White Smoke

by Tiffany D. Jackson

  “Well . . . when you put it that way,” I grumble. “Ughhhhh. I hate it when you’re right.”

  Tamara frowns, leaning closer to the screen. “Hey, I thought you said you were home alone.”

  “I am.”

  Her face drops, her eyes bulging. “Dude . . . ,” she stutters. “S-s-s-s-omeone just walked by your door.”

  I chuckle. “Very funny, asshole.”

  But Tamara’s paling face makes my muscles clench.

  “Mari, I’m not kidding,” she whispers closer to the screen. “Someone really just walked by your door. Like, for real.”

  It takes several seconds for my brain to click into gear. I spin around and stare out into the empty hallway, listening to the silence.

  “What did he . . . or she look like?” I ask, not taking my eyes off the door. It’s one thing for me to see something that’s not there. That would be a normal day. But it’s another when Tamara is seeing something too.

  “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.”

  I slide down in my seat as Yusef pulls out of the parking lot. “Feel like I’m being kidnapped.”

  “Don’t worry, we’re not far,” he says, turning to give me a sympathetic smile. “Plus, I’ve been meaning to take you to this spot for a minute.”

  Erika mouths a “told you” with a mischievous grin. My cheeks burn as I slide lower. Yusef rolls down the windows, letting the cool air glide in as he speeds down the freeway.

  “So, I don’t get it,” I say, putting my head between the front seats. “How is it okay for you two to be friends, and not us?”

  Erika groans. “What I keep telling you? I don’t pose a threat. Although I have brought a few ladies to my side of the park, if you know what I’m saying.”

  She wiggles her eyebrows and I can’t help laughing.

  “Well, I’d happily play your girlfriend just to avoid all the heat.”

  “For the last time, you are not my type. You’re also tall as fuck. I’ve chopped some trees down before, but never a damn Amazon.”

  “That’s her gentle way of letting you down easy,” Yusef quips.

  “Besides, I need to be free for all the pretty girls who plan on dressing like sexy nurses and housemaids for Halloween.”

  “So, what are you going to be?” I ask.

  “Sick.” She fakes a cough. “With a dirty house.”

  “What are you gonna go as?” Yusef asks me.

  “You should be a damn ghost,” Erika says, kicking her feet up on the dash. “With your house being haunted and everything.”

  The word ghost hits hard, ringing louder than any word I’ve heard all night.

  “Who . . . who said my house was haunted?”

  Erika smacks her lips. “Girl, you live in the Hag’s house. Of course your house is haunted!”

  “Dude, that’s just some old-ass story. We don’t have a ghost,” I say, looking to Yusef for backup.

  He takes a deep breath, avoiding my gaze. “Um . . . I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know? Dude, you’ve been to my house. There’s no floating women or chairs sliding across the floor.”

  There are doors that open on their own, though, a small voice inside me says, but I ignore it.

  Yusef rubs the back of his neck, focusing on the road but clearly holding something back.

  “Your spot went through a lot of contractors. And they all complained about . . . just a bunch of weird stuff happening.”

  “Weird stuff happens at lots of construction sites,” I counter, feeling defensive. “My dad worked on a property where every single piece of equipment broke down. But he didn’t rush to call the Ghostbusters.”

  Erika turns to face me. “All right, let me ask you this: Anything missing?”

  “Well . . . yeah. But we just moved. Stuff gets lost in the shuffle.”

  “Pssh. Yeah right,” she scoffs, shaking her head.

  Yusef tries to take it easy on me. “Cali, there wasn’t one construction worker who walked out of your house with everything they walked in there with. No matter how hard they searched. Shit kept vanishing.”

  I think back to our second day in Maplewood. When Mr. Watson was looking for a hammer. Swallowing, I try to keep a straight face.

  “My house isn’t haunted.” The statement came out cold and weak.

  Erika laughs. “Girl, the Hag is chilling in your living room as we speak.”

  Darkness shrouds the car as Yusef parks and turns off the engine.

  “We’re here,” he says.

  “Is it safe for me to come out?” I whisper, unnerved by the silence.

  “Girl, ain’t nobody here,” Erika laughs, opening the door.

  I pop my head up and see we’re in an empty parking lot facing a beach dipped in moonlight. Behind us, a blackened road is surrounded by high trees, hills, and grassy knolls. Jumping out of the truck, I’m speechless.

  “Where . . . are we?” I gasp, drawn to the water.

  “This is Cedarville Park,” Yusef says, standing next to me. “And that’s the Cedarville River. Dope, right? See, we got beaches here too. In case you thinking of heading back west.”

  Erika cackles, skipping ahead. “Don’t go listening to him. This ain’t no real beach. Feel the sand, we might as well be standing in kitty litter. And look at that water! Bluer than blue. Walk in there and it’ll tie-dye your skin.”

  As soon as my feet touch the sand, tears prickle the corners of my eyes. It’s not that I thought I’d never see a beach again, but just the sight of it floods my muscles with instant relief. I take a deep breath and smell . . . chlorine?

