“I’mbleeding.”
Igasped,pushingtheheadbandoffandthenthesheet.Weweresodeepinthewoodsthatthetreescastunderwatershadows.SephieandIlayhiptohipinagroveofwet-lookingoaks,aplacewe’dneverseenbefore.Itsmelledlikeloamandrotandcopper.Sephie’skneewasbleedingathinredstreak.Tearsstreameddownhercheeks.
“Whathappened?”Iaskedher.
Shepointedpastoursheets,whichwereashockingwhiteagainstthemoldyforestfloor,tobonesnearlythesamecolorjuttingfromtheground.
Iscreamed.
CHAPTER19
Mydadkilledsomeone.
Itcametomeallcleanandlaidout,justlikethat,landinginmybellyratherthanmybrain,likemostthoughtsdid.WhenItriedtograbontoit,though,toexamineitupclose,itslitheredaway.Ofcoursemydadwasn’tamurderer.Bythetimehe’dheardSephie’ssobbingandmyyellingandfoundusinthatmoldyoakgrove,I’dmarkedthethoughtasoutrageous.
OnceDadpointedoutthattheskeletonbelongedtoavulture—look,youcanevenseesomeofthewingfeathershere—andnotasmallchild,Ialmostcouldn’tevenrememberthatI’dhadit.
Almost.
DadcarriedSephietothehouse,whereMomcleanedandbandagedherpuncturedknee.Thephoneranginthemiddleoftheprocess.Surprisingly,Dadwenttoanswerit.Hemusthavebeenexpectingacall,becausenormallyhehatedtalkingonthephone.Hesaidthegovernmentwasalwayslisteningandthatanythingyouhadtosayyoushouldsayinperson.Whenhereturnedmomentslater,hewasworkinghisjaw.“Thenewneighborsneedababysitterfortonight,”hesaid.
“Yay!”Sephiesquealed.
“No,”hesaid,soundingirritated.“They’renotgoingtowantalimpingsitter.Cassie,Itoldthemyou’ddoit.They’reontheirway,socleanyourselfup.”
I’donlybabysatforonefamilybefore.
Overthewinter,I’dtakenononeofPersephone’scast-offbabysittingjobs,thisonefortheMillers.Theirfourblondboyswereindistinguishableexceptforheight:John,Kyle,Kevin,andJunior.Theoldestwasfive,andhavingthemsoclosetogethermeanttheirmomcouldn’tlaughtoohardanymoreorshe’daccidentallypee.(She’dtoldmeontheuncomfortableridehome.)BecauseIcouldn’ttellthemapart,Isaidtheboys’namesallatoncewhentheywerenaughty,whichwasregular.JohnKyleKevinJunior,donotlightthatmatch.JohnKyleKevinJunior,donotholdyourdad’sgolfcluboveryourbrother’shead.JohnKyleKevinJunior,getyourhandoutofyourpants.
Attheendofanexhaustingevening,IdiscoveredthattheonlywaythemonsterswouldsleepwasifIletthemcrowdthenappyrust-coloredcouchandwatchTVwithme.NotmuchwasonthatlateandthatfaroutinthecountrybutTheTwilightZone(whichseemedlikeameantrick).Theboysfellasleepbeforetheepisodegottoospooky,andIwishedtheyhadn’tbecauseitterrifiedme.I’dhavechangedthechannelexceptJohnKyleKevinJuniorhadcrashedoutonmylapandlookedlikeboogeryangels.ThebestIcoulddowasclosemyeyesandplugmyears.
IhopedthingswouldgobetterwiththeGomezes.
“Yourparentskeeptheirpropertyveryneat.”Mr.Gomez’saccentwasfaint,hisvowelslongerthanifhe’dbeenanativeMinnesotan.ThatandhisblackhairtoldmehewasfromMexico,butawhileago.
Ismiledandnodded,crammedintothefarthestcornerofthepickupcab.Mr.Gomezhadn’tdoneanythingwrong.Itwasjustmystandardresponsetobeinginacarwithastranger.“Thankyou,”Isaid.
Iwasgratefulthattheridewassoshort,alittleoveramilefromourhouseasthecrowflew.Makingconversationwithadultswastheworst.Plus,Mr.Gomezdrovewithhiswindowdown,andoneoftheareafarmershadrecentlyspreadmanure.Theairwastangywiththeodorofcompostinghayandammonia.
IwonderedifMr.GomezknewaboutClambeingattackedandthecurfewintown.Ifhedid,Ibethewasregrettingmovinghisfamilyhere.“Doyoulikeyournewplace?”Iasked.
Mr.Gomeznodded.Hehaddeepcreasesaroundhiseyesthatremindedmeofacozyleatherchair.“Havingalargerhouseisnice.”Dadsaidthey’dmovedfromRochester,thatHectorwasafarmerandhiswifearedheadedMinnesotanwho’dfalleninlovewithhimonsightwhenthey’dmetatabar.ItwasclearhowDadsaiditthathedidn’tapprove.Idon’tthinkitbotheredhimthatMr.GomezwasMexican.BothourparentswerecleartomeandSephiethatimmigrantsweregoodpeople.Theproblemwasthattheywereuneducated.ToPegandDonny,beingnot-book-smartwasacrime.
ItmademefeeltallwhenIthoughtaboutmyparents’master’sdegrees,andmygrades.Itwasgoodtobeabrainiac.Dadsaidhismindmovedtoofastformostpeople.Becauseitracedsohard,heneededtoworkextrahardtoentertainit.Booksworked,hesaid.Sodidallthosemagazines,somethickwithsciencefictionstories,otherswithpopularmechanics(which,ifthat’swhatyounameyourmagazine,you’retryingtoohard),andtheothers,theonesIhated,burstingwithpicturesofnakedwomenwiththeirhandsbetweentheirlegsandsoftsmilesontheirfaces.
DadhadtossedawarningmywaywhenMr.Gomezpulledup.“Don’tletyourguarddownwhenyou’rethere,Cass,anddon’ttalkaboutwhathappensoverhere.Youcan’ttrustanyonebutfamily.”Athoughtpoppedintohishead,Icouldseeitskitteracrosshisface,andheturnedtoMom.“Hey,love,”hesaid,facebrightwiththepleasureofhisgoodidea,“maybeweshouldinvitetheGomezestoournextparty?Wecouldwelcomethemtothefold.”
Momhadbeenfacingawayfromus,stirringgreenpeppersliceswithawoodenspoon.Hershoulderstightened.“Maybe.Cassie,whydon’tyouwaitoutsidetogetpickedup.”
Iwasmorethanhappyto.Momwascookinguptofustir-frywithbrownriceforsupper.Ididn’tknowiftheGomezfamilyexpectedmetocookfortheirchildren.Ididn’tevenknowhowmanykidstheyhad,butIknewwhateverI’dfindintheirfridgewouldbetastierthanwhatMomwascooking.
MystomachhadbeenaudiblygrowlingwhenIpulledmyselfintoMr.Gomez’sdustyFordpickup.It’dhadthegoodgracestoshutuponthedriveover.IthinkmeandMr.Gomezwouldhavestayedsilentaftertheinitialsmalltalk,ifnotforthefistofsquawkingblackbirdsheplowedthroughtakingthecornerbyGoblin’shouse.
Myarmsshotupreflexively.
“Thehell!”Mr.Gomezsaid,brakingandswerving.Thebirdshadbeenhidingintheunmowedgrassoneachsideoftheroaduntilwewerenearlyontopofthem.Itwasawonderwehadn’thitany.
ThebackendofthetruckskiddedbeforeMr.Gomezbroughtittoafullstopatthelipoftheditch,nearwhereSephiehadgatheredthosewildstrawberries.Idroppedmyhandsandsmoothedtheclothofmysundress,tastingtheroaddustpouringthroughMr.Gomez’sopenwindow.
“Ididn’tknowcrowsgatheredthislateintheday,”Isaid,myvoicesmall.
Mr.Gomezlookedatmestraighton,forwhatseemedlikethefirsttime.Itwastooshadowedtoreadhiseyes.“Feedtruckmusthavedroppedsomecorn,”hesaid.
“Yeah,”Iresponded.Whatelsewastheretosay?
Heputthetruckintogear,andwedidn’tsayanotherwordforthelasthalfmileofthedrive.Mr.Gomezdidn’tstepoutwithmewhenwepulleduptotheirhouse,either.
“Youcangorightin.TellSallyI’llwaitforherouthere,”hesaid.
Inoddedandwiggledoutofthetruck,stillshakenfromdrivingthroughacloudofcrows.
“Hello?”IaskedtentativelywhenIsteppedintothestrangehouse.Thelivingroomwasstackedhighwithboxes,thelargestsectionalcouchI’deverseencrowdingthemiddle.Thekitchenwasprobablyofftotheleft,justlikeinmyhouse.Ismelledsomethingrichandcheesy,maybelasagna,plusgarlictoast.Mystomachapproved.
“Inhere!”Mrs.Gomezstuckherheadoutofthekitchen,abiggrinonherface.Hercurlyredhairwasspillingoutofherupsweep.“YoumustbePersephone.Sorryforsuchshortnoticeonthebabysitting!”
“Cassandra,”Iapologized.“Persephoneismysister.Shehadtostayhometonight.”
“Well,we’rehappytohaveyou.Youhungry?”
Shedisappearedintothekitchen.Ifollowedthegoodsmells.
Herkitchenhadthesamecharmlesscupboardsandyellow-and-brownlinoleumoursdidbeforeMomandDadrippeditoutandDadbuiltthemaplecabinetryfromscratch.Inourhousethelinoleumhadlookedhorriblydated,butinthiskitchenitfeltlikesunshine.Threekidssatatthetable,twolittlegirlsfacingmeandaboywithhisbacktome.
Whenheturned,Igasped.
ItwasFrank,thenewboywhohadsatbyEvieatlunchandwasallsmartmouthandsass.
Sallylaughedbig.“Frank,youseeCassandra’sface?She’salsowonderingwhyaboyyourageneedsasitter.”
Therewasthat,butmorepressingwasthefactthatwedidn’tlikeeachother.Plus,IwasfreakedoutthatIhadn’tknownhelivedsonear.Hehadn’triddenthebus,eventhoughhe’dbeonourroute.Hisparentsmusthavedrivenhimtoschool.
Frankrolledhiseyesbeforeturningbacktodigintoagloriousmeltypileofcheese,noodles,andredsauce.Atinfoilsleeveofstore-boughtgarlicbreadwaswithinarm’sreach.Thebowlofgreenlettucewasuntouched.NearitstoodabottleofWish-BoneWesternDressing.Ihadtoswallowsothedrooldidn’tescapemymouth.
Sallyloopedanarmaroundme.Itwassonatural.“Frank’sdadthinksboyscan’tbabysit.Otherthanthatcharacterflaw,he’sagoodman.Sonowyou’vemetmyson.Thegirlwhohasmoresaucethanfacerightnow?That’sJulia,myyoungest.She’sthree.Heroldersister,theoneunfortunateenoughtogetmycoloring,hernameisMarie.Frankwillshowyoutheropes.Wehavethephonehookedupincasethere’sanemergency.We’llbebackbeforemidnight.Anyquestions?”
CanIlivehere?“Doesanyonehaveamedicalcondition?”
Sallylaughed,butitfeltlikeahug.“Iseeyou’vetakentheGirlScoutbabysittingclass.No,mykidsarewash-and-wear.Hopeyoulikelasagna.Imadeadoublebatch.”Shekissedallherkidsbeforesheleft,andthensheplantedasmoochonmyhead,rightinmypart.“Havefun!”
“Milk!”theyoungestscreamed,reachingforit.
Iranovertohelpher,listeningtothefrontdoorslamandthepickuptruckpullaway.Ilookedatmyhandsbeforeshylygrabbingmyownpaperplate.“Youguyshaven’tunpackedyourdishesyet?”
Frankshrugged.“Mydadhasbeenhereforacoupleweeks.Hedidn’tunpackanything.WecamelastSunday,andMomhasn’thadtimetogothroughalltheboxes.”
“Andtheymadeyougotoschoolanyway?”
“Yeah.”
Icouldtellhewasasnervousasme.Thatmadememorecomfortable,thatandthefactthatIwasincharge.“Well,let’sfinishsupperandthencleanup.Wecanprobablygetthiskitchensquaredawaybeforeyourparentsgethome.”
Iatelasagnauntilmyeyeballswerecheesecolored,andthenallfourofuscleanedup.LittleJuliaheldthegarbagebagwhilewedumpedinthedisposableplatesandforks,Mariewiped,andFrankandIpackeduptheleftoversandhand-washedtheplasticcups.
Oncethetablewascleanedoff,Frankhelpedmescroungeupcrayonsandpaperforthegirls,andtheycoloredwhilemeandFrankscrubbedoutthecupboardsandunpackedallthedishesandsilverware.Ididn’tthinkSallywouldcarewhereweputstuff,that’sjustthekindofpersonsheseemedtobe.ThemoreFranktalkedabouthismomanddad,themoreIknewIwasright.
“WhatwasRochesterlike?”Iasked.
Heshrugged.“Welivedoutinthecountry,likehere.”
“IwishIlivedintown,”Iconfessed.“There’ssomuchmoretodo.”
Heleanedtowardme,shakinghishead.“Noyoudon’t.Towniswherebadthingshappen.SomeonewastakingboysinRochester,justlikehere.”
Iblinked.“Onlytownboys?”
Henodded.
Ithoughtbacktothevulturebones,andDad,andBauer.“Isthatwhyyoumoved?Togetawayfromboysbeingattacked?”Becauseifso,theymusthavefeltawfulthatitwashappeningherenow.
“Naw,”Franksaid.“Weneededabiggerhouse.”
“Thisisn’tverybig,”Isaid,thenfeltlikeaheelwhenIsawhisfacedrop.Itriedtotakebackmywords.“It’sbuiltlikeourhouse,isall.”
“Doesyourshaveacreepydirtbasement,too?”
Inoddedvigorously.“It’sdirt,allright.Momkeepsmostofhercanningdownthere,andDadstoresstuffinit,Ithink.Mydaddoesn’tletusgodownthere.”
Frankshuddered.“Dirtbasementsarehaunted.Always.”
CHAPTER20
Here’sthething.Ifyou’dtoldmewhenIwokeupthatI’dhaveabestfriendbytheendoftheday,andthathe’dbeaboy?I’dcallyoucrazycakes.ButFrankandmefoundourselvespracticallyfinishingeachother’ssentencesafterthatfirsthourtogether.Wehadmountainsincommon,oncewegotthroughthefactthathe’dbeenmeantomeatschoolbecausehedidn’tknowanyoneandthoughtIwassnotty.First,webothlikedtowatchTheA-Team,andwhenItoldhimIhadacopyofthelatestNellieBly’sTrustItorDon’t,hemademepromisetobringitovernexttime.Ididn’ttellhimthatIonlyallowedmyselftoreadoneentryanight,becauseIknewitwasweird.ItoldhimallaboutAuntJinandhowgreatshewas,thatshewasanartistwhosaidIcouldcomelivewithherifIeverwantedto.
Frankhadbeendulyimpressed.Whenthegirlsstartedfussing,weuncoveredtheTV,pluggeditin,andtwistedtheantennaeuntilagrainysinglechannelcamein.Itfeaturedariveting(notreally)showontheAlausoculatus,commonlyknownastheeasterneyedclickbeetle.Itmadethesameback-of-the-throatnoiseasGoblinhadmadewhenIliterallyranintohimattheliquorstore,whichItoldFrankallabout.Franklovedtheworldofbugs,itturnedout.
Thebeetleshowwasinterruptedbyacommercialfeaturingahardworkingladywhocouldn’tcatchabreakuntilshefinishedherworkday,fedherfamily,andtuckedinherkids.Thenshegotherbigtreat:alonetime.Ourviewwaswhiskedtoabottleofbubblebathpoisedontheedgeofthetub.Thebottlewasblue,thelabelwhite.ItreadMYTIME
Adeepmalevoicerumbledtheonlywordsintheentirecommercial:“Takecharge.Makethisyourtime.”
Frankpunchedmyarm.“Hearthat?Youshouldmakethisyourtime.”
Iboppedhisarmback.“Shutup,youngpup.”
Hegiggledandhookedmyneck,pullingmedownintoawrestlingmove.Ilaughed,pushinghimawayandthenthinkingbetterofitandtwistinghisarmbehindhisback,justenoughtoholdhiminplace.OrsoIthought.Hesquirmedoutandyankedmeontothefloor,wherewebeganwrestlingforreal.Wewereaboutevenlymatched,butmylonghairmessedmeup.Wekeptatitfornearlytenminutes,laughingandhurlinginsults—Bagyourface!Eatmyshorts!—neitherofusabletokeeptheupperhandforlong.
Finally,exhausted,wedeclaredatruce.That’swhenwenoticedthegirlshadfallenasleeponabaremattressinthecorner.
“Hey,youwannaseesomething?”Frankasked,stilltryingtocatchhisbreath.
“Sure.Holdon.”Istood,openedthebagmarked“blankets,”andpulledoutamustyorangeafghantocoverJuliaandMarie.“Where?”
“Myparents’bedroom.”
“Okay.”Iwipedthebackofmyhandacrossmyforehead.Iwassweatyfromwrestling.
Wewovethroughthemazeofboxes,bythesteepstaircasethatIhadn’tyetused,pastthebathroomthatIhad,andtowardtherearofthehouse.
TheGomezes’bedroomwasthesamesizeasmyparents’butseemedlargerbecauseitwasn’tdominatedbythegurglywaterbedMomandDadhadintheirs.Liquidmoonlightpouredinthroughabarewindow,lightingupthedoublemattressanddousingeverythingelseinshadowyrelief.
“Where’sthelightswitch?”
“Idunno,”Franksaid,headingstraighttowardthedresser.“MaybeweshouldcalltheA-Team?”
IloweredmyvoiceandstartedtorecitetheTVshowopeningfrommemory.“‘In1972,acrack—’”
“Yeah,”hesaid,distracted.Hetuggedopenthetopdrawer,andthenthesecond.
“Letmehelp.”IfeltalongthewallshadowsuntilIbumpedthelightswitch.Iflickediton.Abarebulbilluminatedtheroom.“Yourparentsunpackedherealready?”
“MomtoldDadthatifhewasgoingtomakehermovetoBumtruck,Egypt,thathebetterplanonhavingherbedreadyandtakeherdancingthefirstweek.”
“Smart.”Iranmyhandsalongthebutterybrownwoodoftheirbedframe.“Whatareyoulookingfor?”
Heturned,alopsidedexpressioninhissea-coloredeyes.Hehelduparoundplasticdiskthathe’dfishedoutofthedrawer.“This.”
Ileanedin.“Whatisit?”
Hisvoicewaschurch-serious.“Drugs.”
Ishowedhimthewhitesofmyeyes.“Whatkind?”
“MymomcallsthemherHappyPills.Dadsaysthey’rethebestthingsinceslicedbread.”
Mycordscartightenedaroundmyneck.I’dthoughtHectorandSallyweredifferentfrommyparents.“Didadoctorprescribethem?”
“Idon’tknow.”Hesnappedopenthediskandpointedathismom’snametypedinsidetheclamshelllid.ThebottomhalfwasaminiatureStonehengeofwhitepills.
Istartedgiggling.Oncethelaughtickledmybelly,itrolledtomymouthandsqueezedwateroutmyeyes.Itwashardtowedgemywordspastallthatlaughter.“Doyouthinkweshouldtrythosedrugs?”
Frankpoochedouthisbottomlip.“Whatareyoulaughingat?”
“Thosearebirthcontrolpills!”
Heheldthemclosetohisface,asifhe’dbeabletospotapictureofababywitharedlinethroughit,likeanosmokingsign.“Yousure?”
“Hundredpercent.Mrs.Smithpassedsomearoundinhealthclassthispastwinter.Theywereinadifferentpacket,butthereweretwenty-onewhiteandsevengreen,justlikethose.”
“Awdang.”
IthoughtabouttellinghimIcouldgethimrealdrugs,ifhewantedthem.Thetemptationtoimpresshimwasstrong,butthenhelookedatmewiththoseoceaneyesandIdecidedI’dratherbekind.“Whatdoyouwanttobewhenyougrowup?”
Itwasanobberquestionandheknewit,butwebothwantedtochangethesubject.“Apilot,”hesaid.
Igasped.“Justlikemyboyfriend!”
Hesquintedandreturnedhismother’sbirthcontrolpillstoherdrawer.“Who’syourboyfriend?”
“We’renottechnicallydating.Yet.”IfollowedFrankbacktothelivingroom.JuliaandMariewerestillasleep,Juliaaudiblysnoring.“Youknowhowyousometimesgetasenseaboutsomethingbeforeithappens?”
Frankwasn’tbuyingit.Hewasstillsorefrombeingwrongaboutthepills.“Naw.Andyoushouldn’tsayyouhaveaboyfriendifyoudon’t.”
Headlightsplayedacrosstheceiling.Hisparentswerehome.Ididn’twanttoendthenightlikethis.Iwantedtoaskhimifhe’dcometomyplacenext.Ihadn’thadaslumberpartyinforever,butyoucan’taskboystospendthenight.“Wanttogobikingwithme?”
“When?”
“Thisweek.Wecouldinvestigatetheabductionofthoseboys.We’dbeheroesifwecrackedthatmystery.”ItfeltrightwhenIsaidit.Hecouldbemysidekick,andthenIwouldn’tbesoscared.
Hisshouldertwitched.“We’llsee.”
“Ipitythefoolwhodoesn’tbikewithme.”Ipokedhisarmpit.Hepushedmeaway,buthewassmiling.
“IhavetousethebathroomrealquickbeforeIgo,”Isaid.“Willyoutuckthegirlsintightersoitlookslikewetookreallygoodcareofthem?”
FrankwasleaningoverhissisterswhenIdartedbacktowardthemasterbedroom.Myplanwasn’tfullyformed,justafoggyvisionofGabrielandmekissing,andanotherofMrs.Smithpassingaroundthosebirthcontrolpills,lecturingpastthepointofhearing.Sallywouldn’tmissoneoutofherpacket,andI’dneeditifGabrielandIdecidedtomakelove.Iyankedopenthedrawer,poppedthetopoftheclamshell,anddispensedatinywhitepillintomyhandbeforeclosingthecontainerandstuffingitbackintothedrawer.IignoredtheickyfeelingofstealingfromMrs.Gomez.Itwouldbebettertobeathiefthantobepregnant,andIknewshe’dagreewiththat.
FrankwassittingonthecouchholdingabookwhenIcameout.“Youmightaswellmeetmydadoutside,”hesaid,tossinghisthumbtowardthefrontdoor.“Hedoesn’tliketogetinandoutofthetruckmoretimesthanheneedsto.”
Igrabbedmyjacket.“Bye.”Myheartwasstillbumping.
“Bye.”
CHAPTER21
May26,1983DearJin:ThankyoufortheNellieBly’sTrustItorDon’t!Youprobablyknowmybirthdayisn’tuntilJune—finally,I’llbeateenager!Idon’tknowifyou’veheardthataboywasattackedinLilydale,maybetwo?Peoplearereallyjumpyaroundhere,youwouldn’tbelieveit!I’mgoingtofindoutifit’strueaboutthesecondboysoIcanletyouknowinmynextletter.Schoolisofficiallyout,and7thgradewasn’tsobad.Iendedupsecondinmyclass.IhaveaplantocatchandpassEricanextyear.Itinvolvesatinfoilhat,electrodes,andasummerstorm.Justjoshing!Idohavesomegreatplansforthissummer,though,andI’lltellyouallaboutthemnexttimeyoucomeby.I’lljuststartbysayingthatIamgoingtobeginshavingmylegs(Iknow!!!)assoonasIcanconvinceMom.Ibabysattonightandmetmynewbestfriend.HisnameisFrank,andhelivesuptheroad.Iknow—aboyforafriend!MaybeoneofthesedaysI’llhaveanactualboyfriend.JJ2!Torontolooksbeautifulfromthepicturesyousent(andthanksforthePObox#!).Ilookedatamapandyou’renotthatfarfromMinnesota.Maybeyoucouldstopby?Dadhasbeenextra-weirdlately,andMomandDadarehavingoneoftheirpartiesSaturday.MaybeI’llsneakoutonmyown.SendhelpifIgomissing(haha!).Justkidding.ButIknowyou’llalwayssavemeifIneedit.XOXOXO,CassieCHAPTER22
Morningwasamuddy-brownpromiseagainsttheflatlineofthehorizon,andDad,Sephie,andmewerealreadyoutside,working.Momhadtotakeaphonecallwiththeschool.Dadsaidwhenshewasdone,we’dstartbutchering,buthe’dsaidthatoverhalfanhourago.
Theairchilledmymeat.Myheartandarms,anyhow,whichiswhyIworemyhoodedjacketzippedtomychin.Mylegswerebare.Ihadn’tbotheredbrushingmyhair,becauseitwouldonlygetmessy.I’dbeentootiredtoevenwashthecrustoutofmyeyes,thoughthenipofspring-coatedsummerairwasbracing,wakingmeupagainstmywill.
“Youcancarrymore.”Sephiehadbeengrowlysincewe’dstarted.
Shedroppedherarmfulofmossysticksintothewheelbarrow.Dadwasworkingaheadofus,removingthetripwiresheputoutsohecouldtellifanyonetrespassed.Itwasourjobtocleanoffthetrailsbehindhim.SephieandIstillhadn’ttalkedabouttheupcomingparty.Weweretooscared.Theolderwe’dgrown,theharderthegatheringsweretotolerate.
Idroppedmyownadmittedlylighterbundleofsticks,scrapingoffthenubbywormsthathadspilledfromthewoodbelly.“You’rebeingacrabsinceIgottobabysitandyoudidn’t.”
“Amnot.”
“Aretoo.AndIknowyouwerelyingaboutthewoundonyourkneemakingyoufallasleepbeforeIgothome.”Wehadarulethatwestayedupforeachother.I’ddoneitamilliontimesforherbecauseshedidmostofthebabysitting.Lastnightwasonlythesecondnightshewouldhavehadtodoitforme.
SephieturnedawaysoIcouldn’tseeherface.“Wasnoteitherlying.Dadsaysittakesextraenergytohealourbodies.Theholeinmykneeworemeout,andIcouldn’tstayawake.Butlook,it’sgoodIsleptsowell.Myleghardlyhurtsatallthismorning.”
“Yeah,well,you’reluckyDadwasasleepwhenIgothome.”
OrI’dwantedtoimaginehehadbeen.Ishuddered.I’drunsofastfromthefrontdoortomyroomthatmyfeethadonlytouchedthefloortwice.Thedarkofthehouselefttoomuchroomforhiding.“Whendoessummerschoolstart?”
“Monday.”Shewassullen.
“Howlongdoesitlast?”
“Twoweeks.”
“Awdang,Sephie,that’snotsobad!Andsummerschoolissupereasy.”
Shesloweddown,lettingmecatchup.“MomandDadsaidI’mgroundedfromeverythinguntilIgetapassinggrade.Ican’tevenhavepeopleover.”
Isensedthiswasn’tthetimetopointoutthatshe’dneverhadpeopleover.Meneither,notsinceLynnhaddumpedme.Itwouldtaketoomuchexplainingtobreakinsomebodynew.ButmaybeFrankwouldbedifferent.“Youandmecanstillhangout.Ihaveakittycliniccomingup!”
EverysummersinceIwassevenI’dheldkittyclinic.WhenIwasyounger,Itrainedthemtojumpfromhighspots,mostly.AsIgotolderandrealizedtheydidn’tneedmeforthat,I’dswitchedtomoremedicalpursuits,includingcleaningouttheirinfectedeyes,gentlyopeningthecrusted-shutlidswithawashclothsoakedinwarmwater,wipingawaythepus,anddroppingineyebrightteathatMomboughtattheco-op.
Sephiemadeanoiseofdisgust,buthershoulderswereloose.I’dwonherover.“JustwhileI’mgrounded.AndIdon’twanttotouchtheirgrosseyes.I’llbrush’em,though,andhelpyoudrythecatnipbundles.”
Iclappedmyhands.
“Hey,”Sephiesaid,loadingupmyarms.Wehadtwomorestacksofwoodtotransporttotheburnpile.Thesunwasfinallyup,itsyellowkisspromisingtowarmmybones.“Youneverdidtellme.Howwasitatthenewfamily?”
Andjustlikethat,allthedistancemeltedawayandweweresistersagain.
“Good!”Ispilledallaboutthenight,everythingexceptthebirthcontrolpillthatI’dhiddeninmyjewelryboxnexttofourbabyteethandaglitteringearringstudthatI’dfoundonthefloorofBenFranklinandhopedwasadiamond.
“Wait,”Sephiesaid,tappingherchinassheinterruptedme.“Franksaidthatboysweretakenwherehelivedbefore?”
“Yeah,sowhat?”Iasked.
Sephieflickedmyhead.“Andthentheymovehere,andClamgetsattacked?Seemslikeabigcoincidence.”
Irubbedthespotshe’dflicked.“Mr.Gomezisaniceguy.”
Sephierolledhereyessohardtheycreaked.“That’swhateveryonesays,dummy.‘Ihadnoideahewasaserialkiller!Heseemedsonice!’Youbetterkeepaneyeonhim.”
Shewasright,andIdidn’tlikethatonebit.“Ineedtousethebathroom,”Isaid.
“Youbetterhurryback.”
Dadwasupaheadofus,stillremovingtripwires.Icouldn’tseehim,butIheardhim.Ihopedmomwasstillonthephone,fullyimmersedinaconversation.ItorepastDad’sstudio,towardthehouse.
Ididn’thavetopee.
IwasgoingtofollowthroughonmyplantogothroughDad’sstuff,theplanI’dmadeonchicken-butcheringday.SephiewaswrongthinkingMr.Gomezwastheonetakingthekids.NoonemarriedtosomeonelikeMrs.Gomezwouldeverdothat.MydadandSergeantBauer,though?Thatwasadifferentstory.
Mommetmeonherwayoutofthehouse,herfacecramped.
“Issomethingwrong?”Iaskedher.
Sherubbedhertemples.“No.It’stimetobutcher.”
“Meetyoubythechickencoop,”Isaid.“Igottapeerealquick.”
Ihadthehousetomyself,butnotforlong.IleftmyshoesatthefrontdoorsoasnottotrackinmudandracedtowardMomandDad’sbedroom.Theirwaterbedhadnodrawersbelow,onlyabigboxtoholdthebladder,soIstartedinDad’snightstand.Ithelddirtymagazines,somehalf-smokedjoints,andsketchesIdidn’twanttolookattooclosely.IfoundthesameinDad’sdresser,plushisclothes.
Ididn’tlikehowmuchitsmelledlikehim,butIheldmynoseandkeptdigging.Ididn’tknowwhatIwasafter.AsignednotesayingheandSergeantBauerhadattackedClam?Themaskthey’dwornwhenthey’dhurthim?SomethingtoprovethatMr.andMrs.Gomezwerenicepeople,justasthey’dappeared?
Ididn’tfindanyofthat.Infact,therewasnothingnewsinceI’dlastscouredhisdrawers,rightaroundwhenSephiehadgottenboobsandDadhadgrownextraweird.
Therewasn’tmuchtime.SephiewassurelyalreadycomplainingabouthowlongIwastakingandhowmuchmoreworkshehadtodo.MaybeDadwasevenstompingtowardthehouse,readytocatchmeintheact.Imadesureallhisdrawerswereclosed,peedreallyquicklybecauseitwouldbeawhilebeforeIgotanotherchance,andwasalmosttothefrontdoorwhenIthoughtofourbasement.
Dirtbasementsarehaunted,Frankhadsaid.Always.
WhenwasthelasttimeI’dbeeninours?SurelyitusedtobeaplaceSephieandIcouldgo,butIdidn’treallyrememberbeingdownthereotherthanthatonetimeyearsago.Thethoughtchilledme.Dadhadbeenuplatethispastweek.I’dthoughthewasskulkingaroundthekitchen,buthadhebeengoinginandoutofthebasement?
Myfeetmotoredtowardthepantry.
Iflickedonthelight.
Iwatchedmyownhandreachtowardthebasementdoor.Theknobwascool.Itwistedit.Thesmellofdampdirtcrowdedinmynose.Theabsoluteblackbelowgobbleduptheweakpantrylight,pantingformore.Iputmyfootonthetopstair.Thestepswereaglorifiedladder,really,notmuchwiderordeeper,builtintothewall.
Thetopstepcreakedundermyweight.
Myheartbeatwasthundering.
“It’sjustadamnbasement,”Isaidoutloud,swearingtogivemyselfcourage
Itdidn’twork.Icouldn’tforcemyselfanyfarther,andonceImadethedecisiontoclosethedoor,Icouldn’tescapethathousefastenough.Ipulledmyshoesbackoninthebrightsunlight,shakinglikeadog.
CHAPTER23
IfSephiethoughtshewasgoingtogetoutofchickenbutcheringbecauseshehadafreshwound,shewasdeadwrong.Wegottoworklikeusual,Dadchoppingoffthechickenheadsandme,Mom,andSephierunningtheprocessingline.
“Hey,Mom,”Isaid,onceDadhadfinishedhischickenmurderingandgoneintothehouse.IhadtoleanoverthebutchertabletotalkacrossSephie,whowassittingbetweenus,herbandagedkneeproppedup.“DidyouandDadgotoschoolwithSergeant—Mr.Bauer?”
“Suredid,”shesaid.Slickslice,herchickenwasopen,intothechestcagewentherhand,outcamethefirstwashofguts,goodstufflikeheartandgizzardinthestainless-steelbowl,entrailstothecats.
“HowaboutKarlthebusdriver?OrMr.Connelly?”Iwaslistingeveryonewho’dbehavedpeculiarlylately.
“I’mafraidIdon’tknoweither,unlessyoumeanyourmusicteacher?”
“That’shim,”Isaid.
“Ionlyknowhimfromparent-teacherconferences.Heseemslikeaniceman.”
Inodded.“WhatdoyouknowaboutGoblin?”
Sephietwitchedatthemention.
“Who?”Momasked.
IrealizedIdidn’tknowhisactualname.“Theguywholivesattheendoftheroad,rightwhereyouturnlefttogototheoldSwensonplace.”
“YoukidscallhimGoblin?”Momfakeshuddered.“Yes,hegraduatedhighschoolwithmeandyourdad.He’sstrange,thatone.Hasbeenforever,thoughIthinkheandyourdadwerefriendsforatimebackintheday.Yourdadcan’tstandhimnow.Theman’sadraftdodger.Mr.Bauer’snotsobad,though,notonceyougettoknowhim.”
MomleanedtowardSephie,talkinggirlfriendtogirlfriend.“Iusedtodatehiminhighschool,didyouknow?”
“SergeantBauer?”Iasked.Hearingthathollowedmeout.
Momgiggled.Itwasalittle-girlsound.“Don’tsoundsodisgusted!Iwasn’talwaysmarried.”
Sephieburped.
Momnudgedher.“Whatdoyousay?”
“Excuseme,”Sephiesaid.
“Myfavoriteladiesstillhardatwork!”DadappearedbehindMomandwrappedhisarmsaroundher.Hismoodhadchangedyetagain.Hemusthavedownedadrink.
