“Just go back inside, Piper.”
“Well, that was weird.”
Todd paces the floor of my bedroom, and I stand, clutching the back post of my antique four-poster bed. I’m still trying to connect the pieces, though huge gaps linger, leaving more black spaces than anything. Why in the world would Dad care if Joel started gardening?
“It must be something they talked over before he died,” I say, thinking out loud.
“If that was the case it would be something like, ‘Live up to the family legacy, Joel,’ or ‘Work hard and take care of Piper.’ Not, ‘Hey, be sure to plant my garden.’”
A pocket of unease burrows in my chest. Something is definitely weird with Joel acting this way. I can’t figure out what’s got him so upset.
“Maybe this isn’t such a good idea,” I think aloud.
“What?” Todd asks, still looking out the window. His head reaches the top of the pane. “Gardening?”
I stifle a laugh. “No. Having them all here tomorrow.” Something’s really bothering Joel. Probably not the best time for my brilliant plan to invoke my father’s ghost or whatever that was.
As if on cue, a horn honks from outside, making its muffled way in. Todd’s gaze clamps to mine. I go to the window to find Jordan’s white truck parked out front. Sierra and Cassie climb down from the cab.
“What are they doing here?”
Todd stands beside me, giving me a waft of mint. He groans. “I told them it wasn’t set yet.”
I round on him. “Todd!”
“I swear! I told them you had to check with your brother.”
“But the game isn’t until tomorrow. Why are they here now?”
Todd pulls out his cell phone and thumbs over the screen as the roof above us protests with a clattering of creaks and shudders, like someone tripped and fell in the attic. His hand freezes, and without moving an inch, his eyes slide to me.
Seconds tick by.
“You got bats up there or something?”
I force a laugh. “Maybe.” But my voice breaks like a bad recording. I sit at the chair by my desk, wringing the chair back. The anxiety doesn’t settle. Joel didn’t seem to care whether they came over or not, but I do. Especially with the house deciding to act up.
“Get them out of here, Todd. This is seriously not cool.”
Another rasping shriek comes from the walls, ripping through the room, and the color drains from Todd’s face. I close my eyes.
The room shakes like it’s on a fault line. Todd’s arms wobble as he tries to keep his balance. My yearbook on the floor slides away from him, and I have to hold on to the chair to keep from slipping off of it.
“What—?” Todd asks.
My muscles strain harder, my fingers clamp to the smooth, wooden chair back. The furniture all stays in place, yet my backside dangles in the direction of the window. Why now—not now! My nail polish and notebook clatter off the desk. Other things roll out from under my antique bed—a penny, a Tootsie Roll—and Todd falls against what used to be the floor. His heels shuffle, but he can’t keep himself from sliding.
“I want the party here tonight! Let me go!” I say with a struggle. The room tilts further, and my grip slips as I cling to the chair like it’s a cliff I’m about to fall off of. What is the deal? My house is acting psycho right now!
“I’m going, I want this!” Total lie, but it’s the only way I can think to get the house to stop.
With a huge screech, the area reels. I slam back into the chair, pressure snapping at the base of my head. The room thuds and rights itself. I brace myself on the arm of the chair, feeling the jarring effects of whiplash, waiting for my pulse to slow.
“What was that?” Todd asks, sounding completely out of breath. He lies on my rug, arms spread to his sides. His chest rises like an ocean tide. I’ve never seen his eyes so wide.
My arms jiggle like jelly, and I watch as items readjust themselves—the blankets on my bed fold back into place and a pair of shoes slides back beside my desk. I don’t understand why the house is being protective of me. Like the doorknob thing this morning.
The tension in the air fades, but I’m still disconcerted. Even though Todd knows about my mom, he doesn’t know all of my secrets. Sure, we’ve been friends since I moved in the empty lot next door to him nine years ago, but how do you tell someone your house is haunted? I’m used to the muted howls below or the repetitive slamming noises in an empty room until I go in only to find an object I thought I’d lost.
