The House Guests

by Emilie Richards

  “Yeah.” He looked perplexed. “Is that okay?”

  “Sure, of course... But I didn’t get...”

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought. I switched service providers and there seems to be some kind of glitch. I hear a click, and then the line goes dead after I start to speak. You didn’t get messages either? I called here, too.”

  She was breathing deeply now, trying to calm herself. A moment passed before she could answer. “I did get a few strange—” She frowned as she pictured her Caller ID. “Every one of those calls said Unknown Caller. Have-you-changed-your-name-to-Unknown?” The last sentence came out as one angry word.

  He looked surprised. “My name is blocked on all outgoing calls. As counterintuitive as it sounds, more of my article sources will answer if they don’t know who’s calling. Even when I’m just writing fluff pieces, people still don’t want to talk to a reporter.”

  “They would rather talk to a telemarketer?”

  “Sounds crazy, I know.”

  She closed her eyes. She was beginning to breathe more normally now.

  “Did I scare you?” He sounded concerned.

  She knew better than to pretend otherwise. “A little. The calls were really eerie, like someone was drowning. It sounded like something from a horror movie, some monster from the deep.” She opened her eyes. “You need to get your phone fixed.”

  “I will.”

  By now her heartbeat was slowing. And she was so glad the calls had come from Travis, she wanted to throw her arms around him. “So, why was the Loch Ness Monster calling in the first place?”

  He laughed. “Probably not the best time to ask now.”

  “Try anyway.”

  “I’m covering a charity event on Valentine’s Day. It’s a fancy bash, dancing, door prizes at a local country club. Swanky, not to mention a great cause. They’re trying to raise funds for a new women’s shelter. Will you be my date?”

  She noticed, not for the first time, how long his eyelashes were and how the broad sweep of his brows drew more attention to the rich brown of his eyes. She also saw that he had one deep dimple in his cheek. She was so relieved that Darryl had not found her, her good sense fled.

  She stepped forward and kissed him, and not all that casually, before she stepped back. “I’ll clear my schedule. I would love to be your date. I’m assuming I have to get dressed up?”

  He looked ridiculously pleased. “Do you mind?”

  “I’ll find something worthy.”

  “Hey, should I always catch you when you aren’t feeling well?”

  “Apparently.”

  “Should I push for more?”

  “Not on your life.”

  He laughed. “Worth a try.”

  She reached around and opened the door. He passed her and then paused in the doorway, before leaning forward to brush her lips with his. “Feel better.”

  “I already do.”

  When he was gone, she went back to her suite determined to put piles back into drawers and reorganize her life. Instead, and for the first time in a long time, tears spilled down her cheeks. With her head in her hands she fell to the bed and cried for the woman she could have been if she hadn’t spent the past seventeen years afraid that she and her son were both going to die.

  24

  SAVANNAH’S JAIL SENTENCE AT school was over. For a week now she’d been able to leave after the end of classes. No more counseling sessions or tutorials. She had expected the two weeks to crawl by, but surprisingly they hadn’t been bad. None of her teachers had resorted to busywork. Instead they had pinpointed her problem in their class, which, of course, didn’t take massive amounts of brain power. She wasn’t paying attention and she didn’t care. All rolled into one bad attitude.

  The surprising part was that nobody really lectured. They’d presented her with material to help her catch up, but nobody had stood over her and insisted. Her counselor—a hipster with black-framed glasses and a crew cut—had asked her to diagram her future, devoting one side of the paper to what might happen if she continued to blow off classes, and the other side to what might happen if she decided to use her abilities and talents. Clearly she wasn’t dumb—just acting like it—so she had a choice to make.

  Every day Cassie had picked her up, and after the first afternoon, when Savannah had told her to butt out, she had stopped asking how things were going. At first Savannah had been glad, but then she’d sort of missed Cassie’s questions. Cassie asked different questions than Gen. Cassie knew Savannah’s friends, her classes, her likes and dislikes. She never pried, but she always seemed to know what was on Savannah’s mind and to find a way to help her explore it.