Ituggedoutfeathers,myeyesonSephie.Sheshiftedherwoundedleg.
DadkissedMom’sneck,andsheleanedbackandlaughed.“Notnow!I’llgetusbothdirty.”
Dadgrowledsomethinginherear,andshelaughedagain.“Fine.Tenminutes.You’reonyourown,girls.Ihavetohelpyourdadwithaproject.”
“There’sadozenchickenstogo!”Iwailed.
“You’realwayssodramatic,”Momsaid,hosingoffherhands.
AflybuzzeddownandlandedonthechickenIwasplucking.Theinsectwasfatandblack,glossy,itsbacklegsrubbingtogetherasitrestedonthehen’spimpledflesh.
“I’llfinishtheplucking,”Sephiemurmured.“Yougutthem.”
Momturnedoffthehose.“Don’tgetthatlegwet,Sephie.It’llgetinfected.”
Sephienodded.
“Idon’twanttogutthem,”Isaid,apoorsporttotheend.
“Okay,thenlet’splucktogether,”shesaid.“Whenwe’redone,youslicethemopen,andI’llpulleverythingout.”
“Allright.”
IkeptatthestinkychickencorpseI’dbeenworkingon,feelinghereyesonme
“Why’dyouaskMomaboutGoblinandSergeantBauerandthoseotherguys?”sheasked.
Ipouredacupofwateroverthebumpyflesh,clearingthepluckedfeathers.Thewaterranpink.“Idunno.Don’tyoueverwonderwhatMomandDadwerelikewhentheywereyounger?”
“Notreally.”
“SometimesIdo.TheywenttoLilydale.Bauertoo.AndthewayDadtreatedGoblinattheliquorstoretheotherday,Ifiguredheknewhimfromawhileback.”Ipaused.“AndDad’sbeenactingbananaslately.Evenmorethanusual.Don’tyouthinkit’sfunnyhestartedmeetingupwithBaueraroundthesametimeClamandmaybeanotherHollowboywereattacked?AndthatseeingGoblinmadehimsoupset?”
Sephierolledhereyes.“LikeMomjustsaid,Daddoesn’tlikeGoblinbecausehe’sadraftdodger.Stopbeingsoweird.”
“You’retheonewho’sgonnastickherhandupachicken.”
“What’rewemaking?”IaskedSephie,hoppingfromfoottofoot.
“Spaghetti,Ithink,andaspinachsalad.Shouldn’tbetoohard.”
“Sephie!”Igrabbedherhandandtuggedherupthestairsbehindme.“Ifwe’remakingspaghetti,we’vegotplentyoftimetotryonthosedresses.Pleeeeaaassseeee.”
AboxfromAuntJinhadbeendeliveredtodaywhilewewerebreakingforlunch,afterSephieandIhadfinishedcleaningthechickensandinthemiddleofmoretrailcleaning.Insidewaswhitetissuepaper,withahandwrittennoteontop:Tomyfavoriteprincesses,whoaregoingtogrowupwhethertheirparentslikeitornot.I’dpeeledbackthelacypaper,revealingtwoflowingtaffetadresses,onethecolorofpomegranateseeds,theotheraricheggplantshade.
Theyweresobeautifulithurttolookatthem.
Dadwouldn’tletustrythemonthenwithsomuchworklefttodo,soIranthemtomyroom.ThefourofuskepttoilinguntilitwastimeforMomtoheadofftoworkandhandinherfinalgrades,leavingmeandSephieinchargeofdinner.We’dcleanedourselvesupandhadawholehourbeforeitwastimetostartsupper.Iwasdesperatetotryonthosebeautifulgowns.
Sephiepretendedtopullback,butshewassmilingherdimpledsmile.“Igettheredone!”
Wedashedupstairs.ShevibratedwithjoywhenIopenedmyclosetandshowedherwherethedresseshung.Shesnatchedthescarletoneoffthehanger,notevengivingasecondglancetomynestunderneath.She’dcaughtmesleepingthereenoughtimes.
“Iwantthepurple!”Itwasheldupbymyonlyskirthangerbecauseitwasstrapless.IturnedawayfromSephie,yankedoffmyT-shirt,andslippedintothedress.“Zipme!”
Shestoppedinthemiddleoftuggingonherowndresstoclosemine.
Itwasalittlebigonme.Irustledovertomyfull-lengthmirrorandstared.Ihadtoholdthedressupwithonehand,butIcouldseehowinacoupleyearsIwouldfillitout.Ipiledmyhairontopofmyheadwithmyfreehandandsmoochedatmyreflection.Sephieappearedbehindme,thereddressfittingherperfectly.ShewasnevergoingtomaketheSolidGolddancercut,butthatdressmadehergracefulandcurvyinwaysI’dnevernoticedbefore.
“Sephie,”Ibreathed.“You’resopretty.”
Hereyeswerewideandtrembly.“Noway.”
Iturnedhersowewerebothstaringinthemirror,sidebyside.“Youbet.Let’sgoshowDad!”IfeltapinchofdoubtwhenIsaidthis,butweweretooprettytowasteitoneachother.ItuggedherdownstairsjustasI’ddraggedherupstairs.WegiggledinacornerofthediningroomuntilDadfinallyholleredatusfromhischair,askingwhatallthenoisewasabout.
“IntroducingMissMinnesota,PersephoneMcDowell!”Ipushedherintothelivingroom,directlybetweenDad’sviewandtheTV.“Andhercompanion,MissPreteenMinnesota,CassandraMcDowell!”
Iwaltzedin,stillholdingupthebustwithonehand,theotherswishingthegrape-coloredtaffetaskirt.IstoodshouldertoshoulderwithSephiebutwasstaringtowardtheceilingasIimaginedamodelwould.“Webothpledgetocreateworldpeaceandcuredolphinsofcancer.”InudgedSephieandtittered.
“Andforyourpleasure,wewilldancethedanceoftheFairyQueens,”shesaid,movingloftily,hermouthquiveringwiththeforceittooktokeepfromlaughing.
Dadsetdownhisdrinkandbeganclapping,agoofygrinonhisface.“Danceforme,myprincesses!”
Andwedid,twirlingandpreeninglikelittlegirlsuntilitwastimetocookdinner,whenweslippedoutofourbeautifulgownsandintoregularclothessowewouldn’tmessthemup.
WehadfullbelliesandthedishesdonebythetimeTheDukesofHazzardcameon.IwashopingDadcouldholdittogetheruntilMattHouston,forSephie’ssake.I’dneverseenhercarryatorchlikeshedidforLeeHorsley.
Me,Ididn’thavetimeformooningoveractors.That’swhyIlikedRemingtonSteele.LauraHoltdidallthework.Shewastherealdeal.Shedidn’twastetimebeingromantic.
Plus,MomwasalwayshomeTuesdaynightswhenRemingtonSteelewason.
IcouldtellbythewaySephiekeptglancingfromaDallasrerunonthescreentoDadinhischairthatshewasmeasuringhismood,justlikeme.WhenDadstartedtogettooloose,itwastimeforbed,nomatterhowgreattheshow.
Atthenextcommercialbreak,heleapedoutofhischairtogiveSephieafootmassage.Shetriedtopullherlegback.
“Hey,wecanprobablygetyouthosebracesyouwantprettysoon,”Dadsaid.
Sephielituplikeatorch,lettinghimatherfoot.“Really?”
Iscowled.No,notreally.Hewasinhis“generous”phase.MomandSephiefellforiteverytime.
“Youbet,”hesaid,reachingforoneofmyfeet.Ituckedthembothunderneathme,andhereturnedhisfullattentiontoSephie.“Wejustneedyourmomtosellthatol’sewingmachine,eh?”
Hesmiledconspiratorially,butSephiekeptherfaceclosedonthatone.SheknewMom’ssewingmachinehadbeenagiftfromGrandma.
“Whowantsadrink?”Dadsaidafterhe’dgivenbothofSephie’sfeetagoodrubdown.Hestoodslowly.
“I’lltakesomewater,”Sephiesaid.
“Cassie?”
“I’mgood.”Iwasthirsty,butIcouldtellrightnowthatthiswasgoingtobeanearly-to-bednight,andIdidn’twanttoneedtopeeinacouplehours.“Butthankyou.”
Heswayedinfrontofus,notquitereadytogo.“HaveIevertoldyoutwothatyou’rebeautifulandthatIloveyou?”
Sephiesnuggledclosertome.“Yes.”
HesquintedlikehewasauditioningfortheroleofThoughtfulDad.“Sobeautifulthatboysaregoingtowanttoaskyououtsoon.Ormaybetheyalreadyare.”
Myhandflewtomyneckscar.Itwaspressingtight,almostchokingme.
Dadleanedcloser,butitthrewhimoffbalance,sohestraightened.“Weshouldtalksometimeaboutwhatthoseboysaregonnawanttodotoyou.Someofitisgoingtofeelgood.Realgood.”Hesmiledandnoddedslowly,mostlylookingatSephie.“Someofitwon’t.Yourmomtalktoyouaboutanyofthat?”
Sephiewaspushingfullyintomenow.
“That’sgross,Dad,”Isaid,aburningsettingupinmyhead.Momshouldbehomesoon.Wherewasshe?
“Shouldhavethoughtofthatbeforeyouparadedyourbodiesinfrontofmeinthosedresses.Butyeah,Isupposeitisgross,”hesaid,chuckling.Hetriedforalittleleprechaunheelclickandalmostmadeit.
“Grossgross,themanwholovesyouthemost,”hesang-mumbledasheshuffledtothekitchen.
Thecommercialbreakwasalmostover.ApreviewoftheupcomingMattHoustonepisodeplayed,humorandactionblendedoveritsjumpyhorn-basedthemesong.Buttherewasmore!SonnyBonoandZsaZsaGaborwereguest-starring.
“Noway!”Sephiewailed.
“Itdoesn’tmatter,”Ihissed,leaningforwardtopeertowardthekitchen.“Wehavetogotobed.Now.Youknowthat.”
Sephienoddedmorosely.Herfacewasswollenwithsadness.Everybodyintheworldhadseenthatepisodebutus,andnowweweregoingtomissthererun.Shepointedattoday’sLilydaleGazettelyingnearDad’schair.“Iheardthere’ssomegoodgaragesalesthisweekend.MaybewecouldtalkMomandDadintotakingus?”
“DoyouthinkDadalreadyreadthepaper?”
“He’snotreadinganymoretonight,”shesaid,tossingonelastmiserableglanceattheTV.
“Isupposeyou’reright.”IgrabbedtheGazetteandfollowedSephietowardthebathroom.
“We’regoingtobed!”IyelledinDad’sgeneraldirection,hopingitwoulddeterhimfromfollowingus.WelockedthedoorandSephieusedthetoiletwhileIbrushedmyteeth,andthenweswitched.TheTVwasstillblaringwhenweopenedthebathroomdoor.Weswappedaworriedlookwitheachotherbeforeboltingupthestairs.IcheckedSephie’sroomwithher,andthenshedidthesameforme
“Night.”
“Night,”shesaid.
IwasinmyclosetreadytosleepbeforeIrememberedthatIhadn’treadtoday’sNellieBly’sTrustItorDon’tyet.IfiguredImightaswellskimthegaragesaleswhileIwasatit.Isteppedoutofthecloset,grabbedmyflashlight,andopenedthepaper.
Theheadlinescreamedatme.
AnotherLilydaleBoyIsAttacked.
CHAPTER24
Thearticlesaidneitheroftheboyscouldbenamedbecausetheywereminors,butIknewthefirstwasClam,andthewriterincludedaphotoofthesecondboy’srun-downhouse.Anyonewhorodemybuscouldtellyouthat’swhereTeddyMilchmanlived.Teddywassmall,andhewasquiet,andhehadsoft-lookingblackhairlikepuppyfur,andhewasonlyafourthgrader.
HelivedintheHollow,justlikeClam.
Hadthepolicenoticedbothkidswhowereontherecordasbeingattackedwerefromthesameneighborhood?Irereadthearticlebutdidn’tfindanythingmakingthatconnection.Istaredatmydoor,desperatetodashthroughitlikethecartoonRoadRunner.IwantedtohurrydownstairsandconvinceDadtocallthepoliceandletthemknowthattheHollowconnectedtheboys.Maybeifthepoliceknew,theycouldwatchthatarea.Theycouldsaveanymoreboysfrombeingattackedandhurtsoseverelytheyhadtoweardiapers,fromfeelingpowerlessintheirownbodies.
ThebreathrushedoutofmeasIheardit.
Dadwasclippinghisnails.
Iblinkedbacktears.IfeltlikeIwasholdingmybreathpastthepointofdrowning,ithurtsobad.Iswipedatmyfaceandquietlyburrowedbackintomycloset,yankingoutmyjournalandpencil.Iwouldwritefast,andIwouldwritegood,sogooditwouldkeepDadfromcomingupthestairs.
Ifinishedwritingit.
ThenIwaited.
CHAPTER25
Dadhadrisenasfarasthefourthstepbeforeturningback.EventhoughI’dheardhimfinallyshuffleofftohisbedroom,andthenMomcamehomeshortlyafter,Ihadn’tbeenabletofallasleepuntilthesunpinkedthehorizon.Sephiediscoveredmeinmyclosetandrousedmewithoutcomment.WhenItoldherthatmystoryhadkeptDadfrommakingitallthewaytothelandingandthatsheshouldthankme,shelookedatmelikeIwascuckoo.
Whatever.Itwaslightout.ThatmeantIcouldtellDadthatTeddyMilchmanlivedintheHollow,sameasClam,sothepolicecouldcatchwhoeverwashurtingthoseboys.
DadwasasscruffylookingasahobowhenIfoundhiminthekitchen.Helookedasifhe’dsleptaspoorlyasme.Ipointedatthescrunched-upnewspaperIheldlikeIcouldmakehimseetheirhousesandthemonsterhuntingthoseHollowboys.
“Dad,youknowthisarticle?”
Herubbedhisraspyfaceandpouredhimselfacupofcoffee,black.
“BoththeseboysliveintheHollow,Dad.Bothboyswhoweretaken.Yousaidtherewasanotherboyattacked,too,andthathewasalsofromtheHollow.Youneedtotellthepolice.They’repracticallyneighbors,ClamandTeddy.”
“Thepoliceknow,”Dadsaid.Hisvoicesoundedterrible,likearustyenginescreechingtolife.
Isetthearticledownandplantedmyhandsonmyhips.“Yousure?”
Heturnedonme,bleary-eyed.“They’retoostupidtolisteniftheydon’talreadyknowthatbit.”
Tearspushedhotagainstmyeyelids,andthethoughtthatIwasgoingtocrymademesoangry.Dadlaughedatgirlswhocried.Didn’tmatterifitwasme,Sephie,orMom.Hegotarealkickoutofit.SoIswallowedthosetears.“Promisemeyou’lltellthepolicethoseboysarepracticallyneighbors.Thattheybothridemybus.”
SomethinginmyvoicegaveDadpause.“Fine.”
“Promiseme.”
Hedidacrisscrossoverhisheart.“Hopetodie.”
Ihadnochoicebuttobelievehim.Thendomyoutsidechores.AndthinkabouthowIshouldhavetoldFrankthatIlikedtosneakaroundandhideindarkplacesandsnoopandthatthatwouldcomeinhandywhenwebecamedetectives,hisRemingtonSteeletomyLauraHolt.Ipeeredatthecornfieldacrosstheroad,atthespearsofcornnotallerthanmyankles,andthoughtoftheIndonesiantreemanwhodidn’tknowwherehisskinendedandhiswartsbegan,andhowIwishedJinwerehere.
Bythetimethefirstpartyguestsstartedarriving,SephieandIhadsetupallthepotlucktablesanddeckedthemoutwithpaperplates,plasticsilverware,andmatchbooks.Dadhadplacedoutbottlesofhishomemadestrawberrywine.I’dtrieditonce.Ittastedlikeafruitburpsmells.Mostoftheladieswentforthewine,though,andweresuretopraiseDadonhowgoodittasted.Themenwantedbeerormixeddrinks,whichiswhereSephieandIcamein.
Whenwe’dfirstbeenaskedtobartend,bothofushadbeensoproud.Thejobwasn’ttoohard.Twofingersofwhiskey,therestpoporwater.Wereceivedquiteafewcompliments,butasthedayworeon,thepraisefeltmorelikeprobingfingers.ItwasniceofSephietotakethebulletonthatoneandoffertobartendtoday.
Shealwayslookedoutforme.
“Holycatshaveyougrown!”
IsmiledupatMr.Frais,who’djustarrivedattheparty.Heandhiswife,MaryLou,werefriendsofMomandDad’sfromwayback.I’dalwayslikedthem.Theywerebothprofessors.Theyhadn’tattendedoneofDad’spartiessinceIwaslittle.
Iglancedhopefullytowardtheircar.“PeterandLisaaren’twithyou,arethey?”
Ofcoursetheyweren’t.PeopleusedtobringtheirkidstoDad’sparties,andman,wasthatsweetlikecherries.We’dexplorealloverourpropertywiththosekids.Itreallywasamagicgardenbackthen,eventhoughDaddidn’thavehalfasmanysculpturesupashedidnow.We’dplaycapturetheflag,kickthecan,TVtag.Thepartieswerealwayspotluck,andDadwouldroastawholepig,thesmellsogooditmadeyourteethache.There’dbeTupperwarecontainerscrammedwitheverysaladyoucoulddreamof,fromthehealthytothestraight-upmandarinorangesfloatingincloudsofsweetwhiteCoolWhip.
Backthen,theadultsfocusedoncribbagetournaments—whichSephieandIwononeyearbecauseeveryoneelsewastoodrunktoplay,andboy,hadwebeenproud—orbackgammonrallies,withtheoccasionalgameofvolleyball.They’dtalkaboutcollege,whichwaswheremanyofthemhadmet,orthewar,whichmostofthemhadprotested.ManyofthemtokedonthepotthatDadcultivatedinthelittlegreenhouseoffhisstudio,andtheygotloose,andtheylaughed,andthensomewherealongthelinetheydecidedtheyshouldallstarthavingsexwitheachother.
Iremembertheyearitstarted.Iwasmaybenine,andDaddisappearedintohisandMom’sbedroomwithawomannamedKristi.Shewasmarriedtosomeoneelsebackthen,Ican’trememberhisname,Ijustknewthatshemademesad.ShewasoneofthosepeoplewholaughedtooloudandhungonDadlikeatreemonkeyandcarriedherselflikeshelivedinthesmallestcornerofherbody.
IhadacrushonaboynamedJamesthatsummer.Hisparentshadbroughthimtotheparty,whereJamestoldmeIhadstronglegs.Thatwasthenicestthinganyonehadeversaidtomeatthatpointinmylife.HeandIandsomeotherkidswhisperedaboutwhatKristiandDaddidonMomandDad’swaterbed,butmostly,wedidn’tthinkawholelotaboutit.
Thenextsummer,though,otherhusbandstookothermen’swivesaway,andthentwosummersback,oneguytookMomintoaroom,andafterthat,noonebroughttheirkidsanymore.Thegrown-upsdidn’tpretendtowanttoplaycribbage,either.Theymostlykepttothebigbarn,whichhadbeenoutfittedwithgaragesalepillowsrecasedwithgloriousArabian-stylecasesthatMomhadsewnfromscraps.
Itwasafunplacetoplay,thoughlikethebasement,wetechnicallyweren’tsupposedtogointhere.
SephieandIwerepowerlesstoresistthebarn,though.Weneverenteredthroughthefrontdoor,whichwassecuredwithacombinationlockthatonlyDadknewhowtoopen.We’dsneakthroughaholeintheattachedsilo.Thisrequiredcrawlingthroughstickyspiderwebstoreachtheoldchuteholeinthesilo’sbase,squirminginside,andthenusingthechinksinthecinderblocktopropelourselvesupandup,twentyfeet.
Itwasworthiteverytime,becausetheinsideofthatbarnlookedlikeamovieset.Itsmelledlikesaltandsweatandmuskandpowderyincense,butyoucouldrollfromoneendtotheotheronabedofpillows.Ididn’tthinkaboutwhatwasdoneonthepillows.
“Craig!”MombouncedoutofthehouseandwrappedMr.Fraisinahug.“WhatareyouandMaryLoudoinghere?”
MaryLoutooksomeofthathugfromherhusband.“It’sbeentoolong.WeranintoRayatLakeGeorge,andhementionedyourpartytonight.Hopewe’rewelcome?”
“Ofcourse,”Momsaid,takingthebottleofwineandboxofpotatochipsMaryLouofferedher.“Always.”
“HowareyouandPersephone?”Mr.FraisaskedmewhenMomandMaryLoutookofftowardthehouse.
“Fine.”IpointedtowhereSephiestoodbehindthecardtablegroaningunderitsloadofliquorbottles,theiramberwarmthglintingintheafternoonsun.Itwasacloudlessday,whichwasgoodfrommyperspectiveasitkepttheadultsoutdoorslonger.“She’sbartendingtoday.”
Mr.Fraischuckled.“Isn’tsheabityoungforthat?”
Thehonestconcerninhisvoicewokeupsomethingdesperateinme.“Mr.Frais,thepartiesaren’tlikeyouremember.”
Heshadedhiseyessohecouldseememoreclearly.“What’sthat?”
Thefrontdoorslammed.MaryLouandMomwalkedout,Mom’sarmloopedthroughMaryLou’s,andshelookedhappierthanI’dseenherinmonths.“Nothing.Itjustgetsalittlewildhere.”
Hissmilefaltered.
Idialeditdown.“Nothingyoucan’thandle,though!CanIgetyouadrink?”
“It’searlyformetostartdrinking,butthankyou.”
Idon’tknowwhythatmademyeyesfeelhot,butitdidandIdidn’tlikeit.“Ibettergettowork.Ineedtofinishsettingupthelawnchairs.”
Mr.FraiswatchedmewithabemusedexpressionasIjoggeddownthehillandtowardDad’sstudio,whichwasarefurbishedgranary.Itconsistedofthreerooms:Dad’sfrontbrainstormroom,hisbackworkroom,andthesecond-levelstorageroom.Onlyhisbackroom,wherehedidtheactualsculpting,washeated.Thebrainstormroomwasallchalkboard.WhenDadwasreallycooking,he’dholdfourdifferentcolorsofchalkatonce,scribblingfuriously,sketchingandscratchingouthisnextproject,outliningmeasurements.Inthewinter,itwassocoldintherethathepuffedcloudsofwhitewhilethechalkdustflew.Itlookedlikehewascreatingartinouterspace.
Theworkroomhousedhismetal-cutting,bending,andweldingtools,andwecouldonlyentertherewitheyegearandpermission,butDaddidn’tmindifweplayedaroundonthesecondlevel,ahalffloorwherehekeptabedandsomebooksandwherethelawnchairsandcardtableswerestored.Ipulledopenthescreendoorandstartedupthewoodenstairsleadingtothatlevel.
Theburnishedaggressionofmetaldusthadsettledoneverything.
Ilocatedthesparelawnchairsbehindthebed,whichlookedlikeit’dbeenrecentlysleptin.HadDadhadaguest?IthreadedmyhandthroughtheplasticwebbingofasmanyasIcouldcarry,leavingmyotherhandfreetoholdthesteepwoodenrailing.Imademywaydownthesteps,carefully.Therewassomethingsacredaboutthisstudio.ItwastheoneplaceDadseemednotexactlyhappybutatleastlikehedidn’tmindwearinghisownskinforafewhours.Heevensometimesplayedhide-and-seekwithSephieandmedownhere;atleast,hehadwhenwewerelittle.Icouldn’trememberthenumberoftimesI’dfallenasleeptotheclick-clickingsoundofhisendsander.Andthestuffhecreatedhere?Ifyouneverbelievedinmagicbefore,youwouldonceyousawhissculptures.
“Giveyouahandwiththose?”
Thebackofmynecktightened.FourmorecarshaddrivenupasI’dmademywaydownthehill,butIhadn’trecognizedanyofthedrivers.Iturned,eventhoughIknewthevoice.“SergeantBauer?”
Hesteppedthroughthestudiodoor.Dadhaddrawnathree-headeddogacrossthechalkboardimmediatelybehindthesergeant.Inabizarrecoincidenceofspace,itstwo-dimensionalleashlinedupperfectlywithBauer’shand,likehe’dbroughtaservicedogfromtheunderworld.
“Nothere.HereI’mAramis.”
Ididn’tunderstandwhathemeantbyhear—eye-mare-amiss.Hemusthavegottenthatfrommyface,becausehestartedlaughing,awheezy-bagsound.“That’smyfirstname.Aramis.Itwasmygreat-grandpa’sname.”
Inodded,butIhadn’thoppedoffthebottomstep.AramiswasmyfavoriteoftheThreeMusketeers.Ididn’tlikehisnameonBauer.
Thesergeantmadenomovetotakethelawnchairsfrommyhands,despitehisoffer.Rather,heseemedtobestudyingme,spendingextratimeonmyneck.Ireturnedthefavor,oglingthesilverchainholdinghisdogtagspeekingoutofhiscollar,eventhoughbeingstuckinherewithhimgavemetheidenticalstomach-upfeelingasridingtheZipperattheTown&CountryFair.Hewasoutofuniform,hiswhiteT-shirtasharpcontrastagainsthistanandmuscledarms.
Heworejeanshorts,soshortthatthebottomofhispocketshungout.Hewasbarefoot.He’dalsorubbedsomethinginhishairthatsmelledandlookedlikeVaseline.He’dcombedthesamehairjellyintohismustachebuthadn’tfullyblendedinachunkbythecornerofhisfatredlips.Hiseyeswerebloodshot.
“SergeantBauer,whatareyoudoingdownhere?”
Hemadeanangrysound.“Aramis,Isaid.YoucallmeSergeantBauerandthis’llbetheshortestpartyinthehistoryofStearnsCounty.I’mnotmucholderthanyou,youknow.Igraduatedwithyourdad.”
Hetookastepcloser,andIrecoiled.Anysmilefelloffhistoo-redlips.“Youscaredofme?”heasked.
“No,”Iblurted,steppingdownontothecementfloortoproveit.Onevenground,hetoweredafootaboveme.Iglaredupathim.Ithoughthewasgoingtosneer,butalookofsurprisecrossedhisfaceinstead.Itgavemeapumpofcourage.“DidmydadtellyouthatthetwoboyswhowereattackedbothcamefromtheHollowandthatmaybeyoushouldhaveextrapatrolsthere?”
Hestareddownhisnoseatme.“Yeah.”
Hewaslying—atickleinmychesttoldmethat—butIwasn’tsurewhichparthewasbeinguntruthfulabout,thatDadhadtoldhimorthatitwasonlytwoboysfromtheHollow.
Mymouthfeltchalky,butIshovedoutaballofwordsanyhow.“Ineedtogetthesechairsbackuptothehouse.”
IhurriedoutofthestudiobeforeBauercouldrespond.IwantedtowalkoutbackwardsoIcouldkeepaneyeonhim,butIwastooafraidofwhatI’dsee.
CHAPTER26
Forty-threecarslinedourdriveway,filledinwidespotsonthelawn,andweretuckedinthefieldacrosstheroad.Theywerewhite,black,red,green.Fromthesky,itwouldlooklikeChicletsscatteredbyagiantchild.I’dwalkedbetweenthecars,countingthem,lettingmyfingerstrailovertheircoolingmetalasthesunsetandthelonggrasslickedmyknees.
TherewerepeopleatthepartyI’dneverseenbefore,peoplewhoIcouldtellwerewonderingifthestoriesweretrue.Theymowedthroughthetablesofpotatosalad,pickles,anddesserts,navigatedtheextensioncordshookeduptobubblingslowcookers,syrupythickwithcocktailwienersswimminginBBQsauceandpulledporkandbright-orangecheesesauce.
I’dtastedallofit,everything,tomakesureIhadn’tmissedaflavor.Mystomachhurt,butI’dkeptreturningtothatsaladlayeredlikeahotdish,withabaseofdeliciouslycrunchyheadlettuceandontopofthatsaltybitsofbacon,mayonnaise,tomatochunks,bright-greensweetpeasthatburstinmymouth,thewholeworkscoveredinanotherlayerofmayonnaise,andontopofthat,morebaconandshreddedcheddarcheese.I’dgonebackfourtimesforseconds,pretendingIwascleaningupabitofpaperormovingaroundacookieplatesothatIcouldscoopmoreofthatsaladontomyplate.
Oncepeopleweredoneeating,Kristiremovedherclothes.Itwasalwaysherwhostarted,boobslowandbignippled,pointingtowardhertrianglebush,hereyesdefiant.Istaredthefirstfewyearsshedidit.Shewantedtoannouncethatitwasokaytobenakedhere,thatshewasfree,thatthiswashowthesepartieswent.
That’swhenMr.andMrs.Fraisleft.Noonebutmeseemedtonotice.
Soonotherwomenbeganstripping,thoughsomeofthemrequiredalittleone-on-oneattentionfromDad.Idon’tknowhowhetalkedthoserespectablewomenintotakingtheirclothesoff,couldneverfigureouthowheswungit,eventhoughIsworeateverypartythatI’dlistentowhathesaidtothem.ProbablyIgotdistractedbythefoodeverytime,becauseI’dturnaroundandthenahandfulmoreladieswerenaked,andthenahandfulmore.Themenwouldlosetheirshirts,buttheyhungontotheirshortsusually.Thenthey’dallbeginplayingcroquetorlawndartsnaked(women)ormostlynaked(men),andtherewouldbenohelpcleaninganythingup,andeveryonewouldeventuallyheadtothebarnlikedogsinheat.
Itwasn’tfulldark,butmostpeoplehadalreadydisappearedintothatbuilding.WarblyIndianmusicsnakedoutofit.I’dpeekedthroughoneofthecracksinthebarnlastyear.Itwashardtolookaway,butitwashardertokeepstaring.Iwasn’tgoingtolookagain.
“Helpmecleanouttheslowcookers,”Sephiecommanded.BeforeMomhadcareenedtowardthebarnonsomeguy’sarm,she’dorderedustoputawayallthefood.Sephiehadtakenthattomeanshewasincharge.
Ishookmyhead.“I’llwalkthetrailsandmakesurenoonetossedcups.”
Sephiewashavingnoneofit.“You’rewelcometodothatafterthepotluckistakencareof.NowayamIdoingallthisalone.”She’dactuallydonnedoneofMom’sapronsafterherbartendinggigdriedup.Sheapparentlythoughtitgaveherthepowertotelltheworldwhattodo.Atleastitmeantshewasn’tflirtingwiththeoldguyanymore.HewasnearlyDad’sage,andthey’dbeenlaughingtooloudatanythingtheothersaidallafternoonandnight.Itgavemethebarfs.
Ieyeballedthetremendouspotluckmess,glopsofspilledfoodthatthecatslappedat,crustedpansthatwouldneedtobewashedandreturnedtotheirowners,forksandcupsandplatesstackeddangerouslyhigh.“Theadultsshouldhelp.”
Sephiehoistedaslowcooker,notbotheringtoanswerme.
“Fine,”Isaid.“I’llhelpcleanupthefoodandgatherthegarbage,butthenthat’sit.Momdidn’tevensaywehadtodothatmuch.It’snotlikewemadethismess.”
Sephiestilldidn’trespond.Shewasactingsogrown-up,lookedsomatureinthatapron,inadditiontospendingawholeafternoonbartending.Ihopedshedidn’tthinkshewasthebossofme.
“I’mgoinginsidetograbtrashbags,”Isaidreluctantly.
Somestragglershadstartedplayinginstrumentsdownbythebonfire.Mandolinmusicstrokedthewarmnightair,andthesmellofwoodsmokewascomforting,butIwassuretherestofthepartywasinthebarn.That’swhyIwassurprisedtohearpeopleinthehousewhenIsteppedintothesunporch.Ipaused,tuningmyears.Whoeverwasinsidewasinthelivingroomandsohadn’tspottedmeyet.WhenIheardtheslurintheirwords,IrealizedIdidn’tneedtoworry.
“Naw,it’sjustboyshit.They’realltrouble,thoseHollowboys.”
Iperkedup.Aramiswasspeaking.Aramislikethestinkycologne,Imentallycorrected,notlikemyfavoriteMusketeer.Itiptoedtowardthepantrytograbtheblacktrashbags,stickingnearthewall,hopingIcouldescapewithoutbeingseen.Thesweetskunksmellofmarijuanasmokewasstrong,eventworoomsover.
“Youthinkthey’realllying?Forattention?”Thatwasanunfamiliarvoice.
“Yousaidthey’refriends.”Mydad.
“Neighbors,anyhow,”Aramiscorrected.“Moreorless.Clamchik,Milchman,thatKleppertkid.TheyallliveintheHollow.”
Clam,Teddy.ThatKleppertkid.
Anicyweightplummetedfrommyheadtomystomach,freezingeverythinginitspath.Weretheytalkingaboutboyswho’dbeenmolested?Clam,puppy-hairedTeddy,pluseitherRandyorJimKleppert,thefirstoneafourthgraderandtheotherinsixthgrade.Hadtheyallbeenattacked?Thesaladthathadbeensodeliciousbegantofoamandbubbleinmystomach,pushingacidtowardthebackofmythroat.I’dsharedHalloweencandywiththosekids.
“Butyeah,Ithinkit’sbullshitwhatthey’retellingus,”Aramiscontinued.“Noneofthemcanidentifytheguy;theyallsayheworeamask.Theirphysicaldescriptionsdon’tsquare,either.Theperpistallandstronginone,shortandwiryinanother.”
“Papersaystherewereonlytwoboys,”thestrangersaid.
“Paperdoesn’tknoweverything.”
Anotherpause,thenthestrangersaid,“Iheardtheyweresexuallyassaulted.”
IcouldhearAramis’sshrugthroughthewall,thenasharpintakeashesuckedonajoint.Hespokearoundamouthfulofsmoke.“SomebodymessedupthatClamchikkid,pokedhiminthebutt,buttheothertwodidn’thaveanymarks.Ithinkitwassomehazinggonewrongthatthey’retooafraidtotalkabout,boystryingoutwhatit’sokaytostickinandwhat’snot,anditgotoutofhand.”
“YoustoppedbyGaryGodlin’slastweek,”Dadsaid,almostanaccusation,buthewassohighthatitsoundedwhiny.“Ipassedhishouseonmywaytotownandspottedyourcruiser.”
“Goblinlivesouthere?”Thestranger’svoice.“Man,Iwonderedwhathappenedtohim.”
“Nexthousegoingnorth,”Dadsaid.
Goblin.Godlin.Ithadbeenthesimilaritybetweenthewords,nothisvillainousface,thathadearnedhimthenickname.
“Hadto,”Aramissaid.“Youknowhisstepdadusedtorapehimlikeitwasahobby,likeitwassoftballorsomeshitthathehadtodoeveryTuesdayandThursday?”
“Damn,”Dadsaid.Hisvoicehadchanged.
