You did good, a voice in my mind whispered.
I was too exhausted to care that I didn’t recognize the voice as my own.
Chapter 5: Tess
Friday, September 9th
UGH. WHAT WAS that smell? I came to, surprised to discover I’d changed into my class t-shirt at some point last night. I felt a familiar stab of pride when I saw my design—the one that everyone in the senior class voted on except Felicity Day—printed across the chest. Then I noticed the way the oversized shirt hung off one shoulder.
Not mine then?
Blinking sleep out of my eyes, I took in the Ninja Turtle sheets and the peeling star, moon, and planet stickers on the ceiling. Derrick’s room. He’d been trying to scrape those stupid stickers off his ceiling for nearly a decade. The Ninja Turtle sheets were a new discovery, though. No wonder he always kept his bed made.
For some reason, Derrick slept in the old recliner usually reserved for me. This wasn’t the first time I’d crashed at Derrick’s house, but I’d never woken up in his bed, and I’d always worn underwear.
What the hell happened last night?
Panic flooded my chest when my mind pulled up a vast nothingness where those memories should have been. I’d heard enough horror stories about other girls waking up like this to wonder if Josh Worthington had slipped something into my drink.
Don’t be stupid, if something like that had happened, I’d be waking up in a hospital, not Derrick’s bed. Maybe I’d just . . . gotten drunk and called Derrick to pick me up. People got blackout drunk, right? Where were my clothes? No matter how many times I glanced around Derrick’s meticulous room, they didn’t magically appear. Where did I put them?
I didn’t even remember taking them off.
My heart stuttered at that realization. Pulling the covers off, I swung my feet over the bed, hand outstretched to wake Derrick.
Wait, wait, wait. I drew my hand back, my eyes wide as another horrible thought occurred to me. I didn’t remember taking my clothes off. What else didn’t I remember? People did stuff when they were drunk. Did Derrick and I—?
Please tell me I didn’t. Surely, I’d know, right? I’d remember or be sore or feel different or something.
Get a grip, Tess. He’s sleeping on a chair.
Right. He’d probably sleep in the bed with me if we’d had sex.
Unless it was really bad sex.
Oh, my God. I pushed my hair back, trying in vain to remember anything from last night. My sharp intake of breath had me sputtering from the burning scent of bleach. Did Derrick bathe in the stuff?
Wait a minute. Derrick’s clothes, ninja turtle sheets, bleach? What if I’d gotten so drunk that I’d thrown up all over everything? “Derrick, wake up.” I nudged him with my foot. “Der?” My voice raised a bit as I shot a glance at the door. Was his mother home? Did she know I was here? Oh, this wasn’t fair. I didn’t feel hung over, so why couldn’t I remember anything? “Derrick!”
He bolted up in his chair so fast, his feet fell to the floor with a thunk. “Huh! What?”
“Der!” I stood in alarm, holding my hands out to him with a fierce whisper. “Calm down, it’s me.”
Derrick yanked me into an embrace so tight, I couldn’t take a breath. And wow, this t-shirt was really thin and short. “You’re awake. I wasn’t sure you’d—Ah, I’m so sorry.” He released me and took a step away, rubbing at the back of his neck.
My cheeks heated as I pulled the shirt down in a desperate bid to cover at least a bit more of my thighs. “What happened last night?”
“You . . . don’t remember?”
Oh, that didn’t sound good. “No. Is it that bad?” I sank back onto the bed, burying my face in my hands. “Just tell me I’m not on YouTube.”
“You uh . . .” He swallowed hard, raking his dark hair out of his face. “You came to the house last night, and you were—you were covered in blood.”
I hadn’t expected any variation of that sentence. “What do you mean, ‘blood?’”
“Like, blood, blood.” Derrick waved his hands in frustration. “The stuff flowing through your veins, blood. Maybe an entire person’s worth.”
Not a typical Derrick prank, but since he’d probably given me a ride home last night or something equally inconvenient, I’d allow him a minute for his fun. “Ha. Ha.”
