And then he spotted the envelope. Old fashioned mail. But the return address was the house next door to his rooming house. The Petersons. The people who lent him the snow shovel. The people whose mail he picked up when they went away at Christmas.
He pulled the letter out. Dear Mr. Rose, We rent from you at 324 Elm, next to another of your properties, 328. We are bringing to your attention that several teenagers seem to be living there alone without adult supervision. We would like you to check into the matter. We are planning on reporting the situation to the authorities but thought it best to alert you first. Please do something by the end of the month. Sincerely, Mike and Charlene Peterson
Ben reread the letter, checked the date, and searched the desk for any other correspondence. Had his step-father already replied? Would the Petersons really contact the authorities? Which authorities?
He panicked when he thought of how quickly teens were hauled off to foster care on TV shows. Would he have a chance to take care of what was in the freezer? Maybe the trunk of his car would be a safer place for them.
***
Megan fingered the thin door key and pressed it into the hole in the knob. A couple of fumbling twists and pokes and the mechanism sprang. The sounds of the house amplified in her pounding ears: the hum of the furnace, the drone of the fridge, the radio behind the door that earlier bore Cori’s beating.
She pushed it open and slipped into the bedroom, closed and locked the door behind her. The shades were drawn; the bedside lamp was on, providing plenty of light to snoop around. The closet door was closed. She started there. Four blouses, two pairs of slacks, three dresses, a night gown, a jacket. Not much of a wardrobe. She conjured up an image of Mrs. Kremer in the first dress. Not likely. It was a petite, size 4, and the next one was a woman’s 22. The pants were size 10 and size 16, all the blouses medium. And nothing smelled of the cigarette smoke that Mrs. Kremer’s clothes had.
Megan frowned at the floor of the closet – no shoes.
She checked the dresser. Pillowcases and scarves in the top drawer. Nothing in the second and third. No personal objects anywhere.
The radio shut off. Megan froze.
She could hear groans. The table lamp went out on its own; she stayed still.
***
Emily’s groans rose to her own ears. Her body began to convulse and she jerked free of the weight that held her down, yet was unable to control the violent shaking that sent her arms and legs and torso into a demonic dance of trouble. Her head began to whip back and forth and she tried to form a prayer, fear and wishing mingling as one.
***
Ben drove back to the rooming house. His headlights flashed across the front of the house, momentarily illuminating the dark living room. There was no blue flicker from the TV, most of the lights were off in the house; already Megan’s presence changed the rhythm of the place. He knew she didn’t have a boyfriend. Not anymore. As pretty as she was, it was surprising that she didn’t. He had scoped her out thoroughly for two weeks before he decided to help her out. He never saw her with any guys.
He parked and went up the steps. A piercing shriek from above made him hurry through the door. If Emily was all alone . . .
***
Megan had her hand on the door knob ready to sneak out when she heard first the scream and then the back door bursting open. Footsteps ran past the door and up the staircase. Cori?
She locked the door and pulled it closed, stuffed the key in her pocket and ran up the stairs.
***
Emily cried out as soon as Ben entered the room. He flicked on the light and repeated something over and over. She felt the warmth of Ben’s hands gripping the sides of her face and calmed down.
Another nightmare. It wasn’t real.
Emily sat up, pulled the blanket to her chin and sniffled.
“Are you gonna be okay?” Ben dropped his hands and moved back a few inches. He saw Megan standing at the door and explained, “Nightmare . . . again. Didn’t you hear her? Where were you?”
Emily glanced at Megan and then lay back down, turned toward the wall, and covered her head with the blanket. “Get out,” she said, half-muffled by the pillow. She was horrified that Megan had seen her like this. Such humiliation would need a penalty.
She heard Ben move away, saying a few more calming words, like everything would be all right, he’d leave the light on, Megan was here for her. And then there was the click of the door closing tightly.
***
Ben repeated his question in a whisper, “Where were you?”
