The Damned

by Jennifer Snyder

  My eyes darted to each house we passed. There was no way this was the neighborhood they had moved to. They’d been in Baycrest for two years, but that couldn’t be enough time to integrate themselves into a neighborhood like this, not coming from where we did.

  As we passed a large white house with mint green shutters, all of my thoughts ceased. There was a girl outside, washing a large SUV by hand. Dressed in a bright yellow bikini top and a pair of cut-off shorts, she scrubbed the thing down, making big, angry circles with a sponge. Her long brown hair was pulled away from her face, granting me the perfect view of her plump lips and rosy cheeks. Licking my lips, I continued to stare at her unabashedly as Nick slowed his truck.

  My attention shifted from her to wondering why he had slowed down. When we turned into the driveway of the house beside the girl’s, I realized my answer. My sister and brother-in-law had integrated themselves into this ritzy neighborhood somehow.

  “And this is it.” Julie twisted in the passenger seat to look at me. “Our new home sweet home.”

  “You’re kidding, right?” I leaned forward, staring at the place through the windshield. “This is your house?”

  “Yeah. We just moved in about three weeks ago actually.” Nick nodded. “It’s still kind of a work in progress. We haven’t had time to unpack everything yet, but we’ll get there soon.”

  I sat back and expelled all the air in my lungs. Wow, not only did I not fit in this pleasant beach town setting, but I also wasn’t sure I fit into my sister’s new life either.

  My head turned to glance out the window and check out the girl again. She was bent forward, ringing out the sponge in a bucket. Her eyes were on the truck, taking in the loaded back end with my crusty mattress hanging out. I pursed my lips together and skimmed over her tanned body. Julie climbed out, slamming the door behind her. Obviously, she was a little miffed with my response, while Nick remained inside the cab.

  “I know this isn’t what you’re used to,” Nick started. “Hell, it’s probably not what you expected when Julie said you could stay with us, but give this place a chance. Give your sister a chance, okay?”

  Without moving my eyes from the girl next door, I nodded. “Okay.”

  Nick climbed out and I just sat there, feeling like I was suffering from an out-of-body experience without having taken any mind-altering drugs. I watched the girl as she flipped her ponytail off her shoulder and proceeded to wash the white SUV, oblivious to the fact that I was staring at her like a creeper. Pulling a deep breath into my lungs, I ran my hands over my face. Opening the truck door, I climbed out. Heaving a trash bag of clothes out, I started inside without glancing at the girl again. It was time I checked out this new home of mine.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  EMORY

  I stared at the couple next door while wiping Mom’s Explorer down with the huge sponge she liked me to use. They moved in a few weeks ago, and I hadn’t been able to stop wondering about them—what their story was, who they were, where they came from. They appeared to be so young, maybe only a few years older than I was, about Chelsea’s age if I had to guess. The girl was pretty in a natural way—long reddish hair, lightly tanned skin, and huge green eyes. The way she carried herself made me envious. It made me wish I could be so at ease with who I was. There was a sense of weightlessness about her, like she had never felt freer to be here.

  Maybe that was what I envied most about her, because I wished I could relate.

  And the guy, he was the sexiest thing ever. Dark hair, golden tan, muscles galore. He worked out. A lot. The garage at the base of the townhouse was usually propped open six days a week. The sounds of rock music and the clanking of metal could easily be heard first thing in the morning as he worked out.

  The guy who had just stepped out of the truck, I had never seen before.

  The couple was too young to have a kid as old as he was, so I could only assume he was a relative, friend, or foster kid. I wanted to know for sure though. The desire to get to know the couple the second they moved into the McDougals’ rental nearly consumed me. Now that I saw this guy, who seemed to be my age, it would become incredibly overbearing.

  My eyes trailed over him as he carried two black trash bags in his arms toward the front door. In a pair of baggy shorts and a thin long-sleeved shirt, he was someone my mother would hate. Someone I might enjoy becoming acquainted with, if only for that reason alone. It was obvious he was moving in with the couple; I could tell from the mattress in the back and the bags of stuff cramming the interior of the truck. This excited me.