“I’m serious.”
Okay, the minute was up. “You know what? Fine. Don’t tell me. I’m sure I’ll hear all about it at school.”
“I am not joking.” Words tumbled from his lips so fast, they blended together. “And I’m not talking about a cut or a scrape, Tess. You looked like something out of a horror movie.”
My chest constricted. Derrick wouldn’t find this kind of a joke funny. Not in a million years. “You’re serious?”
“It was bad, Tess.” Tension tightened his shoulders. “I didn’t know if you were going to wake up. I thought—” His voice cracked. “I’m not joking, okay? I promise. I wouldn’t—I—”
“Okay.” I put one hand on his shoulder and ran the other down his jawline, drawing his gaze back to mine. It was an intimate gesture. I stared at my hand, wondering what had possessed me to touch him like that. “I . . . I believe you. But Derrick, I’m not hurt.” I’d have noticed a gaping wound by now. “So . . . where did the blood come from?”
“I don’t know.” He sounded lost. Derrick always had the answers.
“Okay.” I took a breath, thinking fast. “Why am I not in the hospital? You know what, wait.” I held up a hand before he could answer. “Is your mom home?”
“I didn’t hear her come in last night, but she doesn’t always wake me.”
“Okay, then just to be on the safe side, I should probably get dressed.”
“Yeah . . .” Derrick looked down. “About that . . .” He slid off the bed and reached beneath the frame to draw out a tied-off grocery bag. “You were wearing this.”
I pulled at the knot and gagged when the plastic parted, allowing a musty odor like used tampons, times maybe a thousand, to escape. I thrust the once white grocery bag away from me. “What is that?”
“A dress?”
“I meant the—” I broke off, deciding it wasn’t important. Instead, I held my breath and opened the bag again. Unwilling to touch the bloodied garment, I gripped the glistening fabric through the plastic bag, shifting the contents around to make out what this heap of cloth might have once been. “This isn’t what I wore last night.” I glanced at Derrick. “Where are the rest of my clothes?”
He shook his head. “That’s all you were wearing.”
“You undressed me?” The question erupted from my throat in a horrified shriek.
“I didn’t know what else to do! I couldn’t leave you in that.”
“You didn’t know what else to—” I sputtered, staring at him in disbelief. “Gee, I don’t know Derrick. Call the hospital? The cops? Your mother? Anyone!” And wait, he said I was covered in blood. Not my clothes. Me. Kicking off the sheet, I twisted, gaze searching for some sign or speck of this blood he spoke of. Nothing. I dragged my fingers through my hair. Damp. “You—you—why? Why didn’t you call someone? Why would you—?”
“You told me not to call anyone!” Derrick’s voice broke through his hushed yell, and he snatched the bag from me and closed it, stashing it under his bed. “Then you spouted off some creepy stuff, about the blood not being yours and how it was your fault and some stuff about people screaming and—”
“Enough!” I raised my clenched hands just shy of covering my ears and ducked my head, squeezing my eyes shut. My nails—when did they get this long—bit at the inside of my palm. A few shaking breaths later, I finally managed to form a coherent thought. “I said it was my fault?”
Derrick took a deep breath. “I think you were in
shock.”
“All the more reason to call the cops!” I whisper-yelled.
“But what if . . . ?” He didn’t finish the sentence—he didn’t have to. He might as well have shouted it.
“Did I do something?” I couldn’t keep the quaver out of my voice. I’d remember, wouldn’t I? “Derrick, did I hurt someone?”
“I don’t—” He broke off, looking at the floor. “I don’t know. But if you did, I’m sure there was a reason. Something happened, and since you don’t remember, well, it must have been really bad.”
I glanced down, trying to see as much of myself as I could. I’d know, I would know. My mind chanted. If it was really bad, I’d know. “Did—?” My voice broke as the horror of the thought washed over me. “Do you think someone—?” I couldn’t force myself to finish the question.
