This gave Margot pause. Her eyes flitted toward the stairs and her makeshift yoga studio. “We wouldn’t have to put them in every room. Right? Certainly not in bedrooms or bathrooms, but the front hall? The kitchen? I hate to admit it, Myron, but I get nervous being here alone. Hunter is starting school in eleven days, and it’ll just be me in the house. Alone. Christ, I can’t even hear the doorbell upstairs. What’s to stop someone from—”
Myron held up a hand and nodded. “Why don’t you look into it? Alright? Tell me what it’s going to cost, and we’ll figure it out.” Reduced surveillance seemed to agree with him better as he ticked off rooms that would still be safe in his head. Bathroom. Closet.
It was a done deal. Margot would start making calls that day. But the thought wasn’t soothing enough to forget what had brought the issue up in the first place. “What about Hunter? Do you think he needs counseling?”
Myron made a show of considering it. Counseling. Anyone who knew him well would notice all the reasons he thought it was a bad idea ticking through his head—the stigma, the cost, the labeling, the overmedicating.
Margot pressed on, oblivious. “I’m worried about him. He just doesn’t seem normal, does he?”
“Hey, now wait. Hon, he’s a teenager. They’re moody. They’re antisocial. They are addicted to their phones and hate their parents. Don’t you remember? This is normal.”
“What if he’s on drugs?” Her shrill voice left little cuts all over Myron. “I mean, he never comes down to talk with us. He always looks . . . I don’t know. Stoned. And some things of mine have gone missing. How would we even know, Myron?”
“No. That’s . . . He’s not on drugs. Where would he even get them? He doesn’t know anybody here.” He rubbed his red eyes not unselfconsciously. A faint tremor of withdrawal vibrated in his fingers, but Margot missed it completely. “Don’t get me wrong. I’ve considered it. I’m keeping my eyes open for the signs. But he’s not losing weight. He’s lucid when we talk. Shoot, even last night he seemed perfectly sober to me. Just a little spooked. Let’s get the security system, okay? That way we’ll know if he’s sneaking out at night or anything else weird.” The shape of a girl slipped through his mind. Had he really seen or heard anything?
Margot nodded, satisfied, but something still worried itself at the edge of her thoughts. It’s this house, Myron. Something is wrong with this house. She opened her mouth to say it but caught herself.
Myron took the opportunity to change the subject. “Hey. Have you been feeding that stray cat? The white one? I keep seeing it in the yard.”
“Cat? No.” She avoided looking at him.
“You know if you feed it, it will never leave, right?” He sighed, annoyed and exhausted. He’d spent most of the night tossing and turning on the couch in the den.
“I’m not feeding it, Myron. I know you’re allergic.” She rolled her eyes at his turned back.
“You going to the club today?” he asked, putting his coffee mug in the sink and picking up his briefcase.
“Yeah. Maybe. See you there?”
“Probably around seven. I have a late meeting with the surgeons’ group.” He didn’t face her as he said it, hiding his lie. He was out of pills, and his skin itched.
“Okay, sweetie. I’ll feed Hunter something and see you later,” Margot called over her shoulder as she headed toward her studio and her internet love interest. She had promised him “hot naked yoga” the day before, and her cheeks were already pink with the idea.
26
Hunter woke to the dull thump of a bass line. Music vibrated through the floor joists from his mother’s studio down the hall to his room. A muffled laugh on the other side of the wall jolted him upright. It was followed by the muffled lilt of his mother’s voice. Teaching again. The sound of her online yoga classes filled him with revulsion. The bookcase was still blocking his door, and the bizarre incident the night before came rushing back.
Are you awake?
He lurched out of bed. Frodo and Samwise twitched their noses at him as he sank down onto his computer chair and jiggled the mouse to wake up the machine. The two rodents quickly lost interest and continued their quest through the long tube to the tank with fresh water on the other side of the bedroom. Hunter watched them go, feeling more acutely than ever how alone he was in that enormous house without a friend within five hundred miles.
Once the monitor lit up, he brought up the video from the night before and studied it again in the light of day. The blurry shape moved past the camera over and over.
“What are you?” he whispered, squinting at it. It couldn’t have been his mother or father. They had been fast asleep.
With a long, wavering exhale, he closed the video and tapped his thumbs on his desk. He slumped in his computer chair, debating whether to call the police, his father, anyone.
Caleb was online, chatting about some conspiracy involving the federal government and fluoride. Hunter sent him a DM request. A moment later his computer chimed, and a chubby face appeared on his screen.
“H-Dog! What up?” Caleb flashed the sign of the devil and grinned.
“Hey. Shit’s getting weirder.” Hunter relayed what had happened the night before and sent a link to the video.
Caleb let out a low whistle. “Dude. I told you. You got a ghost in your house. You gotta get out of there.” His sarcastic voice and sneer made it clear that he didn’t believe a word of it.
“Shut up,” Hunter hissed and threw a glance at the closed door. For all he knew, the ghost was standing outside it. “I’m not kidding. What the fuck did the camera see, man? What is that thing?”
“Hell if I know. It’s not like it’s a fucking night vision camera, dude. It could be anything. A glitch. Did the AC kick on?”
Hunter frowned at this. “I dunno. Maybe. Would this thing pick up temperature?”
“I doubt it. What’d you spend? Like ten bucks on that piece of shit? Let it go. It’s probably nothing.”
“Yeah. But some weird stuff’s been happening. Doors keep opening and shutting. Lights keep turning on . . . I swear I heard somebody last night. Either I’m nuts, or someone’s in the house.”
“Someone? Or something?” Nuts or not, Caleb still found the whole idea entertaining. “So what you gonna do? Call the cops?”
“No . . . I don’t know.” He truly didn’t want to call the cops or talk to his parents. They would all end up blaming him somehow. “What am I supposed to say? I hear footsteps in the night? Someone knocked on my door? It sounds kinda crazy, right? It’s not like I’ve seen anyone. I don’t have any evidence except this shitty video, and my parents already think I’m on drugs.”
Caleb laughed. “Are you?”
“Fuck off!”
“Seriously, how are you staying sane in that place?” As if to prove the point, Caleb grabbed his vaporizer and took a long puff. “Aren’t you bored out of your mind?”
“Pretty much.” Hunter rubbed his head. “But I’m telling you, it isn’t just me. Here. Look at this shit.”
He grabbed the portable webcam from the desk, pressed a few buttons, and clicked on his closet light.