And yeah, I’d been hoping to hear that voice tapping in from who knows where. But this is the first time my house has really interfered.
“What. Was. That?” Todd asks again, with more insistence this time.
Come on, Piper. Think. Smiling like it hurts, I force a laugh. “You look like you just got off a roller coaster. Practice must have been pretty intense.”
Please let him buy it.
“You mean you—you didn’t—” His brow is scribbled over with confusion lines. “Crap, Piper, the room flipped upside down. You were hanging—”
The doorbell rings, stealing Todd’s attention. I don’t want them here, but I’ll take the distraction right now. I’m sure he won’t let it go otherwise.
He pushes himself to his feet, his brow still furrowed. He spins, scouring my room like he’s never seen it before. His glance slowly trails its way to meet mine, and the unsettled look twists my insides.
I break away and rush to the landing between the upstairs bedrooms. If the house did that, who knows what it will do to these other kids. Todd darts forward, blocking me before I make it to the stairs. His shoes nearly touch the toes of mine.
“Something’s going on here, Pipes. What is it?” he asks, towering over me. “Your house rigged, or what?”
“Later,” I say, pushing past him. A bunch of people I really don’t want over here are knocking at my door, my house is going crazy, and Todd decides he wants to talk.
He sidesteps, blocking me. I blink away the burning at my eyes. I don’t want to tell him the truth about what happened. I can’t lose the only friend I have.
“I swear I didn’t tell them it was okay, Pipes. Or that it was tonight. Jordan just does stuff like this.”
His expression is genuine, truthful. “They need to go,” I say with a resigned sigh and head toward the stairs. Todd sidesteps me again.
“What’s with your room just now? What was that?”
Not just my room. My whole house. I sigh again. “I’ll tell you what I can. But not right now.”
“You promise?”
I open my mouth, but the doorbell rings three times in succession this time, and I close my eyes, praying for patience. “Please. They already think I’m a freak. Let’s just get this over with.”
I scurry down the stairs. At my touch the front door springs open. I don’t even have to turn the knob. Yikes, what is going on?
Cassie Richards waves a hand in blissful ignorance and says, “Hi, Piper. Why didn’t you tell me we were all crashing here tonight?”
“Because you aren’t,” I say, ramming Todd out and hurrying to close the door. I do not want people even thinking about going inside. If they want a party after this, they can think again.
Cassie shuffles her dark curls and smiles as if I’ve just made a funny. Smiling is the farthest thing from my mind. I’m a little preoccupied with my room tipping and the house throwing a tantrum around Todd. The last time it did anything this crazy was right before we moved it.
Word spread like an oil spill once Mom got arrested. A group of older kids chased me all the way home from school just after it happened, throwing rocks at me. One hit my eye, and the closer I got to my house, the closer they got to me.
I ran onto the porch, terrified.
“No mom around to help you, loser!” one called.
“Yeah, cause she’s a murderer!”
“Stop it!” I yelled back.
“Or what?” the biggest one called, bending
down to scoop up another rock. “You’ll kill us too?”
He reared the rock back and launched it. I screamed and ducked just in time to hear the window shatter. Only, the fragments didn’t sprinkle to the porch. They vaulted across the grass and hit the boy in the cheek, slicing his skin and oozing blood down his throat.
Several of the other kids screamed. Glass shards removed themselves from their hands and faces as if I were watching a video rewinding, leaving bloody specks where they’d been. They hovered midair, floated their way back to the house and pieced themselves together again until the window gleamed. Intact and untouched.
I know I told Todd they should all leave, but if not tonight, they’ll just want to come over another night. Might as well let them stay so they won’t bug me about it anymore. Todd’s offer to party at his house instead still stands, I’m sure. But no. I’ll do this. Things should be okay, as long as they all stay outside.
Plus, the house will protect me if they try anything.
Sierra and Jordan climb onto my porch. Jordan’s blond hair is wet, too. Ruffles decorate the front of Sierra’s yellow shirt. She takes one look at me, huffs and says, “Let’s just get this over with.”