He shook his head fast. “You didn’t have a mark on you, so whatever happened, I don’t think it was to you. But—” He broke off, working a muscle in his jaw. “I don’t think you were hurt.”
I knew that look. “What aren’t you telling me?”
Derrick turned to the closet. “Let me see if I can find you something to—”
“Derrick!” I demanded.
His fists clenched and unclenched as he struggled for words. “There was skin under your nails. And I think . . . I think you bit someone because you had—” He motioned around his mouth, then hurried on. “But I don’t think you were hurt. You didn’t have a single cut or scrape or bruise, I checked.”
He’d checked? I buried my face in my hands. This wasn’t happening.
“But the way you were talking could have gotten you in trouble.” He spoke so fast, he tripped over the words. “I’m sorry. You’re right, I should have called someone, but I swear, it wasn’t like—I mean when I—I didn’t—I wouldn’t—It’s not like I got anything out of it or anything. I didn’t enjoy—”
“Oh, my God!” I moaned. “Just stop. I’ll pretend it never happened if you do. Just don’t ever tell me what you did or didn’t get out of—”
“Nothing!”
“—it again.”
“Yeah, okay. Believe me, I’d rather forget.”
“Good.” I knew Derrick better than I knew myself. Feelings or not, there were things he’d never do and lies he’d never tell. He wouldn’t have undressed me, and oh, God—my stomach rose to meet my throat—bathed me, if he hadn’t thought he had to. And he wouldn’t have taken advantage of the situation to . . . linger or anything else. He wouldn’t.
“Okay. Let’s go over everything that happened last night.” I drew in a deep breath, forcing myself to be okay with what he’d had to do. “Let’s start at the beginning. Maybe it’ll jog something.”
“Okay.” The bed dipped down as he sat next to me. “Josh picked you up, and then . . .”
I stared into his eyes, racking my brain for even a scrap of memory. “We . . . went to Worthington’s.”
“His dad’s restaurant?” Derrick snorted. “Wow. Such trouble.”
“Shut up.” It wasn’t like there were any other restaurants in Fairdealings. “It was delicious. We stayed for, like, an hour? Then we headed to the bonfire.” I struggled for a scrap of memory. “But I don’t remember anything after we parked.”
“Okay.” Derrick glanced up toward the peeling stars on the ceiling. “Details then. Where did you drive to?”
“The woods? We were on Highway 5 for a while.”
“That narrows it down to the bulk of Alabama.” Derrick fell backward on the bed with a thunk. “How long is a while, Tess? Ten minutes? Thirty? An hour? Two?”
“I don’t know? An hour? Maybe half?”
“Helpful.”
“It wasn’t like I was keeping track.” I shoved him over so his back didn’t pinch my leg. “What time did I get back here? It would have to be close enough for me to get there and get back so that gives us a radius.”
“Just after midnight. Anything notable about where you parked? A sign? A building? Gravel? Parking lot? Anything?”
I pulled at the memory, teasing it apart for details, but the whole night was lodged in molasses. Most of it was buried beyond hope, and now even the edges were starting to sink. “Remember back when we’d go hiking?” I pursed my lips, trying to remember the name of the trail. “That—that place with the civil war ghost? It was near there.” We’d parked on a dirt road, but I didn’t even remember getting out of the car.
“Aunt Jenny Johnston’s place?” Derrick sat back down on the bed, eyes narrowed in thought. “The actual cabin or Stalker Ed’s shop?”
Stalker Ed was our town weirdo. He was obsessed with all things supernatural and had kept trying to open a museum at the ruins of Jenny Johnston’s cabin. Eventually he’d gotten sick of the park rangers chasing him off and built one of his own, here in Fairdealings.
“The actual cabin.” There was no way in hell Josh would have set foot anywhere near Stalker Ed’s place. “That’s a good ways away. How did I get back here?”
Derrick shrugged. “Maybe it was after? Josh picked you up a bit before six, right? So a twenty-minute drive to Worthington’s, an hour for dinner, then a thirty-minute drive to the National Forest?”
