Nocturnal Meetings of the Misplaced Page 22

  Finally, I asked, “Where’s Grandpa?”

  “He’s working on a project. A project he’s too old to do now, that I’m sure of. He’ll be in late.” Was this what had put her in such a bad mood? She dropped her fork and it clinked on the plate. She patted a napkin to her lips.

  “What kind of project?” I asked.

  “Writing a book again! He’s working on the cabin.” Her face went slack, and she suddenly looked sad. “He probably won’t be home for days.”

  My brain fixed in on the word cabin.

  “Listen, tonight, I want Isabella to sleep up in the loft and not in the guest room with you. Understood?” My grandmother continued, “And you two orphans clean the dishes. I got to work at the store tomorrow and I’m tired.” She got up and left the table and exited the room.

  “Are we orphans? Did mom die?” Isabella asked, with huge, submarine eyes.

  “No. Mom’s alive,” I told her.

  Jail couldn’t have been that hard for my mom after living with this lady.

  “I want to go back to Reese and Holden’s,” Isabella whispered. I did, too.

  Chapter 49

  Saturday Night

  It was my first Saturday night at my grandmother’s house and close to midnight. I walked over to peek at Izzy. Her eyes were closed, and her short eyelashes curled up. Her pink lips slightly parted, with a thin thread of drool seeping from the side of her mouth. She always looked like a different, but equally adorable, kid, when she slept. I thought of giving her a quick kiss but didn’t want to risk waking her.

  I had big plans with Finn. And even bigger plans to meet Annie. I wasn’t sure if it was love or hormones, but I had to see her again. My grandfather was away. My grandmother was being friendly to me for some unknown reason, maybe out of sheer loneliness? It was as good of time as any.

  I treaded carefully down the steps, feeling torn about leaving Isabella on the third one. I reached the second-floor landing and darkness greeted me. I didn’t know where my grandmother was and didn’t want to turn the light on and risk being caught. There was one hall window with wooden shutters. I searched for it, and the shutter banged against the window pane. The sound became amplified in the complete silence. Quickly, I searched for the wand to twist the shutter open to let the moonlight and starlight in. I couldn’t find it and the shutters rattled again. Had she heard me?

  I stood perfectly still. Then I had the distinct feeling of being watched. I could almost hear someone breathing and the air became unnaturally heavy. My heart sped up. I waited for several minutes, not moving at all. If someone was there they would have made another sound by now. I peered into the black space before me in genuine confusion. I stared, listened, concentrated, but nothing.

  Just when I was about ready start walking, the hall light went on, stark and bright, making me flinch and my eyes squint. There my grandmother stood. She had been there all along. It had been a weird game to her.

  “Oh dear, I didn’t know you were up,” she said, playing up the innocent thing. “Well, it’s Saturday night. You can stay up a little late. Do you want some tea?” she asked with a smile, still dressed in her slacks and blouse she’d worn all day.

  “I was just going to use the bathroom.”

  “You wear your jacket to use the bathroom?” Her smile became brittle. She walked up to me and stroked my face.

  I almost cringed at her touch. “It’s cool in the attic.”

  “Oh well, you will have tea with me,” she said with disarming directness, catching my chin with her fingertips and roughly tipping my face up. “So? Are you going to be like Holden, or like your mother? It’s up to you to decide?” Her voice was soft but vicious. She let go of me.

  “I’m going to be me,” I answered. “And I’m going to learn from my mom’s mistakes and Holden’s mistakes like they both would want me to.”

  Her expression stiffened. “What exactly was Holden’s mistake?” She pushed her hair behind her ears.

  I heard Finn’s engine and thought, oh, crap. Then it got quiet again. I hoped Finn would be smart enough to realize I wasn’t coming and go home.

  “Is that your redheaded friend? You’re not going anywhere, understand?” She started to walk toward the staircase but stopped to give me a look over her shoulder. “Follow me, Tommy.”

  I don’t know why, but I obeyed.

  Next, I sat and waited on the sofa. Several wads of used tissue cluttered the dark end table.