“Gotsentawayforit;diedinprison.Wheneversomethingfunnygoesonaroundtown,IcheckonGoblin.StoppedbyConnelly’shouse,too,thebandteacher?Purefruit.There’safewotherstopsImadeforprotocol,andtheyturnedupnothing.I’mtellingyou,theboysarelyingforsomesortaattention.YouknowhowHollowboysare.Nodadaround,amomwhosmokesinfrontofthetelevisionandchowsdownTwinkiesallday.”
Bauerdidn’tseeminterestedatallincatchingthemanresponsible.IthoughtagainofwhatheandDadwerehiding.
Iheardoneofthementakeahitandstartcoughing,firstthroughhisnoseashetriedtosavethesmokeandthenfullthroatedwhenhecouldn’tcontainit.
“Hey,begladyouhavegirls,Donny,”Aramissaid,followedbyaclappingsoundlikehewassmackingawatermelon.Thecoughingsubsided.“Thoseboysdosomeweirdshit.Speakingof,whathappenedtoyouryoungest’sneck?Lookslikeyoucollaredher.”
“Bornthatway,”Dadgrunted.
“She’spretty,evenwiththatscar,”thestrangemansaid.Itsentajoltrightupmyspinehowgrodyhesounded,likehewasauditioningforsomeover-the-toppiraterole.
“Damnpretty,”Dadagreed,histonefiercebutalsofalse,laidoverhisbrittleego.“Howmuchwouldyoupayforher?”
Aramislaughed,andtheothermancopiedhim,andIcouldtelltheyboththoughtDadwasjokinganditwasoneofthosethingsthatDadwouldn’tevenremembersayingtomorrow,butthoselaughsstillrammedtheirfistsintomyqueasybellyandIranoutside,gulpedintheinkynightair,andthatwastoomuch,therewasn’tevenroomforthat,andIranaroundthesideofthehouseandupchuckedmyguts.Bucketsofstomach-stewsailedoutofmymouth,bitteracidwithchunksofpeasandweeniessteamingonthelawn.ThepukeejectedsoforcefullythatIchokedasIvomited.
WhenIwasdone,IwentsearchingforSephie.ThemessypotlucktableswereexactlyasI’dleftthem.Shemusthaveseenmecomeout,forsureheardmepuking,butshedidn’tlikethrow-up,andsoIwasn’tsurprisedshehadn’trushedovertoholdmyhair.Icouldn’tlocateheronthetrails,either,oraroundthebonfire,soIrantothecarstocountthem.ThefieldgrasswassharpasIwoveinandoutofthevehicles,peeringinthewindows,feelingthesweetdewgatheronmycalves,shiveringunderthecoldeyeofthemustardmoon.
Icouldn’tfindSephie.WherewasSephie?
CHAPTER27
May28,1983,late!DearJin:Howareyou?Good,Ihope.I’mfine,mostly.Imighthaveanideawho’sattackingboysfrommyschool,butIhavetodigaroundsomemore.IknowfromtheTVthatwhenacriminalgetsasbrazenasthisguy,he’slosinghismind.Ifsomebodydoesn’tstophimsoon…I’mreallyenjoyingNellieBly’sTrustItorDon’t.SometimesIthinkit’stheonlythingkeepingmefromgoingbonkers.Ireadonetheothernightaboutheliotropes.Doyouknowwhattheyare?They’replantsthatalwaysfindthesun.Iwanttobeaheliotrope.Justjoshing!I’dsurelikeavisitfromyou.Canyoucomehere?XOXOXO,CassieCHAPTER28
Thenextmorning,ItiptoeddownthestairsandaroundthestickyredSolocupsandthepaperplatescrustedwithfood,theoverflowingashtraysandsourbeerbottles.I’dcleanedoutdoorsbutnotinside.Iwasn’tasaint.
I’dstuffedmypajamas,tomorrow’sclothes,myNellieBly’sTrustItorDon’t,andLynn’spresentintomybackpack.ThegiftI’dwrappedwasdime-size,adelicatemetalmoonrisedanglingfromasilverchain,soprecioustome,sospecial,thatIhadn’tyetremoveditfromitsbox.JinhadsentittomeforChristmastheyearbeforelast,andI’dhadtolietoherthecoupletimesshe’daskedifI’dwornit.
WhenIheardsomeonerustlinginthekitchen,Ialmostscurriedbacktomyroomtowaitthemout.It’dmakemelateforLynn’sparty,though.Itwasanall-dayparty!Weweremeetingattherollerrink,thenheadingtoLynn’sforasleepover.Momhadalreadyokayedmegoing.It’dlookedwindyoutsidewhenIroseearly,andsoI’dbudgetedanextrafifteenminutesforthebikeridetotown.Icouldn’twastethattimehidingfromapartygoer.Isquaredmyshouldersandsoldieredintothekitchen,hopingitwassomeonerelativelysoberwhowasrootingaroundforbreakfast.
“Mom?”
Shewaskneadingdough,flatteningitandthenwrappingtheedgestowardthemiddleuntilitwasaballagain,strikingitwiththepadofherhand.She’dmixedthedoughyesterdayandstoreditinthefridgesoshecouldbakecinnamonrollsforeveryonewhosleptover.Ishouldhaveknownshe’dbeupthisearlytakingcareofthemeal.
Formymom,foodwaslove.
“Morning.”Shedidn’tglanceup,butifshehad,Ibethereyeswouldhavebeensadbehindherowlglasses.Herskinwasgray-dusted,herhairpulledbackinagreasyponytail.Awormyblueveinpulsedonthebackofeachhandasshekneadedthedough.
“Morning.I’mheadingtoLynn’s.”
WhenMomfinallylookedatme,IsawI’dguessedwrong.Hereyesweren’tsad.Theywereghostly,bigscarywindowsonanabandonedhouse.Lookingintothemgavemechestpains.
Momdidn’trespond.
“How’sSephie?”Iaskedimpulsively.LastnightI’dlookedeverywhere,includingherroom,untilIwassotiredI’dwalkedintoatree.Ihadn’tcheckedherbedroomagainbeforeIcamedownthestairsthismorning.ItoldmyselfitwasbecauseIdidn’twanttowakeherup.
Momblinked.“Fine.Why?”
“Nobigdeal.”Ishrugged.“I’mstayingovertonightatLynn’s.Ialreadytoldyou,andyoualreadysaidyouwerecoolwithit.”
Shewentbacktoherrhythmickneading.Ituggedontheloopsofmybackpack.Icouldseepartsofherscalpthroughherthinninghairasshepushedatthedough.IwonderedifshefeltasprettyasKristi,ortheotherwomenwhoDadsleptwithrightinfrontofher.Imovedtowardthedoorbutstoppedwithmyhandontheknob,turningbacktofaceher.“Youcouldgetadivorce.”
Sheopenedhermouthtolaugh,Ithink,butrock-heavywordstumbledoutinstead.“It’snotthateasy.”
I’dalreadyusedfiveminutesofthefifteenI’dbudgetedforbikingagainstthewind.“CanItry?”Ipointedatthedough.
“Washyourhandsfirst.”
Iobliged.Therewerethreecigarettebuttsinthesink.Momhatedsmokingandlovedherkitchen.IchuckedthemintothegarbageandrinsedoutthesinkbeforelatheringupmyhandswiththehomemadebasilsoapMommadeeverysummerbeforeherherbsbolted.Irinsedthem,wipedthem,andthentooktheminiatureballofdoughshe’dpinchedoff.Imimickedhermovementsbutcouldn’tgetmydoughuniformlyflatlikehers.
Shenudgedtherollingpintowardme.“Youneedtoworkit.”
Iflouredthelengthofthewoodenpinbeforepoisingitdeadcenteronmydoughball,leaningintothedowelhandlestopushthedoughupperleft,thenupperright,thentowardmeleft,towardmeright.ItflattenedlikePlay-Doh,crackingattheedges.Ifoldeditbackintoasquare.
Itsmelledcleanandsolid.Flour,milk,sugar,eggs,yeast,salt.
“Seehowit’ssticky?Tossonsomemoreflourandkeepkneadinguntilit’ssmooth.”Mompunchedherdoughball,pushingaloosehairfromhereyewiththeflatoutsideofherthumb.
Idunkedmyhandintotheflour’svelvet,lettingitsiftthroughmyfingers.
“Don’tplaywithit.”
Irolledmyeyes.“Youknowthestoresellscinnamonrolls,right?”
Hervoicewassharp.“Youknowthey’reexpensiveandfullofchemicals,right?”
Iscoopedasmallhandfulofflourandsprinkleditoverthetopofmydoughballandthenranmyhandupanddowntherollingpin.“Ifyoudivorcedhim,we’dhavemoremoney.Hedoesn’thardlysellanysculptures.Heeatsanddrinksalot.Mostlyyoupaythebills.”
Herlipstightened.Shesnatchedtherollingpinfrommeandusedittoflattenherdoughuntilitwastheheightofcardboardlaidflat.Shedroppedyellowpatsofbutterontoit,thensprinkledthatwithbrownsugarandraisins.Shebeganrollingfromtheendnearesther,keepingittight.
“Ilovehim,”shefinallysaid.Therewasatingeofdefeatinherwords.
Isensedanopening.“Ofcourseyoudo,Mom.SodoI.”Iwasn’tsureifthatlastpartwastrue,butshewantedtohearit.“Wedon’thavetostoplovinghim.Ijustthinklifewouldbeeasierifhewasn’taround.”
“There’salotyoudon’tknowaboutlife.”Sheslidthechef’sknifefromthestorageblock,thewhiskofmetalleavingwoodacrispnoteslicingthroughthehumidair.Shecutherdoughrollintotwenty-fourperfectpieces,whichshetuckedintoagreasedmetalpan,sidebyside,rollsideup.
“Well,justthinkaboutit,that’sallI’msaying.”
“Iwill.”
IbelievedherbecauseIwantedittobetrue.
“Ibetterheadout,”Isaid.
“You’rebiking?”Shesoundedsurprised.
“Yup.”
“Icandriveyou.”
Ismiled.“Really?”
“Sure.”
CHAPTER29
TherollerrinkwashousedinthebasementoftheLilydaleLaundr-O-Mat.Thelaundromatstayedopenallyear,buttherinkclosedtightinthewinter.Springandfallithadlimitedhours,butcomesummer,itwasopenfrom10:00a.m.to10:00p.m.sevendaysaweek.MomhadletmechoosetheradiostationonthedrivesoIcouldhearwhatsongwasnumberonethisweek.
“Flashdance!”
Man,wouldIlovetoseethatmovie.MaybeGabrielandIcouldcheckitouttogether.
MomhadalsodrivenpastthepostofficesoIcoulddropoffmyletterforJin.Whenwearrivedattherink,though,shehadn’twantedtocomeinsidebecauseofhowshelooked.I’dscoopedupmybackpackandtraipseddownthecementstairsalone.
Thebeatof“AngelIstheCenterfold”thumpedagainstmyfeetasIdescendedintothebasement.Ittookmeamomenttoadjustfromthebrightmorningtothedarkcellar,evenwiththehelpofstrobelights.
“Cassie,overhere.”
Iturnedleft,towardthefrontcounter,andblinkedtwicebeforeImadeoutLynn’smom.Shewasaplumpwoman,withagrandheadofblondehairwispedbackwithtwotortoiseshellcombs.
“Hi,Mrs.Strahan.”
“Theothergirlsareontherink.”
Icountedfourskaters,allbutonethatIrecognized,whirringaroundunderthediscoball,laughingandholdinghandsinonelongchain.
“Whatsize?”themanbehindthecounterasked.Madmagazinelayopenonthecounterunderhiselbows.Irecognizedtheissuefromakidonthebuspassingitaround.
“Six,Ithink.”
Hegrabbedapairofwhiteleatherrollerskatesfromacubby,thenumbersixstenciledinblackmarkerontheirheel.Theywerescuffed,theirshoelacesfrayedattheends.Theyclinkedwhenhesetthemonthecountertop.“Twodollars.”
Myheartseized,andmycheeksgrewhot.Ispokereflexively.“That’sokay,Idon’tliketoskate.”
“Really?”Mrs.Strahanasked.ThewayshesaiditremindedmeofhowMrs.OlesontalkedtoLauraonLittleHouseonthePrairie.“Ithoughtallgirlslikedtoskate.”
I’dbeenstaringatthefloorbutriskedaglanceatherface.Itwassmooth,expressionless,buthereyesglittered.Iopenedmymouthtospeak,butonlyagurglecameout.Ihadn’tbroughtanymoney.Ihadn’tknownI’dneedit.
“Youwanttheseornot?”
“I’llpayforher,”Mrs.Strahansaid,unlatchingherpocketbook.Sheslidatwentytowardhim.
Icouldn’treachfortheskates.Myhandsweregluedtomysides.
“Howareyourparents?”Mrs.Strahanaskedwhilehemadechange.
“Fine.”
Shewantedtoasksomethingelse,butIspokemorequicklythanher.“DadisstillmakinghissculpturesandMomisteachingfull-timeinKimball.Sephieisdoingwell,too,thanksforasking.”Ifinallyscoopeduptherollerskatesandspeed-walkedtowardtheskatingfloor.
Ilikedtoskate.Ireallydid.
“Iamtoosure!”Andreaexclaimed.
Ipulledmysleepingbagtighter.Allfiveofus—Lynn,Heidi,Barb,Andrea,andme—werehuddledbetweenthecouchandtheTVinLynn’swood-paneledbasement.Itwasn’treallyabasement,though,soIwasn’tafraidofitlikeDad’sbasement.Lynn’shadwindowsuphigh,plushcarpeting,andpaneledwallsandheldasmanytoysasastore.Sheandherlittlesisterhadtheirbedroomsdownhere,butherparentshadTanyasleepingupstairstonightsothatwehadthiswholefloortoourselves.
AndreawasLynn’scousin,thegirlIhadn’trecognizedontheskatingfloor.AndreaattendedschoolinKimball,sameplaceMomtaughtEnglishbutinadifferentgrade.She’dhaughtilyinformedusthathertrendyhairstylewouldfindourtinytownsometimesoon.Itwaslongerandfeatheredinfrontbutshortandtighttoherscalpinback,withaleftoverbraid,likearopetosseddownhernecktorescuesometinymousecaughtinhershirt.Imarveledatthecourageitwouldtaketowearyourhairthatdifferent.
TheyweretalkingaboutEvie.
“No,it’strue!”Lynnsaid,tryingtoconvinceAndrea.“Shegoestotheplaygroundallbyherself.It’sherandsometimesafewfarmkidsshowup.Theyhaveplaytime.”
Heidijumpedin.She’dcrimpedherhairexactlyasLynnhad.“Ibikedbyandsawit.Evie’smomknitsontheirfrontporchandwatchesfromherhouseacrosstheplayground.Creeperpeeper.”
“ButnottherealPeepingTom!”Barbsquealed.Shewasinseventhgradewithme,Lynn,andHeidi,butIdidn’tknowherverywell.Shewasatownkid,likeLynnandHeidi.
Lynn’smomhadpickedupthreeJimmy’spepperonipizzasforusandtwolitersof7UP,whichwe’dwolfeddownwhileTheSecretofNIMHplayedontheVCR.Ikepttryingtowatchit,buteveryoneelsewantedtotalk,soIeventuallygaveup.Lynnsaidwe’dwatchSwampThinglater,andIhopedshemeantwe’dactuallypayattentiontoit.
“IheardyousawthePeepingTom,”BarbsaidtoLynn.“Like,laideyesonhiswee-wee.”
Thegiggleswerefierce.Asthelastgirltotheparty,Istillhadn’tfoundwhereIfit.Iwasn’tbuilttobethequietone,butBarbhadtakentheroleoffunny.Thatwasusuallymybit,butshe’darrivedfirst.Thatleftmemostlylurkinginthebackground,butLynnhadlikedmypresentthebest,sothatwassomething.Mynecklacewasaroundherneck.Itwassopretty.
Lynnhuggedherself.“Ithinkso.Iheardaknocking.”Shepointedtowardthesmallbasementwindow.Iftherewasafire,we’dbarelybeabletosqueezeoutofit.“TanyaandIwerewatchingTV.IthoughtmaybeitwasColby,fromnextdoor?”
Thissentathrillthroughthecrowd,atleastthefourofusfromLilydale.Colbywasahighschooler,thestarofthebaseballteam,andheresembledDavidHasselhoffifyousquinted.
“Ipulledasidethecurtain,anditlookedlikesomeonewasholdingawaterballoonoutthere,reallyclosetothewindow?Itwasnighttime,soIcouldn’treallyseeclearly.Buttheballoonsquirted,andIscreamed,andmydadrandownstairs.ItoldhimwhatIsawandhechargedoutthere,buthedidn’tseeanyone.Hecalledthepolice.Theytookareport.”
Itfeltgoodtoknowsomeonethatsomethinghadhappenedto,tobeprivytohersecret.“Thatmusthavebeenscary,”Isaid.
Lynntossedherhairoverhershoulder.“Iguess.Hey,yourparentsstillhavethoseparties?Myparentssaidfreakysexstuffhappensthere.”
Mycheeksburned.
Heidihoppedon.“Yeah,maybeyourdadisthePeepingTom!”
“He’snot!”
“Jeez,Cassie,Heidi’skidding,”Lynnsaid,soundingtrulyshocked.“Layoff.Ijustwantedtoknowaboutthepartiesisall.”
“Theyhavepeopleoversometimes.Justlikeyouhavepeopleoverrightnow.”Exceptnotlikethatatall.“Hey,IsatnexttoEvieinthelunchroomthelastweekofschool.Shewasmakingflyersforherplaydates!”
Sayingthatoutloud,turningtheheatbacktoEvie,madesomethingslither-bumpbetweenmyheartandstomach.Besidesnotbeingheretodefendherself,Ithoughtshewasgenuinelynice.Thelastdayofschool,I’doverheardMr.Kinchelhoetellherthatshewrotewithaflairandflourishallherown.Eviehadswallowedthatlikeitbelongedtoherandwentrightbacktowhatevershewasworkingon.Then,laterthatday,Iwaswalkingbehindherasshetoldafifthgraderinoutdatedbell-bottomsthatheworethemwith“aflairandaflourish”allhisown.
IlikedthatawholelotaboutEvie,howshepassedonhertreasures.
“That’scrazy,”Andreasaid,shakingherhead.“Butyoualmostcan’tblameher,whatwithallthekidnappinghappeninghere.”
Lynnbristled.“It’snotallthekidnapping.It’sjustsomeoftheHollowboysgettingtoorough,that’swhatmydadsays.”
That’swhatSergeantBauerhadsaidlastnight,too.ThelastthingIwasgonnadowastellthesegirlshe’dbeenatmyhouse,though,thatoneofthosefreakysexpartieshadtakenplacelastnight.
“That’snotwhatmydadsays,”Andreacountered.“Hesaysthere’ssomethingbadhappeninghere.”
UsfourLilydalekidsexchangedglances.ThePeepingTom,Dad’sparties,ChestertheMolester,thecurfewsiren—itwasgross,butitwasourgross.
“It’snotdangerousatall,”Lynnsaid,raisingherchin.“Igooutaftercurfewallthetime.IevenhadacigarettewithColbytwonightsago,wayafterninethirty.”
“Noway!”Barbexclaimed.
Atrillofexcitementbubbledupinmybelly,andIhesitatedwithmycupof7UPhalfwaytomymouth.“Whatwasitlike?”
Lynnshrugged.“Gnarly.ButIthinkColby’sgoingtokissme.”
Weallpausedtodrinkthatin.Beingkissedbyahighschoolboy.Imagine.Itookaswallowofmypop,certainitwaswhatchampagnetastedlike.
“Anyhow,”Lynnfinished,“mydadsaysthatConnellyisahomo,andhe’sprobablythepeepershowinghisdingdongtogirls.”
The7UPwentdowntoofast,thecarbonationburningmynose.“Thatdoesn’tmakeanysense,”Isaid.“Ifhe’sahomo,whywouldhegotogirls’windows?”
Lynnturnedonme.“Thenit’sprobablysomeonewhogoestoyourdad’sparties.Somesexmaniac.”
Everyonewasstaringatme.Iwasstucktothecarpetwithnoideawhattosay.Ithadbeenstupidtocomehere.I’devenwipedoutwhileroller-skatingandburnedtheskinrightoffbothknees.IconsideredcallingMomtopickmeupearly,butthenLynn’dneverinvitemeback.
“Hey,Iknow!”Heidisaid,savingme.“Let’sgopeeponthepeeper!”
Barbflinched.“Whatdoyoumean?”
Lynnputittogetherfirst.“Yeah!Let’sgospyonMr.Connelly!”
IglancedattheVCRclock.Itwas8:27p.m.“Dowehavetimetogetbackbeforecurfew?”
“Betterhopewedo,”Lynnsaidwickedly.“OrChestertheMolestermightnabyou.”
CHAPTER30
Thesunwasdroppingintotheplateoftheearth,theduskvelvetagainstourskin.Townhadadifferenttenorthanthecountry,lesswildandfrogsong,moremuffledslammingofdoorsanddistantconversations,almostlikesoundcameatusthroughatunnel.Ifelthuggedtoknowthereweresomanypeoplearound,toseelightsoninhousesandknowpeoplewerethere,livingsafelives,watchingTVandeatingpopcornandbeingnormal,readytoofferusacupofsugarifweneededit.Ibreathedinthedeliciousscentofsomeone’sgrillandsettledintomylimbs.Itfeltsogoodtobeoutinthenightwithotherpeople.
“Ican’tbelievewe’redoingthis!”Lynntrilled.
“Mydad’sgoingtokillme,”Andreasaid.
Ourgangoffivekepttothealleyways.Westayedclosetogarbagecans,flattenedourselvesagainstthesidesofgaragesàlaCharlie’sAngels,evenpointedourfingerslikefakeguns.Whenourlaughtergrewtooloud,Lynnwouldshushus.
“Hishouseisoverthere,”Lynnsaid,pointingacrosstheopenexpanseofMillStreettowardthebackofatoweringwhitehousewithblackshutters.“Hestillliveswithhisparents.”
IknewConnellyhadn’tdoneanythingwrong.Itwasn’tinhim.
“Ohgawd,shootmeifI’mstilllivingwithmymomanddadafterhighschool,”Heidisaid.
Itwasalmostfulldark.Adark-coloredcar,maybegreen,turneddownMillStreetwithitsheadlightson.Wesquealedanddovebehindalilacbush.
“Connellyismyfavoriteteacher,”Iconfessedastheothergirls’warmbodiespressedintomine,ahumancoatagainstthetoothlesscoolofaMaynight.ItwasthefirsttimeI’ddroppedtheMr.whensayinghisname.
Lynnrolledhereyes;Icouldhearitinthetoneofhervoice.“He’sfine.Don’tyouthinkhedressesalittletoofruity,though?”
“Ilikehowhedresses,”Barbsaid.
Myheartswelled,andhercouragegavememine.“I’llruntohishouseandtouchit.”
ThesharpintakesofbreathtoldmeI’dsaidtherightthing.Thefiveofuswerejoinedinthatmoment,girlsimpossiblystrongagainsttheworld.Nothingcouldhurtus.
“Yousure?”Lynnasked.
“Youdon’thavetodoit,”Andreasaid,buthereyesgleaminginthereflectionofayardlighttoldmeotherwise.
“You’resobrave,”Barbsaid,squeezingmyhand.
“Ihaveabetteridea.”Lynnsurveyedthedistancefromourhidingplacetotheimposingwhitehouselikeageneralmappingacombatmission.“Ratherthanonlytouchhishouse,graboneoftheflowersnearthedoor.That’llbeyourbattleprize.”
“Okay.”
Istoodandflexedmylegs,gaugingthedistance.Awindrustledthetreetops.Theirritatedleavessoundedlikehandsrubbingtogether.Icouldstillsmellthescentofacharcoalgrill.Iglancedleftandthenright.Apepperingoflightstwinkledinsidethehouses,reassuring.TheConnellyhousewasdark.Anowlhooted,lowandlonely.Goosebumpstickledthewholelengthofme.IknewIwassmiling,oratleastthatmyteethwerevisible.I’dneverfeltsoinmybody
“Now!”Lynnwhispered.
Itookoff.TinypebblesskitteredacrossthestreetasIkickedthemfree,mytenniespumpingfast,makingasoftclompclompastheypoundedacrossMillStreet.Connelly’shouseseemedtoswellasInearedit.Acarrumbledpasttheendoftheroadandmypulseleaped,buttherewasnostoppingme.MyrightfootlandedonthetrimmedgrassofConnelly’syard.Theearthfeltaliveundermyfeet.
Theowlquestionedagain,andIkeptrunning.
AlightflickedoninsidetheConnellyhouse.Iheardthelilacbushshriekbehindme,butIcouldn’tstop,notwhentheflowerswereonlyfeetaway.Thewindpickeduponthetreetops,shiveringdownthebark,thatdry,raspingskin-on-skinsoundevenlouder.Iwasalmostthere.Ireachedout,towardtheflowers—peonies,Ithought,buttheyweren’t.Itwasarosebush,itsstemsstuddedwithwickedspikes.
Thecurfewsiren’skeeningstartedasmyhandscurledaroundthestem,itsthornspuncturingmyflesh.Sweatbrokeoutalongmybrow,andIpushedthroughthepaintotwistthatroseoffitsbase.NowaywasIgoingbackempty-handed.IthoughtIheardyelling,butitwasimpossibletoseparatefromtheshriekofthesiren,whichwasrisingtoaterrifyingcrescendo.
eeeeeeeEEEEEEEEE
Thepricksoftherosegrewhot,andtheflowermeldedwithmyhand.IriskedaglanceinsideConnelly’swindoweventhoughIwassoexposed,eventhoughIhadtoperchonmytippy-toestoseeinanditwouldslowdownmyescape.I’mnotsurewhatmademedoit.Maybesomemovementontheinsidecaughtmyattention,ormycuriositywassimplytooloud,orIwantedmoretoembellishmystorywith
IexpectedtoseeConnellydippingintohisfridge,wearingarobe.
Orsittingatthekitchentablewithhisdad,talkingabouthismomrecentlyhomefromthehospital,becausehadn’tMrs.Puglisisaidshe’dhadaheartattack?
Thatwouldhavemadesense.
ButClaminsidethathouse,Mr.Connelly’shandsonhisshoulders?
Thatdidn’tfitinmyhead.
Iblinkedatitonce,twice.
Icouldn’tseeeitheroftheirfaces,notclearly,atleast,that’swhatItoldmyself.
ThenIturnedandranbacktothelilacbush,thesirenamagneticforcethatpushedmetowardsafety.AllfourgirlspattedmeonthebackwhenIreachedthem,invitedmeintotheirexultantbubble,andweranasonebacktoLynn’shouse,hotblooddrippingfrommyfingertipsandontotherosebud.
CHAPTER31
Ididn’ttell.
Icouldn’t,notonMr.Connelly.
Whentheyasked,IsaidIhadn’tseenanyoneinthekitchen.
Notasingleperson.
I’dkeptmyhandmostlyhiddenattheparty,rinsingitoffassoonaswemadeitbacktoLynn’s.Ihadtowashthebloodofftherosestem,too.Thepuncturemarksweredeep,sotheydidn’tbleedmuchafterthefirstspurt.Momspottedthemassoonshepickedmeupinthemorning.
“Whathappened?”
“Ipluckedarose,”Isaid,cradlingmyhandtomychest.“Thoughtitwasapeony.”
Shestudiedmeforamoment,hertiredeyesdartingtotheStrahanhouseandthenbacktome.She’ddroppedSephieoffatsummerschoolbeforeswingingbytopickmeup.Shesighedandthenputthevanintofirstgear.Wedidn’ttalkuntilwereachedhome,whereshemarchedmetothebathroomandpulledabottleofhydrogenperoxideandapotofhomemadesalveoutofthecupboard.
“Notagoodweekformygirls.”
Ididn’tcrywhenshedousedthethreeperfectcirclesinmypalmwiththeperoxide,notevenwhenitsankdeepintomybones,jarringthem,beforebubblingbacktothesurface,pinkfrommymarrow.Ididn’tflinchwhenshegrabbedmyfingers,gently,andheldthemunderastreamofwarmwaterthatpooledintheholes.Ididsighwhensheopenedthepotofsalve,thetextureofVaseline,amurkyambercolorthatsmelledlikeroadtarandherbs.
Shefilledintheholeswiththesalveandithealedme,huntingthepainupmyarm,herdingitbacktowardtheopeningsandoutofmybody.Shewrappedgauzethreetimesaroundmyhandandpattedmeonthearm.IwantedtotellhersobadwhatI’dseenlastnight.She’dknowwhattodo.IhadmymouthopentoratoutMr.Connellywhenshesurprisedme.
“Thetrickoflife,”shesaid,“isthatyoucan’tholdthepainfortoolong.Themagic,either.”
Itwasthefirsttimeshe’dremindedmeofJin,andIhuggedherthen,snugglingintothewarmcrookofhernecklikeIusedtodowhenIwaslittle.Momstiffened,butshedidn’tpushmeaway.
That’showDadfoundus.
Hewasinamood.Itprecededhimintoaroom,liquidanddangerous.“Isupposethismeanswe’renotbutcheringtherestofthechickenstoday.”
Ikeptmygroantomyself.Thereshouldn’tbeanymorechickenstobutcher,notthisseason,butsometimesafteraparty,Dadneededtoclearthingsout.Morepathsinthewoods,farmcatsdrivenuptheroadanddroppedoff,bagsofgarbagehauledtothedump,thelayinghensculled.
Mom’svoicesoundedstrained.“Herhandhastohealbeforeshecangetitwet.”
Dadfrowned.He’dbroughtthehatchetwithhimintothehouse,anditlookedangryandoutofplace.“I’llfinddryworkforher,then.Comeon,Cassie.We’llclearatrail.”
IglancedatMom,hopingshe’dvolunteertojoinusor,betteryet,standupformeandtellhimIneededtorestforaday.Sheturnedaway.Itrudgedupstairstochangeintoworkclothesbeforeheadingintothemuggymorning.AllevidenceofSaturday’spartywasgone.IwantedtoaskDadwhatsortofmoodSephiehadbeeninbeforesheleftforsummerschoolthismorning,butheandIdidn’ttalklikethat.Hejabbedhisfingertowardamoundofsticks.Hewanteditbroughttotheburnpile.
Iobeyed,haulingthetwigsandthenreturningformore,gatheringtheoakandelmbrancheshewashackingoffacopseofoldtrees,enoughsohecouldtakeachainsawtotheirbaseswithoutbeingpoked.Luggingbrancheswasslowgoingwithonlyonehand,butIwarmedtotheworkasthelemonsunstretchedacrossthesky.Itwaswaybetterthanbutchering,evenifDadsmelledlikechickensoupwhenheperspired.He’dremovedhisshirt,andIcouldseerivuletsofsweatrollingoffhim.Thebluebandannatiedaroundhisheadkeptitfromdrippinginhiseyes,butitcourseddownhisback,hangingindropletsfromhisarmpithairwhenheheftedlogsasbigashistorso.
Weworkedasthesuncrawleditshoteyetothetopoftheworldandpouredlavadownuponus.Hefinallyletmebreakforwaterateleven.Idrankfromthehose,notmindingthegassyflavor.Iranitovermyhead,downmyback,swallowedicyliquidthecolorofquicksilver.WhenIwascooledoff,Ireturnedtoourworksitebutcouldn’tfindDad.Hewasn’tonthebacktrail,either.
Itwastoohottosearchtherestoftheproperty.Iwrungoutthehemofmyclothesone-handedsoIwouldn’tdriphosewaterandwalkedintothehousetoaskMomifsheknewwherehewas.Iwascarefulnottobangthescreendoorandstoodintheporchforamomenttolisten.IfiguredI’dfindMominthekitchengettingtheweek’sbakingdone,butshemightbeworkingononeofthesewingprojectsshetooktostretchherteachingsalary.
“Noone.”
Istoodstraight,myearsatattention.Unbelievably,Dadwasonthephone.
“Idon’twanttodiscussprice.”Hisvoicegrewagitated.“No.”
Apauseonhisendoftheline,thenhespokeagain,hisvoicestrunglikerazorwire.“Inthebasement.YouthinkI’mstupid?”
Iwastrappedbetweensteppingforwardandgoingback.BeforeIcouldmakeupmymind,thephonecrasheddownandDadstormedintotheporch,hiseyesonfire,hishandsclenchedintofists.“Howmuchofthatdidyouhear?”
Iopenedmymouthandthenclosedit.
“Nevermind.Let’sgetbacktowork.”
Ifollowedhim,numb.IspottedMominthechickencoopaswepassed,goinginwithapitchforkandsomefreshhay.Shewascleaningitcompletely,theworstjobintheworld.Thechickenswouldscreamandflaptheirwings,scaringupdriedchickenpoopandhaydust.She’dhavetohauloutthedryaswellasthewethay,soggiestunderthewatererandaroundthefood,wherethehenspoopedastheyate.Itsmelledliketemperapaintinthere,butdirtier.Usually,cleaningitoutwasmeandSephie’sjob.Mommustbedoingitbecauseofmyhand.
Ihungmyhead.
Daddidn’tacknowledgeMomaswepassed,didn’tspeakasweworked.Ifeltinvisibletohim,whichwasthebestwaytobe,inmybook.IwasthinkingaboutLynn’sbedroom.Shehadalock,andshewassafeinthere.Shegottosleepontopofhermattress,notunderitorinhercloset.
Iwantedthat.
ItwasdangeroustotalktoDadwhenhewaslikethis,though.Heworehisangerlikeknives,andyoudidn’twantthemaimedatyou.Therewasasweetspotwhenhefirststarteddrinkingwherehe’ddropthatarmor.Itwasasmallwindow,maybehalfanhourwhereheforgoteverythinghe’dbeencheatedof.He’dtalkabouttripswe’dtakeorhowhewasimmortalbecausehehadmeandSephieandhelovedus.Icouldmakehimlaughinthatwindow.HiseyeswouldcrinkleupandhismouthwouldopensowideIcouldseethespacesleftbytheteeththey’dpulledinhighschoolbecausehismomcouldn’taffordtofillthecavities.IpuffeduptotwicemysizewhenIgothimtosmile.
Weweren’tinthathoneyholenow,butitmustlivesomewhereinsidehim,always.Itdidn’tmatterifIhitit,anyhow.I’dmadeupmymind.IwoulddemandthesamesafetyasLynn,nomatterDad’smood.Isetmyshouldersandclearedmythroat.
“Iwantalockonmybedroomdoor.”
Dadpausedonlylongenoughtosneerbeforeswinginghisaxintothetree.Thesmellofpineoozedout,thelonefirinalineofhardwoods.“IfIwantedtogetintoyourroom,I’djustbreakitdown.”
Ifellintothecottonofmyself,shrinking.“It’smyroom.”
Heswungtheaxagain,laceratingthewood.Hewouldpushbackthatjungle,insertingtrails,forcingsightlines,hackingofflowbranchesthatweptgarnetsap.Hewouldremoveanylickofwildjunglefromourwoods,onetreeatatime,andputuptripwiresthatwouldlethimknowifhisterritoryhadbeenbreached.Hewalkedthisworldfullybarricadedinsidehimself,andwewereallhisenemies.Me,Mom,Sephie,thebrambleandbrush.
