White Smoke

by Tiffany D. Jackson

  Through the intense pain, a flash of anger boils.

  “What are you talking about?” I spit. “You saw me at the bottom of the stairs, calling you! You walked away!”

  “No I didn’t,” she says, the corner of her mouth slipping into a cruel smirk before rubbing her face into Alec’s side.

  The simple act of her denial makes my stomach turn. I sway, the fridge catching my fall.

  “You pushed Mari down the stairs!” Sammy cries, Mom holding him back from charging at her. “She could’ve died!”

  “No I didn’t.” She glances up at her father, and in a sugar-sweet voice says, “Daddy, I was just in my room and then I heard them shouting.”

  “Unbelievable,” Alec yells. “I can’t leave her alone for one freaking night.”

  I stare at Piper. Or really through her, with a different set of lenses. The extra pale skin. The dead tired eyes. The weight loss. The weird talking to walls. Ms. Suga. The thought smacks against my throbbing head and it all becomes clear.

  “Oh my God,” I whisper. “She’s possessed.”

  “WHAT?” Alec screams, positioning Piper behind him.

  “That’s the only explanation. The Hag got her!”

  Sammy is staring at her now, eyebrows pinched. “She just . . . stood there,” he mumbles.

  “Okaaayyyy! You two have been watching way too many movies!” Mom snaps, shaking her head.

  That’s the thing, I didn’t remember what all those movies had taught me, reasoning everything away instead of facing the truth: our house is haunted. And Piper is possessed by the Hag. The Hag named Ms. Suga.

  I was ready to tell everyone everything I knew about the place, but one look at Alec’s burning-red face made me go silent.

  “Raquel, this is the last straw. You told me she had her problems under control.”

  “Alec—”

  “What excuse are you going to give her this time? She’s put both Piper’s and Sammy’s lives in danger!”

  Mom sighs and walks into her office, procuring a pee cup.

  You’ve got to be fucking kidding me right now!

  “Mom! What are you doing?” Sammy shouts, standing in front of me, arms stretched protectively. “I was here! I heard it too! She’s not lying! She’s not . . . not on drugs! Mari wouldn’t leave without Piper. She ran up the stairs to go get her. She was trying to save her!”

  Piper’s face slips into a confused scowl, eyes softening.

  “Sam . . . are you sure you weren’t hearing things?” Alec asks.

  “We both heard it,” Sammy snaps.

  “And there were only three of us in here,” I add, leaning against the counter. “Unless Piper became a ventriloquist overnight.”

  Alec ignores me and stares right at Sammy.

  “Look, I know this is tough, pal, but is it possible your sister might . . . not have been herself . . . again? Maybe tripped, and just fell down the stairs?”

  Mom straightens. “Alec,” she warns. A weak warning at that.

  “Then how did I hear the voice too?” Sammy shoots back. “Am I high?”

  Mom tears up, crossing her arms. “Oh, Sammy.”

  With a pounding head and losing all will to fight, I pat Sammy’s shoulder.

  “It’s all right, Sam. Forget it. I’m not taking that stupid fucking test because I’m leaving.”

  “Leaving?” Alec and Mom balk.

  “Yeah, I’m ready to go back to Cali and live with Dad.”

  “What? You can’t just make that decision on your own,” Alec scoffs.

  “Yes I can,” I say, looking directly at Mom. “That was the agreement with Dad, right? If things don’t work out with Alec, I can move in with Dad. It was the only way he’d allow you to take us out of the state. And things are clearly not working out if my stepfather is accusing me of being on drugs when I’m not. Not exactly ideal conditions for a recovering addict.”

  Alec blinks, turning to Mom. “Is this true?”

  Mom takes a steadying breath, not breaking our stare. “Yes.”

  Baffled, Alec searches his hands as if looking for the right words to say. Piper clutches him tighter.

  Sammy huffs, standing next to me. “Well, if she’s going, then I’m going with her!”

  “Sam,” Mom gasps, with a trembling lip. “Baby . . .”

  “No! Mari’s right. And I hate it here! I want to go home!”

  Twenty

  THE NEXT MORNING, I call Dad to make immediate arrangements. Don’t care who it may hurt, I can’t stay here. These ghosts are violent, and I have the lump on the back of my head to prove it.

  Since Dad’s still in Japan finishing a project, we have to wait another two weeks before he can fly out to bring us home.

  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.”

  He shifts closer to me. “If we can prove that the house is haunted and that Piper is possessed, she’ll have to come with us.”

  “And how do you plan on doing that?”

  Sammy crawls over to his desk, digging through a bottom drawer. “With these!”

  In his hands, he holds two GoPro cameras, a couple of rechargeable batteries, and cords. I sit up.

  “Where’d you get those?”

  “They were Dad’s. He used them for some old construction project. Said I could have them.”

  I pluck one of the cameras out to examine it.

  “And what are you going to do with them?”

  “Set them up around the house. If we can show Mom proof that Piper is crazy-town, she’ll totally come be with us . . . and Dad.”

