“I guess they’ll find out on Saturday.” I brightened a little. I did have a date, and I even kind of liked her, despite the creepy dead vibe she had.
I really, really hoped the vibe was all in my imagination. Another mini panic attack began; maybe I really was imagining her. Rose definitely was nothing like a normal girl: no one else had actually seen her, Mr. Givens said she didn’t live in his house, and she was preternaturally fast and quiet. The easiest explanation was that I was going crazy. Great—all I needed to cement my reputation at a new school was to show up to a dance with my imaginary girlfriend after snubbing the head cheerleader. It would be epic.
Some of this must have played out on my face because Richard said, “C’mon, she can’t be that bad! I mean, you asked her out, after all. Over Becky.” Ouch. He didn’t have to add that last part.
“Yeah, wish I could take it back. This has been way more of a headache than it was worth.”
“I hear that. Chicks are a pain. Not much you can do about it now, though, dude. You chose your girl, now you got to live with her… at least for one night. Well, I should get going. I gotta go pick up something to wear to the dance. I just wanted to let you know about Becky.”
“You’re buying a new outfit? For a dance? Really?”
“Monica said I had to.” He looked sheepish.
“You and Monica, huh? Nice. You finally asked her out?”
“Damn right! Well, kinda. So, anyway, I’ll catch you later.”
“See you tomorrow.” I assumed she had asked him out, but it was the same result. I was glad she had. He was grinning like an idiot when he left, so it was cool. At least one person had the date he wanted.
Well, that wasn’t fair. I liked Rose. And if I had never met Becky, I would have been thrilled to go with her, even if she was kind of different. I needed to stop obsessing over relationships. My dad once said you could only be happy if you liked what you had, and not if you missed what you didn’t. It seemed appropriate. Of course, when he’d said it, he’d been talking to Eve about shoes.
I needed to focus on getting rid of Charlotte, or whoever this ghost was. I stopped myself, and wondered if it was Emily. That theory fit better with the messages it was leaving us; on the other hand, Emily was probably still alive and living in Vermont with a husband and kids. And even if she had died, I couldn’t imagine what would bring her spirit back to Texas.
Whoever it was was clearly becoming dangerous, and I had a feeling the reprieve we got last night wasn’t going to last.
It was quitting time. I turned off the lights, flipped the sign to “closed” and locked the door. Despite the late hour, the outside air was still hot. I skipped Freddy’s again. I didn’t really want to make conversation with Becky after hearing the news of her and her ex.
I went straight home, spending the trip thinking about what I was going to do if Emily came back tonight. I was almost home when a truck passed by. It looked a lot like Tim’s. I cringed and hoped it would keep on going. It didn’t. I heard the truck’s rumbling exhaust go quiet as the driver took his foot off the accelerator. I looked back to see him flip a U-turn.
Crap. I didn’t want to deal with Tim right now, not on top of everything else. I turned onto my street as I heard the truck accelerate behind me. I went as fast as I could, but the truck was a lot faster than my skateboard. I glanced over my shoulder just as he swerved toward me.
The truck was going to veer onto the sidewalk, possibly taking me out with it. I was passing Mr. Givens’ picket fence when the pickup jumped the curb in front of me. Before I smashed into it, I turned and tried to ollie over the fence. I didn’t quite make it. My ankles hit the top of the slats and I tumbled onto the lawn.
I got up as fast I could. The sound of screeching tires was immediately followed by the crash of snapping wood as the truck skidded to a halt, its bumper smashing through a section of the fence. The door swung open and Tim leapt out. In his hand was one of those heavy metal flashlights with a million D cell batteries like the cops used. I backed up blindly, edging toward Mr. Givens’ dark front porch as Tim strode toward the fence.
“Not bad enough you went and took my dad’s job, but then you go and lead Becky on! Who do you think you are? Coming into town and ruining everybody’s life. We’re going to finish what we started. Right here, right now. When I’m done, you and your family are going to wish they never heard of Pico, Texas.” He hopped the ruined fence and came for me.