Megan lied, “Laundry room.”
“Well, get used to the nightmares. Always when she first goes to bed.”
“Does Cori usually wake her up?”
Ben walked with her to the steps. Megan made like she was going to go down, too, so he talked over his shoulder as they descended. “Never. Come to think of it, I don’t remember Cori ever being in the house when it happens.”
“That’s strange.”
They reached the first floor. “We should probably stay up a while. Make sure she gets back to sleep.” Ben wanted to get to know Megan without the others around. Now was as good a time as any. They had the place virtually to themselves.
He plopped himself into the easy chair and turned on a lamp. Megan took the couch and sat on one leg.
“Well, think this is gonna work out for ya? In a house full of crazy teens?”
“Hmm,” Megan started twisting her hair for something to do with her hands, “seems okay so far, but . . .”
Ben’s dimples faded and he sat forward. “What?”
“Well, first of all, I don’t even know your last name.”
“Kinlaw, Ben Kinlaw . . . and Emily is Emily Courtland. You can ride with us to school in the mornings. Or wait for the bus.”
“Thanks, a ride sounds good, but won’t it be too crowded?”
“Nope, Chuck and Cori go to the alternative high school a few blocks from here.”
“What’s alternative about it? Art? Music?”
“Hardly. They get the basics plus anger management, therapy, and a smoking patio.”
Megan swallowed, “So . . . they’re like the losers who can’t make it in school but get another chance.” She thought about it as Ben gave the tiniest of head nods and cracked his knuckles. “Adam seemed normal. What’s his problem?”
“Well, uh, the better question is – what is Chuck’s problem? And the answer is – he’s schizophrenic.”
Megan gave a little gasp. “Is he dangerous? Is that the real reason you gave me a lock for the door?” She sat up a little straighter and thought of what she’d found out in the master bedroom. Who was that woman she met yesterday? Who took her rent money? Had she made a huge mistake in moving here?
“No, no, don’t worry about Chuck. And Adam is harmless.”
The dimples spread across his face again and Megan couldn’t help but melt a little. This whole situation had to work out for her; she was already in deep with court appearances and paper work and social workers. Would living in a home with psychos totally ruin her chances to get back with Simon? The little tingling in her belly was either fear or attraction. “What about Cori? Why is she there?”
“Because she’s Cori. She’s anti-everything. Rotten to the core. Bad home life, low self-esteem, bullying, drugs, shop-lifting, you name it. But she’s lightened up a lot since she moved in here. There’s hope for her.”
Megan knew what her own problem was and now knew about Cori and Chuck and poor, shy Emily, but what about Ben? He was adorable. It was like he was the shepherd. It crossed her mind that maybe he was years older than he looked; maybe this was some grad school research project.
“Why are you here?” Megan got the words out slowly, watching his face for signs of lies.
“My dad was killed in action, my mom’s in rehab, I have to live somewhere. Don’t worry, I’m not crazy. In fact, you can check the list in the main office – I’m always on the honor roll.”<
br />
Megan twirled her hair and was trying to form her next question about Mrs. Kremer when headlights swung across the front window and a car pulled up and out of sight. A moment later they heard a car door slam and then the side door exploded open.
“You first.”
“No, you first. Out of my way.”
Ben chuckled. “Hey, Chuck,” he called, “come and meet Megan, our new roomie.”
Something was thrown down the basement stairs, there were hushed whispers, and then a tall, thin boy walked into the living room. He was finger-combing his hair behind his ears. He stopped and looked from Ben to Megan.
“Hello,” was all he said.
Megan greeted him back, watching for signs of something. Weirdness, danger, something. But he only showed the signs of shyness; he hunched a little, was much less sure of himself than Adam who had bowed with a certain elegance. Chuck had no style.
“You okay?” Ben asked him.
Chuck stared for a beat or two before replying, “Sure.”
“Take your . . . vitamins, buddy.”
