Ugly Young Thing

by Jennifer Jaynes

  But Hannah was a different creature altogether. First of all, she didn’t have to work hard at concealing anything or faking it. Hannah was the real thing. And it didn’t take a rocket scientist to see that everyone at the table realized it.

  Jealousy had Allie’s stomach twisted into knots. Jealousy of Hannah’s popularity with her new family. Of Hannah liking Bitty so much. Of Bitty liking her. Of Big Joe salivating over Hannah. Of Allie being less popular. Of Allie never being popular.

  Of being destined to be a loser . . . and all alone again.

  Swallowing hard, she glowered at Hannah from across the table and realized how much she both hated and admired the girl’s beauty. She had to admit, as much as she didn’t like the attention Hannah was getting, it was really difficult to take her eyes off of her. Just something I’ll try not to hate you for, she thought, staring at her new friend. And you will never, and I mean NEVER, eat at this table again. Not if I have anything to do with it.

  “I wish I could be homeschooled,” Hannah was telling Miss Bitty, her voice practically dripping with honey. “Especially if my house was as nice and cozy as yours, Miss Bitty.”

  That was another thing that was angering Allie. Dinner had started only fifteen minutes ago and already Hannah had complimented Bitty more times than she could count. Why was she working so hard to kiss up to the old woman?

  Even more disgusting, Big Joe was at the end of the table hanging on to every word the girl was saying.

  “Well, Allie’s in good hands with Louis,” Miss Bitty said, smiling at Hannah. “We were fortunate he had the time to tutor her.”

  Hannah turned to Louis and smiled demurely. “Hey, maybe you can homeschool me, too. I can talk to my stepdad. He might totally go for it.”

  Like hell he would. Allie’s grip on her glass tightened. Louis was hers. Miss Bitty was hers. Even Big Joe: HERS.

  Yes, they were a motley bunch and certainly not a textbook family, but they were all she had. The only real home and stability she’d ever known—and, if she had to, she would fight tooth and nail to keep them.

  “My schedule is pretty full right now,” Louis said. “But if you want me to I can give you the names of a couple of colleagues of mine. I’d be happy to.”

  Hannah’s face fell and she poked out a plump lower lip. “Aw, okay.”

  “So Miss Bitty says you’re from California. What part?” Big Joe asked.

  Hannah’s face brightened. “The Valley.”

  “Aw, the Valley,” Big Joe said, smiling. “I have fond memories of that area. I live in Santa Monica now, but I do business out there sometimes.”

  “If you live in California, why are you here?”

  Big Joe pointed at Miss Bitty. “She’s whipping me into shape. I was pretty healthy when I was young, then this happened,” he said, motioning to his stomach.

  “Wow, you came all the way out here to lose weight?”

  “They say she’s the best. Besides, we go way back.”

  “We do,” Miss Bitty said. “In fact, Louis is from California, too.”

  Hannah’s eyes lit up. “Really? Wow, that’s wild! I’ve probably met more Californians here than Louisianans.”

  Allie wondered if anyone would notice if she got up and went to her room. Yeah, probably not, she thought, clenching her jaw.

  Hannah turned back to Miss Bitty. “If you need any help around here, let me know. I’m serious. I want to go into the wellness industry, too, and would love to study under someone like you.”

  Allie scowled. Go ahead and pop some pills—and quit acting like such a freaking Girl Scout.

  Bitty smiled. “Thank you, Hannah. I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.”

  Allie’s throat was so dry, she couldn’t get food down it. She glanced at Louis and caught him studying her. “You okay?” he asked. “You look a little flushed.” It was the only time anyone had addressed her during the whole dinner.

  Allie glared at him.

  Suddenly all eyes were on her. But not in the way she’d hoped. She jumped a little and her foot landed hard on Piglet’s tail. The animal yelped.

  “Oh, God, sorry,” she said, watching the little dog bolt out of the room.

  Big Joe, oblivious to Allie’s dark mood, turned to her and smiled. “Well, Allie. I’m glad to see you’ve made such a nice friend here. Hannah seems beautiful both inside and out.”