  She came and set two floral teacups and saucers down on the coffee table. “Tommy, I think I could buy you a car if you straighten out and fall in line. I have a bit of money saved, you know.”

  I hadn’t expected that, a bribe. Anger darted through me. A small electrical charge of outrage. “I like to walk.”

  She shook her head. “I see.” She looked down.

  “I mean could you really do that for me?” I had to play nice and decided to use the orphan card. After all, it was how she perceived me. “No one has ever done anything like that for me.”

  She picked up her tea and took a sip. “Now drink your tea.”

  She watched me as I brought the cup to my lips, and the smell of cinnamon rushed at me. I chugged a few big mouthfuls, wanting to get this tea party over. It was sweet and spicy. It left a bitter taste on my tongue, the same aftertaste as the cookie I ate, the first night I spent at my grandparents’ house. The night I became sleepy without warning, practically passing out. How had I forgotten? I was a real idiot.

  She looked pleased. “Have you ever heard the expression, you scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours?” She flicked up her thin eyebrows as her tea cup plinked on the saucer. “I’m going to be honest with you, Tommy. I have always preferred boys to girls.” I looked at her, to let her know I was listening. I realized her eyes were puffy and red like she had been crying recently. She continued. “My mom always hated the special attention my father gave me. I’m not sure why he did. He could be terribly cruel to my brother, but there are certain people you have to be cruel to.” She picked up her hands and briefly covered her face. “Some people have it coming. Evil begets evil. I am over sixty years old. I know a few things.” She shook her finger to bring the point home. “Oh, your mother deserved it.”

  “Did you ever love her?” I wondered out loud.

  “No. She wouldn’t let me.” She gave a heavy sigh. “I suppose that makes me a terrible person.”

  I thought, yeah, it does, but I worked to keep my face neutral. I glanced up at the ceiling, some of the original crown molding looked like it had been dipped in piss as a wave of dizziness took me. Oh shit, the tea was drugged. I needed to get away from her to call Finn before I’d faded out.

  “Do you have any cookies, Grandma? I like cookies with my tea.”

  “Of course,” she said.

  My heart charged with the prospect.

  “They’re in the cupboard, dear. Are you sure you feel up to it? You don’t look so well?” She wore a satisfied smirk, the fine lines around her eyes merged together until they joined as one. “You’re getting sleepy.” She said with wicked delight.

  “I’m fine.” I fought the overwhelming urge to close my eyes. At least I’d be able to shoot off a quick text to Finn to let him know what happened. I walked to the kitchen. Monstrous shadows of appliances from a sliver of moonlight made the everyday kitchen appear sinister. I held onto the counter to balance myself. I was about to take my phone out of my hoodie pocket when my grandmother’s voice startled me.

  “You were going to sneak out. There must be consequences. Give me your phone. That’s why you came in here—to use your phone?”

  For some dumb reason, I had both phones with me. One in each pocket. My regular phone and the one Finn gave me. It was a good thing. I handed her the one without my texting history.

  She set it on the countertop and spun around, without warning she slapped me across the face. My cheek stung. I put my hand on my face in response.

  “Don’t touch m
e!” I suspected her of being an accessory to murder and kidnapping, yet her slapping me came as a total surprise.

  “I can’t stand the sight of you, go to bed,” she said.

  I started to feel light-headed as I staggered through the dark house, back–up to the attic and resumed my space, on the floor, next to Izzy’s bed. Only then I checked my phone. There was a text from Finn. “I saw that van from hell. I’m home now and safe. Be careful.”

  I tried calling him, but he didn’t pick up. I texted back, “Got caught sneaking out. Tell girls I’m sorry.”

  I wasn’t sure what was going on. Ideas buzzed around my head like bees in a jar. I knew the reason my grandmother wanted me to drink the tea. She needed me out of the way. She had a guest coming. I wanted to go and investigate, to call the police but I was getting sleepier by the second. My body felt heavy. I lost feeling in my fingers and even my toes. Hunkering down under the blanket of my sleeping bag took all the strength I had. I shut my eyes for a second and gave way to sleep.