Chuck’s eyes flew to Megan to see if she discerned the hidden meaning. “Right,” he said.
***
Ben lay in his bed thinking of his problem with his step-father, but he couldn’t focus. All he thought about was Megan. After Chuck went downstairs, hopefully to take a pill, they talked until nearly one a.m. He liked her and he wanted to tell her the truth, but he sensed there was something she was holding back, not only the secret he already knew about. She told him about her old school, how she was a cheerleader in junior high, but had to give it up for some health issues. When he had asked more about her family she said it was complicated and left it at that.
Megan had asked him about his father and if he wanted to go in the army someday. The thought had been buried, but he blurted out to her half of his secret plan: that he would apply to the best colleges, get a degree in political science, and then do something to help the world – he wanted to honor his father.
He blinked in the darkness. Megan was going to sidetrack him, make him lose focus, if he wasn’t careful.
But he was so lonely.
He watched the red numbers on the clock until they read one-forty. Everyone should be in their deepest stage of sleep by now, he reasoned. He threw off the covers and hunted for the key to the padlock on the freezer. This would be a good time to make the transfer from freezer to car trunk. He’d have to make two trips to carry the heavy plastic bins up.
***
Megan couldn’t fall asleep though she was exhausted physically, mentally, and emotionally. She tried to think only of Simon, but her thoughts kept returning to Ben’s dimples, his smile, and the way he talked with his hands and then punctuated with knuckle cracks.
She nearly told him about her snooping. She wanted to be honest with him, especially since it was apparent he was the only normal person in the house.
The nightmare thing with Emily seemed weird, but Ben was so mature in his handling of the situation. Poor Emily looked ashamed of having a bad dream. Maybe this week Megan could talk to her about it. Maybe she would tell Emily about Simon.
The moment she drifted off to sleep she thought she heard her door latch rattle.
She dreamed she could see it lifting up, the door open yet closed, strange shapes sifting through the slats, hovering and taking new forms above her low bed.
She tried to shake herself awake, but found she couldn’t move a muscle. There was pressure on her chest, her head, her legs. Was she having Emily’s night terror?
Her heart began to pound too fast, but the pressure, though it weighted her down, did not prohibit her from rising up. Her planked body levitated, eyes closed, ears unhearing, voice mute. She tried to scream, but could barely manage a groan.
Paralyzed. Mid-air.
And then . . .
Sunday
Chapter 6
Very early Sunday morning Cori returned. Jason dropped her at the street and started driving away the moment she closed the door. She swore at his taillights.
The house was dark except for a candle in Emily’s window. Stupid girl was going to burn the place down.
Cori stomped through the main floor extra hard. Take that, Benny boy. And screw you, psycho twins. She ascended the stairs a little less angry, but no less high, then made all kinds of noise in the bathroom. When she came out she flicked off the hall light and stood in the dark. She looked intently at Emily’s door and debated whether or not to go in and blow the candle out. She touched the door knob and pushed. The stupid little wallflower hadn’t locked her door. Cori crossed the room and rather than blow out the candle she simply took it with her, glancing at the quivering lump under the covers as she passed. Pathetic.
She didn’t bother to close the door behind her.
The candle cast flickering shapes down the hall. Cool. She tried to remember which drug Jason gave her last. She paused at the new girl’s room. A quick check of the door and she knew that Benny boy had helped new girl with a lock. Cori cursed aloud. She set the candle on the floor and dug through her pockets. She had nothing that would work. She went to her own room and looked around. Her head began to nod in mock anticipation as she picked up a wire clothes hanger from the floor and bent the rounded end into a sharper angle.
Slowly, quietly she opened Megan’s door the eighth of an inch that the latch allowed. She slipped the wire through and lifted up. The hanger caught the latch and she unhooked it in seconds. Her short black-polished nail tapped the door the rest of the way.
The candle still flickered from its spot on the floor. The tiny light made Megan’s shape loom larger and higher on the wall.