  Enough! Allie threw her napkin into her plate. “Really. Could you be more of a perv, Joe?” she spat.

  The smile slipped off Joe’s face.

  “Allie!” Miss Bitty scolded.

  Chair legs screeched loudly against the hardwood floor as Allie shot up and headed for the living room.

  “Where are you going?” Miss Bitty called.

  “Some place where I can throw up.”

  Back in her room, Allie lay on her bed and stroked Piglet’s small back. She knew she was behaving like a child.

  Great, she thought. After all the hard work she’d been doing, she had to make a fool out of herself. The new Allie would’ve definitely kept her cool. But in all honesty, she only half cared. Her brain wasn’t ready to listen to logic.

  She was still seeing green.

  The door opened and Hannah poked her disgustingly beautiful face inside. “Is everything alright? Did I do something to make you mad?”

  Hannah studied Allie’s face and concern crept into her eyes. “Oh shit. I guess I did.”

  CHAPTER 40

  THE SKY WAS darkening fast, but his mood was much darker.

  Being interrupted during his evening with the brunette had ruined everything. Usually a hunt bought him years before the rage became unmanageable again, but this time both the rage and the itch returned almost immediately.

  Hope had been gone for nearly three weeks. And he’d had fewer chances to be alone with the young girl. Since news of the brunette’s murder had gotten out, the old woman seemed to always be around, keeping guard.

  So despite the risk, he again stood, sweating, outside the supermarket. He knew it was a sloppy move, but he needed some peace. He needed to take action. To do what he knew would relieve the pain.

  Thankfully, news of the brunette’s murder seemed to have blown over after only a couple of weeks. The composite sketch looked much more like a man the woman had recently gone on a couple of dates with . . . and considering the ex had a history of domestic violence and the brunette had just stopped seeing him, he was the sheriff’s department’s main person of interest in the case.

  He couldn’t have planned it better himself.

  He was so deep in thought, he didn’t even notice her until she was about ten feet from him. It startled him when he realized it was her.

  Hope. She was back in town and walking toward the supermarket. Seeing him, a look of recognition passed over her face. She smiled. “Hey, don’t I know you from somewhere?”

  He was so stunned to see her, he couldn’t get his tongue to work. Blinking rapidly, he tried to smile, but his muscles wouldn’t cooperate.

  “I mean, I never forget a face,” she continued. She tilted her head and stared, trying to place him.

  The muscle in his cheek jumped and his face felt all wrong. Mortified, he tried to say something, but his tongue was too thick.

  Her smile vanished. “Oh,” she said with a frown. “Never . . . never mind.” And she hurried into the supermarket.

  Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! he admonished himself as he rushed to get to Hope’s house before she did. He tried to shove the memory of the way she’d looked at him into the back of his brain. Her reaction to how moronic he must’ve looked struggling to smile, struggling to say something to her, but freezing instead. Her arrival had taken him completely off guard and his body had failed him.

  He just wanted to forget it all and enjoy a nice, therapeutic, calming night . . . under her bed.

  And if that wasn’t enough, he’d hunt.

  After about fifteen minutes he heard her car drive up. A few minutes after th
at, she walked into the bedroom, trailing luggage behind her and, again, holding a knife.

  His cute but strange little Hope. Never far from her weapon.

  But that was okay. He had a knife, too.

  He instantly smelled her scent: a mixture of flowers and citrus. He closed his eyes and sighed quietly, careful to stay as still as possible.

  She plopped down on the bed and he could hear the sound of her dialing a number on the phone.

  “Hey,” she said, “I just got in.”

  Pause.

  “No, the trip was fine. But hey, something really creeped me out earlier. I went to the market to pick up a few things and a guy was standing outside. I’ve seen him before, standing in the exact same spot, and well, something just seemed really weird. Like, I mean, off about him. Seriously. The hair is still standing on the back of my neck.”

  He knew he should’ve gone to a different supermarket, but he had felt so desperate and had just driven there instead. Sloppy. So very sloppy. He was very displeased with himself.