“More like an hour.”
“I’ve seen the way he drives. Forty minutes. Max. That puts you there around eight. So that’s four hours unaccounted for. At least forty minutes would be you coming back however you got here.”
Four hours. My mind reeled with the unknown, possibilities racing through my head at light speed. “It’s a prank.”
“Tess, I swear, I’m not—”
“On both of us. Think about it, Der.” I pushed my hair back. “It’s like you said yesterday. Josh Worthington hasn’t given me the time of day since grade school. The only way a guy like him would want to go out with me, is if—”
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”
“—he was up to something. He and his stupid football buddies probably dosed me with something, got me all confused, then dropped me off on your doorstep and waited for you to freak out. But you didn’t. There’s no way that’s—” I motioned beneath the bed, “—real blood. I mean, come on.”
“If they were going to pull anything like that, I don’t think they’d drop you off at the sheriff’s house.”
I stared him down. Derrick had a nasty habit of dismissing any suggestion he hadn’t personally come up with.
He sighed. “I checked all the social networks last night. No one posted a thing. If they pulled a prank like that, do you really think they’d be able to resist posting it?”
“No one posted anything?” I crossed my arms, then dropped them when I realized I’d mirrored his pose. “Really?”
“No one from the football team,” he amended, rolling his eyes.
“No selfies? No check-ins? Not a single status update? Are you sure you’re not just blocked?”
“Do you really think that would stop me?” He gave me a look so dark, I got chills. “Tess, you were unconscious. I didn’t know what happened to you, what might have been done to you, or if they were responsible. I didn’t leave any stones unturned.”
“Well, why don’t you humor me and tell me everything you did anyway. I rang the bell just past midnight. Then what?”
His eyes rolled at my sarcasm, but he walked me through the rest of the night.
“God, Derrick.” I couldn’t even imagine how terrified he must have been.
He shifted so his back touched the wall and put an arm around me. “I’ve told you a thousand times, I’m here for you no matter what.” He flashed me a grin. “Leave it to you to take it to a way darker place than I ever imagined possible.”
“It’s a talent.” I let myself lean into him, drawing strength from his presence for just a moment bef
ore I forced myself to pull away. “Look, I still think it’s a prank, but it’s not going to hurt anything for us to make sure. We can check out my house to make sure nothing happened there, then the bonfire, and then maybe Josh’s place, just to make sure everyone made it home okay.”
Derrick relaxed visibly. “Yeah, yeah. Good plan. I’ll go get ready.”
I nodded, glancing out his window toward my dilapidated excuse for a house and tried to get my insides as pulled together as my outsides were projecting to Derrick. What if something horrible had happened last night? What if I walked in the door of my house and found a bloody massacre? What if my mom was hurt or worse?
Please be a prank, I begged the universe. But somehow, I didn’t think it was listening.
Chapter 6: Derrick
Friday, September 9th
BLOOD WAS SMEARED along the edge of Tess’s doorframe. Behind the bloodied screen, the kitchen door stood ajar, a distinct red handprint left behind from when it had been pushed open. Tess made a strangled sound beside me, and I reached for her.
If her mother was hurt . . . . If something had happened . . . . This is my fault. If I wasn’t going to call for help—a decision that felt more stupid with every passing moment—I should’ve at least checked her house.
“You said you couldn’t get into your house,” I recalled, grasping at straws.
“What?” She gripped my arm so tight, I was starting to lose feeling in the tips of my fingers.
“Last night, you said you couldn’t get into your house.” I stared at the rust-colored handprint. “Which means you weren’t in it.”
“So m . . . maybe I just came home, and—and opened the door, and then, I don’t know, left? Got spooked or something. And everything inside is fine, everyone is—” She broke off, taking a deep breath. “But there’s only one way to find out.” She opened the screen and moved to push open the bloodied door then froze, her eyes wide with terror.
“I’ll look.” I squeezed past her, the stench of stale cigarettes hitting me full in the face.
Blood and Other Matter Page 4