  The girl stepped through the front door and walked to the truck for more stuff to bring in. She grabbed a few rolled up posters from the backseat and tucked them beneath her arm. One fell to the ground and rolled down the little hill of their driveway. As it rolled, it unrolled, and I was able to make out what the poster was of from where I stood. It was a band. He was into music. This was a relief. Heading into a guy’s room and finding the walls plastered with girls in bikinis who had bodies I knew I would never be able to hold a candle to was depressing, not to mention a huge turn off.

  I dropped the sponge in the bucket of soapy water and reached for the hose. When I glanced back over, the guy was bent at the waist, picking up his fallen poster. His shorts sagged a little and his shirt road up, revealing a pair of plaid boxers. This sent a shiver along my spine because suddenly I could picture him in nothing but those boxers. While he rolled the poster up, he stood, and I noticed he was smoking a cigarette.

  Oh, yes, my mother would loath him.

  My eyes roamed over his profile, taking in the strong angle of his jaw and the plumpness of his lips. He was thin, but I was sure there were lean muscles beneath his clothing. Nothing like what the older guy harbored beneath his shirt, but still, there was something.

  The hose hit the side mirror on my mother’s vehicle and water splashed all over me, jerking me from my thoughts and causing me to screech from the coldness hitting my skin. Quickly, I corrected the spray and glanced in his direction to see if he had heard me. He had. His eyes were trained on me, and the hint of a smile pulled at the corners of his lips. My neck heated, and I prayed the sensation would wait to make it to my cheeks until after he had looked away.

  Twisting my lips into a small smile, I waved to be polite and dropped my eyes back to my task. His eyes lingered on me though. I could feel them caressing my exposed skin, soaking every inch of me into his memory. I remained stock-still, enjoying the moment probably more than I should.

  “Cole,” the guy with all the muscles shouted. My eyes darted next door again. The guy holding the poster turned toward Mr. Muscles. “Can you help me move this mattress up to your room?”

  Cole, was that his name?

  “Uh, sure.” I watched as he swiped the cigarette he’d been smoking across the concrete of the driveway and tucked the butt into his pocket before jogging to help.

  To his room? Yeah, Cole was moving in with them.

  It looked like things on Presley Circle were about to get interesting.

  * * * *

  “So, how was your trip?” my mother asked my dad from across the dinner table.

  He had made it home a little after seven, so we were finally all sitting down to eat. My dad was a salesman with a large software company. He traveled all over the United States, making sales to various smaller businesses and companies. This past week he’d been someplace in Texas.

  “It was nice,” he answered without looking up.

  I watched him shovel another bite of my mother’s famous corn casserole into his mouth. It was obvious to me he didn’t want to talk about his trip, that he didn’t want to talk to my mother period.

  “I sold double my quota while I was there,” he added as an afterthought.

  I opened my mouth to congratulate him because it didn’t appear as though anyone else was planning to, but Chelsea let out a loud sigh as though the entire scene of eating dinner with our family couldn’t have been more bori
ng. I glanced at her from across the table. She looked like crap. While we shared a lot of the same features—dark brown hair, wide green eyes, the same slender nose—my sister looked nothing like me now. The area under her eyes was smudged with darkness from either her makeup or lack of sleep. I couldn’t be sure. At some point during her twenty-four-hour binge of whatever it was she’d been high on, she had cropped her hair off to her chin. It was all sharp angles and uneven.

  Mom rested her elbows against the tabletop—something she would harp on Chelsea or me for doing because it was bad etiquette—and laced her fingers together in front of her face. She eyed my father as though she had picked up on his awkwardness. I pierced a few kernels of corn with my fork and brought them to my mouth, watching her.

  Her lips pinched into a frown. “Things here have been interesting, to say the least.”