  Sunday morning came, and my nausea woke me up. After hurling in the toilet, I rinsed my mouth out with tap water and brushed my teeth. I couldn’t get rid of the bitter taste. I immediately called Finn but got his voicemail. Next, I read a “where r u?” text, Silence sent the other night and shot off a quick apology to both girls for standing them up and tucked my phone away. Luckily for me, I had, because when I stepped out of the bathroom my grandmother was standing there. She quickly put me to work raking the giant leaf-covered yard, on an empty and iffy stomach.

  The fresh air made me feel a little better. As I worked, I noticed a tire swing that hung from a lonely oak tree in the corner of the lawn. I wondered if my mom or Holden ever played on it. From there I almost pictured them, the little blond girl and boy from the photos, playing and running around. Yet for whatever reason, this scene left me sadder than I was before.

  I refocused on my work and only briefly glanced up at the sky, noticing metal-grey clouds looming in and kept raking huge piles of gold and rust leaves, jamming them into large garbage bags.

  Again, I brought the rake down into the endless lawn as I looked up to see my grandmother walking toward me with a tall glass of lemonade. I just watched her cross the lawn. She handed the glass to me, saying, “I can be nice.”

  I was so thirsty, I chugged it. “Thanks,” I said.

  Next, I watched in shock as she went around the yard dumping out the bags of leaves from each bag. All my progress spilled onto the lawn.

  She had the now-empty bags folded over her forearm. “I can be mean...You need to use the paper bags. They’re in the shed. And dear, hurry. You still need to mow the lawn.” She took the glass from my hand. “Kill, or cure,” she said, in a sweet voice, her face eerily smug and walked away.

  “Unbelievable,” I mumbled.

  My mood tanked, just like she wanted it to. I had been holding on, not to sink into despair, getting up every morning and just going through the motions. Remembering how Holden and I talked about making things right, I looked at that house. The solitary stained-glass window perched at the top of the house might have been the intended focal point, but the small basement windows, squinting at me, seized my attention. I went to have a closer look.

  Dropping to my knees, I peered in. The dirt-streaked windows made it impossible to see through. I pushed my palm against the cool glass of the window, my gut telling me the answers remained in that basement.

  I trudged away from the house and looked up at the sky. The clouds suffocated the blue, and the sky looked dull and sullen. The dead leaves rattled around the yard. Some leaves made their way to the crumpled fence that looked utterly defeated. I entered some haunted dimension. I began raking the yard again, knowing there was much more to this story than a slap in the face and stupid games. I was sure of it.

  After a day of hard labor, I was happy to be back at school on Monday morning. I had my econ worksheet flattened against my locker, quickly circling answers I thought seemed right when Hailee Palmer appeared beside my locker. I swear, she looked even prettier than last year if that was possible. My hand froze in midscribble.

  “You know they call it homework, not hall work for a reason,” she remarked, smugly, with her posture perfect and chin elevated ever so slightly.

  The best I could come up with was, “Ah, yeah.”

  She gave me a cold, demure smile before she’d walked away with Kelly.

  I flew to class as the late bell rang and slid into an empty desk, in the last row. Mrs. Mann narrowed her already-hooded eyes at me and welcomed me with a tardy slip. Minutes later, Finn appeared in the doorway and Mrs. Mann simply shoed him to a seat. He never got a tardy slip these days. The teachers were cutting him major slack since his head trauma.

  I shot him a small smile as if to say Lucky bastard. I was just relieved he was here. All through class, my brain registered nothing. We’d barely had time to text yesterday since my grandma kept me so busy with chores. I just waited for the bell and a chance to talk.

  After class Finn and I walked toward our lockers. His eyelids flickered like they did when he’s nervous, as he told me about how he saw that black van at my grandparents’ house.

  “I panicked when I saw that van. And I didn’t get the number on the plates, again. Silence would kill me, so I’m not going to tell her. I mean, I already stood her up.”

