Riley whistles, playing with his hat. “There’s a ghost in luv with Amber.”
“Oh, grow up.”
Loud clapping from the other room provides a distraction.
“What’s going on?”
Amber smiles. “Granddad won the lawsuit.”
“So, Templeton Hospital and the land belongs to your family again?”
“Yep.” She says proudly. “It’s always been ours. Even when the state took it over, someone from my family ran it. Now we have it back. My dad’s company has drawn up plans. Wanna see them? They’re on his desk.” She points to the other side of the room.
Riley clutches his stomach. “Why not leave it alone?”
“They’re going to renovate the main building into a museum, some others into a conference hall and hotel. Many others will be razed and turned into parkland.”
Riley’s face pales. “When did the hearings end? I thought it was supposed to take months.”
She cocks her head. “I didn’t realize you were interested. It wrapped up right before lunch. Granddad said his lawyers rushed because of the upcoming holidays. Plus, there are grants to apply for by the end of the year.”
Clawing at the collar of his shirt, he yanks off his tie and jacket, tossing them onto a chair. Whimpering, Riley twitches his head from side to side. “No, you can’t. I won’t let you…”
Amber watches him, worried.
Jumping up, he bounds across the large room, past the desk and glass-enclosed bookcases. “Generations of Sterlings and Templetons. They never stop. Can never just leave things alone.” He fumes, rubbing his chest as he paces up and down with the frenzied movements of a mouse trapped in a maze.
Amber follows him, her brows crinkling. “You okay?”
As quickly as his strange behavior began, it ceases. Riley stops in front of the fireplace. He fixates on the long frame hanging above the mantle, an oil painting of the hospital and grounds at their unveiling. “Will they remember the lost?” he whispers. “The abandoned?”
“Werewolves of London” plays from afar as voices sing along.
Did she hear him correctly? “Who?”
Locking his hands behind him, he lurches back and forth like a rocking chair. “The patients.”
Speechless, she steps up beside him and gulps. In the firelight, Riley’s features take on a strange, sinister look. In an eerie, elongated side view, the boy becomes a man.
“Do you know what your relative, Doctor Sterling, did to his patients?” Her best friend’s boyish voice deepens.
“His ‘new’ tests?” Riley’s tone is flat, uncaring. Disconnected.
Hasn’t she heard it before?
“His ‘latest’ methods?”
When he turns, with seething eyes and red cheeks, he unleashes his fury at her. “They experimented on us!”
“Drugs. Electric shock. Ice baths. Straitjackets. Lobotomies! We were trapped. Tortured.” With each word, he gouges his neck, revealing the chain under his shirt. “When they were done, do you know where they dumped our bodies? I’ll show you whenever you want.”
“What do you mean, ‘our’?” If her pulse races any faster, she’ll pass out. “You weren’t there. You—” Her eyes grow huge as Riley frees the familiar silver necklace and locket.
Their eyes latch onto each other. He snaps open the pendant.
The locket holds two pictures now. One is Sebastian’s aged photo.
The other belongs to— “No…” Amber whimpers. Her heart seizes.
Riley’s junior year picture taken last month fills the other side.
“Remember what my last words to you were?” he sneers.
She does. “You said you would see me again.”
“You were my first true friend,” Riley whispers. “You accepted me.”
“What did I do?” Her knees give out. Amber drops to the floor. The crinoline whooshes as she hangs her head. “It’s my fault. You went to get my bag…” Tears drip down her face.
Riley’s shadow blots out the firelight as he lowers onto one knee before her. “You left me alone. Took my things. What was I supposed to do, Miss Sterling?”
She begs. “Sebastian, please don’t do this. Leave my friend alone….”
“Why? Don’t you think I know? Yes, you had a crush on me, until you found my diary. But this boy, this living, breathing, still-growing boy? Such a delight to have a body. The feelings you have for him are true.” His cold fingertips gently push aside her bangs and slide down the side of her cheek, lingering on her skin.