  “Whoa,” I mumble, creeping closer. Across the river, houses line the shore, their lights twinkling in the water. I guess that’s a neighboring city. Haven’t exactly had a chance to look at a map, but we should be pretty close to Canada.

  “Watch,” Erika says, grabbing a nearby pebble and chucking it into the water. “Dang, I thought it’d do that skipping thingy like in the movies.”

  Yusef rolls his eyes. “The Sterling Foundation did this massive cleanup of the river and parks a few years ago. Commissioned this new sandbank. I’ve seen people chill here during the summer. No one from the Wood, though, they remember too much of what the river used to be like.”

  “What was it like?”

  “Let’s just say if you stuck a toe in, it’d probably burn off.”

  “Bruh, the shit was slime green, had three-eyed fish and killer eels,” Erika adds.

  “Dude, that’s gross!”

  “Yusef drank some once. That’s why he got a tiny peen,” she snorts, shoving him before taking off.

  “Yo, quit playing!” he shouts, chasing after her.

  Watching them run around the beach, I bend down to grab a handful of sand. It’s heavy, a little damp from the rain, no broken coral or shells. It’s like we’re playing in a kid’s sandbox. I sit, patting the area around me. Bedbugs hate the beach, which is probably why I felt so safe there.

  The rippling currents softly lap the dark blue water. Nothing like the crashing waves back home, but the setting reminds me of all the bonfires we used to have after winning track meets. I can almost feel the sand in my toes, taste the trash beer, smell the smoke in my hair. I shake the memory away, trying to remain present.

  Change is good. Change is necessary. Change is needed.

  I’m in a new city, with new friends. That old life is gone . . . all thanks to my ex-boyfriend. Well, who am I kidding? It was my fault. All of this is my fault. And everyone knows it. So, I deserve to swim in slime-green water at a fake beach. Thankful for the darkness, I wipe away a stray tear. Until I stuff my hand in my pocket and hit my phone. Crap, I forgot to leave it. But maybe Mom’s not watching like usual. Maybe she’s so caught up in the movie and actually trusting me for a change, she won’t bother to check my whereabouts. Besides, I’m just at a beach, with friends, like a normal girl. She can’t be mad at that.

  Yusef and Erika run over, bookending me. The three of us gaze out at the water, light dancing across the tide.

  “This is kinda nice,” I admit. “Why aren’t there more people out here? I would be here every day if I could.”

  “The park used to be full of people,” Erika says. “Having cookouts and family reunions. At night, the place was like a parking lot. Folks flossing in their whips and new fits. Just kicking it and vibing to music.”

  “My dad used to deejay from the truck,” Yusef adds, pointing a thumb over his shoulder to his rust bucket. “Had the turntables set up in the bed. I came here once with him. I was real little, but I remember.”

  “My pops used to have this fly-ass aqua-blue Cadillac with white leather seats and chrome rims,” Erika laughs, shaking her
head. “Mom said he looked like a can of Ajax.”

  “Then what happened?” I ask.

  Erika’s face darkens as she stuffs her hands into her jacket pockets.

  “Them Sterling Laws, that’s what happened,” she grumbles. “Started locking everyone up until folks were afraid to walk outside, the city coming up with any law you can think of just to arrest you for breathing.”

  Yusef tenses beside me, staring at the water.

  “Damn. That . . . sucks,” I mumble.

  We fall into a heavy silence. I twist a finger around a strand of hair, wishing I had something profound or comforting to say.

  “Welp. Excuse me, kids,” Erika says, hopping to her feet. She dusts herself off and walks in the direction of the tall grass by the shore.

  “What’s she up to,” I chuckle. “Is she about to pee in a river?”

  Yusef shakes his head. “Nah. Probably gonna go smoke.”

  “Really?” I say, fast. Maybe a little too fast, as I whip in her direction, about to follow, but stop, cocking my head back at Yusef. “Wait a minute, why are you okay with Erika smoking?”

  Yusef purses his lips.

  “Don’t get it twisted, I still hate that shit,” he says, then sighs. “But Erika, well, she hasn’t had it easy. Almost her entire family is up at Big Ville. It’s just her and her grandma left and they barely making it on grand’s Social Security. So, guess I make some exceptions.”

  “Oh,” I say, staring in the direction she disappeared.

  “Guess we . . . kinda understand each other in that way. Our family trees got hacked to shrubs. Drugs, Sterling Laws, not to mention the fires. The Wood can’t seem to catch a break.”

  “So why don’t you leave? Go start somewhere fresh.”

  He shakes his head. “I ain’t leaving until my family gets out. Don’t want them coming back to a place full of strangers.”

  The schematics of the New Cedarville come to mind. I don’t know why I can’t tell him about what I saw, what they’re cooking up. Maybe because I’m afraid of the never-ending questions to follow that I have no real answers for. Maybe because I feel guilty being a part of the very people that they plan to replace him and his family with.