Dragging my feet through the living room, I headed to the spacious staircase, heaved a sigh, and went up the damn stairs.
I had no desire to see rich, hoity-toity people. I didn’t want to be down there when the guests started coming, but locking myself away in my room wasn’t what I wanted, either. God darn it, I wanted to snoop. Was that so bad?
Okay, don’t answer that. Snooping was probably bad, especially when it could get my mom fired and us thrown out onto the streets.
I made like a good little girl and went to my room. Closing my door, I bit my lower lip as I moved to sit at my desk. I really should drown myself in studying, but looking at these notecards made me think of Archer.
I was not the kind of girl who got crushes so fast, not usually, but it was hard to deny those dimples, the easy air about him, how he made me chuckle with his witty comments. He seemed nice, which was more than I could say for a lot of kids at Midpark High.
And his body…oh, his body was something special, too. Not to mention the way he could move, and those hips…
I really should stop my thoughts right there, because anything that came after the thought of his hips was definitely not something I should be thinking about.
Letting out a groan, I rested my head on the desk, closing my eyes. Things couldn’t be easy here, could they?
Time passed almost ridiculously slowly. I eventually decided to just turn on the TV that rested on the wall near the bed and drown out my thoughts in the mindless noise. Mom, for her part, did bring me up lunch, but once the early afternoon hit, I knew that’d be all I’d see of her for a long while. From what she’d told me, donors would start to arrive in the late afternoon. It was a fundraiser for some charity, which was great, but even my mom didn’t know what charity that was.
I couldn’t help but wonder, of course, if it was all a front for something else. If, just maybe, there was no charity—but that was my wandering mind getting the better of me.
When evening fell—which it did early, because in wintertime it was practically nighttime at five o’clock—I went through my closet and changed, dressing in all black. I wasn’t stupid enough to want to interrupt the charity dinner, but I couldn’t just sit here and twiddle my thumbs all night.
Mom didn’t want me downstairs? I wouldn’t go downstairs. I’d stay up here, but keeping to myself in my bedroom all night wouldn’t happen.
The house was big. I’d kept to myself ever since moving here frankly, and with my mind racing at a thousand miles per minute, I had to snoop, even if snooping was bad. If tonight I came out with nothing, then I would forget about it. Simple, easy.
That’s what I thought, anyway.
I changed into black leggings, dark socks, and a black shirt. Blend in with the shadows or something, right? In the movies and TV shows, people always wear black when they’re sneaking around. It was pretty much an unspoken law. My dark hair was pulled back in a low ponytail, and as I passed my reflection in the mirror, I had to stop and check myself out.
Some people couldn’t pull off wearing all black, but I was pretty sure I was one of them. The dark color made my tan skin look even darker, blending in with my hair and my eyes. It wasn’t often that I wasn’t jealous of my mom’s complexion, but right now, tonight, I didn’t look too shabby.
I moved to the door, slowly opening it and poking my head out. I heard nothing, except the faint sounds of laughter down the hall and down the stairs.
Time to snoop, and hopefully put my mind at rest.
This house had countless other bedrooms, most of them furnished but unused. I had no idea why Ollie needed so much space, especially if it was just himself here. My mom and I each took up one room, but that still left so much empty space.
It wasn’t the bedrooms that sat wide open and mostly empty that were my focus. My focus were the rooms whose doors were permanently closed, as if wordlessly forbidding me to enter. To that, I’d say fuck it, I’m going in, anyway.
Once I reached the first locked door, I gripped the handle and turned it. Tried to.
The damned thing was locked.
Okay, that was a little weird, wasn’t it? This wasn’t my mind making up a story—there really was a locked door, and there shouldn’t be.
My eyes studied the doorknob, and I wondered if I’d be able to open it with a butter knife. The locks at our place were like that, and although these doorknobs seemed fancier and with a shinier finish, they looked much the same.
Problem was, the butter knives were all downstairs in the kitchen, which meant I’d have to go down there to get one.
Was it worth it? Was possibly being able to go inside this locked room worth me getting in trouble—and in the worst-case scenario, possibly getting my mom fired? Who could say. The only person who could answer that question would be someone who knew what that room held.
I wouldn’t get caught. I’d be careful.
Creeping down the hallway, I left the locked room. My socks were noiseless on the steps as I took them one at a time, focusing on what I was hearing. Music, now. This charity event was in full swing, and I knew the hall in the back of the house was full of people in suits and women in fancy dresses.
So not my thing. I didn’t do dress-up.
As I came upon the first floor of the house, my pace down the steps slowed. I peeked around the banister. The stairs let out into a wide hallway between the living room and the dining room, and beyond that was the kitchen.
My nerves were on fire as I rushed through the corner of the dining room, rounding into the kitchen. It wasn’t the kitchen I was used to, so it took me a bit too long to find the drawer with the silverware. Once I had a butter knife, I stuck it in the side of my leggings, covering it with my shirt.
The last thing I needed was someone walking in on me and asking why the hell I was bringing up a knife to my room.
My steps quick, I hurried back to the stairs and took two at a time to get back up there. My heart thudded in my chest, not happy with the whole sneaking around thing. Stealth was really not my forte…then again, I wasn’t quite sure what my forte was, exactly.
Once I reached the locked door, I tossed a look over my shoulders, making sure I was alone before retrieving the butter knife from my side and sticking its flat, semi-sharp tip in the outside of the doorknob. It took me a few tries, but I was able to unlock the door from the outside.
Score one for Jaz, zero to Ollie.
It was ridiculous how excited I was my plan worked, and I slipped inside the room, hurriedly closing the door behind me as I stuck the butter knife back into the waistband of my leggings. I turned around to view the room that had been locked off, and for a moment, I couldn’t breathe.
The room…was pink.
Like, pink pink.
The bedding, stuffed animals—everything screamed feminine. Even the pictures on the wall were ones of cartoon animals and things a younger girl might find cute. I moved in front of the dresser, running a hand over the top of its wood.
Dust. Thick dust.
A layer of dust like that didn’t just appear in a week. No, if I had to guess, this room had been closed-off and untouched for months, maybe even years.
Was this—I suddenly grew horrified—Celeste’s room?
Something didn’t feel right here. I pulled open one of the dresser drawers, finding a neatly-folded pile of panties. Frilly and lacy, they were not the panties a young girl would wear. Those were pairs an older teenager would wear.