  My stomach rolled, and there was no way I would be able to eat another bite of my dinner because I knew exactly where the conversation was headed.

  “How so? Did you not finish your new novel?” Dad asked.

  “I’m close, but that’s not what I wanted to discuss with you.” She inhaled deeply, and I dropped my eyes to the food on my plate. “I’ve wanted to discuss things involving Emory and her recent actions.”

  From the corner of my eye, I noticed my dad shift to glare at me. I didn’t look up to meet his stare. “What sort of things?”

  My throat constricted at the tone of his voice. It was clear he was questioning whether I was pregnant again, but didn’t know how to ask. Would that be what his mind always jumped to each time he heard I had messed up somehow?

  “Well.” There was a dramatic edge to my mother’s tone. It was almost as though she enjoyed being the bearer of bad news. “I had planned on keeping this as a secret between Emory and me because it was something I felt was handled in a swift manner and we didn’t need to draw any more attention to. However, seeing as how things have progressively gotten worse with her lately,” She paused to eye me, and I knew what she was referring to—the cell phone incident from earlier. “I think it’s best I fill you in. Emory snuck out of the house last night and came back inebriated around two in the morning.”

  “Seriously?” Chelsea smirked.

  “What?” Dad seemed shocked.

  Guilt crashed through my insides. My eyes closed. I couldn’t look at my father as he was filled in on how horrible I had been recently. I hated the disappointed look that I knew would be plastered on his face. I’d seen it a million times when my parents discussed Chelsea and her behavior at the dinner table.

  “Where did you even go?” Chelsea’s voice was filled with giddiness. I didn’t bother to answer her, or look at her. “Were you at that Benson kid’s place? We almost stopped by there just to crash it.”

  A tear slipped down my cheek as I continued ignoring Chelsea and thought of how I used to hate when my mother would unleash everything like this on my father the second we all sat down to dinner. I always wondered why she couldn’t bring up all the bad stuff she wanted to tell him on the car ride home from the airport, or even later on when they were going to sleep. I used to feel that same hatred directed toward Chelsea. I remember thinking if Chelsea would just stop behaving so horribly, stop drinking, doing drugs, and sleeping around, then Mom would have nothing to complain about and Dad might actually want to stay home for once.

  Now I had no one to be angry with besides myself. I had done this. When they inevitably fought tonight, it would be because of me and what I had done, not Chelsea.

  “Not only was she drunk, but she was dressed in promiscuous clothing as well,” Mom added. “I’m worried that she’s heading down the same path as Chelsea.”

  Chelsea slapped her hands against the tabletop. “What the hell? What’s so wrong with me? Maybe she’s becoming her own person, Mother. Maybe she doesn’t want to be Daddy’s perfect little girl anymore or Mommy’s replica.”

  “Don’t say that. That is not what’s happening here.” I flinched at my dad’s sharp tone and opened my eyes to look at him. “Chelsea, you’ve been… sick for a long time, but Emory is not. This isn’t remotely close to the shenanigans you pulled in the beginning, Chelsea. Let’s not make comparisons like that.”

  “No, you’re right, Dad.” Chelsea fumed. “Emory had me beat from the beginning, because I didn’t get myself pregnant…ever. That gives her a pretty good head start, don’t you think?”

  I wasn’t here. I was invisible. They could see directly through me because there was no way they would be talking about me like this if I were visible. Tears continued to flow from my eyes as my lungs became squeezed by so many emotions at once I found it harder and harder to breathe.

  My mother tilted her head to the side and glared at my father. “And how would you know, Scott? Were you even around for any of that in the beginning with Chelsea? No, you weren’t…just like you’re not now.”

  Swallowing hard, I set my fork down, ready to ask if I could be excused from the table.

  My father’s jaw tensed. “You know I would come home for anything involving the girls if you would pick up a damn phone and call me, Carol.”

  “The phone works both ways.” My mother scoffed. “Why should I have to always be the bearer of bad news? Why can’t you call and speak to the girls directly every now and then?”

