Prophecy

by Julie Anne Lindsey

“Liam Hale drove Callie home from swim today. What do you know about him?” Mom handed Justin a soda, feigning nonchalance.

  Justin gave me a sidelong glance. “He’s new.”

  She locked palms over her hips. “And you aren’t. You watch over Callie. You have since grade school. You must have an opinion on this. Dish.”

  “I don’t know him, Mrs. Ingram, but I plan to fix that.” Justin cracked open his soda and leaned against the kitchen counter.

  “Good.” Mom nodded and walked away, giving us space.

  “Come on.” I led the way to my room and shut the door halfway. Mom said the door stayed open when I had boys over. I agreed. I didn’t want her sneaking upstairs and listening in on something private. I sat at my desk with a view of the stairs.

  Justin set his soda on a stack of paperbacks beside my keyboard. “Okay, hear me out before you get pissed off.”

  “What’d you do?”

  “Nothing. Hardly anything. Something you should have. Scoot over.” He reached around me to the keyboard and typed Liam’s name in the search engine.

  “Justin!”

  “Wait. Look.”

  Pages of search results came back on the Hale family. I couldn’t process the information fast enough. Cases against the family, dropped out of court. Speculation the accusers were paid off or intimidated into silence. Photos of Liam, Oliver and the man in the sweater vest entering dark buildings. Captions claimed the Hales were part of some elite rich guy club and speculated over various scandals. His father’s murder. I gasped.

  “The gossip’s true, Callie. Their family is a big deal where they came from. If my family went to unmarked buildings at night, no one would care, and I guarantee it wouldn’t be in the newspaper. Something’s wrong with them. I researched them for about an hour before I came here. It felt wrong to look behind your back. I thought we could read the articles together and make some logical decisions.”

  “Decisions?” My mind blanked. Decisions on what? “Liam’s father was murdered.” How bad would that screw me up? No wonder he was guarded and didn’t like the stepdad. I’d wanted my parents to split up. His dad was yanked, violently, from his life. “They live under such scrutiny. It looks like his family was photographed everywhere they went.”

  “You can’t seriously want to get involved with this guy.” Justin’s voice dropped an octave. “People with money can’t be trusted. There’s your evidence. They covered claims against them. Don’t you wonder what kind of claims they were? I’m pretty sure they weren’t parking tickets. Think about what you’re starting. Don’t go jumping in without looking first.”

  “I don’t jump without looking.”

  “Callie.” He rubbed my shoulders in his giant hands and I flinched. “I’m trying to look out for you. It’s harder when you ignore solid advice.” Justin leaned over me, pressing his chest to my back, typing again.

  “You don’t have to worry about Liam. He drove me home and dumped me.” My nose and eyes stung. “He said his family is a mess and we shouldn’t be friends.”

  Justin pressed his lips to my head. “I’m sorry.”

  He wasn’t.

  “Why did reporters follow them around?” I ignored the kiss, not wanting to think more about it than necessary. Justin’s touches had new meaning. I couldn’t get my head straight enough to address our relationship before the next bomb hit. I’d wanted to talk with him about us. Now all I could think of was the Hales. A million new questions came on the wings of Google.

  “They’re rich. Like celebrities, based on money and legacy. The Rockefellers or Trumps of Europe.”

  “You really think they moved to another country to cover their tracks?” I shook my head. “I don’t believe that. Plus, any decent criminal knows running is an admission of guilt.”

  Justin moved to my side and knelt, gathering my hands in his. “Listen, I can’t stay right now, but I wanted to show you what I found. You’re smart enough to make your own decisions. You can keep searching or not. Your choice.” He cleared his throat and squeezed my hands. “I care about you. You know that. I think what we’ve got is more than a friendship, and you’re leaving for college soon.” His crystal blue eyes pierced me to the chair. “When you leave, I don’t want to wonder what might have been.”

  I took a long breath. A sliver of my heart urged me to climb inside his arms and be safe, stay in Zoar and see what happened. The rest of me, all the parts that made me crazy and challenged my friends, coworkers and parents, refused to settle for safe. I wanted an adventure, and Justin deserved one, too.