  In contrast Gen never quite got her. Savannah understood it was easy to lose track of somebody you didn’t see often. Gen tried to keep up, but sometimes the questions were so out-of-date, Savannah had trouble finding a polite response.

  She had to tiptoe with Gen. Not that Gen had ever threatened her, but she was so rarely available that Savannah didn’t want to take chances. She didn’t know her mother well enough to be sure that if Gen was hurt or angry, she wouldn’t disappear entirely.

  Today, with school out and kids leaving, Savannah actually considered popping in to see her counselor, just to say hello, although she didn’t, because how wack would that be? Instead she slouched on the front steps waiting for Will so they could walk to Roxanne’s, where Cassie had promised to pick them up after five. Her stepmother was going on an afternoon job interview, and Savannah was hoping she would start working evenings. How perfect would it be to have her gone whenever Savannah was home?

  Nobody else could provide transportation because the Kouzina was hosting an elaborate baby shower, complete with rented Greek columns, gilded clusters of grapes and laurel wreaths for the head of every mother in the room. Roxanne had volunteered to let Savannah and Will hang out at her house, which was only half a mile from the school. Yesterday she’d dropped off a key, and now Savannah had plans. She couldn’t wait to share her idea with Will.

  As she waited, Madeline and Lolly zoomed by with Madeline’s mother at the wheel. After the fish guts incident the best friends had been suspended for two weeks and were only recently back in classes. According to rumors, Madeline’s parents had taken her car keys until spring.

  A familiar voice sounded behind her. “It’s gotta be hard to be them. Up on top and then slapped down to the bottom. And, you know, it takes practice to make a good life down here. I don’t know if they’ve got it in them.”

  Savannah glanced at Helia, who was now beside her. The pink topknot was history, and these days she rocked a buzz cut. Savannah had been surprised to discover that her friend’s real hair color was a pretty golden blond, although at this point it was more like duck’s down. Helia had said getting rid of the topknot was nobody’s idea but hers. From what Savannah could tell, that was true. Her foster parents had turned out to be surprisingly cool, only insisting on rules that mattered. Helia hadn’t said as much, but Savannah thought her friend liked living with them. She even seemed to like the younger kids, who swarmed through every room.

  “Will and I are going to my aunt Roxanne’s house,” Savannah said. “You met her at Yiayia’s, remember? Want to come?”

  “I can’t, and I feel sorry for you.”

  Savannah didn’t get the connection. “Why?”

  “Will’s in a mood. He didn’t turn in a paper in our Spanish class. He gets marked down one grade for every day it’s late.”

  Savannah was surprised. Will was such a goody-goody. Missing a deadline seemed unthinkable.

  “You haven’t noticed how crabby he is these days?” Helia asked.

  “He’s kind of been locking himself away.” Now that Savannah thought about it, that was unusual. “Did he tell you why?”

  “Like we talk about feelings?” Helia snorted. “Minh says
he seems different, too. And she should know.”

  Minh and Will weren’t exactly hanging out, but Savannah had seen them together in the halls and sometimes after school. “Are they fighting or something?”

  “Didn’t sound that way. She says he’s quiet, like he’s thinking about big stuff but doesn’t share.”

  Savannah wondered if she had set this in motion herself when she pressed Will to talk to his mother about his father. “Well, maybe he’ll talk to me today,” she said.

  “What is he to you anyway?”

  Savannah stared. “Are you kidding? He’s like a brother, or a cousin you have to be nice to. Anything else would be creepy!”

  Helia held up her hands. “Okay.”

  “So how do you get your brother to talk to you?”

  “He’s hard to shut up. It’s not a problem.” Helia lifted her hand in goodbye as her foster family’s van drove up, children hanging out every window as far as their restraints would allow. They began shouting her name.