“You love him, don’t you?”
Without thinking, she blurts out, “Yes.”
“And I fell for you. The strange girl with blue streaks and a wondrous smile. I looked forward to your visits. Each time, I absorbed your light and vibrant spirit.” He sniffles and grins.
“Thank you. For my freedom. For being honest.” Leaning in, his breath is frosty against her lobe. “I won’t hurt him or your family. If you’re good and keep our secret. I’ll even let Riley visit you.”
She shivers. Dread chokes the butterflies.
He wipes her face and helps her up.
Cringing, she doesn’t know what to do. Is there anything a fifteen-year-old can do up against a guy who’s been dead since the late eighteenth century?
Without asking, he draws her against him in a hug. Before, she’d envisioned being in Riley’s arms someday, like junior or senior prom, after they’d admitted feelings for one another.
But this isn’t Riley.
“I love you.” His hands stroke her waist and back. “And now you’re mine.”
She pulls away. Riley’s light blue eyes—are they darker?—never leave hers.
Cupping her chin, he brushes his lips across hers. “Happy Halloween, Ames.”
Rage and disgust war inside her. Shoving Sebastian away, Amber wipes her mouth and snarls. “You freak! Don’t mess with my family or with my friend. I will get Riley back!”
Sebastian leans against the wall, hands in pockets, and chuckles. “Then I guess it’s—what’s the saying?” He grins coyly. “Game on.”
What is Amber’s next move? Find out and follow me at www.laurietreacy.com
—ABOUT THE AUTHOR—
Laurie Treacy is an author of YA and NA fantasy, paranormal, and contemporary romance. She lives in New York's picturesque Hudson Valley with her husband, three kids, and various pets. A lifelong fan of anything supernatural, she enjoys urban exploring and photographing forgotten places. Cemeteries, abandoned hospitals, decrepit buildings, the creepier the better. When not book blogging, she’s a proud Whovian, Studio Ghibli fan girl, loves reading, playing Zelda games, Pokemon hunting, and Netflix marathons with lots of frozen Goobers.
DESPERATE
Stacy Claflin
Chapter One
Chester Woodran stared at the pictures. His heart raced. This was the girl. She looked exactly like Heather.
Sure, her hair was longer and darker. But those things could be fixed. Their faces were almost identical. As though separated by birth. He’d spent countless hours online searching for the right girl. He’d started the search weeks earlier.
Now it had all paid off. He would get his chance to start over. Undo the mistakes he’d made with his first family. They were gone. He would never get to see them again.
This girl. She was the key to his second chance. What was her name? He adjusted his oversized glasses. Macy Mercer. All he would need to do would be to win her over, and she would become Heather. His lost daughter.
He picked up the framed picture of his family and held it up in front of the computer screen. “I’ll make everything right. I promise.”
Chester’s pulse race as he compared the pictures of the two girls. The new one, she seemed… what was the word? Sweeter? Innocent? All the things Heather had lost.
The new Heather’s eyes shone as she smiled sweetly. At him.
He double-checked everything on his fake profile. Young, handsome guy. C
heck. Hip, popular name. Check. Profile filled out with stupid things kids were into these days. Check. Over five hundred fake friends. Check.
Chester made sure his IP address was blocked and then he sent the request. He held his breath. Would she accept his “friendship” as easily as the other kids? Or would he have to win her over? He loved a good challenge.
The clock on the wall ticked loudly as he waited. Had it always been this loud? Grating?
He readjusted his glasses. Ran his hands through his thinning, but still bushy hair. Stood up and stretched.
She hadn’t accepted yet. Smart girl. But he’d get the information he needed. He’d talk her into meeting in person. Then she’d become Heather. He would just need to wait. And he was nothing if not patient.
The oven timer dinged. It was the perfect distraction. When he returned from dinner, the new Heather might have already accepted the request. He went into the living room and turned off the timer. As he opened the oven, the sweet smell of the chicken potpie made his mouth water.