  I cleared my throat and pushed my plate away. Things were about to get even more heated, I knew it, and I didn’t want to be present for it. I couldn’t stand to hear another word. “May I be excused?”

  “Sure.” My father’s eyes were hard and intense.

  I scooted my chair out and started toward the stairs, feeling a weight lift off me with each step away from the table I took. This would be one of the most epic fights my family had ever had, I was sure of it. Chelsea yelled something, but her words were muffled by the pounding of my heart. The front door slammed shut, and I knew she had left. I wondered how long she would be gone for this time.

  As I passed my parents’ bedroom, the sound of my cell phone ringing caught my attention. Tiptoeing into their room, I listened, trying to pinpoint where it was located. I needed to send a text to Sam, telling him not to come by tonight. It wasn’t a good idea, and truthfully, all I wanted was to be left alone.

  The glow from my illuminated screen could be seen from where I stood at their doorway. Mom had hidden my phone underneath her bed this time. I walked over and bent down to retrieve it. Silencing the incoming call from Tara, I switched to type a new message to Sam.

  Can I get a rain check for tonight? ~ Emory

  The sounds of my dad’s raised voice boomed through the silent house as they argued in the dining room. My mother responded with something, but not nearly as loud as my father. In all the years I had heard them fight, never once had she raised her voice to the proportions my father did. She was even elegant in her mannerism during arguments. My cell went off with a new text.

  Sure. Let me know when.

  Thanks. I will. Hopefully soon, just not tonight. ~ Emory

  I waited for him to reply with something, but he never did. I slid my phone back where it had been and then headed toward mine. Once inside, I closed the door and flipped on the light. The sounds of my parents’ argument had become mobile. I could hear their muffled voices walking through the house. Most likely it was my mother walking away and my father right on her heels, continuing the rant he hadn’t finished yet.

  The air around me became too thick. My parents’ voices grew closer, becoming louder. I ran my fingers through my hair as my heart thundered in my chest. I couldn’t breathe. The walls were closing in on me.

  I dashed across my room and slid my window open. After popping out the screen, I slipped out onto the roof of the garage. The cool air caressed my hot, sticky skin, and the tendrils of anxiety dispersed. Situating myself along the roof, I inhaled deeply.

  This was the place I always went to when I was little to avoid the sounds of my parents’ arguments. It was peacef
ul being out in the open instead of trapped inside while their angry voices pummeled me from all sides. I glanced up at the sky, noticing the faint streaks of pink and orange slashed through the endless blue. So peaceful.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  COLE

  Once we hauled everything to the room I had been given, we set up my bed, and then ordered pizza from a place around the corner. While inhaling a slice, I eyed the space Julie and Nick had made their own. They didn’t have much by way of decorations, but I figured that came with never having much to begin with, like it was something wired into us.

  The things they did have though spoke volumes about the life they’d created over the last two years since leaving Harper, making it apparent they had moved on. There was a guitar leaned against the far corner of their living room, some black-and-white framed photos hung sporadically here and there, and an overstuffed couch that looked brand new. A small TV sat on an even smaller TV stand, a Wii with a few games, and there was a picture of a sunset hung in the center of one wall. I continued scoping out their place until I spotted a camera that looked expensive as shit sitting on the kitchen counter.

  “Who’s camera?” I took another large bite of my pizza.

  Julie’s eyes darted to it and then back to me. “Oh, that’s mine.”

  “Yours?”

  “Yeah, I bought it for her birthday last year. I got a good deal on it, but your sister still hasn’t let me live it down. She thinks I spent way too much on her.” Nick grinned.

  “Because you did,” Julie snapped. “The amount you spent on that thing could have fed us for an entire month.”

  “Ah.” Nick brushed her words away. “I’d starve a month just to see you happy like that again. It was worth every penny.” He licked sauce off his finger and eyed her with a shit-eating grin.