  She stepped to the sidewalk and turned before she went to the van. “Do you believe it? These poor suckers claim they want to adopt me.” She shrugged, and before Savannah could respond, she took off.

  Savannah was still smiling when Will came up beside her. “Are you ready?” he asked with no preliminary.

  “Hello to you, too, Mr. Grouchy.”

  “Don’t start on me, okay?”

  They started down the sidewalk with Savannah leading the way. “Guess what Helia told me,” she said, wanting to share Helia’s good news—she hoped it was good.

  “So what? I forgot to write a paper. It happens. I’ll write it at Roxanne’s.”

  “That’s not what I was talking about.” She decided to keep Helia’s news to herself until he was in a mood to appreciate it. She tried a new topic. “There’s something at Roxanne’s I want you to see.”

  He just kept walking.

  Savannah tried again. “She keeps a six-ton elephant in her bathtub and a giraffe in her pantry to help her reach the cans on the top shelf.”

  Will didn’t respond.

  “So today they made me homecoming queen, even though I’m only a sophomore,” she said. “I told them I wasn’t interested, but they insisted.”

  “Homecoming’s over.”

  “You are alive. I wasn’t sure.” She fell silent, and they stayed that way for the next few minutes until she turned into Roxanne’s driveway. He followed her to the front door, where she unzipped her backpack to get the key.

  Roxanne’s house was a concrete block bungalow she’d painted a soft turquoise on the outside, adding coral-colored trim and a door the color of ripening lemons. The exterior was sedate compared with the inside and extended all the way to the back of the lot.

  Savannah opened the door and ushered Will inside. Color blared from every surface. It was like stepping into a box of crayons, the supersized pack of two hundred she’d always begged for as a child.

  “Holy cow.” Will whistled.

  “You’re the only sixteen-year-old in the world who says holy cow.”

  “This is a rainbow on steroids.”

  “It’s hard not to be cheerful here.”

  “It’s hard not to get a headache here.”

  “Yeah, sometimes I have to go outside and stare at a tree. But it’s a good house. It’s got a lot more room than it looks.”

  “I might have to go outside to write my paper.”

  “Before you do, I want to show you something.”

  Will was walking around the room touching things. A lipstick-red pillow on a cobalt blue sofa with lime-green arms. Brightly patterned glass bowls on a coffee table. A wall of artwork so wild that Savannah had to look away after a moment.

  “I have to get to work,” he said, turning back to her.

  “This’ll only take a minute. Do you have more to do than the Spanish paper?”

  He looked away. “I have a test on genetics in Biology on Thursday, another paper for Composition. I’ll be up all night.”

  “Take a minute and come with me.” Savannah tossed her backpack on the table between the kitchen and living room and went to the door going into the garage. She unlatched and flung it open.

  “Ta-da!” She stepped inside and Will followed. Roxanne’s car was gone, but Savannah’s father’s Mustang was parked in the second bay. “Get in.”

  The 2012 Mustang Shelby GT 500 was in pristine condition. Low-slung and shiny black, the car sported flashy aluminum five-spoke wheels and a red racing stripe. She especially loved the silver cobra on the back and the smaller ones on the front grille and in front of the side door. The cobra was even embossed on the front seats and floor mats.

  She walked around and opened the driver’s door, sliding behind the wheel. Will hesitated, but after a moment he got in on the passenger side.

  Savannah introduced the car. “It’s like a special, elite kind of Mustang, not new, but the mileage is low. It’s been serviced regularly so it’s in top condition. This little angel has fog lights, power everything, rear spoiler, eight speakers. Eight!”

  “Why doesn’t Roxanne drive it?” Will ran his hand over the gleaming dashboard. “I mean, her other car’s great, but this...this is classic.”

  “She does once in a while. To keep it charged or whatever. But she doesn’t drive it much because it’s not hers.”

  “Whose is it?”