Chester set the table and turned on the evening news. A deadly plane crash. Politicians debating. Two homes burned to the ground because of a cigarette.
This wasn’t what he wanted to watch while digesting food. He flipped through the stations until he found something upbeat and familiar. Cheers. Good ol’ Sammy. He and Diane were laughing about something. Much better.
By the time the episode ended, Chester was just finishing his meal. Perfect timing. He clicked the remote and turned off the idiot box. Then he cleaned up his dinner and went back to the computer. That should be enough time for the girl to accept his request. Kids these days never left their devices out of reach. Heather definitely hadn’t.
He typed in the password for the screensaver—not that he needed it now. He lived alone. His family couldn’t snoop on him anymore. They’d learned their lesson.
Eight new notifications. His pulse pounded in his ears as he checked. But none of them was from her. He clicked over to her profile and studied what she had posted publicly. Those stupid typical selfies that kids were always taking. Funny pictures and sayings.
Chester studied those. He needed to get to know her humor. That would help once they started talking.
There weren’t a lot of interactions between the new Heather and her friends. At least that he could see. That would help him to understand her better, too.
He took a deep breath and opened a message to send her. If he wanted to be convincing, he would need to use that annoying, mindless chat speak. At least he’d had practice while building up his online profile. Tyler Johnson. He’d used the picture of a basketball player.
Hey. Wassup?
Chester waited. She hadn’t even looked at the message. He opened a new tab and scanned her profile. Then he went back to the message tab.
Wanna chat?
Nothing. He frowned. What was he doing wrong? He hovered over her picture and realized they had no mutual friends. She was probably smart. He’d always told his Heather to stay away from guys she didn’t know online. Maybe this girl actually listened to her parents.
Did kids actually still do that?
He went to her friends list and sent requests to everyone who looked her age. Most of them accepted right away. Fools. Before long, he and Macy had over a hundred mutual friends.
I’m bored. What u doing?
Again, nothing. She wasn’t even opening the chat window. He waited and sent her a new message every few minutes. She was posting things to her profile, so she was logged in. Just ignoring him.
That wouldn’t last long.
He kept the profile up and opened a new browser so he could create a new login. She didn’t like this one. Fine.
Chester searched for “cute boys” and clicked images. Hundreds of goofy selfies stared at him. He needed to narrow the search. He added “teenage” to the search. He found one on a beach showing off his pecs. If the new Heather didn’t like basketball players, maybe she was more into beach bums.
In less than a half hour, he had a new profile set up. Parker Lawrence was born, and with over five hundred mutual friends with Macy Mercer. He found Tyler’s profile and friended himself, and then he added all of Tyler’s friends.
Now Parker was a legitimate person. He only needed a bunch of stuff on his profile. Chester went over to Macy’s profile and posted similar images to the ones she had. He clicked on the online quizzes and took them, making sure to post his answers publicly.
This was sure to be a win. It was all for her. Each post set with care. Things that she would like.
One thing remained. He needed to decide whether to send a message or friend request first. Sending the request first hadn’t worked before. He opened up a message screen.
Wanna b friends? We know lots of the same ppl.
Ur friends with Tyler. Stop messing with me. Blocking u both.
Chester closed his eyes. He wanted to punch something, but that wouldn’t do any good. Besides, he was getting closer. She’d actually responded to Parker. Maybe the next one would be his golden ticket.
He opened yet another browser and worked on another profile. This one wouldn’t contact Macy for a few days. Give her a chance to calm down. That way she wouldn’t think the next one had anything to do with his failed attempts.
It was getting late, but he didn’t want to go to bed until he had the winning profile set up. He’d spend the next few days posting and adding friends. He searched for images of cute teen boys again. This time, he closed his eyes and pressed his finger on a random point on the screen.