  “Justin.” I squeezed his hands back. “I can’t.”

  The hopeful expression on his face melted. He dropped my hands and stood. “Okay.”

  “Okay?”

  “No. Not okay, but I won’t fight you. You’re stubborn as hell and if I get pushy, you’ll deny me on principle.” He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m a bull rider, Callie. I don’t give up when I land in the dirt.” He pressed his lips against my temple in a chaste, but meaningful, toe-curling way.

  I sucked air.

  “See you tomorrow?”

  I nodded dumbly as he left my room, tapping the top of the door frame as he passed through, like always. His jaunty footfalls thumped down the stairs to the front door.

  “See ya, Mrs. Ingram.”

  The door snapped shut behind him.

  “Bye, Justin.” Mom’s voice came from the bathroom across the hall. I’d missed her coming upstairs, despite my half-open door.

  “Mom!” I shut the windows on my computer screen as she came into view. “You were listening?”

  “I was not.”

  I stared in disbelief.

  She crossed the room to my bed and peered through the curtains. “What do you think about the Hale family? Do you think any of the speculation is true? None of it’s good. That’s for sure.”

  Clearly, she’d been listening. I rolled my eyes and pushed aside the fact we’d talked about Liam before discussing Justin’s declaration. If Mom was skipping that conversation, I certainly wasn’t bringing it up.

  “I don’t know. I’ve only spoken with Liam. Oliver acts like Mr. Personality. I don’t know anything about their parents.” I cringed at the word, remembering Liam had lost his dad and didn’t like his stepdad. “You had Mrs. Hale over for tea. What did you think of her?”

  “I think she’s troubled.”

  Troubled. Old Mrs. Printz had used the same word to describe Liam’s great-grandmother Mary-Catherine.

  “Why do you say that?”

  Mom turned to me with a look I didn’t like, too much like the day she told me what Dad had done. She didn’t speak.

  My chest constricted. “Mom. I like him. I need to know if that’s not okay.”

  She released a long breath. “Victoria’s struggling with the cultural differences here and misses her brothers. She said there were complications with the move and she has to return home soon. She worries about leaving her boys alone. I told her kids are resilient, but she didn’t look convinced. She doesn’t want to go, but she was called back. She didn’t say for how long.”

  “Her husband died.”

  Mom approached me slowly and stroked my hair. “Ah. Grief is an unspeakable thing.”

  “He was murdered. He died because he was murdered.” Reading it online was one thing. Saying it aloud was something else altogether.

  Mom nodded. “I agree with Justin. You’re a smart girl. Do your due diligence here. Normally, I’d say not to dig up dirt for the sake of finding reasons to push people away, but I think, maybe, this is an exception. They aren’t your average family.”

  “What do you know?”

  Mom shook her head. “Nothing. Probably less than you.”

  “She’s not your patient. This isn’t a breach of confidentiality.”

  “Of course not. I’m only speaking based on the things we do know about them.”

&n
bsp; I opened a new window on my laptop and typed Hale murder in the search engine.

  “Atta girl. I’m going to jump in the shower and get my things together for work tonight.”

  “’Kay.”

  Mom pulled my door shut on her way out.

  My nerves were frayed and standing on end by the time she left for work. I’d neglected my homework, opting instead to read articles in tabloids and blog posts about the Hale family. Justin was right, all the “official” reports were buried, or at least I couldn’t find them, but there was a lot to be said for a teenage girl in reconnaissance mode. I found multiple blogs written by girls who screamed injustice. The girls claimed they went out with Liam or Oliver and came home with a headache and a fuzzy memory of the night. One went so far as to describe going to the ER for a rape kit because she didn’t know what happened to her. She wasn’t raped but blamed the Hales when they didn’t have answers for her. When one girl learned the others had had similar experiences, their parents formed a legal mob and took the Hale family to court, seeking compensation for damages. The cases had been thrown out because the allegations were hard to prove without evidence, memories, or witnesses.