Theaxroseandfell,roseandfell,mashingleavesandbright,earthypulpalike,thewetwoodresistingandthenfinallygivingintohisrelentlesspunishment.
Ineverbroughtupthelockagain.
CHAPTER32
Ihadn’tknownIwasgoingtovisitFrankuntilDad,Mom,andItookourlunchbreakunderthebasswoodtree,buttheimpulsefeltrighttheseconditappeared.WeneededtoinvestigatewhatwashappeningtotheHollowboys.Nobodyshouldhavetoliveinfearallthetime,notevenboysfromthewrongsideofthetracks.Iwolfeddownmyfoodandexcusedmyselftousethebathroom.MomandDadwouldbedoneeatingsoon,butifIcalledFrankimmediately,IcouldseeifhewasfreebeforeDadtrompedinside.
IrantomyroomtograbFrank’snumberandchargeddownthestairs,takingthebottomthreeallatonce.Islippedthephonefromthehandsetanddialedthefourdigits.IhadastraightviewofDadfromhere.HeleanedovertokissMom,allthedirtydishesbalancedinonehand.Hewasbeingcrankywithme,butatleastnowhewaslovey-doveywithher.
“Hello?”
“Hi,Frank!It’sCassie.Hey,doyouwanttogobikingtoday?”
“Can’t.Ihavechores.”
“Howabouttomorrow?”
DadstoppedkissingMomandbeganstridingtowardthehouse,chewingupthelawnwithhiswidesteps.
Frankwastakingtoolongtoanswer.
“Myparentsdon’twantmetogooutatnight,”hefinallysaid.
Thescreendoorsquawked.Dadsteppedintothesunporch.
“Itwouldn’tbeatnight.It’dbeduringtheday.”
“Maybe…”
FourmoresecondsandDadwouldbestandinginthekitchen,glaringatme,askingwhoIwastalkingto,tellingmeIcouldn’tgoassoonasheknewitwasaboy.
“Great!I’llstopbytomorrowandwecanworkoutthedetails.”IslammedthephoneintothehandsetjustasDadappeared.
“Whowasthat?”
“Mr.Connellyaskedmetohelpsellpopcornforthebandtrip,”Ilied,sortof.“CanIgotomorrow?”
Hestudiedme,sniffingtheair.“Ifyougetyourchoresdonefirst.”
“I’llgetupearlyforthat.Thanks,Dad!”Iwhiskedaroundhimbeforehechangedhismind.“Ibettergetbacktowork.Meetyoubythetrail.”
“Stop.”
Myskingrewitchy.Iturnedtofacehim.Hewasinspectingme,hiseyessharp.“We’vedoneenoughworkfortheday.”
Istoodinhiscrosshairs,notspeaking.
“Yourinseoffanddothedishes.YourmomandIarerunningtotheliquorstore.We’llpickupyoursisteronourwayback.”Therewasnothingonthesurfaceofhiswords,butamonsterragedbelow.
Inodded.Somethingmusthavehappenedattheparty,somethingevenworsethantheusualstuff.DadgrabbedashirtandtheVWkeys.HesteppedbackintothesunshineandtookMom’shand.Itwasn’tuntilthevanpulledoffthedrivewaythatmyskinstoppedprickling.
That’swhenIrealizedIhadthehousetomyself!Thathardlyeverhappened.Ihurriedthroughthedishes,wonderingifI’dhavetimetodrinksunteaandreadtheFlowersintheAtticbookI’dfinallygottentothetopofthelibrarywaitinglistfor.
Iscratchedatamosquitobiteandsniffedmyarmpit.It’dbeenacoupledayssinceI’dshowered.IfiguredI’dbettertakecareofthatfirst.Iranintomyroomtograbmyfavoritewhitesundress,theonewiththeredandnavy-bluedetailatthehem.Ialwaysbroughtclothesintotheshowerwithme.Intelevisionshows,Isawgirlswalkfromthebathroomtotheirbedroomwearingjustatowel.Thiswasn’tthekindofhousewhereyoucoulddothat.
Insidethebathroom,IlockedthedooreventhoughIwastheonlyonehome.Aleafwasstickingoutofmyhair.Ituggeditloose,tosseditintothegarbage,andundidmyhairtiesbeforefreeingmybraids.OurwaterwassohardthatIneededtobrushmyhairbeforetheshowerbecausethere’dbenogettingacombthroughitwet.
Idroppedontothetoilettopee,lettingmyshortsandunderpantsslidetomyankles.IcheckedmyunderwearforaspotofbloodlikeIalwaysdid.Nothingbuttheshadowofagoodold-fashionedskidmarktowardtherear.Ipointedmytoesandmybottomsfelltothefloor.IslidoutofmyCoca-ColaT-shirtandpaddedtowardtheshower.
ThefaucetssquawkedwhenIturnedthem,andthegassysmellofhardwatercrowdedmynostrils.Whenthetemperaturewasjustsouthofwarm,Isteppedin,lettingthewaterspattermyfacebeforestickingmyheadunderneath,holdingmywoundedhandoutontheothersideoftheshowerdoor.Thewaterdrummedonmyneck.I’dcreatedaprotectedspotovermyboobs.Icuppedthemwithmygoodhandtofeelifthey’dgrown.Theboysonthebussaidmorethanahandfulwasawaste,butIdidn’tknowwhosehandtheyweretalkingabout.
IeyedMom’sblack-handledrazor.She’dforbiddenmefromshavinguntilhighschool.Shesaidtherewasnohurrytogrowupandthatmybodynaturallyhadhair,andthat’saboutwhenI’dstoppedlistening.Sephiehadstartedshavinglastsummer,andherlegswerecurvyandcreamyperfect.MaybeIcouldjustshavemineuphigh,whereMomwouldn’tevennoticeaslongassheneversawmeinaswimsuit.Shehardlyevertookusswimminganyways.
Igrippedtherazor.Thefirstsweepofthebladewashighlysatisfying.Itcarvedacleanpathrightthroughmylong,darkthighhair.Withinminutes,Ihadawholequarterofalegclean-shaven.Itwouldbecrazytostop.
Ileanedovertohaveagoattherest.
That’swhenIheardthechopperoverhead.Mystomachdropped.TherewasanarmybasebySt.Cloud,buttheynevercameoutthisfar.Ihopedthehelicopterinthesepartsdidn’tmeananotherboyhadbeenattacked,aboywholivednearby.
AboylikeFrank.
Ishookmyhead.Frankwassafe.Wewerecountrykids.
Ipositionedtheshaverheadovermyleftankle’souterknob.Ipushedinandswicked,justlikeI’ddonewithmythigh.Iwastwoinchesupmycalfbeforethebloodstarted,ashockofredagainstnewlyskinnedmuscle.Itdidn’thurtuntilthewaterhitit,andthenitwasthepurestpainI’deverexperienced.Ijumpedoutofthewaterstream.Bloodgushedfrommyankle.Therazorheldaribbonoffleshaslongasmypinkiefinger.Itappedtheshaveronthesideofthetubuntiltheskincamelooseandwasheddownthedrain.Thebloodwasstillflowing,aviolentredatmyankle,shark-waterpinkasitnearedthedrain.
Whywasn’titstopping?
IbegantoworryI’dbleedoutandDadwouldfindmenakedintheshower.ItwistedoffthefaucetsandleanedasfaroutofthetubasIcoulduntilmyfingersjustbarelygrazedtheedgeofthetoiletpaper.Imanagedtopullittowardme,closeenoughtograbawadthatIshovedatmyankle.JeezLouisedidIwishSephiewereheresoIcouldaskherwhattodo.Imightneedabloodtransfusionbeforethehourwasout.
Sephie.
Istilldidn’tknowwhereshe’dgonethenightoftheparty.
CHAPTER33
“Sephie?”
Shehadn’twantedtotalkyesterdayafternoonwhenMomandDadbroughtherbackaftertheirliquor-storerun.Saidshehadtostudy.Expressedzerointerestinmyshavingtrauma.Closedherselfinherroomuntilsuppertime,camedowntoeatandcleanup,andthenstraightbackshewent.
I’dhadtheworstdreamsinmyclosetafterward,allhauntedwoodsandgrabbinghands.Icouldn’tstandanothernightofthatandsetmyalarmsoI’dbeuptodaysametimeasher.Istoodoutsidethebathroom,handsonhips,myvoicelowbecauseMomandDadwerestillasleep.Iheardwaterrunning,andthenthesoundofherspitting.
“What?”shefinallysaid.
“How’ssummerschool?”
Sheyankedopenthedoor.Herfacewasbulgywithsleep.“Itoldyouyesterday.It’sfine.”
“I’mbikingwithFranktoday.Maybewecanstopbytheschoolandsayhitoyou.”
Shetossedashoulder.“Whatever.”
Ireachedtowardherbutstoppedshortoftouchingher.“WheredidyougothenightofDad’sparty?”
Thereitwas,finallysaidoutloud.Hereyesslidsideways.Ididn’tknowwhatIsawinthem.Guilt?Fear?Shewalkedtowardthebathroommirror,andIfollowed.“Iwenttobed.”
“No,youdidn’t.Icheckedthere.ThenIwalkedallthetrails.”
Shepulledabrushthroughherlonghair,watchingherselfinthemirror.Herlipsappearedswollen,thebagsunderhereyesdarkasbruises.“Didyoucomebacktomyroomafteryouwalkedthetrails?”
“No.”
Theshuttersdroppedfromherface,andshewassuddenlymySephieagain.“Thenyoujustmissedme,silly!Iwasonthetrailsmyself,checkingforgarbage,andthenIwenttobed.”
Isearchedherargumentforaholebutcouldn’tfindone.Thatdidn’tchangethefactthatshewasstraight-uplying.“Ithinkoneofthefarmcatshadalitter.Wanttohelpmelookforthemlater?”
“Sure.Maybe.”Shebeganclosingthedooronme.“Ineedsomeprivacy,Cass.Ihavetogetready.”
Istoodatthecloseddoorforafullminute,staringatthepaintedwood,wonderingwheremysisterhadgone.Shestillhadn’tevenaskedaboutmybandagedhand.Alittlesolidpartofmebrokeloose.
“Idon’tthinkyourdadlikesme,”Isaid.
FrankwaspuffingupahillonhisHutchBMX,theprettiestbikeI’deverseen.Ifadragon-slayingknightrodeano-speed,it’dbeaHutchwiththatsparklingchromeframe,thejackofspadeswedgedthroughthespokesmakingitsoundlikearoulettewheelashebiked.Hetoldmehisparentshadboughtitsohedidn’tfeelsobadaboutmovingouttotheboondocks.Ithoughtthatwasafairdeal,eventhoughthebikewasn’tmadeforthemonsterhillyouhadtolaboruptoenterLilydale,nomatterwhichdirectionyouwerecomingfrom.
“Heactslikethatwitheveryone,”Franksaid,standingtopedal,thelastresortofthepersonabouttowalktheirbike.
“Yourmomseemedhappytoseeme.”
Frankdismountedandsteeredhisbiketothesideofthetar,hisfaceflushedbytheearly-afternoonsun.I’dcaughthimandhisdadonalunchbreakfromworkinginthefield.Hisdadhadn’twantedFranktoleavewithme,buthismomhadinsisted.She’ddoubleddownwhenIexplainedIneededhelpsellingpopcornfornextyear’sbandtrip.
“Yousurecarealotaboutwhatotherpeoplethinkofyou,”Franksaid,panting.
Ihoppedoffmyownbikeandwalkedbehindhim.Iwascarefultoprotectmyhand,thoughthankstothemagicsalve,thepunctureshadalreadyscabbedover.IaddressedthestormofcowlicksonthebackofFrank’shead.“Whywon’tyourparentsletyououtatnight?”
Hestoppedandturnedtolookatmesquare.“Youcan’tbeserious.”
We’dalmostmadeittothetopofthehill.StearnsCountywasspreadoutlikeaquiltoneachsideofus,farmhousesandbarnsplantedinthemiddleofsquarepatchesofcornandsoybeans,LakeCoronainthedistance,sloughsandcreekscurvingthroughthefabric.There’saboutahundredshadesofgreeninaMinnesotasummer,lightlikecelery,deeplikeemeralds.Youwouldn’tthinkonecolorcouldhavesomanydifferentflavors.
Ipuffedupdefensively.“Ifyoumeantheboyswhowereattacked,youdon’tneedtoworry.They’repartofsomeHollowhazinggonewrong.”IrealizedIwasmimickingSergeantBauer’swords.Ididn’tlikethat,soItriedagain.“Orthey’renot,andyouandmecanfindoutwhat’shappening.LiketheA-Teamwould.”
“Hollowhazing?”
IspedupsoIcouldwalkalongsidehim.Theflowerysmellofbloomingtreestickledmynose.“TheHollowistheneighborhoodontheothersideofthetraintracks.It’swherethe—”Istoppedmyselffromsaying“badkids,”just.“It’swheresomeoftherougherboyshangout.”
Frankshruggedandsteppedclosertomeasacarzoomedpast,kickingupgravelfromtheoppositeshoulder.“Whateveritis,mymomdoesn’twantanypartofit.Shereadinthepaperthatkidsaren’tsupposedtobeoutatnight.Andanyhow,boysareweirdinyourtown.”
“It’syourtownnow,too.”Asurgeofheatrushedmychest.Thedeerflieswe’dbeenoutrunningcaughtuptous,hoveringnearourheads.“Whatdoyoumean,‘weird’?”
“Someofthemremindmeofwerewolves.Liketheygotbit,andnowthey’returning.”Hethrewhisheadbackandhowled.
“Stopit!”Isaid,butIwaslaughing.“Hey,wasn’titthesameinyourtown?Withboysbeingtaken?”
Heshrugged.“Isuppose.Myparentswerefightingalotthen.That’smostlywhatInoticed.”
Istopped.
Hewentanotherthreefeetbeforehestopped.“What?”heasked,turningtostareatme,squintingagainstthesun.
“Youjusttoldmesomethingaboutyourfamily.”DadwouldbesoangryifIeverdidthat,everspilledsomethingrealaboutourhomelife.
“Yeah?”heasked,waitingformetoexplain.
Ratherthananswerhim,Iletthatwarmthmoveovermyskin,thatfeelingofathreadconnectingmetohim.Frankhadsharedsomethingwithme.I’ddothesame.“Hey,youknowthebandteacher,Mr.Connelly?”
“Yeah?”Franksaidagain.Hehadn’tgottenbackonhisbike,eventhoughwewereatthetopofthehill.
“Twonightsago,Istoppedbyhisplacewithsomefriends.IspottedClaminsidehishouse.Thekidwhowasattacked?”
Frankmadealowwhistle.“YouthinkConnellyattackedhim?”
It’dcrossedmymind.ButhearingthatthoughtcomeoutofFrank’smouth,pastlipsthatdidn’tknowhowawesomeandfriendlyandgoodMr.Connellywas,itsoundedbananas.“Naw,”Isaid.“IthinkhewasprobablytryingtohelpClam.Maybegethimtojoinband.”
IwasgratefulFrankdidn’tquestionthat,becausewhileIdidn’tbelieveMr.ConnellywouldattackClamandtheninvitehimintohishouse,Ialsodidn’tbelieveClamhadstoppedovertotalkabouthisclasses.ItwassomethingI’dneedtoaskClamaboutdirectly.Maybewe’dtrackhimdowntoday.
Wehoppedbackonourbikesandraceddowntheothersideofthehill,yodelingasweglidedintotown.Ithadtakenusthirty-threeminutestobikethefourmiles.Notarecord,butnottheworstever.
“IsthatEvie?”Frankwasstandingonhispedals,coasting,hipcockedtooneside.HepointedhisheadtowardVanderQueenPark.
Ishadedmyface.“Lookslike.”
Twootherkidsplayednearby,oneswingingnexttoEvieandtheotherontheslide.Ididn’tknowiftheyweretogetheronpurposeorhadsimplyfoundthemselvesattheparkatthesametime.“Theothertwogirlsaregoingtobeinyourgradeinthefall.Ican’tremembertheirnames.”
“Noboysout,”heobserved.
“It’searly,”Isaid,justtosaysomething.“Takearighthere.ThatwhitehouseisMr.Connelly’s.”
Frankshotmealook.
“Iwanttocheckinaboutthepopcornsales.Youremembermetalkingaboutthat.”
BecauseIhadthepopcornbrochureincludingtheorderform,therewasn’treallyareasonforustostopbyMr.Connelly’s.IguessIneededtoseehiminthelightwasall.Ihadn’tthoughttocallahead,though,andsowhenanotherguysteppedoutsideofMr.Connelly’sbackdoor,rightnexttothosesavagerosebushes,andMr.Connellygavehimahugbeforesendinghimonhisway,IblushedasifI’djustwalkedintoMr.Connelly’sownbedroomuninvited.
Mr.Connellystillworeasmileashisfrienddroveawayandhiseyeslandedonmine.“Cassandra?”
“Hi,Mr.Connelly!”Iholleredbeforebikinguphisdriveway.“ThisismyfriendFrank.”Myvoicewastooloud.
Mr.ConnellystoodtherelikeitwasthemostnormalthingintheworldthatIwasherewithastrangerandyellingathim.
“Nicetomeetyou,Frank,”Mr.ConnellysaidwhenFrankdismountedandwalkedupthesidewalk.“That’sabeautifulbikeyouhavethere.”
Frankpuffeduplikeabirdinabath.“Thankyou.”
Mr.Connellysmiled.“Andwhatschooldoyougoto?”
“Lilydalecomefall,”Isaid,insertingmyselfbackintotheconversation.“Buthewasthereforacoupledayslastweek.”
Mr.Connellyheldouthishand.“I’dloveforyoutojoinband.”
AloudscratchingnoisecamefrominsideConnelly’shouse,andhiseyesflashed.Heretractedhishand.“That’smycat.She’ssupposedtobeonadiet,butshemakesmylifemiserableifIdon’tfeedher.”
Ikeptasmilepinnedon.Thathadn’tsoundedlikeacat.IwantedtoaskMr.ConnellyaboutClam,butIcouldn’t,notwithoutexplainingthatIwasano-goodspywho’dpeepedonhim.
“Wouldyouliketocomeinforsomewater?”Mr.Connellyasked,steppingaside.Hesoundedconcerned.
IheldupthebrochurethatI’dtuckedintomywaistband.“Can’t!Wehavepopcorntosell.”
Icouldseeintothehallwaybehindhim.Iwassurprisedtocatchaviewofcrowdedknickknacksstuffedontablesandshelvesbuiltjustforthem,red-cheekedceramiccreatures.Itwasaglimpseofafussyhouse,builtforwalkingthroughratherthanlivingin,withlotstodust.Therewasametronomeattheendofthehallway,ticktockingbackandforth.
Clickclick.Clickclick.
Ipointedatit.“Doyoualwayskeepyourmetronomegoing?”
Heglancedoverhisshoulder,aruefulsmileonhisfacewhenheturnedback.“Onceamusicteacher,alwaysamusicteacher,eveninthesummer.Butno,Idon’talwayshaveiton.JustwarmingitupforGabriel’slesson.Heshouldbebyanyminute.”
Igaspedaudibly.Gabriel.I’msuremycrushwaswrittenonmyfaceinblinkingneon.
“Irememberyouwerethinkingabouttakinglessonshere,too.Theofferstillstands,Cassandra.”
IwantedtohughimrighttherefornotaskingmewhyI’djustgonefull-onnerd.“I’llthinkonit,”Isaid,asifitwereanoption.“WillyoutellGabrielhifromme?”
“Ofcourse,”hesaid,smiling.Acloudscuddedoverthesun,andsuddenlyIcouldn’tseehiseyes.“Andifyoutwoaren’tcomingin,youshouldgettoworksellingthatpopcorn,becauseyoudon’twanttobeoutafterdark.Notthesedays.”
CHAPTER34
Wehittwenty-threeLilydalehouses.Fourteenofthemhadnoonehome,anothersevenhadclaimedtoalreadyhaveboughtpopcornfromsomeoneelse,andtwoplacedordersforthecaramelcorn–cheddarcorn–plaincornblend.Knockingonstrangers’doorshadn’tgottenanyeasier.Feltlikeaskingforahandout.IwasaboutreadytocallitdonewhenFrankaskedabouteating.
“I’mhungry.Whatd’youhaveinyourbackpack?”
Forthefirsttime,Ifeltmucholderthanhim.“Peanutbuttersandwichesandapples.”
“Canwehaveapicnic?”
Thesunwaspulsing,pushingattwoo’clock,curlingmybabyhairswithitshotbreath.“Let’sgodownbythecreek.There’sashortcutoverhere.”Isteeredintoawoodedareaonthewestperimeteroftown.ThepavedroadtomyleftledtoCrowRiverParkinaroundaboutway,butthepaththroughthewoodsleddirectlytothecreek.LilydaleElementaryandMiddleSchoolhelditsMayDayPlayDaypicnicthereeveryyear.Weweren’tallowedtoswimatthatpicnic,buttodaywassohotthatit’dtakeaherdofhorsestokeepmeoutofthewater.
Tree-greenedsunraysdappledtheforestfloorasIbouncedalongtheruttedpaththroughthewoods.Wewereinanenchantedland,athickethidingtrollsandmushroomfairies,princesandqueens.IthoughtofjokingthattheMyTimelady’sbathtubwasaroundheresomewhere,butitseemedliketoomuchwork.ThecreekwasathreadofmercurythatIcaughtglimpsesof,butthescentofmovingwaterhitmebeforeafullviewdid,andIyahooed.
Frankechoedtheyell.“Thatwaterisgoingtofeelsogood!”
Idumpedmybikeandbackpackontheriverbankandflewovertheshorereedsandintothecreek.Thewatercametothebottomofmyshorts,deliciouslycool,catchingandreflectingthesun.Myfeetdugintothesand.Iplayedmygoodhandthroughthecurrent,glancingbehindmeforFrank.
Ahugesplashexplodednexttome.
“Ohmygod!”Iyelled,laughing.
Frankbrokethesurfaceandspoutedwateroutofhismouthlikeadolphinfountain.
“Youcannonballed!”
“YoubetterbelieveIdid,”hesaid,flippingsohewasbelly-upandfacingthesun.Hewavedhisarmsandlegslazily,theslowcurrentpullinghimaway.
Isplashedsomewatertowardhisfeet.“Goofball.You’reluckyyoudidn’tscrapethebottom.”
“Idid.”Heheldupafoot,andIsawariverrockhadscoredit,slicingin.Bloodflowedspiderydownhispuckeredwhitefoot.“Worthit.”
Ishookmyhead;thenathoughtexplodedinme.“Weshouldbebloodbrothers!”
Hetwistedhisfootsohecouldpeeratit,nomeanfeatwhilehewasbalancinginthewater.“Wherewouldyourbloodcomefrom?”
Ithoughtofthecontentsofmybackpack.“IpackedaSwissArmyknife.”
Hiseyeswidened.“You’dcutyourself?”
“That’showyou’resupposedtodoit.”Isquinteduptowardthesun.“OrIcouldpickafreshscab.”
Hefellbackintothewater,ladlinghishandsacrossthesurface.Alockofwethairhadfallenacrosshisforehead.“Canyoubebloodbrotherswithscabblood?”
“Bloodisblood,”Isaiddefensively.Iwadedtowardhim,usinghisshouldertobalancesoIcouldpickacorneroftheshavingscabthathaddriedaMorsecodelineuptheoutsideofmyankle.Theskinunderneathwasastartlingwhite,thenflushedwithblood.
Hebroughthisfoottomyshin.Ithinkwemanagedtotouchourbloodspotstogetherbeforetippingover.Wecamebackup,splashing.I’dkeptmypuncturedhandraisedabovewater,thoughitprobablywouldhavebeenfinegettingwet.
“Thatmeanswe’refriendsforever,”Isaid.
Henoddedsolemnly,hisbrownhairwater-slickedtohisface,hisbigseaeyeswideandinnocent.“Betterthanfriends.Bloodbrothers.”
“Frank,”Isaid,beforeIlostmycourage,“whatwouldyoudoifyoufoundoutyourdadwasacriminal?”
Frankcockedhishead.“Whatkindofcriminal?”
“Someonewhohurtspeople.”
“I’dturnhimin,”Franksaid,nohesitation.
Somethingbrushedagainstmyleg,andIjumped.“I’mgoingtomoveourbikestothebeachandsetuplunch.”
Itrudgedtowardtheshore,grabbingatuftoftallgrassonthebankandusingittopullmyselfup.IblametheheightofthegrassfornotbeingabletoseeClamuntilwewerenearlyeyetoeye.
Mybreathfrozeinmythroat.
Hisposturewaspredatory,hiseyesthesame.Hisbearingremindedmeexactlyofbeingtrappedintheinstrumentroomwithhim,exceptthistimeIwasn’talone.IhadFrank.
“Areyouswimminginourriver,countrymouse?”
Ialmostcouldn’thearhimoverthepoundingofmyheartbeat.“It’sapublicriver.”
RickyTinkandWayneJohnsonappearedathisshoulders.Rickywaswearingevenmorebandagesthanusual.Hiswartsmustsweatinthesummer.Waynewassmirking.
“Howdoyoufeelaboutpublicnudity?”Clamasked.AtleastitlookedlikeClam,butjustlikeinthebandroom,itwasn’treallyhim.IthoughtofwhatFrankhadsaidabouttheboysherebeinglikewerewolves.WereRickyandWaynechanged,too?
“IsawyouatMr.Connelly’stheothernight,”Isaid,thewordscomingoutfast.
RickyandWaynedidadoubletake.
“What?”Clamsaid.“That’sstupid.”
Hewassoconfident,IwonderedifI’dimaginedit.ButIhadn’t.He’dbeenthere.I’dseenonlythesideofhisface,butit’dbeenClamforsure.“Whatwereyoudoingthere?”
Somethingclenchedbehindhiseyes.“IsaidIwasn’tthere.”
“What’dhelooklike,Clam?”Iasked.“Themanwhoattackedyou.”
Waynegasped.Clamwaslookingatmelikehe’dalreadykilledmeeverywhichwaybutWednesdayandwasdecidingwhattodowithmybones.
IsteppedbackfromtheforceofClam’srage.Myheartwastryingtobeatitswayoutofmychest.Isearchedforthepulseatmyneck,genuinelyafraidIwasgoingtodieofaheartattack.
“Thatscarofyours,”Clamsaid,pointingatit.“Wasitbecausesomeonetriedtohangyou?”
“Youknowshewasbornwithit,”Rickysaid.
Rickysoundednormal,likehewasstandingupforme.Relieffloodedmybody.
Frankstoodupinthewaterbehindme.“Cassie?”
“Wellnow,who’syourfriend?”Clamwalkedtothesideofthebankandheldouthishand,aregularol’gentleman.
“Don’ttakeit,”Iyelled.IwantedtoturnandhelpFrankmyself,butnowaywasIshowingmybacktoWayneandRickyuntilIwassurewhosesidetheywerestickingon.
“Holyshit,lookitthisbike!”RickystrodeovertoFrank’sBMX.Hetippeditupandstraddledit,raisingthefrontwheelinamockwheelie.“Yee-haw!”
“Hey,that’smine!”FranklaunchedhimselfoutofthewaterandtowardRickybutstoppedjustshyofhim,likeRickywassurroundedbyaforcefield.OneofRicky’sBand-Aidshadcomeloose,anditwashangingoverFrank’shandlebar.
Waynehooted.Clamsteppedclosertomeandputhisfingeronmyscar,tracingit.Histouchburned.Hehadsomethinggreeninhisteethandsmelledchickensoupy,likemydadafterahardday’swork.
“Areyoulikeyoursister?”heasked.
“What?”Ispattheword.
Clamchuckled.Itwasadirty,scrapingsound.“I’mwonderingifyou’relikeSephie.Ifyoulikechipslikeshedoes.HerfavoritebrandisFree-to-Lay.”
RickyandWaynematchedhislaugh.
“Yeah!”Waynesaid.“SephieiseasylikeSundaymorning!”
Acoldnessovercameme,beginningatmyfeetandcrawlinglikesludgethroughmyveins.Somethingabouttheirlaugh,theirwords,mademeachinglylonely,fearreplacedwithdesolation.Icouldn’tescapethem,therewasnoway.Iwasagirlagainstthreeboys,andIhadFranktoprotecttoboot.Mybraintoldmetogotosleep,togetwhateverwasgonnahappenoverwithquick.ImighthaverolledifClamhadn’tflickedmyleftbreast.
“Mustabeenamosquitothere.”Clamflickedagain.“Lookslikeitbityou!”
RickyandWaynewerecrowdingin,Isawitoutofthecornersofmyeyes,butIdidn’tcare,notanymore.I’dletClamtouchmyneck,buthishandonmyboobwastoopersonal.Icouldfeelthepoisonofitleachingintomyskin,thenmymuscles,andifIdidn’tpouritallbackonhim,it’dsetuppermanentlyinmybones.
IlaunchedmyselfatClam,yellingandscratchingandkicking,mylimbsmovingsofastthattheywereablureventome.Ifelthisfleshcollectingundermyfingernails,anditspurredmetofightharder.SomeonegrabbedmeatthewaistandIgotlucky,connectingmyelbowwithhisjaw.
Iwasdropped,andIturnedtoseeitwasWaynewho’dgrabbedme,hiseyeswide,hishandtohisbleedingmouth.IturnedbacktoClam,spitting,andsawthesameexpressionofdisbeliefplasteredonhisface.TheirsurprisedexpressionswouldhavebeencomicalifIweren’tsoterrified.
“Run,Frank!”
Hewasstaringatmefromtheriverbank,slack-jawed,appearingclosertofiveyearsthaneleven,buthewasasmartkidatanyage,andhejumpedonhischromeBMXandspeed-pedaledaheadofme,upthehillandoutofthewoods.Igrabbedmybackpackandflewontomyownbike,pedalinglikemylifedependedonit,bikingawayfromthehorriblethingsClamandWaynewereyellingthatthey’ddotomewhentheycaughtme.
CHAPTER35
“YoufoughtlikeIsis!”
I’dcaughtanepisodeoftheshowatmygrandparents’twosummersago.BeautifulscienceteacherAndreaThomasdiscoveredtheTutmoseamuletonanEgyptiandig.WhensheexposedittothesunlightandinvokedIsis,shewasendowedwithmagicalpowers.ItwasgoodTV.
“Butyourhand’sbleeding,”hefinished.
Iglanceddownatmyhandlebars.Thegauzeovermypuncturedhandwasspeckledwithred.“That’snotmyblood.”
Frankbarkedalaugh.“Youreallygavehimthewhatfor.”
Theadrenalinewasfading,leavingagraysensation.Iriskedmyfirstglancebehind.Clam,Wayne,andRickyhadn’tfollowed.MykneeswentwobblyasIreleasedthelastofmyfightjuice.“Let’sturnonthegravel.”
“Surething,”Franksaid.“Man,youwentathim.Why’dyoufightsohard?”
“Let’ssellatafewofthesehouses,”Isaid,steeringmybikeintothefirstdrivewayoffthetar.Ididn’twanttotalkaboutwhathadhappenedatthecreeklikeFrankdid.Ifeltprideandshame,andIdidn’tknowwheretostorethat.
“Okay.”FrankwasaschipperasakidattheDQ.Hestayedthatwayaswemeanderedourwayhome,bikingdownoccasionaldriveways,catchingfarmersontheirwaytothebarnorhousewiveshangingthelaundry.ImadefivemoresalesbeforeIwasreadytotalk.
“Youwererightabouttheboysherebeingwerewolves.”
“Itoldyou!”WewereamilefromFrank’shouse,twomilesfrommine,onasideroadmybuspassedbybutneverwentdown.We’dagreedtostopatonemorehousebeforegoingourseparatewaysfortheday.
“They’vebeenbit,”Frankcontinued,“andnowtheywanttobiteyou.Itriedtotellmydad,buthesaidthat’sjusthowboysare.”
“You’renotlikethat,”Isaid.
Frankshruggedandpedaledahead.“There’sonlyonehousedownhere,”hecalledback.“Itdoesn’tlooklikeanyone’shome.Wanttocheckitout?”
Icaughtupandthenpassedhimdownthedriveway.Theplaceusedtobeafarm,itlookedlike,thelayoutthesameasmyparents’placeandFrank’s.Itheldacrumblingbarn,asilocoveredinvines,andaredoutbuildingthatwasmaintainedandprobablyusedasaworkshop.Ididn’tseeacarinthedriveway,butthehousecouldhavebeenblockingit.Ibikedfarther,hearingthecomfortablecrunchofFrank’stiresbehindme.
IwasfullyaroundthehousebeforeIspottedthepolicecruiser.Ibrakedsofastthatmybacktireskiddedtotheside.
“Whoa!PorkyPig,”Franksaid,bikingupnexttome.
Ascreendoorbanged,andIwhirledtowardthehouse.Mytonguegrewthickinmymouth.“SergeantBauer.Ididn’tknowyoulivedhere.”
Hewasbleary-eyed,amugofsomethinginhishand.Heranhisfingersthroughhishair,scrapedthemdownthestubbleonhischeek.“Renting.Alittletroubleathome.”
Heidi’sparentshadgottendivorcedafewyearsago,backwhenher,Lynn,andIstillhungout.Heidi’sdadhadrentedaroomatthePurpleSaucerMotelintheHollow.Hestayedthereforsixmonthsandthendisappeared.
“I’msorrytohearthat,”Isaid.
Hegrunted.“Whatareyoudoinghere?”
Iyankedthebrochureoutofmybag.IwishedIhadn’tbroughtit,thatIhadn’tbikeddownthisdriveway.Iwasn’tgoingtospillanythingaboutRicky,Wayne,orClam’sbehaviorbythecreek,andIknewFrankwouldn’t,either.Thoseweretheunspokenrules.“Sellingpopcornforband.”
Hekepthisstareonmyfaceratherthanthebrochure.“I’mbuyingfromLiz.”
HisdaughterinSephie’sgrade.“Sorrytobotheryou.”
Hissmilesurprisedme.Itseemedgenuine,butthatdidn’tfithisdemeanor.“That’sfine.Nicetoseeyou.”
Hehadn’tevenpeekedatFrankthewholevisit,notthatI’dseen.Isteeredmybikearoundandpedaledoutofhisdriveway,notbotheringtosaygoodbye.
Whenwewereoutofearshot,Ispoke.“Ithinkyourdadiswrong,Frank.Idon’tthinkit’sjusthowboysare.Ithinkit’ssomethingtodowithLilydale.”
TheclickingoftheplayingcardagainstFrank’sspokesandourtireschewinggravelweretheonlynoisesforsolongthatIthoughthehadn’theardme.Finally,hesaid,“Ithinkso,too.Hey,thatguy’sfarmhouselookedlikemine.Thinkhehasacreepydirtbasement,too?”
Isuddenlydidn’twanttogohome.Itriedtokeepthedesperationoutofmyvoice.“Doyouhavetogostraightbacktoyourplacerightnow?”
“Yeah.”
Icouldseehishouseaheadontheright,depositedlikeagamepieceontheboard-flatnessoftheprairie.“WecouldstopbyGoblin’s.”
“Who?”
“Goblin!Thatguywholivesonthecornerbetweenyouandme.”
“Theonewiththegreencar?”