The porch was pitch black. Mr. Givens didn’t believe in anything as inviting as a light, and the moon was almost new. Tim didn’t see Stanley and Oliver until they were up and running. By then it was too late.
I was halfway up the walk and didn’t so much hear the dogs as feel them. They hadn’t made a sound this time—no warning growls, no barks. They just shot forward, hell-bent on the intruder. Tim might have seen them if he had been using his flashlight for its intended purpose, and not wielding it like a club he was going to brain me with.
The massive Rottweilers were on him before he could even think about making it back to the fence, which was wrecked anyway. One dog grabbed the arm with the flashlight and shook it violently from side to side; the other jumped straight for his face.
Tim went down, turning his head as he grabbed for the dog’s neck with his free hand. Unfortunately for Tim, the dogs wore spiked collars. You know, the functional ones where the spikes were sharp three-quarter-inch nails.
Tim was on the ground now, thrashing under the snarling dogs. He screamed as they rended the flesh from his body. I knew I couldn’t pull the dogs off, so I did the only thing I could: I yelled, “Stanley, Oliver—down!”
Amazingly, they listened. The two dogs immediately backed off, though they didn’t go far, nor did they take their eyes off Tim. They slowly backed up until they were on either side of me. They remained facing him, emitting deep growls that ran through me like bass from a subwoofer.
Tim was still screaming as he scrambled back, falling on his first attempt to stand. Finally, he managed to lean against the truck and right himself. One arm hung limply at his side.
“Are you crazy? You’re going to pay for this!”
His words were slurred. He haltingly made his way toward the driver’s side door, leaning against the hood on the way. As he passed the truck’s headlights, I saw that blood streamed from his torn face and shredded arm. He stumbled along the side of his truck, screaming, “Watch your back, boy! You’re dead! Dead!”
He practically fell into the driver’s seat and used his elbow to slam the door shut. Somehow he got the truck back on the road and roared away.
Stanley and Oliver went to the fence, where they remained alert until his truck turned the corner. Then they trotted over to me, wagging their tails. I retrieved the flashlight from where Tim had dropped it and walked up the porch steps, absently petting one of the dogs on the head. I needed to tell Mr. Givens about his fence and the tire grooves etched across the front strip of yard.
I knocked, and a moment later Mr. Givens opened the door. “Were you the one making all the noise out here, disturbing the dogs?” I could hear his TV blaring in the background, and what sounded like laughter.
“Um, sort of. It was an acquaintance of mine. He kind of broke your fence with his truck, and probably did some damage to your front yard.”
Furious, Mr. Givens was about to slam the door when I quickly asked, “Is Rose here?”
“I told you, no one else lives here.”
“It’s okay, Mr. Givens. Christopher’s a friend of mine. He can visit any time I’m awake.” Rose’s voice came from the background. I witnessed an internal war rage within Mr. Givens before he opened the door to let me in.
I stepped into a large foyer. An impressive wooden staircase ran upward, ending at a landing overlooked by a large stained-glass window. The stairs then split, with flights to the left and the right leading onto the second floor.
Rose stood partway down the center set of stairs, a book in
one hand. She wore a blue dress with a white front and a matching headband. She reminded me of Alice.
“Hey,” I said, wondering if I was the White Rabbit or the Mad Hatter.
“Trouble?” she asked. She reached the ground floor and placed her book on a small table near the ornate fireplace.
I played it cool. “Not really. That guy I told you about, Tim Peterson? The one I got in a fight with? He decided we weren’t done yet. I kind of hopped your fence and made use of your dogs.”
“Glad they came in handy. And Tim—is he still out front?” I knew what she was implying, and judging by her cheery smile as she flitted up to me, it didn’t bother her one bit.
“Um, no. I, ah, called off the dogs. He made it back to his truck. Barely. He did a little damage to your yard, though. I’m sure they’ll make him pay for it if you call the cops.” I neglected to add that they would probably euthanize the dogs while they were at it.