  There’s an eagerness in his voice, for Mom to be with Dad again, and I feel a twinge for his heartache.

  “Sam,” I say gently. “She won’t leave Alec. That’s her new husband, remember?”

  Sammy diverts his eyes, shoulders curling, fidgeting with the cameras.

  “I know that,” he mutters. “And I guess maybe Alec can come too. But this is the only way they’ll believe us. Plus, we’ll need proof Piper’s possessed or the church won’t perform an exorcism on her.”

  “How the hell do you know that?”

  “Duh! The Conjuring. You fell asleep before the end.”

  Okay, that’s probably true. I fall asleep during most movies. But if I had known that movie would be the key to my survival here, I would’ve drunk some coffee.

  “Come on, Mari. We at least have to try. It’s our only shot!”

  Well, a plan is better than no plan.

  “Okay. Let’s do it.”

  “What you doing here, Cali!” Mr. Brown says with a laugh as he unloads his truck. “I thought y’all would be long gone by now.”

  “Nope, my parents insist on torturing us,” I say, walking up the driveway.

  He chuckles. “Yusef’s inside, cooking dinner.”

  “Domesticating him,” I say with an impressed nod. “I like that.”

  “As it says in first Corinthians, chapter three, verse eight . . . ‘The one who plants and the one who waters work together with the same purpose. And both will be rewarded for their own hard work.’ And children of God, I’m here to provide the seeds that you will plant, and you will do the watering. Do not forsake his words. For the devil is among you! He has poisoned your minds, makes you feel you can’t trust the very people he put to care for you. . . .”

  As usual, Pop-Pop is in his chair, faithful to the program. Yusef throws some potatoes in a pot of boiling water, wiping his hands on a dish towel.

  “I’ve come with gifts,” I announce, placing a case of soda on the kitchen table. “You know, for saving my life and everything.”

  Yusef cracks a smile. “Aw, you didn’t have to do all that.” He raises an eyebrow, with a mischievous smirk. “Seeing how it was Mr. Watson who really saved you.”

  I purse my lips. “Are you seriously going to make fun of a girl with a concussion?”

  He laughs and reaches for my hand, interlocking our fingers.

  “Sorry, guess you’re not the only one who cracks jokes when you’re uncomfortable.” His voice turns serious as he gently rubs the inside of my palm. “I was . . . really worried about you.”

  The tenderness, I could just melt into him, I need a hug so bad. But . . . I step back, bumping into Pop-Pop’s seat, and scramble away.

  “Yeah, well. I didn’t drown.” I cough out a laugh, stuffing my hands in my hoodie to keep them hidden just so he doesn’t reach for them. Then I can pretend I don’t want to reach for his. I’m queen of making awkward moments more awkward.

  Yusef rolls his eyes with a smirk. “But what was up with all that? Mr. Watson lives all the way on park side. What would he be doing around your block? And that late at night.”

  “I don’t know. And he’s the least of my worries with a demon running loose in my home.”

  “Well, can’t s
ay I ain’t try to tell you.” He gives a sympathetic smile. “Wanna stay for dinner?”

  “Sure. Can I also camp out in your garage with Sammy? We won’t be any trouble. We just need an extension cord and the Wi-Fi password.”

  He fake thinks, tapping his chin. “Um, not sure how that’d go with the neighbors. Maplewood got enough rumors floating around.”

  Yusef opens the oven and stuffs a seasoned raw chicken inside. “And if I didn’t say it before, I’m proud you went back to get your sister. Means you ain’t as heartless as you think.”

  He winks and my stomach tenses, appetite gone. I came here on a mission to tell the truth but I’m already having second thoughts. Depending on how he reacts, I may not have a friend left in Cedarville by the end of this convo.

  “Um, hey . . . I have to tell you something,” I blurt out. “It’s about Erika.”

  “All you have to do is call the number below, place your order, and we will send you one pack of seeds absolutely free. Follow the instructions in the detailed letter I will send to you. . . .”

  Yusef straightens. “Okay, what’s up?”

  I crack open a soda and take a sip, buying myself some time.

  “Yes, hello. This is Mr. Brown, putting in this week’s order.”

  I glance at Pop-Pop, catching the tail of the rolling credits on Scott Clark’s program, and almost choke.

  “Wait! That girl!” I scream.

  Yusef jumps, looking out the back window. “What girl? Where?”

  “Would y’all keep quiet,” Pop-Pop snaps. “I’m on the phone!”

  “That girl in the picture frame,” I say, pointing to the TV. “Can you rewind?”

  Yusef nods, rushing into the living room.

  “Pop-Pop, lemme see that real quick,” he says, snatching the remote out of his grandfather’s hand.

  “Hey! What you doing with my TV!” Pop-Pop shouts, helplessly trying to get out of his chair.

  “Just a minute,” Yusef says, rewinding back a few beats to the outro of Scott Clark’s program.

  “Right there! Stop!” I shout.

  He freezes on a picture frame sitting on Clark’s bookshelf. I lean in to take a photo of the screen, then nod at Yusef.