I want to spit at her. You don’t want to be here? Leave then. But like always, I swallow back my words and tuck my chin to my chest. The floor should tip over on her.
I don’t know what Todd sees in her. Beside the fact that her brown hair always looks freshly brushed, her skin is as smooth as polished porcelain, and he can probably fit his fingers tip-to-tip around her waist. So what?
Bright, pinkish-orange clouds swirl in the warm sky. I stare at the clump of bushes in front of the Jensen’s red brick house across the street. Another car pulls up, releasing four more kids I recognize from school. Just how many people did they invite?
“Listen, guys,” Todd says as they gather. “Piper can’t do this tonight. Let’s plan on another day.”
I blink at him and shake my head slightly. Right. He doesn’t know I’m okay with it now. What a stud.
“It’s okay,” I mouth.
Todd leans to whisper in my ear. “You sure?”
My eyes lock with his. “We just have to stay outside,” I say, and Todd’s mouth kinks upward. Despite the craziness of the situation, I can’t help smiling at that look.
“Come scope out the yard!” Todd says, fumbling down the three front steps with a hand still at his back. Sierra looks to Jordan, who swats her butt and follows close behind his friend. I shuffle along, my feet brushing the grass beneath the linden tree standing as the only front lawn decoration.
The four of them each glance up as we pass the side of my house. The floating door embellished with purple trim. No stairs leading up to it, no handle. Just the door.
“Where does that go?” Jordan asks, turning around to me. His blond hair is drying and turning wavy, and he’s got on a gray shirt with a motorcycle logo.
Uh oh, a direct question. My mouth goes dry.
“Nowhere,” I say, and thankfully my tongue doesn’t stumble over the word. I force myself to look directly into his stupid blue eyes. “It doesn’t open.”
His forehead creases. “What’s the point of having a door if it doesn’t open?”
“Maybe it’s like your mouth, Jord,” Todd says, winking at me as he walks backward. “Some things are better shut.”
Jordan laughs, but it’s tense. He glances back up at the door and then to Sierra texting on her cell. Todd stands at least a foot taller than she does. He sweeps his leg to give her a playful sidekick. I take a step to join them, but Jordan shuffles, not letting me pass. Gulp.
Another car pulls up and Jordan gives me a weird look as if I’m the one who’s in his way. Then he strides past toward a tall blond guy I recognize as Jordan’s older brother stepping out of the driver’s side. He and Jordan exchange hoots of laughter, and then he hands Jordan two bluish-looking cardboard cases. I squint and realize what they are. Oh. So it’s going to be that kind of party.
Not that I’ve never drunk before. I’ve just, well, never drunk.
I wonder if Joel is seeing this. I’m pretty sure he won’t condone a bunch of underage kids drinking in his backyard. What if the police show up? Or the party gets too crazy? My dad would definitely have never allowed it. Then again, Dad would never have been okay with me having this many people over, period.
As if the house hears me, the windows rattle the way they would if they were loose and someone slammed all the doors at once. The twenty or so kids gathered in an uncomfortable clump in the grassy area of my backyard peer around, clearly wondering what the noise is. As if they’re waiting for someone to speak.
Okay. So since this is at my house, does that mean it’s my party? How do I act? I have no idea what to do.
“So we’re just going to stand around out here or what?” Kody Gold asks.
I should step forward. Say something cool.
“Uhh—”
“Aren’t we going to get to see inside?”
“Yeah, Piper, take us in!”
“My brother’s working,” is my lame-o reply.
“What’s with the secret passageways?”
“Yeah, come on!”
More noise ensues, with them all clucking like chickens about seeing my house. I should have known they’d want a tour or something. I can’t help but swim in the attention. For once I have something they like, something they want, and the territory is completely unexplored, for me. And I have to admit—it feels good.