  “Yeah, I know, right? And there was this odd look on his face.”

  Pause.

  “I’m not sure, but I just got this, I don’t know . . . this terrible feeling about him. Like he was disturbed or something.”

  Disturbed?

  Anger rushed through him. Suddenly he felt claustrophobic in the small space under the woman’s bed and he had the intense urge to vomit. He clapped his hand over his mouth and tried to stop it.

  He tried to control his breathing. He’d waited so long for her to return . . . only for her to humiliate him. For her to turn on him. And he’d even spared her life. He could hardly believe it.

  Vomit rose up his throat and he made a gurgling sound. He tensed, ready to fly out from beneath the bed. To—

  But she kept babbling about him to her friend on the phone.

  Little did she know, but she’d just changed her script. Her act three could have been uneventful. Pleasant even. But not now. No, she was going to pay.

  Not tonight.

  He felt too sick.

  But soon.

  A minute later, Hope ended her phone call and went to the bathroom to run a bath.

  He slipped out from under the bed and left the house. After vomiting in a neighbor’s backyard, he drove aimlessly . . . infuriated and in more need of peace than ever.

  CHAPTER 41

  “PLEASE? PRETTY PLEASE?” Hannah pled, sprawled out at the foot of Allie’s bed, rubbing Piglet’s spotted belly. For the last ten minutes, she’d been begging Allie to take her to her childhood house. She said she was just curious about where Allie had grown up, but Allie knew better. Hannah just wanted to see where all the murders had taken place. To Hannah, Allie’s childhood house was some type of carnival attraction.

  “Please?”

  Allie studied her, knowing that the girl probably got a lot of things with that word . . . and those eyes of hers. Allie scowled at Hannah and grabbed Piglet.

  Hannah’s eyes narrowed and she poked her lower lip out again. “You know, it doesn’t seem like you like me very much anymore. Maybe I should just go home.”

  No, she did like Hannah. She just didn’t like the attention the girl got, especially on her turf. But maybe she should just relax. After all, if she blew this, she’d have zero friends. She was lucky that Hannah was even giving her a chance.

  Massaging the space between Piglet’s eyes, she tried to make her decision. Not only would she win points with Hannah, sneaking out would serve Miss Bitty right for paying so much attention to Hannah during dinner. For forgetting that Allie even existed. Yeah, maybe it’d just been for fifteen or so minutes, but still.

  “Please? Puh-lease?” Hannah whispered, making a really pathetic face.

  Allie sighed, knowing good and well she was doing the wrong thing. “Crap. Okay, okay. Fine. I’ll take you.”

  “Yes!”

  Half past eleven, the light in Miss Bitty’s room went out and the girls slipped into the woods.

  Carrying the green backpack with Piglet in it, Allie hurriedly led the way. The night was still as they walked, crisp autumn leaves crunching beneath their tennis shoes.

  For some reason the woods unnerved her tonight. Maybe because she knew the single mother had been murdered not too far away. But she pushed on and tried not to think about it.

  It had become annoyingly obvious that Hannah had planned all along on talking Allie into going. After all, in her overnight bag she’d packed two flashlights whose beams were now trained on the ground ahead of them.

  “What happened back there anyway?” Hannah asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “At dinner. It was obvious you were pissed. Was it something I did? Seriously, why won’t you tell me?”

  “Why do you think it had anything to do with you? Did you do something that would’ve pissed me off?” Allie challenged.

  A slight pause. Then, “No. Of course not.”

  In the darkness, Allie narrowed her eyes. Am I just paranoid or did I just hear something funny in her voice? “Maybe I’m just tired,” Allie lied. “I’ve had trouble sleeping lately.”

  “Yeah, I noticed you kind of looked like shit tonight.”

  Allie’s breath hitched. She pointed her beam in the girl’s eyes and scowled.

  “I’m just kidding!” Hannah said playfully, shielding her eyes. “C’mon. Loosen up. Get the stick out of your ass and relax for once!”