“That won’t be necessary. Mr. Givens can fix the fence tomorrow, and I’ll deal with Mr. Peterson later.
“But, forgive me; it’s been a while since I played hostess! Come in. Would you care for something to drink?” She took my hand, and I fleetingly wondered if Rose was bipolar as she practically skipped into the next room. I struggled to keep up.
The next room threw me for a loop. The big-screen TV I had seen earlier was playing the remake of Fright Night. The large flat panel and its surround-sound system looked distinctively out of place amidst the vintage decorations of the front parlor.
A girl and two guys sprawled on the antique furniture, talking and watching the movie. All three looked somewhere between their late teens and early twenties, and were dressed a little more stylishly than most people in Pico.
“Everyone, this is Chris. Chris, this is everyone,” said Rose, her hand sweeping the room. Their conversation stopped and two heads swiveled.
One guy waved at me without looking away from the TV. By way of introduction, he uttered a single word: “Sean.”
The other guy introduced himself as Mike, and the girl continued to stare at me. I had seen her before. She was the one covering her mouth when she came out of the bedroom back at the post-game party. She must have remembered me, too, because she broke into a toothy smile and said, “Howdy there, Chris. I’m Veronica. We’ve been dying to meet you.”
I guess she said it in a friendly enough way, but a shiver crawled up my spine.
Rose tugged on my hand, and I followed her into the kitchen. She opened the fridge a few inches and, without looking in, pulled out a soda for me.
“I hope you like diet root beer. It’s all Mr. Givens drinks.”
“Thanks,” I said. Rose sat down at the kitchen table, so I sat across from her.
“Who are they?” I asked, nodding back in the direction of the other room.
“Friends of mine. You’ll get to know them soon.”
“How long have you guys been staying here?”
Surprisingly, she answered me this time. “Not too long; maybe a year. We’ll be leaving soon.” She looked into my eyes when she said it. I felt the urge to be included in her plans.
I tried to shake it off. “That’s too bad.”
She shrugged. “It’s not much of a town, but it served its purpose. Any luck with your ghost?”
I told her about the botched séance and the dangerous escalation in the haunting. She listened quietly as I told the story, growing concerned when I mentioned the scissors. “But I’m making progress. I think I’ll have it figured out soon.” I tried to end on a positive note.
“Sounds like you have a different ghost than you thought you had.”
“Yeah,” I admitted.
“That makes finding out what it wants a little more difficult. You’ll need to be quick.”
“Right now I just want to figure out how to calm it down. Then we can worry about getting rid of it.”
“Whatever it takes to calm that ghost down is going to be the same thing it will take to get rid of it. So how is everything else working out, aside from your malevolent ghost and homicidal classmate?”
“Not bad. My job is going well, and I’ve made some friends. My dad seems to be doing okay in his new job. Mom is stressed, but mostly because of the AC, and I’m pretty sure the ghost is responsible for that.”
We chatted some more about the town, and how it was different from city life. Rose was evasive when I asked anything specific about her, but I did manage to confirm that she wasn’t from around here. I got the impression she came from somewhere back east, maybe even New York.
Eventually I excused myself, saying I had to go home to try and get some sleep. Rose smiled and walked me to the door, giving me a kiss on the cheek and wishing me a good night. She made me promise to be careful now that the ghost was stirred up. I told her I would, and gave each of the dogs a pat before I left.
My parents had already turned in by the time I got home. I grabbed a snack out of the kitchen and then checked on Eve, who was also sound asleep. I decided it was my turn, but I had barely drifted off when something woke me. The red glow of my alarm clock lit the back of Becky’s picture, which was again lying face down.
It wasn’t the ghost that woke me this time; Rose leaned over me, her face inches from mine.
“Shhh, go back to sleep. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“What are you doing here? Couldn’t get enough of me, huh?” I was groggy, almost like I was drugged; otherwise I would have been more alarmed to find her sitting over me.