“That’shim.”Iwasthinkingquick.“He’sapersonofinterestintheattacks,IheardSergeantBauersayit.Maybewecanseewhat’sturningLilydaleboysintowerewolves.”
“Wecan’ttrespass.”
“Wewon’t.We’llsortaskirtaroundtheedges.”Iriskedaglance.Frank’smouthwassetinaline.IwonderedwhathisparentshadtoldhimaboutGoblin.
“Idon’twanna,”hesaid.
“Youchicken?”
Hischinquivered.SometimesIforgothewasonlyten.“I’mnochicken.Raceyouthere!”
Hetookoffinaflash.Ichuggedthosepedalstocatchupwithhim.“Slowitdown,”Ihollered.“Wehavetocomeupquiet.”
“He’sprobablyatwork,”Frankyelledbackatme,butheeasedup.
Ipulledahead.“Followmylead.”
Allthefarmsinthisgridhadbeenconstructedthesame—identicallayout,includingthehouses,barns,andoutbuilding,treeshieldsurroundingeach,fieldsbeyond.Goblin’shousewasmoreexposedthanmost,buthestillhadagoodcopseoftreesprotectingthewestside,catawampusfromwherethewildstrawberriesgrew.IledFrankinthatdirection,walkingmybikethroughtheditch.Itwasswampysincetherain,andonceIwasinthetallgrass,itsmelledlikepeat.I’dhavetocheckmyselffortickslater.
“Leaveyourbikehere,”Iwhispered,settingminedowntodemonstrate.Ontheirsides,ourbikeswouldbeinvisibleinthistallgrass.Iheldafistintheair.“Thissignmeansstop.”Iopenedthefistandwavedmyfingers.“Thismeansgo.”
Frankmadeasmartsalute.Idroppedtomybellywithasmileonmyface,armycrawlingalongthespongyearth,carefulnottorustlethegrasstoomuch.Theswampgavewaytoastuntedforest,andwemadeadashforaclusterofoaks.WewerewithinahundredyardsofGoblin’shouse.Iheldupthefist,andFrankstoppedimmediately.Iswallowedmygigglealongwiththecloverdustair.Wewerereallygoodatthis.
Iscannedtheperimeter.Goblin’shousewasarun-downversionofmyown,SergeantBauer’s,andFrank’s.Goblinhadrecentlyfriedsomething,andunderneaththat,Icaughtawhiffofsourness.Heownedafewheadofcattle.Theywerekickingandlowinginthefieldbehindtheredbarn.He’dconvertedanoldshedtoagarage.Itsdoorwasopen,butbecauseoftheangleandtheshade,Icouldn’ttellifGoblin’scarwasparkedinitornot.Isearchedthewindowsofhishouse,atleastthemainfloorones.Hisbasementwindowswereblackedout.Ididn’tknowwhatIexpectedtospot.IwasjusthappytohavegottenfartherontohispropertythanSephiehad,tofeelmyheartthuddingpleasantlyonawarmsummerday.
“Idon’tthink—”wasasfarasIgotinmysentencebeforethevisegripclosedonmyneck.Fearpoppedlikeabitterberrybetweenmyteeth.
“Whatareyoukidsdoingonmyproperty?”
GoblinheldmeandFrankbytheneck,pushingourfacesintotheearth.Hisaccentwascoarse,purebackcountryMinnesotan.Ifhehadtostringtogethermorethanfivewords,we’dhearthe“Iseenit”and“canyouborrowmesome”thatmyparentssaidwerethesignsofignorance.
“Letusgo!”Ihollered,exceptmyvoicewasstrangled.
“I’llletyago.”Hereleasedussoquicklythatmyheadshotup.Frankrolledoverandscurriedtohidebehindme.Goblin’sdog,agrowlylookingmutt,watchedusboth,hishacklesraised.Therightsideofhisfacewasswollen.
IstaredfromGoblintohisdogandbackagain,feelingmorebustedthanscared.Igottomyfeet,mylegsshaking.“Youhadnorighttograbus.”
“Wellnow,youhadnorighttobeonmyproperty.”Hesmiled.Hisfeedcapshadedhiseyes,buthismouthwaswideandopen.Hewasmissingteeth.
“Wewantedtopetyourdog.”FrankstoodandofferedhishandtoGoblin’smutt.
Goblinlaughed,anditsoundedfor-realfriendlythistime.Myshouldersincheddownfrommyears.Wehadbeentrespassing.Maybehewouldn’ttell.
“NoonewantstopetCliffy.He’sanoldmutt.”
Ipointedathisswollenhead.“Whathappened?”
Thelaughsizzledawaylikewaterinhotbacongrease.“Noneofyourbusiness.”Hesquinted.“You’reDonny’sgirl.”
Ididn’tthinkthatneededanswering.“Wehavetogo.”
GoblinlookedatFrank.“Andyou’rethenewboy,justuptheroad,aren’tya?Yourdadafarmer?”
Therewassomethinggrabbyinhiswords,buthissmilewasback.HetippedhisheadsoIcouldseeoneofhiseyes,darkandglittering.
“Wereallyhavetobegoing.”Thistime,insteadofwaitingforpermission,IgrabbedFrank’shandandbackedaway.
IworriedthatGoblinwouldstopus,buthejustwatchedfromunderhisbrim.
“Don’tcomeback,”hefinallygrumbled.“Mydogdon’tlikestrangers.Ican’tberesponsibleifhecatchesyounexttime.”
CHAPTER36
IbikedFrankbacktohishouse.ItwastheleastIcoulddoafterthedangerI’dputhimin.Hewalkedintohishousewithoutsayinggoodbye.Mybikeridehomewasmiserable,mademoreterriblebythedrizzlethatturnedtoadownpourbythetimeIhitthedriveway.Whatamonumentallycrappyday.AndjustwhenIthoughtitcouldn’tgetanyworse,IfoundDadwaitingformeinfrontofthehouse.
“Where’veyoubeen?”Hisshirtwasoff.Hestoodundertheawning,butraindropsglistenedonhischesthair.Momwasnowheretobeseen.
“Itoldyou.Sellingpopcorn.”
Hiseyesnarrowed.“Letmesee.”
“Idon’tactuallyhavepopcorn.”Ileanedmybikeagainstthehouse,huggingmyelbowswhenmyhandswerefree.“Itakeordersnowanddeliverlater.”
“Didyougetanyorders?”Hisvoicewasdeadlygentle.
“Yeah.”Iyankedmybackpackoffmyshouldersandpulledoutthebrochure,gratefulthatI’dsoldsome.“See?”
Hekepthismalachiteeyestrainedonme.“Youlookscrapedup.”
Thelietumbledout.“Goblin’sdogchasedmewhenIwasbiking,andIwipedout.”
Dad’seyesgrewhoodedandthencleared.“When?”
“Justnow.Dangdog.Butitdidn’tgetme.”Betterthemutttaketheheat.Dadalreadydidn’tlikehim.
Dadseemedtoswallowthatstory,becausehechangedthesubject.“We’regoingtotown.”
“YouandMom?”Hisstillnesswasalarming.HadGoblincalledafterallandtoldonmefortrespassing?DidDadknowthedogstorywasalie?
“Youandme.Ihavesomeshoppingtodo.WecangrabSephieonourwayback.”
Myeyelidtwitched.Ididn’twanttodrivetotownwithDadinthismood,butIdidn’tseeawayout.Iclearedmythroat.“Letmeputmybikeawayfirst.”
Itwasatensedrive.TheonlybrightspotwasthatDadhadputashirton,thoughhehadn’tchangedoutofhisholeyjeanshorts.TheroadracedbyunderneaththeVWvan,visiblethroughtheholeinthepassenger-sidefloor,itsgraysandblacksaccentedbyagashofwhitewhenDadveeredtoofartotheright.
EvenwithDad’smood,Ialwaysfoundtheroadpassingundermeexhilarating.ItremindedmeIcouldgoanywherewhenIgotolder,explorebottomlessblue-greenoceans,climbicysnow-cappedmountains,drinkteawithmonks.Theironyofbeingremindedofthesizeoftheworldthroughaholeinthefloorofarusted-outvanwasnotlostonme.
WepulledintotownwithoutsayingasinglewordtoeachotheruntilDadhitthefirststopsign.“I’lldropyouoffatthelibrary.”
Mybloodfizzedwithjoy.I’dfinishedFlowersintheAtticlastnight.“Thanks!”
“You’llhavehalfanhour.”
“What’reyougoingtodo?”
Hisknucklesgrewwhiteonthesteeringwheel.“Ihaveameeting.”
“Withwho?”
“Withnoneofyourbusiness.”
Ihoppedoutofthevaninfrontofthelibrary,situatedinthecenterofdowntownLilydale.Islammedthedoorclosedbehindme,onlymildlyunsettledattheideaofDadatameeting.Thirtyminuteslatertothesecond,Istoodoutsidethelibraryclutchingfournewhardcovers.Iheldthemliketreasurebecausetheywere.Therainhadstopped,butthesidewalkswerewormsoup.Istoodtherefortenminutes,butnoDad.
Ishiftedmyweightfromfoottofoot.AlittlegirlexitedtheBenFranklinacrossthestreet,grippingherdad’spinkiefingerwithonehandandaJollyRancherStixintheother.Icouldtellwhatflavoritwasbecauseofhercorpse-greenlips.Stixwerethepopularcandynow,andalotofkidsatethemonthebus,eithergreenappleorfireflavored.I’dwantedsobadtotastethem,butIwasnobeggar.Isqueezedmybookstighter.IwishedI’dbroughtmoneywithme.ThereweresofewcandiesI’dgottentotaste.SephieandIlikedlemondropsandrootbeerbarrelsandbridgemixonlybecausethat’swhatourgrandparentshadoutwhenwevisited.
Thegirlandherdadwalkeddownthestreet.Whenitcametimetocross,hepickedherup,buthemovedtoofastandshedroppedhercandy.Thebrightgreenfellintoarivuletofwaterheadingtowardastormdrain.Shescreamed,buthewouldn’tletherretrieveit.Theydisappearedaroundacorner.
Ifoundmyselfwalkingtowardthedroppedcandy.Afeverishneedtotasteithadovertakenme.Iforcedmyselftosteppastit,towardtheBenFranklindoor,myeyestrainedonthesidewalk.MaybeI’dfindsomemoneythatsomeonedropped.I’donlyneedaquarter.OrmaybeIcouldgointhestore,andafresh,slickstickofcandywouldsliderightintomypocket,andIcouldtakeithomewithme,savoritinmyclosetalongwithoneofmynewbooks.
IhadthecoolBenFranklindoorhandleinmyhand,mystomachchurningfromthefishsmellofrain-swollenworms,readytostepinandgetsomecandyonewayoranother,whenthedoortoLittleJohn’sopened,emittingraucousnoiseandathickplumeofcigarettesmoke.
Dadsteppedout,SergeantBauerbehindhim.Thesergeantwaswearingstreetclothes.Theyshookhandsandclappedeachotherontheshoulder;thenDadmarchedtowardourvanparkedontheoppositeendofthestreet.Ichargedbacktostandinfrontofthelibrary,whichiswhereDadfoundme.
Thatnight,whenIheardthesharpsnipofhimclippinghisnailsfollowedmorequicklythaneverbyhissteponthatbottomstair,Iknewitwasmyfault.I’dbroughtbadluckallday,firstwithClamattheriver,thenGoblin.ItmadesenseDadwouldfollow.Buthedidn’tknowthatmywritingwaspreventinghimfromreachingthetopofthestairs
Hetriedtomakeitpastthesixthstep,fartherthanhe’devergotten,butmypencilflewacrossmyjournalandeverywordpushedhimback,spinningawordwebthickasabrickwall.
WhenIpennedthelastword,Itastedsweatonmytoplipfromtheexertionofwritingit.Thehousewassilent.Dadstayedonthatsixthstepforyears,itfeltlike,beforemywordsfinallyworked.Heshambledbackdownthestairsandtohisroom.Icouldfeeleachofhisfootfallsliketheheartbeatofthehouse.
Imadeupmymindthenandtherethattomorrow,I’dtellMomwhatwashappening
Dadhadsaidthatweshouldnevertellwhathappenedatourhouse,thatnooneintheoutsideworldwouldunderstand,thattattlingwouldbetheworstthingwecoulddotohim.
ButMomwasn’tintheoutsideworld.
Shewasfamily.
CHAPTER37
Iwokeupintheclosetwithacrickinmyneck.Aflutterranalongmywrists.MaybeIwouldgettoreturntosleepingonmybedtonight.MaybeafterItoldMomthatDadhadbeencomingupthestairsaftershefellasleep,thatwouldbeenoughforhertoleavehim!Ishotoutofthecloset,torethroughthefuzzymorningair,andnearlyranintoSephieoutsidemydoor.
“What’reyoudoing?”Iasked.
Sherolledhereyes.“Gettingreadyforsummerschool,dummy.”
“AreMomandDadupyet?”
“Yup.”Sheheadeddownthestairs.“They’repacking.”
Thefluttergavewaytoahollowfeeling.“Forwhat?”
IhadmyanswerwhenIhitthebottomstepandturnedintothekitchen.Momwasshovingatoothbrushintoherovernightbag,whichwasalreadystuffedwithclothes.“We’regoingonatrip!”
DadappearedfromthedirectionoftheirbedroomholdingafoldedT-shirt.“Foundit!Willthisfit?”
“Youbet,love,”Momsaid,grabbingtheshirtfromhimandcrammingitintothebag.
Ishookmyheadtoclearthecobwebs.“Wherearewegoing?”
Dadgrinnedatme.“Justmeandyourmom.We’redrivinguptoDuluth.JimKendumishavingaparty.YouremembertheKendums?”
Iwipedsleepoutofmyeyes.MomandDadhadnevertakenatripwithoutus.
“Aretheytheoneswiththemotorcycles?”Sephieasked.
“Youbet!”Dadsaid.
“Who’lltakecareofus?”Iasked.Fearwaswarringwithrelief.NoDad,butalsonoMom.
“Sephie’soldenoughtowatchyouboth,”Dadassuredme.
Mom’seyesnarrowed,butshedidn’targue.
Sephiestoodnexttome.Ourshouldersweretouching.Shesmelledfreshlyshowered,andIsmelledcrusty.“Whenareyoucomingback?”sheasked.
Dadshrugged,histoneteasing.“Maybenever.”
“Donny.”Momplayfullypunchedhisshoulderandthengrabbedhishand.“We’llbebackearlytomorrow.It’sashorttrip.Wedecidedweneedavacationisall.Youcanroastachickenforsuppertonight.Noparties.Sephie,you’reonyourownforgettingtosummerschool.IcalledtheGomezes,andtheysaidyoucouldcallthereifyouareintrouble.”
Sephiegrabbedmyhand.Weweremirrorreflectionsofourparents.
WeallturnedtowardtheopenkitchenwindowatthesoundoftirescomingdownthegravelfromthedirectionoftheGomezes’,andIwonderediftheywerecomingrightnowtocheckonus.Ormaybeitwassuper-earlymaildeliveryandIwasgettinganotherpackagefromAuntJin!Myheartleapedatthefirstbrightspotoftheconfusingmorningbutplummetedwhenthegreencarcrestedtheriseandappearedinourdriveway.
Goblin.
CHAPTER38
IwassureIwasabouttogetintheworsttroubleofmylife.
Westeppedoutsideasafamily.
Dadhadtiedoneofhissculpturestothetopofthevan,ablue-and-yellowtulipthesizeofakayak.IthoughtwemusthavelookedliketheJoadstakingoffforCalifornia,withourmisfitvanallpackedupandmyparentsdressedintheirfrayedbest.Ididn’tthinkGoblinwouldgetthatreference.Hedidn’tstrikemeasthetypeofguywho’dreadTheGrapesofWrath,oranybookforthatmatter.
“Gary,”DadsaidwhenGoblinpulledupandsteppedoutofhiscarwithoutturningitoff.Dad’sstiffposturetoldmehelikedGoblinonhispropertyevenlessthanhelikedhimattheliquorstore.Thatwasonethingweagreedon.
Goblinliftedhisfeedcapoffhisheadalmosthighenoughformetogetapeekatwhatwasunderneathandthentuggeditbacktowhereit’dstarted.Thebillshadedhisface,buthistight-slicemouthandbiglumpynosewerevisible,justlikeyesterday.Sowasthewormysnaketattooathisneckandsquirmingdownhisarm.“I’mlookingformyhound.”
DadhadmovedsohestoodinfrontofmeandSephie.Ihadtocranemynecktoseearoundhim,surprisedthatGoblin’sfirstwordsweren’ttoratmeout.
Dadstillhadn’tanswered,soGoblinrepeatedhisquestion.
“Mydog.Youseenit?”
“No,”Dadfinallysaid.“Butit’swithinmyrightstoshootstrays.Ihavekidstoprotect.”
Thosewordswereloaded,andGoblinknewit.
“Mydogain’tastray.”
Dadsneered.“Thenyouknowwhereheis?”
IwonderedhowDadknewitwasamaledog,ormaybehewasjustguessing?ButthenIhadthemostawfulthoughtthatturnedmeinsideout,bonestothesun.HadDadgoneandkilledGoblin’sdogbecauseIsaidhe’dchasedme?
“I’mlookingforit,Itoldyou.”Goblinstaredofftowardhisplace.Itwasaspeckacrosstherollingcornfield.IfIranasfastasIcould,Icouldbethereinunderfifteenminutes,winded.“Youheardaboutthatboybeinghurt?”
TheabruptsubjectchangecausedMomtostiffenandwrapherarmsaroundmeandSephie.
“Morethanoneboy,”Dadsaid.“It’sinthepapers.”
Goblinshookhishead.“Naw,thisisanewboy.MarkClamchik.”
Myshouldersslumpedinrelief.“Thatwasacoupleweekendsago.”
Goblinmadeawheezingnoise,andIrealizedhewaslaughing.Thesoundmadeacoldsweatbreakoutacrossmyback.
“Hegotattackedagain.”
Iflinched.
“Donny,”Momsaid,releasingustograbDad’sshirt.
DadpushedherawayandsteppedforwarduntilonlyfivefeetseparatedhimfromGoblin.“Iwantyouoffmyproperty.”
Goblinhadn’texpectedthat,judgingbyhowlongittookhimtoanswer.“Notveryneighborly,”hefinallysaid.“Thisgoingtobelikehighschool,whenyouandRammyBauercomeatme?”
Dadstoodhisground,quiet.
Goblinmusthavesensedthesamethinghehadintheliquorstore,becausehemadethatidenticalcuk-cuk-cukofasoundinthebackofhisthroat,likesomethingsmallwasknockingtogetoutofhisvoicebox.Hespatawadofsnoosebeforeslidingbackinsidehiscarandslammingthedoor.
Hedidn’tdothecivilizedbackupontothebellyofthedrivewaysohecouldleavefacingforward.Instead,hechunkeddownthegearshiftonhissteeringwheel,slammingitintoreverse,andtoreoutsohotthatIsmelledburningrubber.
“Ihaveaphonecalltomake,”DadsaidtoMom,“andthenwe’llleaveforDuluth.”
CHAPTER39
Frankbikedoverthehillofmydrivewaylikethesunrising.It’sdorky,butthat’showhappyIfelt.Ihadafriendcomingtomyhousetoseemeandonlyme.EvenwhenLynnandIwerehangingout,shehardlycameover,butherewasFrankcruisingtowardmyhouselikehewantedtobehere.
Ipumpedmyhandwavingathim,notevenbotheringtohidehowexcitedIwas.
Icuppedmyhandsaroundmymouth.“Hurryup,Frank!”Iyelled.“Thesebirthdayinvitationsaren’tgoingtomakethemselves!”
ThatwastheruseI’dusedtogethismomtolethimbikewithmetwodaysinarow,thatI’dneededhelpmakinginvitationsformypartyonFriday.Ididn’tknowifFrankwasstillsoreaboutyesterday,buthe’dagreedtocomeoncehismomokayedit.
MybirthdaypartywouldbeheldatLakeCoronaPark.Besidestheone-storymetalslidethatdepositedyourightintothedeepwater,theparkhadadockandaraftwithtwodivinglevels.Momsaidit’dbefinetoholdmypartythere,butwehadn’tdiscussedinvitations,andthenI’dforgottentoaskbeforetheyskippedtown.Idecidedtomakemyownandthenbikethemdirectlytoeveryone’smailboxes.I’dinviteexactlythesamepeopleashadbeenatLynn’sparty,plusFrankandminusAndreabecausenowaycouldIbiketoKimball.
Frankheldhishandstowardtheskyandcoasteddownthesecondhalfofthedriveway.ThemorningsunglintedoffhisgloriousBMX.Hewhoopedasheflewdown,hislongishhairflyingstraightbehindhim.Whenitwasalmosttoolatetostop,hebraked,screechinguplooserocksontomylegs.Hischeekswereruddyandhissmileferocious.
“Howaboutthemapples?”heasked,outofbreath.
“Thoseareniceapples,”Iagreed.“Nowcomeonintothelivingroomsowecangetstarted.”
HelethisbikedropontotheedgeofMom’sflowerbed.I’dhavesaidsomething,butitwasonlyontherockperimeter.MeanderrubbedagainstoneofhislegsandBimbotheother.Hestoppedtopetboth.“I’malreadyworking.”
“Pettingkitties?”
“Naw.”Hestoodandshieldedhiseyesfromthesun,pointingtowardhisfarm,whichwecouldseeblinksofthroughthetreeline.“I’mstartingtomorrowinthefield.Mydadsaidhe’llpaymethreedollarsanhourtopickrocks.”
“That’sthreetimeswhatImakeforbabysittingforhalfthework!”
Hischindrewbackintohisneck.“Youeverpickrocks?They’reheavy.”
“Whatever.”IwasmathingitasIwalkedintothehouse,Frankonmyheels.Intenhours,Icouldmake$30.Oneweek,$150!“Doyouthinkheneedsmorehelp?”
Heshrugged.“Maybe.”
Icouldtellhedidn’tmuchcareaboutmyfinances.“Ifyouhelpmegetajobpickingrocks,I’llletyoujoinmykittyclinic.”
“Doesitpay?”
“Notaredcent.”Iledhimintothediningroom.“Hey,sorryaboutyesterday,aboutgettingyouintroublewithGoblin.”
“It’sfine.”Franknoddedasifthatsettledit.Hepointedatthediningroomtable,whereI’dlaidouttheartmaterials.“You’regoingtomaketheinvitationsfromscratch?”
“Weare.Startingwithoneforyou.”IbeamedasIheldupawhitesheetofpaper.“Whatdoyouwantittosay?”
“When’syourpartyagain?”
“Friday.”I’dtoldhimwhenIcalledhimthismorning.
Heslidhishandsintotherearpocketsofhiscutoffs.“Nuh-uh.Nocando.Ihavetowork.”
Hiswordswerecasual,butmycheeksburned.I’dactuallyalreadymadeaninvitationforhim.ItwashiddenunderthepileofconstructionpapersoIcouldsurprisehimwithitlikemagic.“Friday’smyactualbirthday.”
“That’scool,”hesaid,droppingintoachair.“Savemesomecake.”
Isatnexttohim.I’dlaidoutglitter,glue,sequins,yarn,aholepuncher,andtheconstructionpaper.Webegancuttingoutcoloredcircles,hearts,squares,whateverseemedfun.Iwrotethepartyinformationontheinside,andFrankgluedonthedecorations.
Thisclose,Inoticedhehadeyeslikeagirl,withlonglashes.Ilikedthewarmthofhimnexttome.Weleanedintoeachother,swappingsillyknock-knockjokes.WegrewsocomfortablethatFranktoldmeabouthisfriendsbackinRochesterandhowmuchhemissedthem.IspilledaboutSephieactingweirdsinceDecemberandthatIwasgoingtobeawriterwhenIgrewup.HeannouncedhewasgoingtojointheUnitedStatesAirForce.IbraggedabouttheAppleIIecomputerI’dlearnedprogrammingonlastfall,andhetoppedmebytellingmeabouttheOregonTrailgamehisoldschoolhad.
Itwassoeasy,talkingtohim.
“Yourmomanddadgonnadrivetheseintotown?”heaskedwhenthelastinvitationwasinsideitshomemadeenvelope.
“They’reonvacation.”
Hepretendedtofallbackwardinshock,butthesurpriseonhisfacewasreal.“Yourparentsleftyouandyoursisterhomealone?”
Icrossedmyarms.“Yeah.Sowhat?”Iknewwhat.Ididn’twanthimtosayit,though.Ididn’twanttobetheodd-duckfamilyanymore.
“Whenaretheygettingback?”
“Earlytomorrow.We’resupposedtocallyourmomanddadifwehaveanemergency.”
“Huh.”Heseemedtothinkaboutit.“Youhaveanyicecream?”
“Youshouldn’teatprocessedfood.”Ididn’tmeantosoundsoharsh.
Hescratchedhisscalp.Itwasloud.Scritchscritch.“Ishouldprobablygo.”
IwishedIcouldtakebackmywords.“Hey,I’llbikewithyou.Ishouldheadtotownanddropalltheseoff,anyhow.YouwanttocomeintoLilydale?”
“Idunno.”
“WecoulddrivebymyfriendGabriel’shouse.”I’ddreamedofcreatinganinvitationforhim,butintheend,Ihadn’t.IfGabrielhappenedtospotusbikeby,though,andaskedmewhatIwasupto,Icouldcasuallyinvitehimtomybirthday.
“Gabrielthedentist’skid?”
Iswallowedmyspittoofastandstartedcoughing.“Youknowhim?”
“Yeah,mydaddoes,anyhow.He’sfarmingsomeofthelandtheyown.Heafriendofyours?”
“Sorta.”NowaywasIbikingbyGabriel’shousenow.“Onsecondthought,IthinkI’lljuststicktheseinthemail.Wehavestamps.”
“Okay,”Franksaid.
Hefollowedmeintothekitchen,andIpoureduseachaglassofpink-goldrhubarb-ade.WhenIslidthejugbackintotherefrigerator,Frankpointedtowardtheceiling.
“Wehaveoneofthoseholesinourhouse,too.Fortheheattogoup.”
Igulpedthehoney-sweeteneddrink,myeyeswateringatitstartness.“Samehere.That’smyroomupthere.Hey,youknowwhatwouldbesocool?”
“What?”
“Ifweweretallenoughtoseethetopoftherefrigeratorwithoutstandingonourtippy-toes.Ican’twaituntilI’mbiglikethat.Imaginebeingthattall.”
Herolledhiseyes.“You’llgrow,youknow.”
Ipinchedhisarm,butnothard.“Noshit,Sherlock.”
“Thenkeepdigging,Watson.”
Igiggled.Ihadn’theardthatone.ItmusthavebeensomethingtheysaidinRochester.
“Ishouldgethome,”Franksaid.
“I’llbikewithyou.”
WebothstaredatGoblin’shousewhenwepassedit.Therewasnosignofmovement,butthenthererarelywas.Frank’smomanddadwerehavingicecreamdrinkswhenweshowedup.Mrs.Gomezwasquicktoswearthattheynormallyneverdrankduringthedayandwasembarrassedwe’dcaughtthem,butthegirlsweredownforalatenapandtomorrowthey’dstartfieldworkinearnestandyouonlylivedonce.
Ilovedher.
MygrandparentsusedtoendahardworkdaywithaBrandyAlexanderoraGrasshopper,andthey’dletmeandSephiehaveasip.That’swhatIthoughthardliquortastedlikeuntilIsnuckasipofDad’swhiskeyafewyearslaterandrealizedactualboozetastedlikegasoline.
Mr.Gomezsethisdrinkdownandinsistedondrivingmehome,eventhoughFrankandIhadbeenhangingoutalldaywithoutsupervision.ItoldMr.Gomezthathedidn’thavetodoit,butMrs.GomeztoldmeIwasfightingalosingbattlebecauseMr.GomezbelievedinbeingagentlemanandImightaswellgetitdoneandoverwith.
Theridewasuncomfortable,justlikewhenhe’ddrivenmehomefrombabysitting.Atleasttherewasnomobofcrowscomingathistruckthistime.Wediscussedtheweather.Itlookedlikeitwouldrainagain.IthoughtabouthimandMrs.Gomezbeingthepeopleweshouldcalliftherewasanemergency.
That’swhenthequestionburbledoutofme.“Why’dyouguysmovehere?”
Iwatchedmyselfaskitinthereflectionofmysidemirror.IwishedIcouldtakeitback.Itwastoopersonal.
Mr.Gomezshiftedhistoothpickfromonesideofhismouthtotheother.Hesmelledliketheoutdoors.HisgrayT-shirtwasstainedatthearmpitsandcoveredindirt.HetooktheturnpastGoblin’shouse,notbotheringtosignal.Ididn’tthinkhewasgonnaanswerme.
“Wantedmykidstogrowuponlandweowned,likeIdid,”hefinallysaid.
Ihadanotherpersonalquestionwaitingrightbehindthatone.“Franksaidyoumovedhereearlierthantherestofthem.Didn’tyoumissthem?”
Heremovedhistoothpickatthisquestionandlookedatit,onehandstillonthesteeringwheel.“Sometimesabreakisnice.”
Itwasclearhemeantfromconversationwithme,andsoIheldmytongueratherthanasktheotherquestionsthatwereburningintoitlikeCinnamonDiscs.
CHAPTER40
IshouldhaveguessedwhenSephiedidn’twanttowatchRealPeopleandknownforafactwhenshepooh-poohedtheCBSWednesdayNightMovieshowingofYoungFrankenstein
“I’vealreadyseenit.Twice.”Shewasinthebathroomslatheringonmascara.“ButyoucanwatchTVallyouwant.I’mgoingtohaveactualfun.”
“How?”
MomandDadhadleftusnomoney.AfterMr.Gomezdroppedoffmeandmybike,I’dheldmyfirstkittyclinicoftheyearwaitingforSephietoreturnfromsummerschool.Aftersheshowedup,wecookedsupper,ditchingallthevegetablesandbakingthechickenwhole,slatheredinsaltandbutter.Thenwe’dcleanedupthekitchensowewouldn’tlandintroubleiftheyarrivedhomeearly.
WhatelsewaslefttodobutwatchTV?
Sephie’smouthformedaperfectOasshelengthenedhereyelashes,scrapingthemalongtheblack-tarredbrush.Whenshewasdone,sheblinkedrapidlylikeacartoongirlbunny.“Invitingfriendsover,”shesaid.
“What?Youdon’thaveanyfriends.”
Ihadn’tmeantitmean,buthereyesgrewalldamp.Ifoneofthosesaltyglobsdropped,thatmascarawasdonefor.
“Showswhatyouknow!”shesaid.
Herreactionsurprisedme.I’donlybeenstatingfact.“I’msorry.It’sjustyounevertalkaboutanyone,orhaveanyoneover.”IthoughtofClam’scommentaboutherbeingaFrito-Lay,andmymouthgrewstarchy.“Aregirlsorboyscomingover?”
Sheshruggedanddroppedthemascaraintoawax-papersandwichbagalongwithherBonneBellcherrylipglossandblueeyeshadow.“Youdon’thavetohangwithus.Juststayoutoftheway.”
Theairgrewthicker.“Sephie,youknowMomandDadwouldn’twantboyshere.”
Sheunbuttonedhertopbuttonasshestrolledpastmeandtowardthestairs.“Theywon’tknow.”
“TheywillifItellthem.”
Shewhippedaroundandbunchedupmycollarinherfist,justlikeinthemovies.“Ifyoutellthem,”shehissed,“I’lltellthewholeworldyousleepinthecloset,thatyouwon’tevenleaveyourroomatnightbecauseyou’reafraidofmonsters.I’llmakesureGabrielknows.”
Herunexpectedragejoltedme.Ofallthepeoplewho’dsaidmeanthingstome,I’dneverexpecteditfromSephie.
“Idon’tcarewhoyouhaveover,”Isaid,jerkingfreeandstompingofftowardthelivingroom.Imadesureshedidn’tseemewipemyeyes.“TheybetternotbothermewhenI’mwatchingTV.”
Whenacarpulledinthedriveway,Ikeptmyfacetrainedonthetelevision,notevenglancingoutthewindowwhenthevehicleleftafewminuteslater.Ithoughtforoneexcitedsecondthatwhoeverwassupposedtocomeoverhadchangedtheirmind,butthenIheardSephieopeningthedoorandlaughingtooloudatsomeboy’snoise.Whoeverwasheremusthavebeentooyoungtodrive.IstrainedtohearifIcouldrecognizethevoice,buttheFrankensteinmonsterwasmoaningtooloud.IsituatedmyselfonthereclinersoIappearedfocusedyetcasual.
MythroattightenedwhenWayneandRickyappearedinthelivingroomentry,theircologneprecedingtheminasweet,boggycloud.They’ddressedthemselvesup,wearingbutton-downshirtsandjeanseventhoughit’dbeenahotday,andourhousehadgoneapproximatelythetemperatureofmiddleearthsincewe’dusedtheoven.Waynehadabruiseonhischin,maybefromwhereI’daccidentallyclockedhimbythecreek.Bothboyslookedsmallinmydad’shouse,outofplace.
Rickyspokefirst.“Whatchawatching?”
Iwaspreparedtoglareathimformakingmefeelondisplayinmyownhouse,hyperconsciousofeverything—theshabbinessofthefurniture,howsmallourtelevisionwas,mybody—buthishunchedshoulderstoldmehewasjustasuncomfortableasme.“YoungFrankenstein.”
“I’veneverseenit,”Rickysaid.
Ilettheglarefly.There’sstupidandthenthere’sstupid
“Cassie,entertainRicky,won’tyou?”Sephiesaidassheshowedupbehindtheboys,hervoiceasbrittleasherface.“I’mgoingtoshowWaynemyroom.”
“Yes,dearCassie,”Waynesaid,copyingSephie’sstuffydelivery,“pleasedoentertainourRicky.Helikestobescratchedbehindtheballs.”
WaynesniggeredasSephiepunchedhim.Rickyhadthedecencytoblush.
“Comeon,youburnout,”Sephiesaid,pullingWayneaway.“They’rejustkids,youknow.”
“Wayneisonlyoneyearolderthanme!”Ihollered,buttheyweren’tlistening.WaynehadhisarmslunkaroundSephie,andshehadherhandshovedinhisbackpantspocket,andIwantedtocrywhenIthoughtaboutwhatthey’ddoupinSephie’sroom.It’snotlikeIthoughtshe’dstillbeplayingwillowackswithmeeveryday.Ijustwasn’tsurewhenshe’dgonefromzerotoeasy.
“Don’tthinkI’llbemackingwithyou,”ItoldRicky,toomadtoevenglancehisway.
ThemoviewasatthespotwherethevillagersstormFrankenstein’scastle,whichgavemeanexcusetostareatthetelevisionuntilmypulsecalmeddown.Bythetimethescenewasover,I’dgrowncurious.Rickyhadn’tutteredawordsincehe’dsat.Icouldseehimoutofthecornerofmyeye,perchedontheedgeofDad’schair,hishandsonhiskneeslikehewasatchurch.
“Youcanrelax,youknow.Idon’tbite.”