  “Mine.” She twisted to look at him. “My dad always said he wanted me to have the Mustang once I got my license. When I was old enough and we were somewhere out in the country for a weekend, he would take me out on a deserted road, just us two while Cassie slept in. He taught me about the clutch and brake and how to shift. I got to practice.”

  She usually tried not to think about those times because she was afraid she might cry. “When we moved, Cassie had someone drive it to Florida. When you and your mom moved in, Roxanne said we could park it here, because she wasn’t using this side of the garage. Sometimes in New York we used to take off down the highway and turn up the sound system...” Her chest tightened at that memory, too.

  “Cassie doesn’t want it?”

  Savannah took the Mustang’s ownership for granted. She supposed the car might belong to Cassie if her father hadn’t specifically mentioned it in his will. She wasn’t exactly sure how her father’s possessions had been divided, but she was sure he hadn’t expected to die so young. He’d probably expected to sign the car over to his daughter in a year or two.

  She wasn’t sure why a doctor at a prestigious hospital had left his family in debt, but she knew Cassie could really use the money that she would get if she sold the Mustang. Right now her stepmother was out scrounging for a job she probably didn’t want. She’d bought a basic car for herself, and as far as Savannah could tell, she wasn’t buying much of anything else. She hadn’t even replaced key furnishings that had been damaged during the party-from-hell.

  When she didn’t answer, Will tried again. “This car’s kind of a classic. She could probably sell it for a lot. But I guess she doesn’t need the money.”

  Savannah tossed her hair over her shoulders. “She knows I’d never speak to her.”

  “There’s a problem with that?”

  She socked him on the shoulder. “How would you like to take it for a ride?”

  “No way. You don’t have your license.”

  “I mean with you driving.”

  He rested his hand on the gearshift with its bright red knob. “I’d have to check my insurance to make sure I’m covered.”

  Savannah blew out a frustrated breath. “Do you ever, like, take a chance on anything?”

  “You mean when somebody else could end up in big trouble if I did? Not usually, no.”

  She heard the drip of sarcasm. “Fine. Don’t bother. You probably can’t drive a manual transmis
sion anyway.”

  “I learned on one.” He hesitated, then he smiled at her. “It’s nice of you to ask, though. It really is. Are you trying to cheer me up?”

  “Like I care.” She made no move to get out. Sitting behind the wheel felt amazing. Even if the engine wasn’t running.

  “I asked my mom about my father,” he said after a minute.

  Savannah’s irritation was gone in a flash. “What did she say?”

  “She told me his name. She said their families were enemies, and they couldn’t tell either side that they wanted to get married. After high school my father—he was named Roger Hart—joined the army and went to Afghanistan. She was supposed to finish high school, and then they were going to elope once she turned eighteen. Instead he was killed by a roadside bomb. And she got pregnant when he came home on leave before he was shipped out.”

  He told the story so quickly it took Savannah a few moments to process. “Wow, but why did she keep it a secret? I mean, okay, they weren’t married, but lots of people have babies without getting married, and nobody’s making them wear a scarlet A on their chests. The thing is your dad was a war hero. Didn’t she know you’d be proud of him?”

  “It’s more like she was afraid I’d go looking for the families. She says they can’t know, that they’re not good people, not either side, and even now they would be furious. I guess she doesn’t want me to feel rejected, because that’s inevitable. Or maybe she’s afraid my surprise appearance would give them more reasons to feud.”

  Savannah tried to imagine how she would feel if she were Will.

  “I promised her I wouldn’t tell anybody, but you were the one who convinced me to push,” Will said. “You deserved to know. Just don’t let on that you do, and please don’t tell anybody else.”

  “Sure.” She angled so she could see him better, the steering wheel pressing against her side. “Did you look him up? Roger Hart?”

  He nodded. “He was one of the first to die in Afghanistan, so that was a long time ago, you know? The internet wasn’t what it is today. So there’s not a lot.”

  “What do you mean?”