  The girls didn’t remember being attacked, but they were bruised and sore. Not good. Still, no one could say if they’d fallen down or were manhandled. Liam had maintained his innocence and personal loss of memory throughout the proceedings. I kneaded my hands together, remembering the sincerity in his voice. He didn’t date. I could see why. Apparently, it didn’t end well.

  Articles on his dad’s death were plentiful. The crime had made dozens of papers, a few headlines, and every society page in their town for a month. He’d died nearly a year ago on Halloween. Liam’s dad had been attacked outside an opera house after a show. Speculation of a robbery gone wrong was squashed by the fact he’d still had his wallet and Rolex on him. Also, he’d been beheaded. Most reporters had taken the savage and insane cultist route with their stories. Considering it was Halloween, the crime must’ve been the result of something evil. No doubt those stories had sold the most copies.

  I stopped reading and let the details sink in.

  I paced in my room, avoiding my mom until the last minute when we said good-bye for the night. If she knew what I knew, she’d move. Luckily, Mom was far too uptight to resort to gossip columns and blogs for news. If she stayed on local paper sites, she would learn the minimum at best. The Hales were a troubled family. They were rich and hounded for their wealth. The Hale family had a history of suicide. The most recent Mr. Hale had been murdered. Beheaded. The sons had been accused of… I wasn’t sure, stealing memories? Roughing girls up? I needed more information, but yeah, the Hales fit the description of troubled well enough.

  Mom made me promised to lock the doors and get eight hours of rest before she left for work. I gave her a hug and grabbed Chester’s leash. The moment her taillights disappeared around the corner, I wanted out. I needed fresh air. Chester knocked me over in thanks as I hooked the leash onto his collar.

  “Lunatic.” I tousled his shaggy sheepdog hair and shoved it away from his eyes. “Let’s go.”

  On “go,” he spun me toward the door and jumped against it.

  “Jeez. I can’t open it if you lean on it.”

  “Woof.” He dropped into a sit and wiped the floor with his tail.

  “Good boy.” I shrugged into my coat and tugged the door open. Nights grew cold fast in October. I shivered and pulled the door closed behind me. These were my favorite nights: brisk, but bearable. A good walk always warmed me from the inside and the cold air kept me moving. Standing still was a brutal reminder of the falling temperatures.

  Smoke rose through the air beyond the cornfield. My cemetery seemed to be on fire. Chester and I half-walked, half-jogged to the end of the corn. There was a party. In the cemetery. Metal barrels stood in three locations with fires burning inside. A couple dozen people holding red plastic cups gathered around the barrels. Music became more audible with my every step. The drone of voices and laughter punctuated an otherwise quiet night. A few jocks and cheerleaders moved their arms in the retelling of a story I was glad to miss. Couples paired up on the outskirts, resting on headstones and kissing against trees.

  Indignation burned through me. No one had asked me about partying in my cemetery. Not that it was mine-mine, but it felt like mine. No one had invited me either, and it was practically in my backyard. Chester ignored the gathering, opting to lift his leg a hundred times. He rooted his nose through the grass and sneezed contentedly at my side until we were within a few yards of the group.

  Oliver perched on the outstretched arm of an oak tree, swinging his legs and singing poorly to a crowd beneath him, who clapped and whistled. My gaze danced over the crowd. If Oliver was there, Liam might be as well. I searched the murky shadows and silhouettes of people in the night. Smoke thickened the air, making faces difficult to discern. The lettermen coats gave away the jocks. Bare legs despite the chill gave away their groupies. Finally, I found one head bobbing above the others and I tugged Chester in his direction. We edged toward the cemetery, unsure of the protocol for crashing a party. Until now, I’d always been invited, or uninterested. This time I was neither.

  “Good thing I have you,” I whispered to Chester. “You’re my cover. Dogs need walked. I live right there.” I tipped my head in the direction of our home. “We’re out doing our usual things, right?”

  Chester sneezed and shook from head to toe.

  “One. Two…” Chanting started near the tree supporting Oliver. “Three!”

