Which means we just have to survive the night, as they say. Make that several nights.
Sammy fortifies his bedroom with booby traps and an infinite number of flashlights. I no longer sleep, surviving off a diet of coffee, caffeine pills, and candy. I burn so much sage we’re practically living in a low fog.
But the house has been quiet for days. No weird smells, voices, or strange footsteps. It’s as if it knows it’s done its job and is satisfied with the results. We’re leaving, like it wanted us to. Well, some of us.
Alec and Piper mostly keep to themselves, eating out and playing in her room. Mom hides herself away in her office working, until Saturday morning, when she knocks on Sam’s door.
“You two feel like taking a walk?”
The Riverwalk is a redbrick-style promenade off the Cedarville River with plenty of restaurants, shops, food trucks, and kiosks, bookended by casinos and an eat-in movie theater. The place is all decked out for Halloween. We pass a pumpkin-carving contest at the pavilion along with signs for the Halloweenie puppy parade.
Sammy picks out a booth by the window at Johnny Rockets so we can watch the steamships sail by. It hasn’t been just us three in months and it is relieving not having to walk on eggshells.
“So, Sammy,” Mom says, after placing three orders of veggie burgers and Tater Tots. “Did you decide what you’re going to be for Halloween?”
He plays with the straw of his lemonade. “I was going to be a zombie . . . but that’s a little too close to home.”
I snort, the first time I’ve laughed in days. Mom shoots me a look and I slide down in my seat.
“Guys,” she starts, hands folded on the table. “I know things have been . . . rough. There’s been so much change this year.”
She looks pointedly at me and I don’t back down. I’m tired of my mistake being used as a weapon against me. She sighs.
“You know, my entire life, I’ve never won anything,” she says, kissing the side of Sammy’s head. “Well, aside from you two. But really, never been first place in sports, never got a scholarship to college or anything like that. So when I was accepted for this residency, I was excited. More than excited. I thought this was a chance for a fresh start, not just for me after a divorce, but for all of us.”
I blink. “So . . . you just didn’t want to move . . . because of me?”
“No! Of course not. I wanted to go. I wanted a change. And when I brought it up to Alec,” she continues, “he was fully on board. He knew how important it was to me, and knew it would be a great opportunity for you two. The man just moved with Piper to our town and was willing to relocate with her again. So regardless of what you may think, he really does love you two.”
“Well, he has a funny way of showing it,” I scoff.
“Yeah,” Mom says, her eyebrow cocking up. “So do you. You’re not exactly a walk in the park.”
Eyes growing big, Sammy glances away, sipping his drink, which means he agrees.
I want to counter but I can’t because they might have a point. I haven’t been exactly welcoming to Alec. Aside from the fact that within months of him moving in I was coding on my bedroom floor. Not exactly the best way of making a first impression.
“To be honest,” Mom continues, “he’s a little hurt about our secret contingency plan. Because families don’t have that. Families stick together no matter what and help each other.”
I think of Yusef and sigh.
“But . . . he doesn’t believe us about the house being haunted,” Sammy mumbles.
Mom straightens, her lips pressed together. She doesn’t believe us either.
“You made your decision about leaving and . . . I respect that,” she says. “I’ll always respect your wishes. But I just think . . . this place could be really good for us. For our future. Plus, I don’t want to live without my babies.” She cuddles Sammy. “So maybe just . . . think about it some more. For me? Please?”
“Mr. Watson! What are you doing here?”
Mr. Watson meets us in the driveway as we pull up from lunch, carrying an old toolbox and small stepladder.
“Irma called. Said you were having trouble with the lights.”
Mom nods, zipping up her jacket as Sammy and I unload some groceries.
“Oh. Right. Alec must have . . . told her. Find anything?”
He shakes his head. “I checked what I could and everything seems to be working all right.”
“So you went into the basement?” I ask bluntly.
He looks at me for five seconds too long. “No.”
“Of course not,” I mumble, snatching a bag out of the trunk.
There’s something I just don’t trust about Mr. Watson. Every answer he gives seems dense and cold. He knows more than he’s saying, not that I can prove it.
“Maybe you should talk to Irma about calling an electrician,” Mr. Watson says to Mom. “Should anything come up again.”
“You’re right,” Mom says. “And thank you. Sorry for the trouble.”
From the porch, I watch Mr. Watson pack up his Volvo. Not a truck.
But I know what I saw.
Sammy’s room is just like mine except with way more stuff and a hell of lot less eerie. His door doesn’t open or close on its own and after spending the last few days camping out on the floor, I can also confirm I have yet to see one stranger standing in the corner. Could my room be the haunted epicenter of this house?
I can’t believe I even have to ask myself these types of questions. But I’ve been researching nothing but info on demonic hauntings, even ordering holy water from the Vatican, not caring who sees anymore—that’s if someone is still monitoring our internet use. The Sterling Foundation must know what’s going on in here. They specifically put us in Ms. Suga’s house. But why? Why try to scare the shit out of us if their goal is to make this community great again?
Cupping the back of my head, I lie on Sammy’s bed, staring up at the ceiling, wondering what life will be like, living with Dad? At least I’ll be closer to Tamara, only a four-hour drive. But . . . we’ll be thousands of miles from Mom. All this time, I thought she moved because of me, when really, she wanted a change just as much as I did.
Change is good. Change is necessary. Change is needed.
Sammy sits cross-legged on the floor, playing a video game. He hasn’t said much since we came back from lunch. We’ve both been quiet. Mom’s words still running through my head on repeat.
“I feel shitty,” I finally say aloud.
Sammy pauses the game and looks up with guilt-drenched eyes.
“I . . . I don’t want to leave Mom,” he says, his voice hesitant.
I sigh. “I know. Me neither. But I can’t stay here. It’s not safe.”
“But . . . if Piper pushed you down the stairs, imagine what she’ll do to Mom if we’re not around.”
There’s a million ways Piper could hurt Mom. The thought is gutting. I roll onto my side.
“She won’t come with us, Sam. No matter how much we beg.”
He rubs Buddy’s head, thinking. “Yeah. But . . . maybe we can make her.”
I laugh. “Have you met Raquel? We can’t make that woman do anything she doesn’t want to do.”