It was too dark to see her clearly, but I heard the smile in her reply. “Well, that, and I wanted to make sure you’d be okay.”
“I’m fine.” I sniffed. A faint metallic smell hung in the air.
I was going to ask Rose if she could smell it, but she said soothingly, “Of course you are. Now sleep.” She stroked my hair, and I found myself fading to sleep despite myself. I dreamed she lay beside me through the night.
Chapter 22
I woke to my alarm. Becky’s picture was missing from the nightstand. After a brief search, I found it lying face down in the nightstand drawer.
Feeling a little dizzy, I made my way to the bathroom and found it occupied. I forgot: this was a game day. Eve had woken up early to stake her claim.
Eventually, though, it was my turn, and the shower helped wake me up. By the time I had eaten some breakfast, I felt a lot better. While I finished my cereal, I looked out the window and watched Mr. Givens survey the damage to his yard. He was shaking his head and, I imagined, cursing a lot.
My dad asked if I was going to the game. I told him I was, but that I doubted I would be making the post-game party. He said I shouldn’t let that Tim kid intimidate me. My mom shot him a look; she was still upset over the fight, clearly not wanting it to become a habit.
Crap. After what had happened the night before with Tim, I had no idea how today was going to play out. Somehow I didn’t think he was going to thank me for saving his life, which I was pretty sure I had done.
It started in third-period English, when Monica leaned over and said, “Oh my god! Like, have you heard about Tim? Twenty-three stitches in his face, a ton more in his arm, and his other hand is a mess. He won’t be able to play ball for a couple of weeks at least.”
“Wow, really? Uh, what happened?”
“I thought you could tell me.” Her tone shifted, and I noticed the bimbo routine had vanished.
I avoided her eyes as I started to lie. “I dunno. He looked fine when I saw him at school yesterday.” I stopped. I had to tell someone the truth, and it struck me that Monica would be a good person to tell.
“Yeah, okay, fine—I’ll tell you about it later.” That seemed to appease her. She cracked her gum, which earned a word from the teacher, so she took it out and stuck it under her desk.
Fourth period ended, and I was headed to lunch when Eve caught me. She literally pulled me aside.
“What’s up?” I asked as I jerked to a halt.
“You told Dad you weren’t going to the party tonight.”
“Well, yeah. I figured, all things considered, it isn’t such a good idea.”
“So stupid. Quick; who do you like better, Rose or Becky?”
“Becky, but—”
“Good. No buts; you have to go tonight.”
“Why?”
“Look, if you’re going to hang with the Alphas, you have to act like one. And you don’t do that by hiding when things get tough. Especially when the reason they’re tough is because you made them that way.”
I must have looked unconvinced, because she said, “It’s simple. You like Becky more than Rose, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Not surprising, since no one has ever seen this Rose.” She paused, then looked at me in shock. “Oh, so help me… if you made her up to make Becky jealous….”
“I didn’t,” I protested. God, at least I hoped I didn’t. The verdict was still out on that one.
“Then you have to go to the party tonight to show everyone you did exactly what you wanted to.”
“But I didn’t.”
“Doesn’t matter. You can make it up to Becky later. Well, maybe. But, either way, go to the party tonight and have a good time. You can bring Rose. Actually, you should. If you play it right, you can jettison Rose tonight and still grab Becky in time for the dance tomorrow.”
“I don’t think I can.”
“Please don’t tell me you paid for her and can only afford one night.”
“Eve!”
“Then why can’t you? Never mind, doesn’t matter. Just show up and have fun. When you see Becky, don’t let her know that seeing her with Jason bothers you.”
“He’s going to be there?”
“I don’t know, probably. He would be if I were Becky and I were trying to get back at you.”
“I thought you knew everything.”
She smiled. “Everything that matters. Anyway, tell Mom and Dad you changed your mind. You can catch a ride with us.”
“I get to go for ice cream after the game? Then what? Pedicures at Savannah’s?”
The Haunting of Pico (Pico, Texas - Book 1) Page 17