“It is like, the most romantic place ever,” Cassie pipes in. “She’s got this wicked ceiling in her bedroom. It’s all painted and this dollhouse is like—”
“Did you guys see the roses?” I say loudly, cutting her off. After Cassie reaching for the basement door earlier, and the bungling exchange we had in there, she’s the last person I need elaborating on anything. I look for Todd, hoping he’ll pitch in and help me out of this, but he’s nowhere to be seen. Doggone it—this was his idea.
For a minute I consider giving in and showing them all around. Maybe letting them see only the main living area of the house—kitchen, parlor, stairs, entryway. Or the secret passageway servants once used to lead them from outside into the kitchen. But there’s no way I’ll be able to keep everyone from snooping around. It’s not like I can rope off the unwanted places. What am I going to do, act like a tour guide? And this is the cedar chest where my murderous mother kept her family heirlooms. Oh, this rug. Would you all like me to lift the door beneath it so you can see where a dead body once lay?
Yeah. Not happening.
Only I’m too late when Chance Bakersfield and a couple others stride past me, heading straight for the back porch.
“No! Hey, guys, wait!” I scurry over, but not before Chance yelps. He jerks back as if shocked, then trips over the white wicker chair. Or I think he trips. I don’t remember the chair being that close to him a few moments before.
“She’s such a loser,” he says, to the girl beside him as they go down the few steps to the grass. He’s busy fiddling with his shirt and smoothing down his stick-up hair. “What kind of person locks their doors like this when people are over?”
If they only knew it wasn’t me.
Even though his question is for her, he asks it to my face. My throat is thicker than a tree stump, though I can’t help the relief that his reaction wasn’t anything more than a shock.
I peek at the gray siding of my house, the darker purple paint lining the arched windows and triangular designs. Though it makes no sound, I’m sure the house isn’t too thrilled with them trying to barge in. I wait for the wooden boards to disassemble and start whacking people at random.
Nothing else is going to happen , I tell myself. We’re just going to dance, to hang out, and then they’ll all go home. That’s it.
“I’m serious, guys.” I turn to the rest of them and have to pause when I realize every eye is on me. “It’s really like, just a normal house,” I say, as
Jordan steps forward. And for once I’m grateful he opens his mouth.
“Look, whatever, right? Let’s get this party started!” he says, holding up the cases in each of his hands. A few people shrug, looking up at my Victorian with disappointed grunts. They saunter past, back to where their cars are parked. The kids who stay cheer and flock to Jordan.
So what now? Passing out beer constitutes a party? I consider going up to get my iPod and speakers, but people have already scattered, finding their places.
A few loiter on the short path covered in white rocks just off from the circle of trees that serves as a fence around my yard. They stare past the stone archways covering the pathway, to the flowers blossoming on either side. Roses, mostly, with the occasional daisy or lily.
“This must be so much work for you guys,” Tabitha says, fingering the vines crawling along the arches. I should snub her, considering how evil she acted at lunch earlier. But I step forward to join her, eager for someone to talk to. Even if it is Tabitha.
“Not really,” I say. “We never have to trim bushes or weed or anything.” She narrows her eyes, and I realize how suspicious that sounds. “Because we have a gardener,” I add, not wanting to admit that the house actually takes care of the yard as well.
It doesn’t seem to bother her that I don’t elaborate. Her attention is on Kody Gold and his girlfriend, who’ve already started making out beneath the gazebo.
Someone cranks their iPod to full blast, and several others begin bobbing their heads, waving their bottles as they sway back and forth in time with the upbeat rhythms. Right. Music would be nice. If I’d actually had time to plan anything. Then again, at this point it probably wouldn’t have made a difference anyway.
I stand there, feeling exposed, but no one sends any random questions to my phone; no one makes any snide comments. They all seem to be enjoying themselves. In fact, I might as well walk around with a clipboard and take notes for all the attention they pay me.
I climb onto the porch and sink onto the wooden railing. Leaves sway like fringe in the warm breeze, and a few sprinkle to the grass. The song changes to a slower, moody beat, and the singer’s low tones fit my sulkiness.
Phobic Page 4
