He nods, trying his best to smirk. “There has to be something on there this time. It’ll either prove there really is a ghost . . . or that Piper tried to kill me.”
Twenty-Two
IT’S A SILENT ride back to Maplewood. Alec doesn’t even turn on the radio. It feels unnatural, us four without Sammy. But he’s alive, that’s all that matters. And I’m going to get him justice. Only reason why I was even willing to leave the hospital and not sleep in the corner of his room.
Piper stares out the window, playing with the hem of her jacket, silently sobbing. She doesn’t look at me. Not even once. Probably too full of shame and guilt. That camera is going to prove everything! And when it does, I’m going to murder this little brat. Rage courses through me, searing my veins.
Alec pulls into the driveway, the house looming over us. Piper’s lava lamp is on, the window glowing red. Was that on when we left? I can’t remember; everything was such a blur when the ambulance arrived.
“Is . . . anyone hungry?” Mom asks weakly as she heads up the porch steps to unlock the door. Normally, I would be full of dread at just the idea of stepping foot in the house again. But this time . . . I’m pumped with adrenaline. I bounce on the balls of my feet, stretching my calves. All I need to do is run into the kitchen, grab the camera, and book it before anyone can stop me. What to do after that, I don’t know. I don’t even know how it works but I can’t keep it in the house. Things have a funny way of disappearing and it may be the only proof we have to catch Piper.
As soon as Mom pushes the door open, I practically bulldoze past Alec and am halfway down the hall when I hear a sharp wheezy cough. We all freeze, the darkness hiding our faces.
“What’s that?” Mom gasps.
I listen to the silence then hear it again. A loud, wet hacking. Someone’s in the house!
Alec holds a finger up to his lips, a hand outstretched in front of Piper.
“Everyone outside,” he whispers, ushering us to the door.
I tiptoe toward him, then straighten, spinning around in the threshold.
“Mari, what are you doing?” Mom whispers.
“Wait,” I utter, muscles hardening. “Where’s Buddy?”
There’s never been a day that Buddy isn’t jumping for joy within five seconds of us walking in. He should be here by now.
Stunned, Mom has the same thought and runs inside. “Buddy!”
Alec turns on the lights.
“Buddy!” he calls.
I hear it again, a wet hacking right above our heads.
“Buddy,” I shout, racing upstairs, Mom trailing me. As soon as I reach the top, I trip over a pillow left in the middle of the floor and fall flat on my face.
“Oh my God!” Mom yells, and I whip around.
Buddy lies on his side in front of the bathroom, panting and wheezing, an almost identical scene to Sammy. I lunge, frantically crawling over to him.
“No, no no no . . . ,” I whimper, stroking his head. “Buddy, it’s okay, boy. I’m here. I’m here!”
Mom examines him, trying to open his mouth. “Come on, Bud, what did you eat?”
Buddy struggles, the hacking so much worse up close, eyes rolling back into his skull.
“Mom, he can’t breathe!”
Alec gently pushes Mom aside and scoops Buddy up in his arms.
“Good boy, I’ve got you,” he coos. “Raquel, you drive!”
I stumble down the stairs after him. “Wait, I’m coming too!”
“No, Mari,” Mom says, grabbing my arm. “You stay here with Piper!”
“Buddy?” Piper sobs in the foyer, covering her mouth with both hands. “Daddy, what’s wrong with him?”
“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Alec shouts over his shoulder, heading for the car, Mom sprints ahead of him to open the door. “We’re just going to take Buddy to the doctor. You stay here with Marigold! Buddy is going to be fine.”
From the porch, I watch Mom back out the driveway and speed down Maple Street before turning back to the house. Piper stands in the doorway, her little face red and puffy. She meets my gaze, taking a step back, and for the first time, she seems genuinely frightened of me. As she should be.
“You did this,” I hiss, hands balling into fists.
Piper violently shakes her head. “NO! It wasn’t me. I swear!”
I shove past her, stalking into the kitchen.
“What are you doing?” Piper cries, chasing me.
In the cabinet, behind the plates, I find the last GoPro camera, so inconspicuously placed, no one would notice it.
Piper stares at the camera in my hand, breathing heavily.
“Mari,” she quivers. “I think we should—”
“Let’s see you get out of this one,” I snap, and storm toward the door.
“Where are you going?” she begs.
“Getting the hell away from you!”
“Wait, please! I didn’t know Ms. Suga was going to hurt Sammy. I didn’t know!”
“Cut the bullshit, Piper! You knew!”
Piper bites her lip, her sobbing tears an insult to injury.
“Please don’t leave me,” she begs, grabbing my sleeve. “Please! I’m scared!”
I shake her off, staring into her terrified eyes.
“Good!” I bark, and slam the door behind me.
Yusef opens the door in a white T-shirt and dark jeans.
“Yeah?” he says peevishly, his eyes cold.
I try to slow my breathing and keep calm, despite being far from that.
“Can I come in?”
He sniffs, face blank. “It’s late.”
“Please,” I say, voice cracking. “I just . . . I need to talk to someone.”
Glancing over his shoulder, he rolls his eyes. “Aight, come on. Just for a minute. Then you gotta get gone.”
In the living room, I’m surprised to see Pop-Pop still awake in his chair, watching some old black-and-white TV show. He gives me the stank eye as we walk past, into Yusef’s room.
“You okay?” Yusef asks, without an ounce of real care.
I sigh. “No, not really.”
He huffs, turning down his music, and we stand in silence.
“Heard Sammy’s in the hospital. He good?”
I nod, nervous that if I open my mouth, I may burst into tears, the images of him too fresh and raw in my head. But then I remember what he told me and pull the GoPro out of my hoodie.
“You know how to use this thing?”
Yusef raises an eyebrow at the camera and steps back. “Just need to talk, huh? So you want my help again? Why am I not surprised?”
A fresh rush of shame comes crashing in.
“It’s not for me! It’s for Sam. It might be the only thing that’ll help answer what happened to him. Please!”
“You something else,” he grumbles, shaking his head, then motioning to the bed. “Have a seat. Once we done, you can be out.”
I glance at his bedframe, my arm inflaming. “Can I, um, borrow a chair from the kitchen? Or I can just stand.”
He follows my eyes and flinches. “Oh! Uh, yeah. I’ll get another chair. Here, have mine.”
Yusef’s computer chair is leather and rather new compared to the rest of his room. I sit, not totally at ease, but after the day I’ve had, I can’t stand on my feet for much longer.