Cori fell against the door frame, grabbed it for balance. She couldn’t believe what she thought she saw. The new girl was floating at least halfway between the floor and the ceiling.
Cori strained her eyes, grabbed for the candle. She burned her palm and thumb and swore again, stumbling backward. The candle went out, the hanger struck the floor, and Cori backed away. She damned Jason for giving her something weird; she damned the new girl; she damned the candle.
***
Emily thought she could smell the bacon, hear it sizzling. Sundays were the best and worst day for her. Ben would make eggs and then drive her to her job where she’d stand at the clerk’s counter for nine hours, minus a half hour lunch and two breaks. It was boring, tedious, and uninteresting. But it was an escape from the rooming house and Cori’s domination. Cori demanded that Sundays were her day to rule the house since it was her day off from the tattoo parlor. And since Ben didn’t stick around on Sundays Cori made slaves of her and Chuck unless they stayed out of her way.
“It’s seven fifteen, Em, time to get up,” Ben called from the bottom of the stairs.
She could hear him more clearly than usual. She turned over and was surprised to see the door open. Now she remembered; she freaked out over a nightmare and Ben and Megan came to her room. But she remembered him closing the door.
She sat up in bed and looked around the room. Her big pine scented candle was gone. If Cori took it then it was gone forever. But if Ben blew it out and moved it . . . maybe . . .
She went barefoot to the door and looked down the hall. The candle sat on the floor in front of Megan’s room, the door open. She heard a thump and a startled cry from Megan.
Emily took a quick look at Cori’s door before moving, then hurried toward the candle. She scooped it up and turned back to her room without looking into Megan’s. But Megan saw her.
***
Megan’s eyelids jerked open the instant she slammed onto the floor. Her head hit the mattress, but her body was on the old hardwood oak strips. She caught a glimpse of Emily as she snatched a green cylinder from the floor in front of Megan’s door. A door that should have been closed. And locked.
Like thumbing through a series of snapshots her mind flitted through the events of the previous evening: Emily’s nightmare, talking with Ben, meet
ing Chuck, locking her door.
The nightmare.
Was it scarcely a second ago? Did she only dream she hit the floor hard?
She scrambled to her feet and ran after Emily.
***
They talked as Emily got dressed behind the closet door. Then Megan pulled a sweatshirt on over her pajamas before they both went down for breakfast.
“Tell him,” Emily whispered as she and Megan entered the kitchen.
“Tell me what?” Ben asked. He grabbed a plate from the cupboard and handed it to Megan. Emily shrank back as she watched him smile at Megan; he never looked Emily’s way, not even when he handed her the second plate.
“I don’t believe in ghosts,” Megan began with a little snort, “at least I didn’t think I did. But there might be something haunted about this house. I had a nightmare, too. Woke up half off my bed, as if I’d fallen out.”
“But it’s on the floor.”
“Right.” Megan dished up her eggs and waited for Emily and Ben to do the same. “But it still felt like I hit the floor hard.” She followed them to the table and sat across from Emily.
Emily tried not to stare at Megan. Why does her hair look so good? Jealousy flushed her cheeks and she sat smaller in her chair. Ben and Megan continued the conversation without including her. She took two bites of eggs and lowered her fork to her lap. She scratched the tines along her wrist and chewed harder.
“Is there an attic?” Megan asked.
“Yeah, but the access is in Cori’s closet.”
“I wonder . . .”
“What?”
“Well, I just wonder about the history of this place. Like maybe there was a murder here or something. Maybe there’s a trunk in the attic with, you know, newspaper clippings and junk that somebody from a hundred years ago left.” Megan finished her eggs and looked across at Emily. She realized her mistake and changed directions. “Maybe if we found out that nothing ever happened here, no ghosts or anything, then maybe your nightmares would stop.”
Emily bobbed her head. “But you had one.” She said it so softly that she thought perhaps she’d have to repeat it to be heard.
Sheltered Page 5