Chester opened his eyes and saw a friendly-looking kid. He seemed more studious than the others. More like her. He clicked the image and more pictures of the kid showed. Perfect. That would make the profile even more believable. He downloaded all the pictures to his computer and then uploaded them onto Jared’s profile page.
He created photo albums and took some more quizzes, answering like he pictured a bookworm would answer. Chester’s eyes grew heavy. He would have to wait to complete the profile until tomorrow. Time was on his side, anyway. As hard as it would be, he would wait three days before friending or messaging the new Heather.
The time would be spent watching her online. Studying her. Learning everything he could first. That was where he’d gone wrong with the other profiles. If he could figure out where she lived, he would even watch her home. Or maybe her school. That would be easier to find. He could figure that out easy enough. Even if it meant chatting up her friends.
Chester turned off the computer and went to bed with a smile on his face.
Soon, he would have Heather back.
Chapter Two
Macy Mercer held in the tears. Only a few more blocks before her stop. Then she could run off the bus and get away from these horrible people for a long weekend.
“You want me to say something?” Zoey asked. Her eyes narrowed while she twirled some of her jet black hair around a finger.
Macy shook her head. With the tears threatening, she didn’t dare speak.
“They’re just jerks.”
Then why have you been hanging out with them? Macy wanted to ask. Her best friend had been spending less time with her lately, but she was afraid of saying anything and losing her. She couldn’t blame Zoey. Macy wasn’t allowed to do anything, and she couldn’t expect Zoey to stay home, too.
Finally, the bus brakes squealed to a stop. Macy swung her bag over her shoulder, took a deep breath, and rose from the smelly seat. Zoey stood with her.
“Muffin Top Macy!” someone shouted.
She pretended not to hear. Sometimes that worked. Not usually. She kept her attention focused on the front of the school bus. Only about twenty feet to freedom.
“Muffin top!” shouted someone else.
“Ignore them,” Zoey whispered.
“That’s what I’m doing.”
A balled up piece of paper hit Macy in the side of her head. Laughter erupted all around.
“
You’re not still friends with the fatty, are you, Zo?”
“Muffin Top Macy!”
“Fatty!”
“Have you ever thought about exercising?”
Macy tripped over something, barely catching herself before falling. She glanced back to see someone’s foot sticking out into the aisle. More laughter.
They finally reached the steps. Macy grabbed Zoey’s arm and yanked her down with her before she could say anything. As she pulled her outside, Macy got a whiff of cigarette smoke from Zoey’s clothes.
Her heart sank. It was only a matter of time before she and her best friend parted ways. Their lives were going in two completely different directions. Not that Macy could blame her—who would want to be known as best friend of Muffin Top Macy?
“Those guys are such idiots,” Zoey fumed.
Macy shrugged. “Want to sleep over tonight?”
Zoey’s eyes widened. She frowned.
“Never mind. I get it.” Macy headed for her house, stopping in the yard.
“Wait.” Zoey caught up to her. “I just made some plans with a couple friends. Can I spend the night tomorrow? Or you can come over to my place. At least my mom doesn’t watch us like hawks.”
Macy sighed. She felt even lower. Now she was Zoey’s second choice. She wasn’t going to win the fight against her tears.
“I have all afternoon,” Zoey said. “Let’s do something fun before it gets dark. Want to make ice cream sundaes?”
“Why? So I can get fatter?” The tears blurred her vision.
“Macy, that’s not what I meant. It’s because we’ve been making them since preschool.
“I know. I’m vegan now, remember? No ice cream.”
Zoey sat on the bottom step and patted it next to her.
Macy stood, refusing to sit.
“Is it helping you lose weight?” Zoey asked.
“I’ve lost fifteen pounds, not that anyone’s noticed.”
Zoey frowned. “I did. Remember? I just meant, have you lost more?”
“You also helped me buy some new clothes. But it doesn’t matter. No one will ever see me differently. My muffin top’s gone. Not that anyone cares.” She pressed her shirt against her waist.
That Moment When: An Anthology of Young Adult Fiction Page 54