RickyglancedathisBand-Aids.HeremindedmealittlebitofAlbert,theboytheIngallsadoptedinLittleHouseonthePrairie.Hewasnervousanddimpledandmightbecuteifheweren’tinmylivingroomwithhiswartyfingers.
“Why’dyoucome,anyhow?”
Heliftedoneshoulderandthenletitdrop.“Waynesaidit’dbeagoodtime.”
“YoualwaysdowhatWaynesays?”Ifeltbigtalkingtohim.LikeIcouldpushasfarasIwanted.Thepowersurprisedme.
Thatone-shouldershrugagain.“He’smybestfriend.”
Ifeltmyselfgrowbigger,meaner.“Hehardlyevertalkstoyouonthebus.ItlookslikeheandClamaretheonesthatarebestfriends.”
Rickyblinkedhardatthetelevision.
Idovefullin.“DidClamreallygetattackedagain?”
RickyjerkedbacklikeI’dslappedhim,andmysuddenshameturnedmymouthsour.
Hetriedtolookatme,buthiseyescouldn’tquiteliftthathigh.“Iguess.MostofusboysintheHollowbeenchased,atleast.”
Thetelevisionwenttocommercial.ThefirstadwasforChiffonmargarine.MotherNaturesatinawoodedglen,tellingafairytaletoabearandaraccoon.Itwasnormallyoneofmyfavorites,butIdidn’thavethestomachforit.“Whatdoyoumean?”
Helookedatmedeadonthistime.HeresembledAlbertmorethanever.
“It’sgross,”hewarned.
“Youdon’thavetotellme,”Isaid.Imeantit.I’dtriedmeanonforsizeanddidn’tlikeitatall.
Hereachedovertorunhisfingersacrossthepaperbacksthatfilledthelivingroomshelves.“Surearealotofbooks.”
Iglancedaround.I’dgrownsousedtothemthatIhardlynoticedthemanymore.“We’reareadingfamily.”I’dheardDadsaythattoagrocerycheckoutladyonce.She’dcomplimentedhimonhowsmartIwas,reachingovertomassagehisarm.
Rickyscratchedthesideofhisnose.“Wedon’thaveanybooksinmyhouse.”
Ihadn’teverbeeninahousewithalibrarylikewehad,sohimnotowninganybooksdidn’tsurprisemeonebit.
“None,”hecontinued.“NotevenanymymomreadtomewhenIwasakid.Ormystepmom.”
“Yourparentsaredivorced?”
“Yup.Mymomleftmydad.”
Ileanedin.“How’dyougethertodothat?”
“Huh?”
Myheartbeathadslowed.“How’dyougethertoleavehim?”
HelookedatmelikeI’djustpoopedfrommyears.“Sheranaway.Iwasinthirdgrade.Haven’tseenhersince.”
“Oh.”Ithadn’toccurredtomethatamomwouldleaveherkids,justadad.
HewasmassagingoneofhisBand-Aidslikeitwouldreleaseamagicgenie.“IthappenedthesametomeastoClamandsomeoftheotherHollowboys.Clamwasbythecreek,smoking,whenhewascaughtthefirsttime.TeddyMilchman,too,Ithink.Me,Icouldn’ttaketheyellinginmyhouseanymoreandsoIranoutsidetogetaway.Someguygrabbedmerightbytheentrancetotheparkwherewefoundyouandthatkidwiththenicebikeyesterday.”
Heduckedhiseyes.“Sorryaboutthat.Wewerejusthavingsomefun.Wewouldn’thavehurtyou.”Somethingplayedbehindhiseyes,andhelaughed.“NotlikeyoubeatupClam,anyhow.YougotagoodcrackinonWayne,too.”
IconsideredaskingifClamwasallrightbutdidn’twanttoseemlikeIcared.“Whograbbedyou?”
Ricky’sfacewentthecolorofpaper.“Theguyworeamask.Hegrabbedformypockets.Ithoughthewastryingtorobme,butthenhesqueezedmyjohnson.IkickedhimasmeanasIcould,buthejustsqueezedmeharder,rubbingmeupagainsthisfront.Madesomegrowlnoise,andthenletmego.”Rickyscratchedthebackofhisneck.“Iwasn’ttakenintoacar,notlikeClambothtimesorTeddy.Theyweredrivensomewhereanddroppedoffwhenhewasdone.”
Ifeltgreenandwobbly.“Didyoutellthepolice?”
“Naw.”
“Whynot?”
“Youtellme,”hesaid,thefirstflashofangerI’dseenonhim.
Myfaceblazedbywayofanswer.IcouldrecallBauer’swordsatthepartyverbatim.Naw,it’sjustboyshit.They’realltrouble,thoseHollowboys.Copsdidn’tbelievekids,notkidsfromthatsideofthetracks.
“That’swhatIthought,”hesaid,readingmyexpression.
Themoviecamebackon.WewatcheditforafewminutesbeforeRickyspokeagain.“There’sanotherreasonIcameouthere.BesidesbeingWayne’sfriend,Imean.”
Iflinched.We’dbeengettingalongfine,andnowhewasgonnamuckitup.
“Iheardyourdad’sawelder,”hesaid.
Thatthrewmeforaloop.“Hewas.Hemakessculpturesnow.”
Rickybegantomakearepetitivegesturewithhisthumbsandpointerfingers,rubbingthemtogetherasifheheldatinycrystalballbetweeneach.“Iknow.Iwanttobeawelder,though.Doyouthinkhecouldteachme?”
“Youcameoutheretoseeifmydadwouldteachyouhowtoweld?”
“Yeah!”hesatup,moreexcitedthanI’deverseenhim.“Artweldingorrealwelding.Anythingtohelpmegetintocollege.”
“HaveSephieaskhim,then.”IhadzerointerestinexplainingtoDadwhoRickywasorthathe’dbeenbyourhouse.
“Okay,ifyouthinkit’llhelp.”Hewaswatchingtelevisionagain,butIcouldseeacapeofseriousnessdroppingoverhisface.“Hey,weallknowhowSephieis,butyoudon’thavetobethatway.”
Mywordswerefrosty.“Howisshe?”
“Youknow.”
Idid.Itmademefeelalone.“Howlonghasshebeenlikethis?”
Rickyscratchedhisnoseagain.“Notverylong.Sincethiswinter?Butshe’smowingthroughthesummer-schoolboysquick.PrettymucheverykidintheHollow’shadacrackather.”
Ifeltthatlonelinessagain,thatdeepachelikemyhearthadgonerottenatitsroots.Somethingthumpedagainsttheceilingoverhead,andthengiggling.“Doeseveryoneknowabouther?”
“Idunno.Shedidherroundsonthetoptierbeforeshemadeitdowntous.Youknowhowboysare.”
“Notallboys.NotGabriel.”OrFrank,thoughRickywouldn’trecognizethename.
Rickyhootedinagreement.“Yeah,Gabrielwouldnevergoforyoursister.”
Ifeltacocktailofsmugnessandshame.Ididn’twanttotalkaboutSephieanymore.“Whatdidtheguywhograbbedyoulooklike?Imean,otherthanthemask?”
Ricky’stonewasoffhand.“It’sforsureConnelly.”
Theairinmylungsfroze.“What?”
“Yeah,we’reallpositiveit’sConnelly.ChestertheMolesterisasqueerasathree-dollarbill.”
Iflewtomyfeet,readytokickhimoutofthehouse.“Evenifheis,thatdoesn’tmeanheattacksboys!”
Rickyshookhishead.“It’snotthat.It’sthemetronomehebringswithhimwhenheattacks.TeddyandClamhearditsameasme.Aclickinglikeanoldclockwhilehe’stouchingyou,thesoundjustaboutworsethanwhathe’sdoingwithhishands.Click.Click.Click.”
CHAPTER41
June1,1983DearJin:Pleasecomevisit.Ineedyou.Sincerely,CassieCHAPTER42
Iwokeuptoatangerine-creamsky,thesmellofbuckwheatwaffles,andasitcomfamily.WayneandRicky’dleftbeforemidnight,andthenMomandDadhadreturnedsometimeafterthatbutbeforethesunhadrisen.MomhadwafflespreparedforSephieandmewhenwecamedown.Dadwassmiling,drinkinghiscoffee,andmakingplans.Sephiepickeduponthemoodrightawayandfree-fellintoit,bringinghersweetestselftothetable.
Notme.Iwashunchedovermyplateofmaplesyrup–drenchedwaffle,suspicious.“Whyiseveryoneinsuchagoodmood?”
Dadlaughedandhonest-to-godruffledmyhair.“GuessyourmomandIneededavacation,Cass.Yougirlsgoodwhilewewereaway?”
Ishovedaforkfulintomymouthandglaredatwide-eyedSephie.Hersilencepleadedwithmetokeepthepeace.ShespokebeforeIcould.“Wefinishedallourchores.ImadesureIwasatclassontimeyesterdayandstayeduntiltheend.”
Mombeamed.“That’swonderful!Yourdadcandriveyouintoday.”Shelookedlikeshe’dlostatleastfivebadyearsonthattrip.Grudgingly,Ilightenedupafraction.
“Igotmychoresdone,too.”
“Howareyourkittiesdoing?”Dadasked.Heneveraskedaboutmykittyclinics
“Good,”Isaid,reachingacrossthetabletograbtheglassjugofmilk.“Meanderhadherkittenssomewhere,butIhaven’tfoundthemyet.Bimbohasanothereyeinfection,butIrinseditoutwitheyebrighttea.”
“That’smygirl,”Dadsaid,andIsattaller.“How’reyourgrades,Sephie?”
“Insummerschool?”Herforkwashalfwaytohermouth.“Umm,Idon’tknow.Icouldprobablystudyharder.”
“I’llhelp!”Ioffered.Itwasareflex.
“Thanks,”Sephiesaid,hergratitudegenuine.
Ismiledback.Withhersleep-fuzzedhairandhappyeyes,sheresembledmysisteragain.Maybeshehadn’tbecomeasawfulasI’dthought.Idugintomyfoodwithnewenergy.Thehome-tappedsyrupwasn’tnearlyasgoodastheLogCabintheyservedonpancakedayatschool,butitwasbetterthandryoldeggsbyamile.
“I’mthinkingofforsuregettingasummerjob,too,”Sephiesaidtentatively.“Tosaveupforcollege.”
Dadnoddedagreeably.“That’sawonderfulidea.Peg,whatdoyouthink?”
Momseemedtoberollingtheideaaround.“Wherewouldyouwork?”
Sephiewipedatadripofsyruponherchin.“Ihaven’tdecided.Maybewaitressing?”
“WecanpickupapplicationswhenIbringyouintoschool,”Dadoffered.
Itfeltlikethewholehousewasfloatingonbubbles.Thingswerefine.Betterthanfine!SomethinggoodhadhappenedonMomandDad’svacation,andithadshiftedthem,shiftedthewholeworld.Maybethey’dattendedanexorcism.Ididn’tcare,aslongasitkeptup.
Itwasn’tthefirstgoodtimewe’dhad.Wheneverwetraveled,packingupthechuggyoldVWvan,Dadgrewhappy,andwhenhewasingoodspirits,lifewasthebest.Maybethistimehe’dholdontohisjoypermanently,ajaroffirefliesthathecouldkeepaliveforever.
Ididn’tevenmindthatSephieandhimgotreadyfortownwhileMomandIhadtosliponourcruddyworkclothesandheadtothegarden.Inormallyhatedworkingoutsidebeforethedewwasburnedoff.Wetshoesweretheworst,andtheweedsanddirtstucktomyfingersandworkedtheirwayundermynails.Butthisfoggy,muggymorning,Momwashumming,andIwouldgettospendthedaywithher.
“Imadepartyinvitationsyesterday.”
Shecockedherheadlikeshewasn’tsurewhatIwastalkingaboutatfirst.“Oh,that’sright!Yourbirthdayistomorrow.Whatkindofcakedoyouwant?”
“Devil’sfoodwithchocolatefrosting.Andvanillaicecreamontheside.”Iwaspushingit,butonourbirthday,wewereallowed.
Momlaughed.Itsoundedlikeacalliope.“Icanmanagethat.Howmanykidswillbecoming?”
“Iinvitedthree.”
Shesmiled,andIcouldhavesnuggledunderthatlovelikeablanket.Forthefirsttimeinalongtime,Ifeltlikemylifehadhope.Ihadabestfriend.I’dstoodupformyselfattheriver.Myfamilywasbeingrelativelynormal.
Theharshshrillofourtelephonedisruptedtheair.BothMomandIpaused,butthencontinued.
“Didyoumaketheinvitationsforalunchtimeparty?”
“Yep,”Isaid.“Howmuchweedingdowehavetodotoday?”
Momlaughedagain,butitwasdryerthanthepreviouslaugh.“Allofit.”
IwasgoingtowhineaboutSephienothavingtohelp,butIdidn’twanttowreckthemagicfizzwewerefloatingin.Acarrumbledinthedistance.Ared-wingedblackbirdtrilledfromthedirectionofGoblin’shouse.Red-wingedblackbirdslovedswampyland.
Mommovedoverarowandclappedherhands.“Lookatallthislovelyspinach!Wecaneatitforsupper.Thatandfriedchicken.Youwon’tmindhavingitagain?I’vebeencravingiteversincewebutchered.”
“Peg.”
Ihadn’theardDadcomeupbehindus.Mommustnothave,either,becauseshewhippedaround,holdinghergardenspadeoutlikeaweapon.“Donny.Whatisit?”
Atfirst,Ithoughthewasstandinginashimmerofthefoghuggingthelowspotsthisearlyinthemorning,butthenIrealizedhewasall-overwhite.
“Donny?”Momrepeated,droppingherspadetorushtohim.Sheplacedherhandonhischest,andwhenhedidn’trespond,shewoveherarmsaroundhiswaist.“Whathappened?”
Hedidn’treturnherembrace.“Anotherboy’sbeenabducted,butthistime,hehasn’tbeenbroughtback.”
Ifeltacrampinmybelly,likemaybeI’dfinallygottenmyperiod.“Who?”
Daddidn’tlookatme,juststaredathousandmilesawayoverMom’sshoulder.Shepulledback.“Whowasit,Donny?”
“GabrielWellstone.Thedentist’sson.”
Mybloodturnedtosludge.
IfGabrielhadbeenkidnapped,itwasmyfault.
Myfault.
I’dletdownmyguardthismorning.I’dbeenpowerfullyselfish,forgettingeverythingRickyhadtoldmelastnight,thatkidswerestillgettingattackedoutthere.Myfamilyhadactednormalforafewhoursthismorning,they’dofferedatinysliceofokay,andI’dletmyselfcareaboutnothingelse.
DadsoundedasfarawayasIfelt.“ThatwasBaueronthephone.Hesaidtheyarrestedthebandteacher.Connelly.”
Nononono.Irantowardmybike.Icouldn’tbreathe,couldn’tsee,couldn’tfeel.Iwasanerveinmotion.Igrabbedthebackpackthathungoffmyhandlebarandtosseditovermyshoulder.
“Cassie!”Momhollered,butshedidn’ttrytostopme.
ItookofftowardSergeantBauer’shouse,pedalingsofastthattheroadarguedbelowmytires.Bauerneededtoknowwhatonlyakidcouldsee:itwasn’ttheHollowconnectingallthehurtboys.
Itwasthattheyallrodebustwenty-four.
CHAPTER43
Mybrainracedaftermybody,churningtocatchup.Icouldn’tslowdownforit,though.ItorearoundthecornerpastGoblin’s,thenbyFrank’splace,careeningdownSergeantBauer’sroad.
Ihadtotellhimaboutthebusroute.
Onceheknew,hecouldfindGabrielandbringhimhome.ThesunwaswarmingthetreetopswhenIskiddedintoBauer’sdriveway.
“SergeantBauer!”Iyelled,bikingtowardhishouse.“Areyouhome?”
Ihoppedoffthebikewiththewheelsstillspinningandracedtohisscreendoor,poundingitswoodenedgewithbothfists.Thepolicecarwasparkedinhisdriveway.Hemusthavehadthedayoff,orhehadworkedthenightshift.Iyankedopenthescreendoorandsteppedintohissunporchtowallopdirectlyonhisfrontdoor.
Whentherewasnoanswer,Iputmyhandsoneachsideofmyfaceandpeeredin,holleringforhim.Hiskitchenwasdirectlyofftheporch.Attherearofhiskitchenwasanopendoor,itsblackpitchtellingmeitledtohisbasement.Everycellinmybodywassureitwasadirtbasement,wetandsmelly,exactlyliketheoneunderneathmyownhouse,justlikeFrankhadguessed.
“Hey,littlegirlwiththeforevernecklace.”
IjumpedsohighthatIleftmyskinbehind.SergeantBauerhadbeensittingonthescreened-inporchallalong,hadn’treactedwhenI’dpoundedononedoor,thentheother,hadn’tmovedfrombehindtheunpackedboxesstackednearlytoitsceiling.Helumberedtowardme,slowly,navigatingtheboxesbutwithsomethingmore,somethinginvisible,weighinghimdown.Ibackedoutofhisporch,throughthecreakingscreendoor,stumblingdownhisfrontstepstowardmybike.
Hefollowedmeoutside,steppingoffhisporchasthesunhithisyard.HelookedahundredyearsolderthanhehadwhenFrankandI’dbeenheresellingpopcorn.Hisjowlswerebristled,hisskingrayasolddelimeat.
“Yourdadsendyouover?”heasked.Hisvoicesoundedlikeit’dspentthenightinarocktumbler.“HesayIcalled?”
“Icamebymyself.”Ibackedupallthewaytomybike.
“Youknow,thatstuffwedoatyourplace,it’stotallylegal.Grown-upstuff,that’sall.”Hewasslurringhiswords.“Noneedtotellanyoneaboutthat.”
“Iknow.”Iwasawareofeveryhaironmybody.
“Evenifyoutoldanyone,theywouldn’tbelieveyou,notsinceyoustolethatCawlgirl’slipstick.Noonetrustsathief.”
Inodded.Iwaspanting.
“YourdadtellyouaboutGabriel,yeah?”Herubbedhisprotrudingbelly.Hisshabbybutton-frontshirtwascompletelyopen.“They’vebroughtinthebigboysnow.Gonnatakeovermytown,ripitapartpiecebypiecenowthatit’sarichkidwho’sbeentaken.Rideinontheirhighhorsesandtelluseverythingwe’redoingwrong.”
Iclearedmythroat.“Ineedtotellyousomething,SergeantBauer.”
Ipitchedmyvoiceloudenoughtocarryacrossthedrivewayeventhoughmyheartwasbeatingsorapid-firethatIthoughtit’dturnintoahummingbirdandflyoutofmymouth.“Allthreeboyswhowereattackedridemybus.Clam,Teddy,andnowGabriel.PlussomeoftheotherHollowboyswhoweremolestedbutdidn’ttellanyone.Theyallridebustwenty-four.”
SergeantBauercoveredhiseyes,almostlikehewantedtoplayhide-and-seek,andthenranhishandoverthetopofhishead.“Iknow.”
Thefloorfelloutofmystomach.“What’reyougonnadoaboutit?”
“I’mgonnadomygoddamnedjob,that’swhatI’mgonnado,aslongasthat’sokaywithyou,Ms.Priss.”Heabruptlyraisedhishandandstampedhisfootlikehewasshooingamangymuttoutofhisyard.Themotionpulledoutthedogtagsfromtheopenfrontofhisshirt,andtheyclickedagainsteachother.“Nowgit,youlittlelipstick-stealingthief!”
ThesoundofhisdogtagsmademesoscaredIsawstars.
BecauseIsuddenlyknewwhowasattackingtheboysandwhyhe’dgottenawaywithitforsolong,justassureasIknewthatBauerhadn’ttoldanyoneaboutallthevictimsridingbustwenty-four.
RickyhadgoodastoldmewhenhedescribedthesoundChestertheMolestermadewhenhewasattacking:aclickinglikeanoldclockwhilehe’stouchingyou,thesoundjustaboutworsethanwhathe’sdoingwithhishands.
Click.Click.Click.
CHAPTER44
Ilungedformyhandlebargrips,rightedmybike,andspeddownthedriveway,myheadfullofswarmingbees.Ididn’tlookbehindmeasIbikedaway.Iwouldn’tgiveBauerthesatisfaction.IcruisedpastGoblin’s,stickingtothenorthsideratherthanheadingtowardmyhouse.Goblin’sdogwasstillnowhereinsight.Ithoughtitlikelymydadhadmurderedhim.
Ididn’thaveadestinationinmind.
IwaskillingtimetogiveBauerachancetoleave.
BecauseInowknewhewastheonemolestingboys,hadknownitthesecondhisdogtagshadescapedhisopenshirtandmadetheirmetalnoiseatme.
Lastnight,Ricky’swordshaditchedsomethinginthebackofmyhead,butIknewwhatitwasforsurenowthatI’dheardthatsoundonBauer.ItwasthesamesoundI’dheardwhenIcaughthimthrustingoverKristiatDad’sparty.
Hisdogtags.
Clickclick,clickclick,ashedidhisbadthing.
IwaitedtenminutesbeforeturningaroundtobikebacktoBauer’s.I’dhideintheditchifIsawhimcomingout,butIdidn’tneedtoworry.Thepolicecarwasgonefromhisyard.Hecouldn’thavegoneintoworkintheconditionhewasin.Couldhe?Iwantedtopeekinhiswindowsbutwastooscared.Hishouseseemedtobewatchingme,allexceptforthebasementwindows,whichhadbeenblindfoldedbysomethingthatresembledtinfoil.
Thesunbegantocrispthebackofmyneck,soIpedaledtowardadrainageditch.Itippedmybikeonthegravelroadandsliddowntheembankmenttositonthemetalmouthofthedrainagetube,dippingmyfeetintothetepidwater.Pin-leggedwaterbugsskatedacrossthesurface.Amudturtlesunneditselfinamossyspot.WhenIjudgedittobeneartwelve,Istood,scaringtheturtleplopintothewater.
Gabrielhadbeenkidnapped.
ThesweetestboyI’devermet.
Itriednottofeedthatideaeventhoughitwasblobbyandstarving.Gabrielmustbesoscared.Hewasprobablycryingforhismom,andnoonecouldhearhim.IknewIwouldbe.IclimbedbacktotheroadandtookoffonmybiketowardLilydale.
IwasamileoutwhenIspottedmyfirstarmytruck,followedbystatepolicevehicles.WhenIhittown,IsawaposterstapledtotheelectricpoleneartheMobilgasstation.Gabriel’sfacesmiledatme.MISSING.Iturnedaway.AsecondoneappearedjustupthestreetinfrontoftheBenFranklin.MISSING
TheFarmersandSuppliersStateBanksignblinkeditsmessage:
BRINGGABRIELHOME.CANDLELITVIGILTONIGHTAT7:00P.M.
Ibrakedinfrontofthatsign.I’dtriedtokeepmoving,butIcouldn’tescapethedespairanylonger.Itlandedonmyshoulderslikeastrong-clawedbuzzard.That’swhenInoticedtherewerenokidsonthestreet,onlyadultsshufflinglikezombies.IneededtofindMr.ConnellyandtellhimaboutBauer.Nooneelsewouldbelieveme,butConnellymight.
IspottedthepicketersbeforeIeversawhishouse.
Ididn’trecognizeanyofthepeople.Theirsignswereangry,scary.
FREEGABRIEL.GODHATESSINNERS.
TheywerepacinginfrontofMr.Connelly’shome,backandforth,backandforth,sixofthem,allofthemolder.Watchingthemhateonsomeonetheydidn’tevenknowmademeangry.ItookofftowardVanderQueenPark,flickingthebirdatthepicketers.
IfoundEvieswinging,sameplaceI’dseenherlasttimeIbikedpast.IjerkedmyhandlebarssoIcouldjumpthecurb,pedalingthroughthegrasstoreachtheplaygroundequipment.
“Hey,Evie,”IcalledsoIwouldn’tsurpriseher.
Sheturned,herfacecalm,likeshe’dbeenexpectingme.“Hey.”
IswungalegovermyseatsoIbalancedononesidewhileIcoastedtowardher.WhenIreachedher,Idroppedmybikeintothepearockandfellintotheswingnexttoher.“YouheardaboutGabriel?”Iasked.
Eviespreadherhandstoindicatethepark,herfoxnoseandsharplittleteethglintinginthesun.“Everyonehas.”
“Theyknowwho’shurtingtheboys?”Aquiverhadsnuckintomyvoice.
Evielaunchedherlegsinfrontofhertobeginswingingagain.“Notwho,buttheydoknowwhere.Alltheboysgotattackedneartheswimmingholeatthecreek.Thepoliceaskedaroundandfoundthatablackcarhasbeentherealot,butthentheyfoundoutthatsohasabluecarandagreencarandasilvercar.Theboysdon’tknowanythingexcepttheythinkit’sMr.Connelly.”
Acidburnedthebackofmythroat.“Didheconfess?”
Sheshrugged.“Yourguessisasgoodasmine.”
“Idon’tthinkhedidit.”Istartedtopumpmylegstogetmyswingtomove,myvoicetentative.“Ihaveanideaofwhomighthave.”
Eviedidn’tseemimpressed.Shepumpedharder.Herwordscaughtuptomewhenourswingspassed.“Thenyoushouldgotothepolice.”
IthoughtofBauer,hiswordsslurred.Evenifyoutoldanyone,theywouldn’tbelieveyou,notsinceyoustolethatCawlgirl’slipstick.Noonetrustsathief.“Theywon’tcare.”
Eviewasswingingsohighshelookedlikeshecouldtastethesun.Atherpeak,shewasnearlylevelwiththetopoftheslide.“Thenyou’llhavetodoitonyourown,”shecalledout.“That’showitiswithanythingimportant.”
Sheleapedofftheswing,soaringwithherbackarched.Shehitthegroundlikeacatandwalkedtowardablueduffelbagnearwhereshe’dlanded.
“Whatdoyouhaveinthere?”
“Dolls,”shesaid.“Wanttoplay?”
IstoppedpumpingsoIcouldseebetter.
“I’mtoooldtoplaywithdolls,”Isaid.
“Ifyousayso.”EviepulledoutaCabbagePatchdoll,aRaggedyAnnandAndy,andfourBarbiedollknockoffsthathadseenbetterdays.Thenshetuggedoutaplasticcarryingcaseandsnappeditopentorevealallsortsoftinyoutfits,includinggo-gobootsandheels.
Iflewoffmyownswingandsteppedcloser.
Idroppedtothegroundnexttoher.“CanIdressuptheonewithbrownhair?”
“Sure.”Shehandedherover.
Weplayedwiththosedollsforoveranhour.Itseemedlikeababythingtodo,butIcouldn’tgetenoughofit.
“Doesyourmomletyouplayouthereallday?”Iasked.
Eviepointedtowardatan-coloredhouseinthemiddleofastreetoframblershuggingthepark.“Shewatchesfromthewindow.”
Icouldn’tbelieveI’deverthoughtEviewasfox-faced.Sure,shehadapointynoseandsharplittleteeth,buttherewereworsethings.
“Hey,”Isaid,diggingintomybackpack.IfoundtheinvitationI’dmadeforFrankandyankeditoutofitsenvelopesoitdidn’thaveanotherkid’snameonit.IhandedittoEvie.“I’mhavingabirthdayparty.Doyouwanttocome?”
Evieglancedattheinvitation.“Thanks,butno.”
Shedidn’tuseanyexcuses,justsaiditsimpleandstraight,handingmyhumiliationrightbacktome,thanksbutnothanks.Ittookmeaminutetofigureoutwhattodowiththat.Ifinallyswallowedit.“Well,ifyouchangeyourmind,it’snoontomorrowattheLakeCoronaCommunityPark.”Ididn’tknowifthatwastrue,ifwe’dstillgettohavepartiesnowthatthearmywashereandGabrielwasgone.“There’llbelunchandcakeandswimming.”
“Thanks,”shesaidagain.Shewasn’tgoingtocome.
“Ibetterbegoing.”
“Okay,”Eviesaid.Shedidn’tlookupfromherplaying.
Islungmybackpackovermyshoulderandhoppedbackonmybike.Ididn’trealizeIwasreturningtoConnelly’shouseuntilIwasinfrontofit.Thepicketershadleft.Ibikedrightuptohisdoorandknocked.IhadnoplanswhattosaybecauseIfiguredhewasn’thome.Ialmostfelloffmyseatwhenheanswered.
“Mr.Connelly!”
Helookedlikehehadn’teaten,slept,orshavedsinceFrankandIhadvisited.
Hestaredatmelikehedidn’trecognizeme,thenlookedovermyshoulder,rightandleft.“Youshouldn’tbehere.”
Hisvacantgazescaredme.IlostmynervetotellhimaboutBauer,atleastrightaway.I’dneedtoworkuptoit.“Iwantedtoletyouknowhowmypopcornsalesaregoing.”
Aflarelikeannoyancecrossedhisface.“Youshouldn’tbeseenwithme.I’madangerousman.Haven’tyouheard?”
“IsawClamheretheothernight,”Isaid,stareddownatmyfeet.Andthat’swhenIrealizedwhyI’dbikedhere.IneededConnellytotellmethatmyeyeshaddeceivedme,thatofcoursehehadn’tinvitedClamintohiskitchen,notwhenallthishorrorwashappeningtoLilydaleboys.
“Ihiredhimtodoyardwork,”Connellysaid,hisvoicebrittle.Thenheclosedthedoorinmyface.
Ibikedhome,somethinghardsettlinginme.
CHAPTER45
I’dgonetobedakid,butIwokeupateenager.
Anhonest-to-godthirteen-year-old.Ifeltdifferent,Iwassureofit.Thesunwasshining,thebirdswerechirping,andIcouldalmostpretendthattheworldwasn’tcollapsingaroundme,couldalmoststayaheadofthegraydreadthatnippedatmyheels.Igottoeatcornflakes,milk,andbananasforbreakfast.Name-brandcornflakesMomhadboughtspecialforme.
Iplayedwiththecatsuntilitwastimetoleave.
“Readyforyourbirthday?”MomaskedwhenIfoundherloadingupthevan.
“Iwasbornreadyformybirthday.”
Momdidn’tlaughatthejoke.Idon’tthinkshegotit,ormaybetherewasn’tmuchworthlaughingabouttoday.She’dmadethecakeandboughttheicecream,though,plustheKellogg’sCornFlakes,slicedhamandcheese,whitebread,mustard,andpotatochips.Theperishableswereoniceinacoolerthatsheshovedinthebackofthevan.
Sephiewasatsummerschool.Dadwasn’taround,notthatI’dseen.ItwasonlyMomandmeinthatvan,headingtowardLakeCoronaearly.
“Tellmeagainhowmanypeopleyouinvited,”Momasked.
“Three.”
Sheflippeddownthevan’svisortoshieldherfacefromthesun.“Nicedayforit.”
“Thanksforhavingit.”
Shenodded.Herhairwastiedinaponytail,andshewaswearingcoral-coloredshortsandamatchingshirtthatshe’dsewnherself.Heronepairofsandalsdidn’tmatchthesummerset,buttheywereingoodshape.Lynnandhermomprobablywouldn’tevennotice.
Sheflickedmealook.“Whatareyoustaringat?”
“Nothing.Youlooknice.”Ibrushedimaginarydirtoffmyknees.She’dnevernoticedthatI’dshaved.Shealsohadn’taskedaboutmybikerideyesterday,andIhadn’toffered.“WhatwasRammyBauerlikewhenhewasyounger?”
Shelookedoveratmeagain,sharperthistime.“YoumeanMr.Bauer?”
“GoblincalledhimRammy.”
Shefrowned.Isawnewlinescarvedbetweenhereyebrowsandalongsidehermouth.“Hewasfine.Well,niceenough.”
“Whydidyoutwobreakup?”
Mombrushedalockofhairbehindherear.“Itwasahighschoolthing.Notmeanttolast.Yourdad’salwaysbeenthemanforme.”
“DidMr.Bauergetintotroubleinhighschool?”
Shechuckledatthis.Itwasapaperysound.“Isupposehedid.Fightsandthelike.Buteveryonedeservesasecondchance,don’tyouthink?”
“Everyone?”
“Sure.Takeournewneighbors.”SheleanedherheadtowardFrank’shouseaswepassed.“Mr.Gomezwenttojail.”
“Noway.”
“Yep.Aramistoldus,buthewon’tsaywhatfor.”
“Mom,IthinkMr.Bauer—”
“Isupsetabouttheboysgettinghurt?I’msureheis.Andhe’sdoingeverythinginhispowertofindGabriel.”
Iwatchedthehillocksrollpast,myscartighteninglikearopeatmythroat.Thegravelgavewaytotar.Momwasn’tgoingtolistentomeaboutSergeantBauer.Iopenedmymouthtomakemycase,butawholedifferentsetofwordstumbledout.“I’mafraidofDad.”
Thecarjerkedforwardasherfootspasmedagainstthegas.“Youandyourimagination.Stopbeingsodramatic.”
Myheartwasaboutcrashingoutofmychest.Ipressedmylipstogether.Iwasgoingtogetthisout,finally.“Healwayssaysgrossstuff.”
Herhandstightenedonthewheel.“Notthisagain.”
Shewasn’thearingme,hadneverbeenabletohearme,butIdesperatelyhopedthatifIorderedthewordsexactlyright,likeIhadthenightsmywritingstoppedDadfromcomingupthestairs,Icouldmakeherunderstand.“Whydowehavetolivewithhim?”
“Itoldyou.Ilovehim.He’sagoodhusband.”
Ishookmyhead.“No,heisn’t.”
“There’ssomuchyoudon’tknow.”
Ilookedoutthewindowagain.Cabinswerezoomingpast.Theparkwasjustahead.IsupposedtherewasalotIdidn’tknow.Forstarters,Ididn’tknowwhattodowiththehotlittlerockthatsettledinmybellyeverytimeMomshutmeuplikethat.Ididn’tknowwhattodowithadadwhohuntedmeandSephie.Ididn’tknowwhattodowithmyfearthathewasnowhelpingSergeantBauerstalkboys,oratleastlookingtheotherwayasSergeantBauerdid.
“Hey,isthatLynn’svehicle?”Mompointedtowardthefarendoftheparkinglotwe’dpulledinto.“They’rehereearly!”
Sheeasedthevannexttothesilversedan,andwebothgotout.Webalancedthedrygoodsontopofthecoolerandluggedtheheavyblue-and-whiteboxbetweenusdownthehillandtowardthepublicpicnictables.Lynnandhermomhadalreadysavedusthebestone,theoneundertheoaktree.Icouldn’tletgoofthecoolertowave,butIholleredassoonaswewereclose.“Hi,Lynn!”
Sheglancedathermomandthenme.Hermomsaidsomethingtoher,andthenLynnranuptous.“Letmehelpyouwiththat.”
“Thankyou,”Momsaid.Herexpressionwasstrained.
“Angie,”shesaidwhenwereachedthepicnictable,“howareyou?”
“I’mwell,thankyou.Andyou?”Mrs.Strahanworeawhitesundresswithbluetrimandthreegoldbuttonsoneachshoulder.Herwhitesandalsmatchedperfectly.
“I’mwell,”Momsaid.