  “Why didn’t you call the police, Finn?” My stomach plummeted at another missed opportunity. We couldn’t keep screwing this up.

  “Well I don’t even have a driver’s license and it was after curfew. And I was kind of afraid maybe it was just a van that looked like it.”

  “No. It’s too coincidental. But I don’t get how they know him.”

  “Maybe they're part of some old people’s devil’s cult,” Finn said. I shot him a confused look. I wasn’t sure if he was joking, but I couldn’t completely rule it out. I thought of this old movie I saw called, Rosemary’s Baby. The old people in this movie wanted this lady Rosemary’s baby for their cult. The note Silence had said a baby was kidnapped. There were creepy similarities. More than ever I knew I was in a dark place.

  Kelly showed up at her locker, saying “Hey guys.” We shut up, totally aware of how ridiculous we sounded.

  Chapter 50

  Sfs

  Tommy

  My heart thudded that Friday when I climbed into a sleeping bag for the night, surrounded by paintings of clowns, a row of clown dolls displayed on a built-in shelf and the menacing clown which stood in the corner of the room, appeared almost lifelike. There was also a curious octagon pattern with red hearts and threads of gold on the stained-glass window. Moonlight played through the colors, casting strange designs on the hardwood floor and illuminating the side of the clown’s face in a soft, unholy glow. My eyes shot paranoid glances around the room.

  More than one night, I had imagined hearing faint, distant cries and moans from the vents. The sounds faded when I strained to hear them. Was it just my grandmother’s theatrics again? Could it be the haunted lady?

  For now, I gave the big, oversized clown the stare-down before I began texting Annie. “How was it seeing Simon again? r u ok?” I had wondered if seeing him had stirred up feelings.

  “I guess, I wanted a boyfriend, to say I had a boyfriend.” she texted back. “But I hope Simon doesn’t get himself killed.”

  I texted, “Me too.” Sometimes, I thought Simon could piss off, and I wouldn’t give him a second thought. Deep down, I did care about him, maybe partly because no one else did. Annie wasn’t book smart, but she could always make me think. “I miss u.” I sent an emoticon of a sad face.

  “I miss u too.” Her emoticon of a crying face made me smile. Becoming more serious, I admitted, “I wish I would have told Holden goodbye at the funeral.” I’d been scared, maybe selfish.

  “That would have been for you. Holden’s somewhere better.” Annie had a sweet way of saying things. Her words made me feel lighter. She texted, “Good ni
ght.”

  I did too. Annie gave the phone to Silence for her turn.

  Silence’s text read like it had for the past week, “Have u found anything?”

  “Not yet.”

  Her reminder again. “U r not there 4 ever u know.”

  My chest was tight. I could feel the sensation of time slipping away. I came here looking for answers, but I just wasn’t sure how to go about finding them.

  There was nothing else Silence wanted to say to me.

  Next, I texted Finn. The soft clink of the keys from my prehistoric cell phone didn’t bother Isabella, who was fast asleep. At 2 a.m. I was busy texting when I heard a soft muffled sound, like crying. I ended the text. I decided I had to follow that sound.

  I stood up and crept down the stairs to the second-floor landing. I followed the tiny noises that were just on the edge of my hearing, sliding my palm across the wall to guide me. The sound led me down the dark hallway, becoming louder and closer. I walked softly, carefully, tiptoeing really. When the crying got louder, I stopped. I was right outside my grandparents’ bedroom. I only heard one muffled voice and reasoned that my grandmother was on the phone. The words were just out of earshot. By the time, I pressed my ear to the door, a deep wailing sound was followed by a gasp. My grandma started saying something about “Burning the house down” and, “Leaving you.” Needing to hear everything, I stayed motionless, my ear practically glued to the door.

  My grandmother rattled on. Her words were choppy and emotional, but clear enough to understand. “You said you did it for me, but you lied. You just want these women. We needed to keep Laney until she gave us a boy too. Then you had to get Sarah. Now you’ve put the bars back on the windows at the cabin! You’re stalking some other whore. Don’t lie to me, my brother told me.”