  Yeah, sure. I’ll get the stick out . . . and I’ll jam it in—

  The two walked in silence for a couple of minutes.

  “I could swear that someone watches me while I sleep,” Allie heard herself admit. The urge to talk to someone, anyone at this point, about what had been happening to her was overwhelming.

  Hannah froze in her tracks.

  “I mean, not every night, but there’s been a bunch of them—and I have no clue who it is.”

  “Wha-at? Watching you sleep? You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  Allie wished she were.

  “Seriously, that’s, like, really freaky.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “Wow. What if I get murdered by, like, some ax murderer just because I know you? Because you and I hang out?”

  Allie bristled and shone the light directly in the girl’s eyes again. “That’s not funny.”

  “Hey, it could happen.”

  “Yeah and a sinkhole could just appear right now and suck up your insensitive California ass.”

  Hannah seemed to think about it. “Yeah, but it’s probably not as likely.”

  Hannah stopped and pulled something from her front pocket. A baggy. She plucked a few pills out of it and popped them in her mouth.

  A twig snapped somewhere behind them.

  Allie spun toward the sound and shined her flashlight but saw nothing but trees.

  “What are you doing?” Hannah asked.

  “You didn’t hear that?”

  “Hear what?”

  “Nothing. C’mon,” Allie said and started walking again . . . this time faster.

  “I hope Miss Bitty doesn’t worry too much if she finds that we snuck out,” Hannah said.

  “Whatever. I do what I want,” Allie snapped, remembering the whole dinner ordeal. How the old woman had just ignored her. But even as she heard herself say the words, Allie knew she didn’t mean them. Although she wanted to spite the old woman for hurting her, she hoped to hell she didn’t find out.

  She actually wished she was with Miss Bitty right now and not Hannah. Sitting on the opposite end of the couch, watching junk television with a blanket pulled tightly over her. Feeling secure, wanted . . . safe.

  Not headed to the house of horrors from her past.

  Since visiting the house the last time, she had made up her mind. There was nothing left for her there. Her brother was truly gone.

  “If you didn’t care that she’d find out, why’d we wait until she was asleep?” Hannah challenged.

&
nbsp; Allie didn’t answer. She didn’t have one.

  “Well, I wish I had a Miss Bitty,” Hannah said dreamily. “You’re really lucky.”

  Yeah, I am.

  “Instead, I have an evil Claire.”

  Yeah. I’m afraid you do.

  Allie could smell rain in the air and hoped it would hold off for a couple of hours to give them time to get to the house and back.

  For the next fifteen minutes of the walk, Hannah continued to babble, her words flying out of her mouth like they had before when she was high on her cocktail of prescription pills. She talked about books, living in California, her friend who had died texting and driving, about some other stuff Allie didn’t listen to at all . . . and then about how annoying it was that her mother and stepfather fought so much.

  “How long have they been married?” Allie asked.

  “Almost five years. I wish he’d just divorce her ass and take custody of me. Not like a court would ever let that happen, though,” she sighed.

  “So you like him?”

  Hannah hesitated, then: “Yeah—why wouldn’t I?”

  “It was just a question.”

  “Well, he might not be perfect, but I like him much more than I like my mother. That’s for sure.”

  “Where’s your real father?”

  “Who the hell knows. He walked out when I was a baby.”

  Just like my father.

  “So why do your mother and Ted fight so much?”

  “Because she’s a bitch and he’s codependent. She doesn’t trust him as far as she can throw him and bitches and picks on him all the time. And he just takes it. It makes me so angry. I wish he would just speak up for himself for once.”

  There was about ten seconds of quiet before Hannah started rambling again. But this time it wasn’t about Ted and Claire at all. It was about alligator wrestling. The girl was a kook, but Allie liked that.

  It made her feel less odd.

  For the rest of the walk Allie tuned the girl out, because with each step, the sensation that she was being watched was growing stronger. Every time she heard a twig snap in the distance, she walked a little faster. Piglet seemed nervous, too. She growled stiffly from her place in the backpack.