Theybeganunpacking,makingsmalltalk.Itwasstiltedatfirst,butasLynnandIwalkedtowardtheplayground,IsawMombegintorelax.Maybethat’showI’dgethertoleaveDad.She’dseehowniceitcouldbetohangoutwithnormalpeople.
“Youwanttogoswimming?”IaskedLynn.“OrshouldwewaituntilBarbandHeidigethere?”
Lynntossedmeanareyouforreallook.“Idon’tthinkHeidiorBarbarecoming.”
Iplantedafakesmileonmyface.“Itwasshortnotice.”
“It’snotthat,”Lynnsaid.“Didn’tyouhearGabrielismissing?”
“Yeah,”Isaid.
“Youshouldhavecanceledyourparty.That’swhatmymomsaid.”
IwassuddenlysoangrythatIcouldkickatree.“Why’dyoucome?”
Lynnshruggedandhoppedonthemerry-go-round.“Becauseyoucametomine.”
Weplayedsomemore,quietly,doingstupidtoddlerstufflikeswingingandsliding,ourmoodgloomy.Ifyoucouldholdafuneralonapearockplayground,that’swhatthisfeltlike.
“Ifwe’renotgoingtoswim,wemightaswelleat,”Ifinallysaid.
“Okay.”
Webegantrudgingbacktowardthepicnictable.Therewassomuchfood.It’dbeembarrassingtoeatwithonlyfourofus.IwastryingtofigureoutawaytoescapemyownbirthdaypartywhenIspottedacarthatlookedlikeHeidi’sdriveup.Heidi’smomsteppedoutandjoggeddownthehilltowardthepicnictable.Herfacewasallwoundup,likesweatpantsafterthey’dgottentheirstringcaughtinthedryerwheel.
“Heidicameafterall!”Isaid,exulted.ButtheexcitementdiedbecauseHeidiwasnowheretobeseen,andsincewhendomomsrun?LynnandIreachedthepicnictableatthesametimeasHeidi’smom.
“Theycaughthim!”Heidi’smomcried,winded.“TheycaughtthemanwhotookGabriel!”
Iskiddedtoastop,myheartsoaring.Gabriel!
MomandMrs.Strahanjumpedtotheirfeet.Mrs.Strahanspoke.“Themolester?Theycaughthim?DidtheyfindGabriel?Ishealive?”
Heidi’smomwasleaningoveratthewaist,herrighthandpressedintothebareskinaboveherknee,herleftwavingintheairtoletusknowsheneededtocatchherbreath.“TheycaughtthepervertstaringinBeckyAnderson’sbackyardwindow,andtheythinkhe’sthesamemanwhotookGabriel.”
“Whowasit?”Momasked.
“ArnoldFierro.”
Momgrabbedthesideofthepicnictable.Mrs.Strahanhadtohelphersitdown.
“TheShakleesalesman?”Mrs.Strahanasked,fanningMom.
“That’stheone.Heclaimedhewasstoppingbyonasalescall,buthewascaughtwithhisfaceupagainstthatpoorgirl’swindow,hishandinhispants.”
LynnandIexchangedalook.ThePeepingTom!
“WhataboutGabriel?”Mrs.Strahanrepeated,askingthequestionthatwasonallourminds.
“Nowordonhim,butit’sonlyamatteroftime.They’requestioningArnoldatthepolicestationaswespeak.”
Ishouldhavebeenelated,andIwasglad,believeyoume.
Onlymygutwastellingmethepolicehadthewrongguy,atleastwhenitcametowhowasattackingtheboys.Ididn’tknowArnoldFierro,butheforsurewasn’tSergeantBauer.
ButIatemybirthdaycake,andIopenedmyonepresent—myveryownMagic8Ball,stillnewandinthebox—andIhelpedMompackup,andIwonderedwhyIfeltsouneasywhenIshouldprobablybehappy.Momtalkedamileaminuteontheridehome,andsheneverdidthat.Shewassorelieved.
Iwonderedifshe’dworried,likeme,thatSergeantBauerhadbeentheonemolestingboys,alongwithDad’shelp.
Inoddedateverythingshesaid.
Ididn’ttellheritwasallwrong,Gabrielwasn’tsafe,thepredatorwasstilloutthere,evenwhenwedrovepastourmailbox,crestedtheriseinouryard,andspottedthepolicecruisersnuginourdriveway.
CHAPTER46
Ididn’trecognizetheofficertalkingtoSephieandDad.HiscarsaidSTATETROOPER.DadhadhisarmaroundSephie,thepictureofaprotectivefather.
“Theretheyare!”SephiepointedtowardmeandMomaswegotoutofthevan,unnecessarily,Ithought.
Istoppedshyofthepolicecar,onhighalert.Theofficerheldhishandouttome.“Hello.I’mOfficerKent.You’rePeggyandCassandra?”
Ididn’ttakehishand,butMomdid.
“IsthisaboutGabriel?”Thewordsthuddedagainstmyteeth.
TheofficerglancedwarilyatDad.“Inaway.”
“HewantstoknowwhatweknowaboutMr.Godlin,”Dadsaid.
OfficerKenttriednottolookatmyneckscarwhilehetalked.“AsIwasjusttellingyourfatherandsister,we’recheckingoutanyleadswehaveinthedisappearanceofGabrielWellstone.GaryGodlinisapersonofinterest.Haveanyofyouseenanythingunusualhappeningoverthere?”
“ButyoucaughtthemanwhotookGabriel,”Isaid,feelinglikeabig,dumbvegetable,likesayingitwouldmakeittrueeventhoughIknewitwasn’t.“Wehearditatthepark.ThemolesterwaspeekinginBeckyAnderson’swindow.”
“ArnoldFierro,”Momconfirmed,slippingDadastrangelook.
OfficerKentstoodupstraighter,hishandrestingcasuallyonhisweapon.“Wehavemadeanarrest.Justbeingthorough.CanyouofferanyinformationonMr.Godlin?Hashehadpeopleoverthatyouknowof?Anyunusualsoundscomingfromhisproperty?”
“Hedoesn’thaveanyoneover,”Isaid.
Theofficernoddedencouragingly.
“Healwaysscaredme,”Sephieoffered.
Theofficerchuckledgrimly.“I’mafraidthat’snotprobablecausetosearchhishouseasecondtime.”
Wordsandimagesspuninmybrain.ThePeepingTomhadbeenarrested.Gabrielwasstillmissing.SergeantBauer’sdogtagshadmadethatnoise,butthepolicethoughtGoblinwasconnected.Bauer’swordsatthepartycamebacktome:YouknowGoblin’sstepdadusedtorapehimlikeitwasahobby,likeitwassoftballorsomeshitthathehadtodoeveryTuesdayandThursday?
“What’s‘probablecause’mean,exactly?”Iasked.
“Thepolicehavetohaveagoodreasontoenteryourhouse,”Dadsaid,hisvoicefrosty.Itsoundedlikeawarning,butIdidn’tknowifitwasdirectedatmeortheofficer.“Theycan’tharassyou.”
“That’sright.Ifyou’veseenanythingsuspiciousatall,thatmighthelp.”
Iwantedtocryout.Ifyouthinkit’sGoblin,golookgolookgolookgolook.
AndthengotoSergeantBauer’shouse.
Iclearedmythroat,makingroomfortheonlywordsIcouldform.“Ifyou’dmetGabriel,youwouldn’tstopuntilyoufoundhim.Ifyouknewhim,you’dlookinsideeveryhouseinStearnsCounty.He’ssomeoneimportant.”
Theofficerremovedhishat.Helookedserious.“IhaveasonGabriel’sage.”
Thatglimpseofkindnessalmostconvincedmetotalk,tospilleverythingIknew,aboutalltheboysbeingonmybusroute,thatthebuswentrightbywhereBauerwasstaying,thattheattacksmusthavestartedaboutthesametimeBauerwaskickedoutofhisownhouse,Bauer,whosedogtagsmadethatclickingsoundwhenhewasexcited,thatsamesoundthatRickysaidthemanwhoattackedthemmade.IwasevengoingtotellhimaboutDadandhowoursituationwasn’turgentlikeGabriel’s,butiftheyhadextratime,couldtheyseeifmydadwashelpingBauertodosomethingwithboysandbasementsandalsopleasesavemeandSephiebeforemydadcameupthosestairs?
Iopenedmymouth.
OfficerKentraisedaneyebrow.I’lllisten,itsaid.
DadandMombothtensed.
Thewordswerethereontheedgeofmylips,bitterpillsthatIwasdesperatetospitout,butIcouldn’t.Isnappedmymouthshut.Itwouldn’tbeanyuse.Bauerhadtoldmethepolicealreadyknewalltheboyswereonmybusroute.Bauerwasthepolice.Besides,DadhadtoldmeandSephieahundredtimesthattheworstthingwecoulddowastell.Iswallowedallthatlikeamouthfulofpoison,myeyesonmyfeet.
OfficerKentwasprobablywatchingme,Ididn’tknow.Icouldn’tpeelmystareoffthegrounduntilhespoke.
“Callifyouseeanything,”hefinallysaid.Ilookedup,andoureyesconnected.“Ifwegetsomuchasapeep,wecangoinandlookforyourfriend.”
Dadsteppedinfrontofme,reachingforthecardOfficerKentwasoffering.Isawhe’dbeenholdingSephiesotightthathe’dleftfingermarksonherbareshoulder.
Theofficer’seyeslingeredonmeamoment,andthenheslidintohiscruiseranddroveaway.
CHAPTER47
Dadstarteddrinkingassoonastheofficerdroveaway,hismoodblackastar.Iwantedtoscreamathim,tellhimhehadnorighttotakeupalltheattention,everyminuteofeverydayofmylife,thatotherpeoplehadfeelingsandworriesandneeds,too,thankyouverymuch.
ButIdidn’tsayaword.
IfoundMominthekitchen,poringthroughhercookbooks.Mymuscleswereshivery,myskintootight.Iwantedsobadtonotthinkanymore.Itwastooearlytogotosleep.“I’mgoingtomyroomtoread.”
“Ineedhelpwithsupper.”
Itwasfourintheafternoon.“Now?”
“Yep.GetSephie.”
“Can’twehaveleftovers?Wehardlyateanyofthefoodatmyparty.”
Herlipsthinned.“You’veearnedyourselfanextrachorefortalkingback.Gopickeggs.”
Ialmostremindedheritwasmybirthday.Almost.“Allright.”
IsentSephietothekitchenbeforestompingoutside.Thesunwastoobright,thecicadastooloud,theairtoohumid.Insidethechickencoop,theburringhensirritatedme.Igatheredfourwarmbrowneggs.AssoonasIheldthem,IknewIwantednothingmorethantopitchthematthesideofDad’sstudio.
Iwalkeddownthehill,glancingbackatthehouseonlyonce.Dadwouldhavehisbuttinhischairfortherestoftheday.Me,Mom,andSephwouldwaitonhim,bringinghimdinner,cleaningupafterhim,eventhoughhehardlybroughtinanymoney.We’dsquashdownourownfeelingsandexperiencestocreatethemaximumamountofspaceforhisstoriesofhowterriblehislifewas.
We’ddoittoday,we’ddoittomorrow,we’ddoitforever.
ImutteredaswearwordasIchuckedeachofthosefoureggsatthebackside(Iwasn’tstupid)ofthestudio,onecrackedeggforeachcrackedpersoninthisfamily.Theirmucousyorangesliddownthesideofthestudio.Idrewahitchedbreathandwipedmyface.
Happybirthday,Cassie.
IwasheadedbacktowardthehousewhenIdecidedtostepintothegranary.Ihadn’tbeeninsidesinceI’drunintoSergeantBauerthereattheparty.He’dseemedveryfamiliarwiththelayout.Iyankedopenthefrontdoor.Thethree-headeddogdrawingwasstilluponthechalkboard.
Icrawledupthesteepwoodenstairstothebedthathadlookedsleptin.
Itstilldid.PenthouseandEasyridersmagazineslayonthetablenexttoit,alongwithanashtrayfullofroachesandasingleslipofpaper.Theinformationwrittenonitwasorganizedintothreecolumns:firstnamesonthefarleft,numbersandouncesinthemiddle,anddollaramountsinthefarright.Someofthedollaramountshadalinethroughthem,somedidn’t.Thefirstnamesmatchedupwithsomeofthepartyregulars.Dadmusthavebeensellingthemweedorshrooms,exceptthehandwritingonthesheetwasn’this.
Ishovedthepaperintomybackpocketandshambledtothehouse.
CHAPTER48
“I’mgoingtowork,”Momdeclaredaftersupper.
Dadwastoolittoargue.
“Ithoughtallyourgradingwasin,”Iasked.
“Ofcourseitis,”Momsaidabsentmindedly.“ButIforgottobringmyplantshomeforthesummer.”
SephieandIbothglancedoutthewindow.Thesunwaslowinthesky,turningtheairlavender.ItwasunusualforMomtogotoworkatthistime,butshehadkeys.
“Whenwillyoubeback?”Sephieasked.
“Late,”Momsaid,kissingthetopofDad’shead.Hepulledherinforamouthkiss.Hershoulderstenseduplikechickenwings,butshelethimfinishbeforegrabbingherpurseandheadingout.
IttookDadanotherhourtoslipintopass-outdrunk,lyingbackagainsthisrecliner,mouthopen,spitglisteningonhisbottomlip.Thatleftmeincontrolofthetelevision.TheEmpireStrikesBackwasshowing.It’dbemyfirstchancetoseeit.EverysinglekidintheworldbutmeandSephiehadvieweditatthemovietheaterthreeyearsago.I’dhadtopretendIknewwhattheywerereferringtowhentheymadepewpewnoisesandtalkedaboutthedarkside.
“I’llmakepopcorn,”ItoldSephiewhensheappeared.She’dbeeninherroomoronthephonesinceMomhadleft.
“I’mgoingout.”
“What?”Itoremyeyesoffthetelevision.Sephie’shairwascurledasprettyasFarrahFawcett’s.IcouldseetheoutlineofhernipplesthroughhertightT-shirt.“Whowith?”
“WayneandChaco.”
“DidDadsayitwasokay?”
Shegrimacedathim.“I’llbebackbeforehewakesup.”
“WhataboutMom?”Iwasfrantic.Ididn’twanttobealoneinthehousewithDad.
“I’llsneakbackin.Shewon’tevenknowIleft.”
“Sephie,please,”Ibegged.
Shefrownedatmelikeshewasthinkingaboutit,butthenheadlightsflashedoffthewall.“It’llbeokay,Cassie.Gotobedearly.Hewon’tbotheryou.”
Iwatchedhergo,mymouthhangingopen.TheNBCFridayNightattheMoviesopenerappearedonthescreen,allfireworksandsnappymusic.Thepeacockflasheditsprettyfeathersaboveagolden“NBC.”IglancedatDad.Thespitwasbeginningtodry.
“Tonight,onNBCFridayNightattheMovies…”
Thewordsthrilledme.Ireturnedmyattentiontothetelevision.IwasgoingtogettowatchTheEmpireStrikesBack!EitherMomorSephiewouldgethomebeforeDadwokeup.Iftheydidn’t,I’djustdowhatSephiesaidandgotobedearly.
Itampeddowntheclammytwistinginmybelly.
Everythingwouldbefine.
CHAPTER49
Iwassittingsofarforwardonthecouchthatafeatherwouldhaveknockedmeoff.LukeandDarthVaderwerebattlinginthebowelsofCloudCity,theirlightsaberscrashingandscreamingagainsteachother,Luke’sbluedraggingupunderneathVader’sred.ItwasthebestthingI’deverseeninmylife,thewholemovie.
“That’snotrealfighting.”
Iswallowedhard.Myeyeswerehotfromgoingtoolongwithoutblinking.Ididn’twanttotearmyattentionawayfromthescreen,butDadwouldn’tbeignored.“It’sTheEmpireStrikesBack,Dad.Ithinkyou’dlikeit.”
“Idon’tlikefighting,Cassie.IhadtokillmenwhenIfought.It’snotplay.Doyouknowthat?”
Ibravedaglance.Hehadn’tmoved,hadn’tevenlickedthecrustywhitespitoffhismouth.Onlyhiseyeswereopen,huntingonme.“Iknow,Dad.Realfightingisn’tfun.”
Hislaughwasugly.“NotinVietnam,it’snot.”
Dad’sdrunkhadstages.Oneoftheworstwaswhenhetalkedabouthisparents,thesamestoryoverandoveragain.Heblamedhismotherforhimgettingdrafted.Sometimesafterthathe’dsinklower,talkingaboutgettingbeatenbyhisstepdad,purplebruisesthathisstepdadwouldkeeppunchinguntilDad’sskinsplit,butonlysometimeswouldhegothatdark.Andevenmorerarely,he’dskidintoamonologueabouthowhewasmagicandcouldcontrolthewindandtherainandmakeanimalsunderstandhim.
Wewerepastallthosestagesofdrunk.
Iglancedbackatthescreen.VaderwassawingatLuke,forcinghimbackwarddownanimpossiblytinycatwalkleadingtoanemergencyplatform.Dadhadwokenupmean.IknewIshouldgotobed.
“Doyouwanttowatchthismoviewithme?”Iasked.“Everyonehasseenit.”
Myeyesflickedinhisdirection.He’dfinallylickedhislipbutcaughtonlypartofthewhitecrust.
“Doyouthinkyou’reawomanyet?”heasked.
Istood.
Hesatup,histonegonewheedling.“Now,sitdown.Ididn’tmeananything.Iwasjustwonderingwhenyou’dgottensouppity,tellingmewhattodo.”
“I’mtired,Dad.I’mgoingtobed.”Ishotonelastmournfulgazeatthetelevision.Lukewascornered.Therewasnowayout.
Iwalkedaway.Mylegswerestiff.
Ipausedatthebottomofthestairs,listening.
Iheardacreak,thesoundofDadclosinghisrecliner.Mythroatsealedup.
Ihadanimpulsetorunoutthefrontdoor,butthestairswerecloser.Idashedupthem,whippingopenmybedroomdoorandslammingitclosed,leaningallmyweightagainstit.
WhenIheardthebottomstepcomplainunderhisweight,Imoaned.IshouldhavegonewithMom,shouldhaveforcedSephienottoleavemealone,evenifitmeantIhadtorideinthebackofacarwithastranger.Dadwasgoingtogetme,hewasfinallygoingtogetme,anditwouldn’tworktohideundermymattressorinmycloset.Myeyesdartedaroundmyroom.Ihadabed,adresser,andhomemadebookshelves.
ThedresserwastheonlyobjectIcouldmove.
Thesecondstaircreaked,tentatively.
“Cassie,I’llwatchtheshowwithyou,”hecalledup,hisvoicelow.
Gabrielwasaboywhowouldhaveyelledatmydad.Hewastheonlyone.ExceptFrank.AndmaybeMr.Connelly.PlusAuntJinwouldforsurerescueme.Butthelastthreeweren’there,andGabrielwasgoneforever;I’dknownittheminutemydadsaidhe’dbeenkidnappedandnotreturned.Noonewasgoingtosaveme.Themoviesandthebooksandtheshowswereallpretend.Sometimes,maybelotsoftimes,kidsgothurtreallybad,andthat’salltherewas.Theterror-shockofthetruthhitmelikeaslap,burningandfreezingatthesametime.
Dadsteppedonthethirdstair,andthenthefourth,andthenthefifth,spider-quick.Aropetightenedaroundmylungs.Irushedtothefarsideofthedresser,wedgingmyselfbetweenitandthewall.Ibroughtmykneestomychestandpushedquietly,steadily.Ifheheardmemovingthedresser,hewouldhurrytomydoor.
I’dbeenquiet,butImusthavemadeenoughnoisethatIdidn’thearhimtakethoselastfewsteps,didn’tknowhestoodonthelandinguntilIhearditscharacteristicwhine.Myheartbeatshreddedmyribcage.Thedressergaveway,shriekingthelastsixinchesacrossthefloor.Ileanedagainstit,tryingtomodulatemybreath.
Ineededtosaysomething,toacknowledgethedresser’sscreech.“I’mtired.Iwanttosleep.”
Dad’svoicewasjustoutsidemydoor.“Youdon’twanttowatchTVwithyourdad?”
Ibitdownonmyscream,mystomachthumpingatthebackofmymouth.Momcoulddriveupanymoment.OrSephie.Ormaybethedresserinfrontofthedoorwouldkeephimout.Iwaspantinglikeascareddog.Itriedtotakesipsofair,butthatonlyelevatedthepanic.Iglancedatthegrateinmyfloor.Icouldn’tfitdownit,noway.Iwasabouttomakeforthewindow,toripthescreenawayandleapofftheroof,whenIheardashufflingontheothersideofthedoor.
“Well,IguessI’llgowatchitalone.”Almostawhisper,butjustloudenoughthatIcouldhear.
Iheardhimshuffledownthestairs.
Islidtothefloor.
Eventually,Ifellasleep.Imayhaveremainedinthatspotuntilsunriseiftheweepinghadn’twokenme.
CHAPTER50
Thecryingwassoft.
Sosoft.
Alostchild’scry.Ithadwoventhroughmydreams,convincingmemyownbabyneededsaving,wakingmybrainbeforemybody.Ididn’tmoveamuscle,tryingtoorientmyselftothestrangefamiliarsound.Iwasjammedbetweenmydresserandmyshelves.Thehousewasdeadsilentbutforthecrying.MydigitalclockradiotoldmeI’dbeenasleepfornomorethantwentyminutes.WereMomorSephiehome?
Myearsstrainedasfarastheycould,disoriented.WasitGabrielweeping?Istood,givingthepinsandneedlesinbothlegstimetobackoff.Icouldstayinmyroom,safe,orIcouldsneakoutandseewhowascrying.Butwhatifitwasatrick?WhatifDadwasontheothersideofthedoorway,waiting?
Theweepingsoundedlikeitwascomingfromthekitchen,though.Itiptoedtotheholeinmyfloorandknelt.
Notthekitchen.
Thesoundwasemanatingfromthepantry.
Orthebasement.
Mygutsturnedtojellymeat.
Icountedbackwardfromten.IknewIcouldn’tremaininmyroom.Iwasjusthopingsomethingwouldstopmefromleaving.Whennothingdid,Igottomyfeetagain,mykneesgroaning,andpushedthedresserbackmorequietlythanithadoriginallymoved.MydoorknobprotestedwhenIturnedit,itsscreechringingacrossthehouse.Istoppedandlistened.Thecryingwasstillaudible.
Iyankedthedooropen.Thevinegarysmellofmyownsweatpiercedmynostrils.
Yougottadothis,Cassie.Yougotta.
Thelandingbetweenmeandthestairswasclear,unlessDadwaslurkingaroundthecorner.Itookthechanceandchargedacrosstheexpanse.Nohandgrabbedme.Idarteddownthestairsbeforethemonsterhadachancetocatchup,careenedaroundthecorner,andthenanothercornerandthenonemore,untilIstoodinthepantry.
Withmydad.
Hewasbuttonthefloor,leaningagainstthewall,sobbingbrokenly.
Itriedtoswallowpastmyheart.Maybehehadn’tseenme.Ibeganbackingaway
Hemadenomove.Heappearedmiserable,whatIcouldseeofhim,thekitchenmoonpoolingnearhisfeet,hisfaceswollenandmelting.I’dneverseenhimcrybefore.Icouldn’tleavehim.
“Dad?Areyouokay?”
Asobescapedhim.Itookatentativestepforward.Hedidn’tlungeoffthegroundtowardme.
“Dad?”
Hisvoicesoundedlikeitwascomingfromfaraway.“Whatareyoudoingup?”
Isaidthefirstthingthatcameintomyhead.“Icouldn’tsleep.”
Henoddedasifhe’dexpectedthat,runninghishandacrosshisface.“Ineedtoteachyouthetrick.”
Hedidn’tsayitcreepy.Icouldsmelltheliquorpouringoffhiminwaves,buthewasn’thuntingme,notrightatthismoment.Itookadeeperbreath.“Whattrick?”
Hesatupstraighter,garblinghiswords.“Wheneveryoucan’tsleep,takefivedeepbreaths,pullingthemallthewayintoyourtoesandholdingthemuntilyoucan’tstandit.Thenyoustretcheverything,evenyourlittlefinger.Eventhehairinyourears.”
Ismiledatthis,thoughhewasn’tlookingatme.Thatwassomethingheusedtosaytouswhenwewereyounger.Iloveeventhehairinyourears.
Eww!We’dsay.It’sfullofwax!
IstillloveitbecauseIloveyou.
“Thenholdyoureyeshalfwayclosedtothecountoftwenty-five,thenallthewayclosedtothecountofonehundred.Thinkyoucandothat?”
Abigtearglobewasswellingupinmyrighteye.Inodded.
“Good,”Dadsaid.Hepushedhimselfoffthegroundbutstartedtotip.Hegotitonhissecondtry.“Youdon’tneedme,then.IthinkI’llgoforawalk.”
Hepointedtowardthebasementdoor.“Don’tgointhere.Basementsarewheremenhidetheirsecrets.”
CHAPTER51
IwasnervoustoheaddownstairsSaturdaymorning,butIshouldn’thavebeen.Dadwasquietbutnotmean.Momseemedmoreserenethanshe’dbeeninawhile.Sephiehadasecretsmileonherface.Wedidourchores.DadevenstoppedtotellmethatIshouldn’tworry,thatGabrielwasprobablyalreadyhome.Weclearedatrail,laidmulchinthegarden,mowed.
Whenitwastimeforsupper,wewerealltiredbutseemedtobelisteningtothesamesong.Thatwasonethingmyfamilywasexceptionalat—treatingeachdaylikeitwasitsown,disconnectedfromthedaybefore.Yesterdaywasabadday.Thissofarwasagoodday.
IevenstartedtodoubtthebadfeelingIstillcarried.Gabrielprobablywashome.Ishouldbikeovertohishousefirstthinginthemorning.
LifewastooshorttowaittotellhimIlovedhim.
Decidingthatfeltlikethesunhadcomeoutafteramonthlongeclipse.Icouldbreatheagain.Weateleftovercakeandicecreamfordessert,ploppedinfrontofthetelevision,watchingTheLoveBoat
“Hey,babe,”DadsaidtoMom,whowassittingatthefootofhischaireatingherdishofvanillaicecream.“IforgottotellyouthatIsoldapiece.”
Shespunaround.“Don!That’sfantastic.Whichone?”
“It’saconceptrightnow.Agiantturtle.AguyinNewYorkwantsmetomakeitforhim.”
Mom’slightdimmed.“Isitapayinggig?”
Dadchuckledandrubbedherback.“Don’tworry.He’sgivingmeathousanddollarsdowntocovermaterials.”
“ProbablySephie’sbracesmoneycancomeoutofthat,too,”Isaid.I’dlettheicecreammeltintotherichchocolatebirthdaycake,turningitdampandsweet.
“Yeah!Ofcourse,”hesaid.“Sephie,howwouldyoulikethat?Yourdad’sartbuyingyouthebestsmileinthecounty?”
Shebeamed,herperfectlyfine(tome)buckersonfulldisplay.“Thatwouldbesoawesome,Dad.”
“Howaboutyou,Cass?Whatextravagancewouldyoulikewithallthemoneythat’sgoingtocomein?”
Iheldupmyplate.“Morecake!”
Everyonelaughed.Theroomwaslooseandhappy,somuchsothatwhenDadsuggestedanotherswingingpartytocelebratethatthey’dcaughtChestertheMolester,mystomachbarelyeventumbled.Thetelevisionbroketocommercial,andIturnedtoMomandDadbecauseI’dthoughtofsomethingbetterthancaketospendthemoneyon:IwantedasubscriptiontoMadmagazine.Theyhadn’tyetboughtmeabirthdaypresent.Ihadn’taskedforonebecausethepartyhadseemedlikeplenty,butiftheywerehandingoutgifts.
MymouthwasopeningtotossoutmypitchwhenIsawthecolordrainfromMom’sfacelikesomeonehadpulledherplug.Shewasstaringatthetelevision.WhenIlookedback,Gabriel’smomwasonthescreen.Shewassobbing.
Atfirst,Ithoughtshewashappyweeping.TheyDIDfindGabriel!
Butshewasn’tjoyful.Shewasbroken.
“Thishastostop,”shesaid,tearsstreamingdownherfaceastheABCNewsmicrophonewaspushedtowardhermouth.Thewordsonthebottomofthescreentoldusitwasabreakingnewsreport.“Wehavetosaveourboys.”
“What’shappening?”Sephieasked.
“Sshhh.”Dadturnedupthevolume.SergeantBauerwasnowon-screen.IrecognizedtheDairyQueeninthebackground.TheABCNewspeoplewereinLilydale.
“AnotherLilydaleboywasassaultedthisafternoon,”SergeantBauersaid,grimandforceful.“ThisleadsustobelievethatthemanwehaveincustodyformisdemeanortrespassisnotthesamepersonwhoabductedGabrielWellstoneontheeveningofJune1,aswe’dhoped.Lilydaleanditssurroundingareaareundercompletelockdown.Nochildrenareallowedoutsideunsupervised.”
Sephiegrabbedmyankleandwasholdingitsotightthattheskinwasturningpurplearoundhergrip.Mycakehadmorphedintosawdustinmymouth.Ispititontomyplate.
“Wehavetwopeopleofinterestinthecase,”SergeantBauercontinued,adjustinghispolicecapasifithurthim.“We’refollowinguponboth.”
“ConnellyandGodlin,”Dadsaidtooquickly.
“It’snotMr.Connelly,”Isaid,swivelingtoglareatDad.Ipouredallmyangerinhisdirection,butitwasangertaintedwithfear,becauseIdidn’tthinkitcouldbeSergeantBauer,notanymore,notifanotherboyhadbeentaken.SergeantBauerwouldhavebeenworkingalldaylongwiththeotherpoliceintown.Wouldn’the?
Dadpointedatthetelevision.“Youcouldaskyourfriend.Lookslikehe’sthelatestvictim.”
Iflinched.Ididn’twanttoseewhathewasreferringto,butmyfacewaspulledtowardthescreen.Anewscasterhadappeared.Thebanneronthebottomofthescreenread,FOURTHCONFIRMEDATTACKINLILYDALE.Thenewscasterstoodontheroadthatraninfrontofafamiliarhouse.
WayneJohnson’s.
Sephiesuckedinherbreath.
Thesingingoffrogswastheonlysoundotherthanthefar-offrumbleofacar.Thevehiclegrewnearer,itstenorchangingasitstireshitthegravel.Itkeptcoming.Iexpectedittodrivepast,Ithinkwealldid,butthenitsheadlightsturnedtowardourhouse,pinningusinourlivingroom.
CHAPTER52
“AuntJin!”
Iusedamonth’sworthofexclamationpointstogreether,runningtowardhercarlikeabatoutofhell.Sheleapedoutandwrappedmeinhergauzy,patchouli-scentedarms.IwassohappytoseeherthatIcouldn’tbreathenormal.Ikeptsuckinginfastbabysipsofair,anditmademefeellight-headed,likeboom,timetopassout.Shewasjustsobeautiful,herhairlooseandwavy,herclothesflowing.
Myprayershadbeenanswered.
“You’vehadquitethesummersofar,babygirl,”shesaid,murmuringassheheldme,safeandtight.Ipulledbackjustenoughtolookather.Shewassobeautiful,soglamorousandstrong.ShewastenyearsyoungerthanMom,butitwasn’tjustthat.Shewassoalive.Thesettingsunturnedherskintawny.Heranklebraceletstinkledlikefairies.Firefliespoppedandwanedinthewoods,liketheyweresignalingtoher.
“Sephietoo,”Isaid,pointing.Mom,Dad,andSephiehadfollowedmeoutofthehouse,butIwastheonlyonewhoranuptoJin.Jin!Shewashere.“Sheneedsahug,too.”
“Ofcourseshedoes,”Jinsaid.“Comeonoverhere,princess.”
Sephiewalkedtowardus,brittleasglass.
“Areyouhungry?”Momasked.
“Starving,”Jinsaid,smilingathersister.“Andthirsty.”
ShewinkedatDadatthis,butIwasokaywiththat.She’dknownhimsinceshewasalittlegirl.Hewaslikeabrothertoher,alwayshadbeen—IknewitfromtheletterofhersI’dfoundinhisdrawer.
JinsteppedawayfrommeandSephie,justfarenoughthatshecouldturnafullcircleandcheckouttheproperty.“I’vealwayslovedMinnesotathistimeofyear!Whydon’tyougirlsfillmeinonwhat’sbeenhappeningwhileyourmomandpopsetmeup.Soundgood,munchkins?”
Inoddedandledherintothehouseandthenthelivingroom,whereIsteeredherontothecouch.Shesatinthemiddle.Sephiehadgottensmallandinsideherself,likeshealwaysdidwhenJinwasaround,whichmeantIhadtocatchJinuptospeedallbymyself.AndIdid—ontheboysbeingattackedbytheriver,Mr.Connellyandhowhehadn’tdoneanythingwrong,andGabrielandhowthepolicehadtofindhim,butIdidn’tthinktheywouldbecausenowWaynehadbeenattacked.
That’swhereIbrokedown.
“There,therenow.”Jinthrewanarmaroundme.“Withafriendasgoodasyou,IknowGabrielisgoingtobeokay.”
Butshedidn’tknowthat.Whenhadshestoppedlisteningtome?ShewasreachinguptotakethedrinkDadwasofferingher.
“Thankyou,Donny.Iseethisisasstrongasusual.”Shewinkedagain.Hadshealwayswinkedsomuch?“Youstilldealing?”
ThelinebetweenDad’seyebrowsgrewdeepenoughtoholdasheetofpaper.
“Art,silly,”shesaid.
IglancedatMom.She’dtakenherusualchairnexttoDad’s,asmaller,stiffer-lookingversionofhisrecliner.Herfacewasstony.Itriedtorememberthelasttimewe’dseenJin.Iwrotehersomuchthatitseemedlikeshewasalwaysaround,but…haditreallybeenayear?
DadlaughedatJin’sjokelikewehadn’talljustseenhimflashandthenhidehisangryface.“Soldabigpieceyesterday.”
IwasstillwatchingMom.Ifanything,herfacegrewharder.
“Youfinallyturnedhimaround,Peg!”Jincalledout.ShefakewhisperedtoDadalongthebackofherhand.“Ialwaysknewshe’dbeabletofixyou.”
Dadguffawedatthis,thatsameexposed-throatlaughheonlytrottedoutathistwice-a-yearparties.Myheartfrozeandthenstartedpounding.DadandJinwereflirtingrightovermyhead.Hadtheyalways?IglancedatSephie.Hershouldersweredrooped,hereyeswet,apologetic.
She’dknownthisawfulthingallalong.
ShewassorryIhadtolearnitnow.
Islippedintoacavedeepandblackinsidemyself.Jinwasn’tgoingtomakeeverythingright.
Noonewas.
Momstood.“I’llmakesandwiches.”
Wesatuncomfortablywhilesherustledinthekitchen.
“SoyouliketheNellieBly’sTrustItorDon’tIsentyou?”Jinasked.
Iwantedtoripthetitlerightoutofhermouth.“Yeah.”
“What’sthisnow?You’vebeenwritingmetwolettersaweekforayear,andyou’reshysuddenly?”
