“I don’t know,” Tamara says, flustered. “It was like a tall shadow. Mari, maybe you should . . .”
A door slams from somewhere down the hall and I leap to my feet, blood freezing solid.
“What was that!” Tamara yelps, completely freaked.
I involuntarily touch my trembling lip.
Be cool, Mari, it’s nothing. You’re going to lose it and you don’t have weed to chill you out this time.
But what if someone broke in? Again?
“Umm . . . it’s, uh, probably them, home early.”
“Are you sure?” Tamara presses. “Shouldn’t you call the police or . . .”
“Yeah. Got to go. I’ll hit you later.”
I press “end call” and spin back to the door. Don’t know why I hung up so quickly. Guess I didn’t want my best friend witnessing my potential murder, scarring her for life.
“Mom? Alec?” I call out in a shaky voice. “Sammy?”
Footsteps. Fast ones. Like tiny feet running down the hall. The flame on my candle flickers with the passing breeze. Buddy’s fur spikes. He growls, backing up into my legs.
“It’s . . . just a draft,” I tell Buddy. Heart beating my chest blue, I take one wobbly step toward the door.
“Hello?” I croak, jaw clenching. But then his voice echoes from below.
“Your salvation, children of God, is at stake! The devil preys upon the weak. But he put the power in your hands to right the wrongs. Power in the hands of the righteous. Will you not defend your beliefs? Will you not defend your God?”
Buddy and I are greeted by an empty first floor, Scott Clark the only sign of life. It’s cold, like twenty degrees colder than upstairs. I recheck the front door, deck door, and all the windows. Locked. The basement is still sealed tight. So why can’t I shake the feeling that I’m being . . . watched? The residue of someone lingering, tainting the air . . .
ZzzzCLICK!
In an instant, I’m dipped into darkness, the whole house blacked out. Breath catches in my throat, strangling a cry, feet stuck to the floor. A full moon bleeds through the back woods. Something is moving in the living room . . . or is that tree shadows? Whispering . . . or is that the wind? I grab on to Buddy’s collar to ground myself as he whimpers . . . or is that me crying? Suddenly, Buddy stands erect, his tail a sharp line.
THUMP!
My head snaps up to the ceiling. Why did it sound like a bag of hammers dropped on the floor?
It’s just the heat . . . turning back on. That’s all.
Rationalizing does nothing to stop my thin, shallow breaths from slowing down. Then there’s a small creak before the tiny footsteps return, running above my head.
Someone’s in the house?
WiiizzzzzCLICK!
The lights come on all at once, a dizzying effect—TV blaring, ice cubes clicking out the fridge door, stove and microwave clock blinking 12:00. I cough out a breath.
Logic begins filtering through the panic: Be cool, Mari, don’t freak. They did a shitty job with the electrical. They were rushing, remember? If it happens again, you check the fuse box, just like Dad taught you.
But the fuse box is in the basement.
Don’t be a hero. Call Mom.
Sprinting upstairs, I fly into the room and let out a yelp.
The phone. It’s not on the desk where I left it. It’s on the floor, lying in the middle of my room, facedown.
Was that the noise I heard? But how did it drop? Unless it grew legs, how did it flip itself all the way over here? Could it have rolled? Squares don’t roll.
You’re spiraling, Mari. Control, focus, control.
Heart beating out of my chest, I nibble on my lip. If I call Mom, she’ll read right through me. She’ll start bringing up rehab again and I won’t have much to prove the opposite of what she’s already thinking: that I’m losing my mind. She’ll also make me pee in a cup and it’s barely been twenty-four hours. That blunt is still in my system.
“Energy flows where attention goes.”
That’s what my guru would always say. Maybe that’s it, I’m overobsessing about this creepy house, causing all this weird stuff to happen. Thoughts become things, and all that crap. I need to get out of here, clear my head. . . .
I snatch the phone from the floor. The screen isn’t damaged, and nothing is noticeably different. Maybe it really did fall. Doesn’t matter, I still call him.
“Hey, what up doe,” Yusef says, lowering his music. “Took you long enough. Was wondering when you were gonna give me an update on your little situation from last night.”
Sounds like he’s driving with the windows down and the music on high.
“Um, hey,” I mumble, a tremor in my voice, staring at the door. Too afraid to turn my back to it.
“Yo, you okay? Why do you sound like—”
“Oh! Bruh, is that New Girl?”
Her voice is a shock to the system. “Erika?”
“Man, put that shit on speaker! Hey, girl! What’s up? You want a Coney dog?”
I cough out a laugh, relieved. “A what?”
Fourteen
“BRUH, I CAN’T believe you don’t eat meat,” Erika says, slurping an extra-large Coke in the passenger seat of Yusef’s truck. “That’s, like, sacrificial.”
“You mean sacrilegious,” I laugh, throwing a fry at her from the back seat.
“That too,” she says, eating the fry. “Coney dogs were, for real, made in heaven. You need to try it at least once.”
Erika definitely has the munchies. Eyelids hanging low, she ordered three Coney dogs, one cheeseburger, and a large chili cheese fries.
“You really missing out, though,” Yusef agrees, biting into his dog, mustard dripping down his chin, chopped onions falling into his lap.
“Um, yeah. I’ll take your word for it.”
We’re parked outside what looks like a busy no-frills diner/gas station with the best greasy food in Maplewood, full of signs of life. Exactly what I need to shake the tremors out of my hands.
“And then,” Erika continues her outrage, hot dog in hand. “You go and get fries but not the chili cheese fries. Dry-ass fries looking like the Sahara.”
I purse my lips. “Are you done?”
“No. ’Cause what we supposed to do with you? Expect us to take you the nearest bird feeder or something?”
“That’s a good question,” Yusef says, turning to me. “What d’you feel like getting into? This night is young!”
“Well, we do have school tomorrow,” I point out.
“Whatever,” Erika says. “We need to make moves. We can’t sit here all night.”
I could. Any place is better than being at home. I would have no problem living in this car for the rest of my life. Plus, Yusef has a pretty fire playlist.
“Y’all feel like going down to the Riverwalk?” Yusef offers.
“And risk running into members of the ‘Yusef Stan Club,’ get our poor sweet new girl fucked up? Nah, we gotta go somewhere where we won’t be seen.”
Yusef nods, thinking, before a giant smile takes over his face and he starts the engine. “Bet! I know a place.”
“And girl, would you keep your head down,” Erika scolds, buckling her seat belt. “Anyone see you in Yuey’s car, at night, they’ll know something’s up even if it’s not.”