  Oliver swung off the limb and into the crowd’s waiting arms. Half of them went down in a thump. Laughter and complaints rose into the night. That act of intelligence confirmed the cups didn’t contain soda. The party moved at once, like a living mass, in the direction of the commotion, leaving Liam and a girl in my line of sight. Kristy Hines from homeroom. Her candy red streaked hair glowed in the firelight. Her hands roamed over Liam’s chest and she leaned toward him as she laughed. He had one hand in his pocket and one wrapped around a cup. His lips curved into a smile as he watched the people-pile disperse. Figures wobbled to their feet, looking like zombies climbing from the earth in the haze of smoke around the graves.

  “Let’s go, Chester.” I turned before I saw anything I couldn’t unsee, like Liam kissing Kristy. Good thing he didn’t date or their uber-close proximity would have offended me. Liam had made it clear. I’d made him a fantasy. We were friends. He was troubled. I was uninvited. This night sucked.

  Chester climbed into bed with me at midnight. I’d finished my homework and forced myself to stay away from the computer. Obsessing helped no one. Steering clear helped lots of people. My long hot shower had failed to unwind or distract me, but Justin was right, I was stubborn. For once, I planned to put my hardheadedness to use. Liam had warned me away. Fine. Done.

  I curled into my comforter, hugging my pillow to my cheek. The fires outside lit the sky beyond my window and laughter bubbled in the night, reminding me I was alone.

  Chapter 9

  I didn’t sleep. My mind raced for hours. My legs ached to take me back to the party and show the jocks they couldn’t shame me with a secret party in my backyard. The prove-a-point side of me begged to return, fill a cup, and make small talk. If I didn’t, I’d be badgered in the morning. If I listened to my pride, I’d have to crash a party on my own, something I’d never done before, and face Liam and Kristy. Before I talked myself into making an appearance, the sounds of laughter died outside. I’d missed my chance. Besides, arriving after midnight looked weird, too.

  Tired as I was, there was no sleeping after what I’d read online. Someone had stuffed my mattress with marbles. When I closed my eyes, Internet stories filled my mind. I needed the truth about the Hales. They lived next door. If one of them was dangerous, I needed to know, but I didn’t think I could believe it. Mom and I weren’t exactly trained ninjas and I’d seen the damage from Lia
m’s left hook. He was a boxer. I mashed my eyes shut tighter, begging them to stay that way, but they popped open. In Kids’ Karate, they’d taught us to only fight in defense. Was that the same for boxers?

  Gah!

  Thoughts of all I’d read online muddled with memories of Justin’s sincerity and Kristy’s candy red streaks in the firelight outside. Each time I dozed off, I woke with a start, not remembering what had shocked me back to life. Too soon, Mom’s feet were on the steps, light and careful like always, as she tried not to wake me.

  Sunlight filled my room, piercing the curtains, and illuminating patterns across my floor. I hit the alarm button on my clock, knocking it off before it demanded I get up. The air beyond my comforter pulled my skin tight in goose bumps. Adrenaline surged. My heart was far too restless for sleep when I had school in ninety minutes and challenges I needed to face head on. I’d have to skip my swim if I wanted to rest before Justin’s party. Guilt wracked my tummy. Would missing one swim matter? Would my times suffer? Would I lose the edge I’d sacrificed to gain?

  “Callie?” Mom knocked on my door frame. “You’re up. I didn’t even hear your alarm.”

  “I shut it off.” I shuffled my feet over cool wooden floorboards. “How was work?”

  “Meh. You change one bedpan, you’ve changed them all.”

  “Gross.”

  Mom crossed the room and hugged me. “Someday you’ll understand the human condition. It’s tough in the beginning and at the end. Make the middle count.” She squeezed me tighter for one short beat and walked away. From the sound of her voice, I wondered if they’d lost someone during the night. She said people died every day, but Mom wasn’t one to take any death lightly.

  “Hey, Mom? Don’t forget I’m going to Justin’s tonight. He’s having a party. Allison’s going after she gets off work and said I can sleep over.”

  Mom appraised me. Something wasn’t right.

  “Will there be drinking?”

  “No.” I answered too quickly and she raised a tired eyebrow. “Who’s the designated driver?”