Itriedtosmile,butIfeltlikeaclown.Thereitwas,soplainitmightaswellhavebeenwrittenacrossamoviescreen.HowcouldIeverhaveoverlookedit?Jinwasmissingapieceofherself,thatsamepiecethatSephiehadlostbackinDecember.IturnedtowardDad,whowasperchedontheedgeofhischair,grinningatJinlikeanape.That’sallhewas.Abig,swingingapewhotookandsmashedandmadeusallcleanitup.
Ayellwasbuildinginmythroat,ascreamthatwouldshamethemall.
That’swhenMomreturnedwithahamsandwichandasliceofchocolatecakeonaTVtray.ShekeptherheaddownandhandedittowardJin.“Hereyougo.”
“Thankyou.”JindrainedherdrinkandhandedittoDad.“Another,please.”
Dadstoodtotakeit,hisgazegreedy.“Berightback.Thenlet’stakeourdrinksdowntomystudio.Ihavesomethingnewtoshowyou.”
Jinwastuckingintohersandwichbutblinkedlikeshehadsomethinginhereye.Itremindedmeofthetrickshe’dtaughtmeforremovinggunk:Grabyourtopeyelashestopullyourtopeyelidoutandoveryourbottom.Holdyoureyeclosedlikethat,blinkingthebottomlashesagainstyoureyelidinterior.Itloosenedwhateverwasstuckinthere.Workedeverytime.
“AuntJin,Idon’twantyoutogotoDad’sstudio,”Isaid.
Shechuckedmychin.Ismelledtheonionfromhersandwich.“Whateveryousay,peanut.Icanheaddownthereafteryoutwoareasleep.”
Momwinced.
IhadbankedeverythingonJinrescuingme.Shewouldn’t,orcouldn’t.Ididn’tthinkso,butIhadtobesure.“Jin,Iwanttocomelivewithyouthissummer.”
Sheguffawedatthat,alettucefleckshootingoutofhermouthandlandingonthekneeofherpeasantskirt.“Idon’tknowwhereI’mstayingtonight,letaloneallsummer.”
“Youcansleepheretonight,”Momsaidthroughgrittedteeth.
“Orstayhereandnotsleep,”Jinsaid,coyly.
Momnodded.Itwasatightmovement.“Ornotsleep.”
“Sephie,tellmeaboutyoursummer,”AuntJinsaid,turningtowardmysister.Jinwasalreadyhalfwaydonewithhersandwich.Shewassopretty,herbrownhaircascadingdownherback,brightpeacockfeatherearringsaccentingherblueeyes.Shewasabutterfly,fastandtemporary,andshewasonemorepersonwhoplayedthegamebyDad’srules.
IwatchedhertalktoSephie,butIdidn’thearwhattheyweresaying.AllthistimeI’dthoughtofAuntJinasahero.Well,here’ssomethingyoushouldknow:heroesarewillingtopausetheirownlivestohelpyou.Jinwasn’tthat.Shewasaregularperson.
“Mom,I’msorry,”Isaidsuddenly,soloudthateveryonestoppedtalking.
Momhadbeensittingontheedgeoftheottoman,handsclaspedbetweenherknees,leaningtowardthethreeofusbutdisconnected.“What?”
Ijumpedupandrantoher,huggingherastightasIcould.“I’msosorry.”
Shepattedmyarm.Herlaughwassurprised.“Whatfor?”
“Yeah,Cassie-bo-bassie,whatfor?”AuntJinasked,chuckling.“Where’stheloveforme?”
“Iloveyou,too,AuntJin.”AndIdid.ButnotlikeIlovedMom.
“Moreimportantly,where’stheloveforme?”Dadasked,wanderingintotheroomwithafulldrinkineachhand.HeofferedonetoAuntJin.Shetookit,sidlingclosertoSephie.ShepattedthespotI’dvacated,andDaddroppedintoit,hisarmbehindJin.Momtwitchedinmyembrace.
“Somanybeautifulladiesheretonight!”Dadsaid.Hewasgregariousdrunk,buttherewasanedgetoit.“WhoshallIsleepwith?”
“Donny!”Jinsaid,fauxshocked.Sheslappedhisleg.“Youshallsleepwithyourwife.”
“Youknow,”Dadsaid,hisvoicetooloud,“therearesomecultureswhereallthewomeninafamilybecomeloverstoasingleman.”Hemeantitasajoke,oratleastwewereallsupposedtoactlikeitwas.Whenitcametotheextra-creepythingshesaid,thatwastheagreementwe’dhadforaslongasIcouldremember.
AuntJinleanedtowardSephie,hervoicebrassyandloud,theirfacestooclose.“Thatremindsmeofyourgrandpa,”shesaid,wagglinghereyebrows.“Hewasagooddrinker,too,justlikeyourdad.”
Ididn’tthinkthatwasfunny.IguessMomdidn’teither,becauseshegasped,pushingmeasidesoshecouldjumptoherfeet.
“Jin,Ithinkit’stimeforyoutoleave.”
Jin’seyebrowsshotstraightup.“Youhavegottobeshittingme,Peggy.”
“Now,”Momordered.
“You’vealwaysbeenabletoforgiveanythingbutthetruth,haven’tyou?”Jinasked,standing.Herfacehadfistedupsmallandtight.“Don’ttalk,don’tfeel,andwelcomethepastintothepresent.”
“Youcansaveyourtherapybullshit,”Momsaid.Shewasshaking.“Mygirlsdon’tneedtoseeyouflirtingwiththeirfather,that’sall.They’vebothgottensometerriblenews.Ifyoucan’trespectthisfamily,youdon’tneedtobehere.”
“Hey,heynow,”Dadsaid,hisvoicelazy.HegrabbedJin’shandandtriedtopullherbackontothecouch.“You’refamily.You’realwayswelcomehere.”
MomandJinfacedoff.Theaircrackledbetweenthem.Dadcouldhavebeenaboogerontheceilingforalltheycaredatthismoment.
“Cassie,Seph,IguessI’llbegoing,”AuntJinfinallysaid.ShewasstillglaringatMom.Shedidn’tmove,maybehopingwe’dtrytotalkherintostaying
Noneofusdid.
Noonestoppedher,either,whenshestompedaway.Weallfourstayedstillasstatueswhenthefrontdoorslammed.Itwasn’tuntilhercarstartedupthatMom’sshouldersslumped.
“Ihopeyou’rehappy.”ThepoisoninDad’svoicestartledme.HewasstaringatMomwiththeblackestofhate.
“Notforyears,”shesaid.“Sephie,Cassie,gotobed.”
Neitherofusarguedthatitwasn’tyetfulldark.
Halfwayupthestairs,Sephiegrabbedmyhand.“Sleepwithmetonight.Please.”
CHAPTER53
Sephieheldmeinherbed.Wewerebothshivering,mesohardthatmyteethchattered.
MomandDadwereyellinginthelivingroombelow.
“Youtrytofuckeverywomanyousee!”
Dad’sburryvoice,alow-enoughrumblethatIcouldonlyhearsnatches.“…lucky…pastyourprime…”
Momyelledoverhim,hervoicebreaking.“Icouldleaveyou!”
“Sephie,”Iwhispered,“IthoughtBauerwastheoneattackingtheboys,butI’mnotsosureanymore.”
“What?”
Dad’svoicecamethroughloudandclearthistime.“Ipaymyshare.MeandBauer’ssidebusinessmakestwicewhatyoudo.”
IraisedmyvoicejustenoughtodrownoutMomandDad.“Everysingleboywhowasattackedridesourbus.Ricky,Gabriel,Wayne,Clam,Teddy.Rickysaidheheardclickingwhenhewasgrabbed,sameasthatclickingnoiseBauer’sdogtagsmake.”
“Theothernight,WaynetoldmeitwasMr.Connelly’smetronome,”Sephiesaid,sittingup.
“IfConnellywasgonnaattackkids,hewouldneverbringalongametronome,”Isaid,wantingtobelievemyownwords.“That’sjuststupid.Besides,he’snotlikethat.Baueris.”
ThemoonshoneinthroughSephie’swindow,layingastripoflightacrosshereyes.Shewaspiecingtogetherscrapsofastory.“Clammadethenoiseformeatsummerschool.Itwasn’tthesoundofdogtagsjangling.”
MomandDadgrewquietbelowus,liketheywerewaitingalongwithme.
“Whatdiditsoundlike?”Iasked.
Shesquishedhereyesshut.Ifeltthenoisemorethanheardit,backinherthroat.
Cuk-cuk-cuk.
Likesomethingsmallwastryingtogetoutofhervoicebox.
Hearingitfeltlikemyskinwasbeingpeeledoff,likeithurtjusttobealive
BecauseIrecognizedthatnoise.
Itwasthesameback-of-the-throatsoundGoblinhadmadewhenI’dcollidedwithhimattheliquorstore,andthenagainwhenhe’dappearedinourdriveway,arguingwithDadabouthisdog.
Itwasn’tBauermolestingboys,hadn’teverbeen.TheGoblinhadbeentheoneallalong,andthepoliceknewitbutcouldn’tstophim.Daddidn’thateGoblinbecausehewasadraftdodger,likeMomsaid.Hehatedhimbecausemonsterhatesmonster.
“Sephie,ifthat’sthenoise,itmeansit’sGoblinattackingtheboys.”Thewordssurgedoutofmymouth,hotandpainful.“Itmakessense.Hefollowsourbusalot,andalltheboyswhowereattackedridebustwenty-four.Besides,weheardhimmakethatsamenoiseacoupletimes.”
IcouldseeherconnectingeverythingsheknewwithwhatI’djustsaid.Sheshuddered.“WeshouldtellMomandDad.”
Theywerestillarguing,butnowtheywereusingtheircivilized,educatedvoicestosliceintoeachother.DadtoldMomshewasn’tprettyanymoreandthathecoulddobetter.MomsaidDadwasaloosecannonandthathedidn’treallyhavePTSDlikeheclaimed.Theywerebothtakingtheirfearsoutforawalk.Theydidn’tmeanit.Theyneverdid.
“Theywon’tdoanything.”
“Thengotothepolice,”Sephiesaid.
Irolledmyeyes,eventhoughIfeltlikepuking.“BauertoldmenoonewouldbelievemebecauseIgotcaughtstealingthatlipgloss.”
“Sowedonothing?”
Ithoughtforamoment.“Let’srunaway!”
“HowwillthathelpGabriel?”
“We’llrunawaytosomewherewheretheybelievekids.IcantellthemaboutGoblinandaboutDad.”Ifeltolderthanher,ormorewholethanher,andthatrealizationmademefeelemptierthanIeverhad.
Ipulledherintoanembrace.“Dadisn’tgoingtochange.Youknowthat,right?He’sgoingtokeephurtingyou,andhe’sgoingtocomeforme.Maybeifweturnhimin,youcanstophavingsexwithallthoseboys.”
Shedrewback,herfaceaswhiteashersheet.“Idon’thavesexwithallthoseboys.”
“It’sokay,Sephie,Istillloveyou.”
Theskinofherfacemovedlikeinsectswerewrestlingunderneathit.“Youcan’tunderstandbecauseyou’renotawoman.”
Thattwistedmyheartnearlyfreeofitsmoorings.“Sephie,please.Comewithme.We’llgrabFrank,andallthreeofuswillrunawaytosomewheresafe.”
“Ican’t.”Shelaybackinbedandtuggedtheblanketstoherneck.“Besides,thereisnosuchplace.”
MomandDad’sargumentfiredbackuprightbelowus.
IwantedtocrawlunderthecoverswithSephiesobad.It’dbeenyearssincewe’dslepttogether,monthssinceI’dbeenbraveenoughtorelaxontopofabed.Imighthavegiveninifshehadn’twhisperedthatlastsentence.
“FrankisneighborswithGoblin,isn’the?”
CHAPTER54
Frank.
IhadasgoodasservedhimuptoGoblin,convincinghimtoridewithmetoGoblin’shouse,lettingGoblinputhishandsonmyonetruefriend.IthoughtbacktoGoblin’sgrabbyeyes,hiswordsmassagingFrankforinformation.
Andyou’rethenewboy,justuptheroad,aren’tya?Yourdadafarmer?
IfGoblinwasattackingtheboys,thenhehadGabrielinhishouse,anditwasonlyamatteroftimeuntilhegotmyFrankbecausehewasn’tslowingdown,Goblin,notonebit,hewasgoingtokeephurtingboysuntilhewascaught.
IfIrescuedGabriel,though,hecouldtellthepoliceeverything,andGoblinwouldbearrested.Frankwouldbesafe,andtheHollowboyswouldn’thavetoliveinthatquicksandfearanymore.
“Ineedtosleepinmyownroom,”ItoldSephie.
Shepouted,butsheletmego.
Oncethere,quietasamouse,Ipulledonmysweatshirtandstuffedmybackpackwithaflashlight,mySwissArmyknife,NellieBly’sTrustItorDon’tforcourage,andmynewMagic8Ballfordirection.Icouldn’tleavethroughthefrontdooraslongasMomandDadwerestillarguing.They’dseeme.
Ipaddeddownstairsandtookalefttowardthebathroom.Thewindowintherewasnormallyclosedbecauseitlackedascreen.Ihoisteditopen,crawledoutintothehotkissofnight,andslidthewindowclosedbehindme.
“Goodbye,Iloveyou,”IwhisperedtoMomandSephie.
Asofttouchatmyanklestartledme.Iletmyeyesadjustandthenbentdowntopetthecat.“Bimbokitty,youcan’tcomewithmewhereI’mgoing.”
Itiptoedtomybike,bootedthekickstand,andpedaledintothesoftnight.Thegravelgnawedatmytires.Thetreesmurmuredupattheirverytops,shusheringimportantsecrets,butIcouldn’tmakeoutwhattheyweresaying.Iletthefirefliesleadtheway,dancingjustaheadofme,sparklingasIpassedandthendimmingtonothing.
InearedGoblin’s,fortifyingmyselfwithwhatI’dlearnedtosurvivelivingwithDad.Gatheryourfear,stuffitdown.IlurchedtoastopatthesamespotwhereSephiehadstolenthosestrawberriesalifetimeago,thewhooshofwheeliegravelbreakingthroughthenightsong.
Goblinhadalightoninsidehishouse.Ifhisplacewassetuplikeours,andlikeeveryotherfarmhouseinthiscounty,thatlightwashislivingroom.Irubbedmyneckscar.Thecannednoiseofalaughtrackwaftedacrossthenightair.Icouldn’ttellwhatdirectionitcamefrom,butthesoundofsomeonewatchingtelevisionmademefeelsafer.
ThegiganticlilacbushnearGoblin’shousewouldbeaperfectplacetohide.Hewouldleave,orthelivingroomlightwouldgoout,signalinghewasgoingtobed.ThenIwouldgivehimalittlebittofallasleepbeforesneakingintothehouse.IfGabrielwasinside,I’dgethimout.IfIwaswrongaboutGoblin,andhecaughtmeinhishouse,I’dapologizejustlikewhenhe’dfoundmetrespassingthetwoothertimes.
Iwasheadingtowardthelilacwhenthemoonglintedoffsomethinginthemiddleofthewildstrawberrypatch.
Idroppedmybikeandsteppedtowardit.
Sephiehadstoodintheexactspot.Whateverwascatchingthelightofthemoonhadnotbeenherewhenshe’deatenthoseberries.
Ireachedtowardit,myhandstrembling.
Becauseyousee,IknewwhatitwasevenbeforeItouchedit.
Gabriel’spaperairplanenecklace.
CHAPTER55
IfeltanachingdrowningtorporasIwatchedGoblin’shousefromtherelativeprotectionofthelilacbush.IfIdidn’tfollowthroughonthisI’dbefloatinginthatgrayhopelessnessforever,alwaysahuntedchild,nomatterhowoldIgot,howsafe,howbig,howrich.
Iknewthatwaydowndeep,wherethetruthlived.
Thestickynightairwasanunwantedbreathatmyneck.Mosquitoesbuzzed,hypnotizingme,whisperingsharplullabies.Myheadgrewheavy,bobbing,jerkingup,bobbing.That’swhyIdidn’tnoticethelivingroomlightflickofforcatchthesoftsnapofthescreendooropeningandclosing,orregisterthecrispclickofacardoor.Itwasnotuntilthevehiclefiredupthatmyheartbeatwokemewithitsthuddingcryof
looklooklook.
Istarted.Myeyeswerescratchywithmiddle-sleep.Irubbedthem,focusing.ItwasGoblin.Hedroveoff,towardtown.
Idartedoutofthelilacbush,acrosshislawn,overhisporch,andtohisdoor
Itwasunlocked.
Thepushbackatthethoughtofwalkingthroughthatdoorwasatangibleforce.Itfeltgrosslyimproper,thewarningofwrongplacewrongtimeshouldn’tbeherecrawlingacrossmyskinlikeanarmyofticks.
Cass,sweetlass,hopeyoursummerdoesn’tgotoofast!Iwillseeyouaround,promise.
Gabriel’spaperairplanenecklacerestedinmybackpocket.I’dfeltaslipofpaperwhenI’dshoveditinthere.Iyankedoutthepaper,holdingituptothemoonlight.ItwasthenoteI’ddiscoveredinDad’sstudio.Ihadaguesswhatitwas:DadandBauer’sdrugsalestallysheet.Itexplainedwhythey’dbeenspendingsomuchtimetogether,whyDadhadtoldMomhimandBauer’s“business”wasearningmoremoneythanher,whyBauerhadhiscellarwindowscoveredandDadneverallowedusintoourowndirtbasement.
Theyhadillegalgrowroomsdownthere.
IsteppedthroughGoblin’sdoor,numb.
Ifoundmyselfinhisdiningroom.Itsmelleddankbutsweet,likerottingfruit.Thelivingroomwastomyright,kitchentomyleft,withaclosedbasementdooroffthekitchen.Ifitwaslikemyhouse,themasterbedroomwasstraightaheaddownthehall,thebathroomacrossfromthat.Thesecondfloorsurelyhousedthreesmallroomswithslopingceilingsmatchingtheroofline,twowithclosets.
ButIdidn’tneedtovisitanyofthem.
Thebasementwithitsblacked-outwindowswastheonlyplaceGoblinwouldhideGabriel.
Basementswerewheremenkepttheirsecrets.
IpaddedacrossthecrackedlinoleumofGoblin’scluttered,dirtykitchen.
IknewIshouldn’tbethere.Themoonwasscuddingacrossthewindows,warningme.ButIcouldn’tleavewithoutbeingsure.IfIdid,GoblinwouldgetFrank,andGabrielwouldnevercomehome,andDadwouldslurpmeupwholeandthenspitoutmybonessohecouldkeepsuckingonthem,justlikehewasdoingwithSephie.
SoIwalkedtowardthatbasementdoor.
Towardthesmelloftoo-ripepeaches.
Igraspedtheknobandturnedit,pausingatthetopofthestairs.Thedarknessbelowwassocompletethatitdevouredsound.IheardawheezingbeforeIrealizeditwasme,fearshrinkingmylungs.Iwantedtorun,buttheonlythingworsethangoingdowntherewouldbeturningbackandwaitingformydadtofinallymakeitallthewayupthestairsandintomybedroom.
Isnappedonmyflashlight,swallowingpastthesharpedgesinmythroat.
Thebrightyellowmadethedarkworsesomehow,highlightingtheabsoluteblackonitsperimeter.
IshutthebasementdoorbehindmeincaseGoblinreturnedearly,andIcountedeverystepintothedeep,feelingtheoldwood’swarningcreaksinmyteeth.Sevenstairs,andIwaspasthalfwaydown,farenoughtoseethebasement’sdimensions.
Mybloodthudding,Iplayedtheeggyolkcircleofmylightoverthesweatingwalls,acrossthepackeddirtfloor.Thesingleroomwasthesamesizeastheonebelowmyhouse,arootcellarmorethanabasement,themustysmellcakingmylipsandnostrilsandcoatingmyhair.
Mylightranoverthemurkycanningjarsagainstthefarwall,foundthetablestackedwithboxes,flashedoffthesinglebarelightbulbdanglingalonelystringinthecenteroftheroom,butitkeptreturningtothatonecorner,thepulsingcorner,theonewiththecigarette-sizegashofbrightnessagainstthedirt.
IscannedforanynoisethatwouldwarnmeGoblinwashome,butthecountrywindshushedeverything.Eventhefrogshadstoppedsinging.Itookthelastsixsteps,pushingthroughfearasthickasblisterskin.WhenIplacedmyfootontodirtpackedsohardthatitshonelikeoil,Icouldnolongerstayabovethegravedirtsmellandhadtoswiminitlikecavewater.
Therewasnoprotectionforchildrendownhere.
Myflashlightwastugging,demandingIlookcloserattheslitofwhiteinthatnot-rightcorner.Theonlysoundwasthethumpingofmyownheart,adark-alleypumpingmoreterrifyingthansilence.ThecloserIgottothecorner,theworsethesugar-soursmellgrew.Istumbledtowardit,outsideofmyself,tuggingmybodyalonglikeareluctantpuppet.
IknewwhatIwaslookingatbeforeIreachedit,butIkeptwalkingbecause
Ohnononoooooonooo
Mystomachspasmed.
Igraspedthewalltokeepfromfalling.Myhandmettherough,moistcoolnessofcement.Irecoiledfromthewet.Myflashlightstayedfocusedonthatwhitelineinthedirtforseveralbeatsbeforemybraincouldremembertheword
finger
Asinglehumanfingerpokedoutofthedirt,crookedandthecolorofghostsandscreams.
Gabriel’sfinger.
Imoaned.
Thebasementdoorwhippedopen,floodingthestairsincravenyellowlight.
“Who’sdownthere?”
Ibitmytonguetokeepfromwhimpering,bloodfloodingmymouthwiththetasteofpennies.Goblinstoodthirteenstepsaboveme,framedinthebrightrectangle,hisshouldershunched.Hemusthaveparkeduptheroad,whichiswhyIhadn’theardhimarrive,missedhimenteringthehouse,hadnowarning.
HewouldneverforgivethatI’dseenthatfinger.
Iclickedoffmyflashlightandbackedupagainstthedampwall.Itriedtoshrinkintoit,tobecomerockanddirtbecauseyoucan’thurteither,butitdidn’twork.Istayedagirlmadeofquiveringflesh.
“Who’sdownthere,Isaid.”
Foramoment,aninsanehummingsecond,Iconsideredansweringhim.
Justme.Cassie.Ididn’tmeantoseeanythingIwon’ttellanyonepleaseletmego.
“Iknowyou’rethere.Icanhearyoubreathing.”
Iatemytears,mybloodflowingacidwithterror.
Goblinheardmyfear.
Hechargeddownthestairs,bringinghisownflashlighttopokeintothecorners.Itslightspearedme.“Heh?”
Hehadn’texpectedtodiscovermeinthisbasement.Heflickedhislighttothefingernearmyfeet,Gabriel’sfinger,thenbacktomyface.
Itriedtoblinkawaytheyellow,butitpooledinmyeyes.
Myfeetweregluedtothedirt.Icouldonlynightmarewhisperhelp
AsoundlikenewleatherbeingstretchedtoldmeGoblinwassmiling.
Iunderstoodthenthathewasrottingfromtheinside,ajack-o’-lanternleftoutdoorsafterahardfrost.Hewasamanwhofedhisdark,andithadgrownsoravenousthatonlyentirebodiescouldsatisfyit.
Heshuffledcloseandtouchedmywrist,almostacaress,beforetwistingmyarmbehindme.Thepainwasexcruciating.Hedidn’tknowhowtoholdkids,nottherightway.MyskinslippedandburnedunderhisgripandIthoughtofCharlie’sAngelsandSabrinaandhowshealwaysescaped,butthatwasTV.ThiswasrealandIwasgoingtodieandallIcoulddowaswetmyselfbeforecryinglikethatbabyrabbitI’dreleasedfromMeander’sjawstoolate.
Thememorygavemeaburstoffight,butmyarmsandlegswerealuminumfoiltohissteel.
Hepulledmeagainsthisbody.
Hecoveredmyeyeswithhishotpaw.
Theotherheusedtosqueezemythroatwithsomethinglikecuriosity.
That’swhenIheardit.
cuk-cuk-cuk
Myyellfloodedthebasement,eachwordexplodinglikeafirework:Youshouldhavebelievedme.
CHAPTER56
MyvisionnarrowedasGoblincrushedmyneck.
Cass,sweetlass…Iwillseeyouaround,promise.
Gabrielhadhonoredhispledge.Thekindestboyintheworldhadkepthisword,andhe’dhadtodieinthisbasement,cold,withonlyamonstertowitness.
AndIwasgoingtojoinhim.
Ifeltokaywiththat,drowsyalmost.
Thepoppingfireworksdisappeared.Everythingshadedtogray,andthenink.Iwasbeyondspeaking.JustwhenIthoughtit’dbeblacknessforever,mybraindidthesweetestthingandthrewmeagoing-awayparty.
Itshowedmeamovieofthebestpartsofmylife.
SephieandmeputtingsunglassesonakittybuttandlaughinguntilshesnortedandIpeedalittle.
MomreadingbookstolittleSephieandme,makingallthevoices.
AuntJinshowingmehowtodancewithmyhips.
Sephiefindingthreeboyspickingonmeontheplaygroundandpushingthemdown,fierceasanAmazon.
And…mydad?Iwassurprisedtoseehiminmyfinalmovie,buttherehewas,loudandangry.BeforeIcouldfigureouthowthatfit,theearthroseuptohitme,smackonthesideoftheface.
Itshouldhavehurt,butIcouldbreatheagain,andsuddenlyIwasfranticforit.Isuckedinair,gaspingandcoughingsohardIthrewup.ThemoreairIgot,thewidermyvisiongrew,expandingsoIcouldseebeyondapinhole.Theedgesgrewfuzzy,thensaffroncolored.Dadwasthere,hishandsaroundGoblin’sneckasGoblin’shadbeenaroundmine.
Goblinwaspunchingathim,kicking,butDadwouldn’tlethimgo.
OnceGoblindidn’tfightanymore,Daddroppedhim.Goblin’schestwasrisingandfalling,buthewasout.Dadturnedtome.
Isawitallinhiseyes.
Momhadgonetobed.
Dad,angrierthanhe’deverbeen,hadclippedhisnubbylittlenails.
Then,finally,he’denteredmybedroom.
ButIhadn’tbeenthere.
Andhe’dcomelookingforme.
Hemusthavespottedmybikeintheditch,chargedintoGoblin’shouse,foundhimchokingme,andthenreturnedthefavor.
Thatallseemedjustfine,andsoIreturnedtothecomfortofoblivion.
CHAPTER57
Iwokeupinthehospital.ThesmellofdirtwassostrongthatIcametothrashing.Ittookmeawhiletostop,evenwhenIrealizedwhereIwas.MomandSephiewerebroughttomybedside,butnotDad.Theyhadmatchingbagsundertheireyes.Infact,theylookedalotlikeeachother.I’dnevernoticeditbefore.
Momrushedimmediatelytomyside.“Cassie!Howareyou?”
Iaimedtosay“youtellme,”butitcameoutasacroak.
Momgrabbedacupofwaterfrommyhospitaltrayandpivoteditsstrawinmydirection.Thecoolliquidfeltlikelivecoalsgoingdownatfirst,butonceitcoatedmyparchedthroat,Icouldn’tgetenough.MomexplainedthesituationasIdrank.Goblinhadbrokenmywristwhenhe’dtwistedit,andhe’dstrangledmewithinaninchofmylife.Thedoctorssaidmyscartissuesavedme,whichisahootandahalfifyouthinkaboutit.Theysaidthey’dneedtokeepmetwenty-fourhoursforobservation,butotherthanmywrist,mybodywouldbejustfine,theythought.
“Where’sDad?”Myvoicewasdeeperthanusual,butback.
BeforeMomcouldanswer,Mrs.Wellstoneshowedup,rightthereinmyhospitalroom.Herhairwaslooseandlookedlikeithadn’tbeenwashedinawhile.Whensheranoverandgentlyheldme,IcouldsmellthatIwasrightaboutthatsecondpart.Ifeltmiserableforher,butitfeltsogoodtobehugged.
“Thankyou,”shesobbed.
WhenIblinked,Icouldseethatfingeronthebackofmyeyelids.MaybeIwouldforever.“ItwasGabriel?”
Shenodded.
“Youshouldn’tbehere,”Isaid.Imeantthatsheshouldbewithhim,oratleasthisbody,butitcameoutwrong.ThenIrememberedthenecklace.
“Aremypantshere?”IaskedMom.
Shenoddedandfishedthemoutofaskinnycabinet.Shehandedthemover.IduginthebackpocketandfelttheriffleofpaperandthecoolmetalofGabriel’spaperairplanenecklace.Ihandedthelattertoher.
“Ohmygod.”Shehelditasifitweremadeoutoftissuepaper.
“IfounditoutsideGoblin’shouse.IthinkGabrielmusthavethrownitouttohelpusfindhim.”Iwasn’tsureIthoughtthat,butIdesperatelywantedtosaysomethingniceaboutGabriel.
Shebeganweepingagain,butsofter.“Thankyouforbringingmyboybacktome.”
Herpainwassobig,butshewastryingtokeepittoherselfsoitdidn’tspillalloverme.“I’msorryhe’sgone,”Isaid.
Shenodded,rubbingherfingersoverthenecklace.“Iwantyoutohavethis,”shesaid,handingitbacktome.
Iheldupmygoodhand.“Ican’t!”Ididn’twanttotakeanythingfromher.She’dalreadylosttoomuch.Besides,thepoliceprobablyneededitforevidence.
“No,please,”shesaid.“Itwouldmeaneverythingtous.YouknowGabrielwantedtobeapilot?”
Idid.
Intheend,Itookthenecklace,andifmeendingupwiththatdoesn’ttellyouthatthereisagrandplanforthislife,thenyou’rehopeless.
CHAPTER58
Mrs.WellstoneandIendeduptalkingsomemore.Wepromisedwe’dkeepintouch.Sheleft,butMomandSephiewerestillhauntingthecornersoftheroom,almostlikethethreeofusdidn’tknoweachother.
Aknockatthedoorsavedmefromhavingtofigureoutwhattodoaboutthat.
“Cassandra?”
IrecognizedOfficerKentbutnotthewomanwithhim.Heclosedthedoorbehindthemboth.
“ThisisMs.Didier.She’sasocialworker.We’dliketotalkwithyou.”
IheldGabriel’snecklace.Myjeansweredrapedoverme,theedgeofthedrugtallysheetshowinginmybackpocket.Mommovedtowardme,butOfficerKenthelduphishand.
“We’dliketotalkwithheralone,ifyoudon’tmind.Wehaveyourpermission?”
Momnodded,butshelookedwretched.WhensheandSephiesteppedout,Icaughtaflashofcolorsinthehallway.ItwasEvieandFrank.Frankwasholdingflowerslikehe’dcometoaskmetopromratherthanwasvisitingmeinthehospital.Whatadork.
Ismiled,eventhoughIcouldn’tsmellanythingbutGoblin’sbasement.
Iwasgoingtotellmystory.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Ittakesadreamteamtoassembleabookthatcutsthisclosetohome,andboy,didIgetone.
First,deepandforeverthankstomyagent,JillMarsal,andmyeditor,JessicaTribble,forbelievinginthisstory.It’sanoddduckofasuspensenovel—athrillerforadultsbutwithateenageprotagonist,setinaflyoverstate—anditwouldn’thavefounditsaudiencewithoutthosetwo.ThanksalsotoJessicaandCharlotteHerscherforzeroinginontheheartofthestoryandtrimmingawaythedistractions.(Ifyou’dliketoreadthetenscintillatingpagesofchickenbutcheringtheycut,shootmeanemail.)ThankstoJonforhisincisiveandencouragingcopyediting,Kellieforhersupportiveproofreading,Carissaforheroversight.
Gratitudetomyemotionalsupportcreatives:ShannonBaker,JohnnyShaw,andTerriBischoff,whoreadearlydraftsandgavecrucialfeedbackandlove;CatrionaMcPherson,fortakingmeinatalowpoint,openingupherwarmhugofahome,andshoringmeupinside;LindaJoffeHullforsagecareeradvice;LoriRader-Dayforthetitleofthisbookandsomuchmore,includingthescreamroom;SusieCalkinsandNadineNettmannforthelaughs,wine,andwisdom.
Tomywritinggroup,ProsebeforeBros,thankyouforprovidingasoundingboardaswellasawatercooler.ThankyouespeciallytoCarolyn,who’sonthisjourneywithmeinsomanyways.
GratitudetomyauntSuzanna,whohaswaitedpatientlyformetofindmywayoutofthemadness:thankyouforleadingwithcourage,kindness,andhumor.Zo?andXander,Iamunbearablyproudofbothofyou,andofyourcompassesthatpointtruenorth.Amanda,Iseeyourstrength,andit’shumbling.Christine,Kellie,andCindy,thankyouforbeingmysisters.Lookingforwardtomanymoreadventures.Tony,thankyouforgrowingwithme,standingbyme,andsharingyourcreativityandbeautifulheart.
Andfinally,thankyoutoPatrick,whoopenedthedoortoawholenewworld.
ABOUTTHEAUTHOR
Photo?2019CindyHager,CKPhotography
JessLoureywritesaboutsecrets.SheisabestsellingAgatha,Anthony,andLeftyAward–nominatedauthorofcrimefiction,magicalrealism,youngadult,andnonfiction.Sheisatenuredprofessorofcreativewritingandsociology,arecipientofTheLoft’sExcellenceinTeachingfellowship,aPsychologyTodayblogger,andaTEDxpresenter.(CheckoutherTEDxTalkfortheinspirationbehindherfirstpublishednovel.)Whennotleadingwritingworkshops,reading,orspendingtimewithherfriendsandfamily,youcanfindherworkingonhernextstory.Discovermoreatwww.jessicalourey.com
TableofContents
TITLEPAGE
COPYRIGHTPAGE
DEDICATION
CONTENTS
AUTHOR’SNOTE
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER1
CHAPTER2
CHAPTER3
CHAPTER4
CHAPTER5
CHAPTER6
CHAPTER7
CHAPTER8
CHAPTER9
CHAPTER10
CHAPTER11
CHAPTER12
CHAPTER13
CHAPTER14
CHAPTER15
CHAPTER16
CHAPTER17
CHAPTER18
CHAPTER19
CHAPTER20
CHAPTER21
CHAPTER22
CHAPTER23
CHAPTER24
CHAPTER25
CHAPTER26
CHAPTER27
CHAPTER28
CHAPTER29
CHAPTER30
CHAPTER31
CHAPTER32
CHAPTER33
CHAPTER34
CHAPTER35
CHAPTER36
CHAPTER37
CHAPTER38
CHAPTER39
CHAPTER40
CHAPTER41
CHAPTER42
CHAPTER43
CHAPTER44
CHAPTER45
CHAPTER46
CHAPTER47
CHAPTER48
CHAPTER49
CHAPTER50
CHAPTER51
CHAPTER52
CHAPTER53
CHAPTER54
CHAPTER55
CHAPTER56
CHAPTER57
CHAPTER58
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
ABOUTTHEAUTHOR