“So where’s Tim? Did Savannah dump him or what?”
I looked over at the group Savannah was with. Tim wasn’t with them, and Savannah was noticeably upset. Her pack of friends ranged from concerned to excited.
“No idea. He’s been missing since yesterday evening,” said Becky, regaining her composure.
“He didn’t play?” asked Jason.
“He was attacked by a dog,” said Monica, her eyes on Rose. Rose noticed and gave her a toothy grin.
“Bummer! At least he got to see the win from the sidelines. I heard Trevor pulled out a close one,” said Jason.
“No, Tim stayed home. The dog tore him up pretty good. When his parents got back from the game, he was gone. No one has seen him since,” Becky said.
I couldn’t explain why, but I knew what had happened to Tim. Well, maybe not what exactly, but who was responsible for it. I was pretty sure Rose had helped Tim become another statistic. I got the impression Monica was thinking the same thing.
Eve and Trevor came up, along with a few others who wanted to get in on the drama as it unfolded.
“I thought I heard my name! So, who wants a play-by-play blow of my scoring drive?” Trevor pulled my sister close at the same time he gave Rose the once-over.
“Why not, since that’s the only scoring you’re going to be doing this weekend,” said Eve.
Everyone laughed, including Trevor, who seemed to take it in stride. “So, Rose, haven’t seen you around at school. You from Clarksville?”
“Not Clarksville,” said Jason.
“Homeschooled,” said Rose, with a tone that didn’t invite further questions. She gestured toward the mostly empty dance floor. “This is a dance, isn’t it?”
“It sure is. Gotta go, guys.” Taking the less-than-subtle cue, I guided Rose onto the dance floor. I was eager to get her away from my friends.
She could dance. Better even than Monica. The school kept an eye out for grinding, but Rose was nothing if not proper. Of course, then came a slow dance, where she sidled in as close as she could without triggering the propriety police.
As the evening progressed, more couples filtered onto the floor, and soon it was full. Even in the heat of the packed gym, Rose was cool to the touch. I tried to enjoy the dance, but my mind kept going back to Tim and what the beautiful girl I was dancing with might have done to him. I had no proof, only a nagging suspicion.
I think it was during the second or third slow dance that I caught Becky and Jason out of the corner of my eye. They were dancing next to us. That’s when Rose decided it was time to kiss me.
I wasn’t expecting it. It was sudden and intense and before I knew it I was lost in her. When I finally realized what I was doing, I pulled away. But it was too late. I knew for sure Becky had seen it, along with a lot of other people. One of the monitors had even started our way.
I wasn’t sure how long it lasted, but it must have been quite a kiss. It was long enough for Becky to make it to the sidelines. Monica stood with her. The two of them were having a heated discussion. Jason looked confused; I think it was a common look for him.
I wanted to go to Becky, but what could I do? Excuse me, Rose, but could you wait here? There’s this chick I want to go comfort. That didn’t seem right. And even if it was, then what? What could I possibly say to Becky that would fix this?
I wasn’t sure what to do, so I kept on dancing. The monitor watched us from a few feet away. When it became apparent Rose wasn’t going to plant another kiss on me, and no other dance violations were imminent, the chaperone backed off with only a warning glare.
If Rose noticed any of what happened, and I was willing to bet my game console she did, she didn’t show it. She seemed blissfully unaware of the drama going on around us.
A couple of songs later, Monica cut in. Rose was startled, which was rare for her, but she recovered quickly. She bowed out graciously, and I watched her walk to where Richard and Eve sat huddled together in conversation at a table.
“What the hell?” said Monica.
“I couldn’t help it. Okay, seriously, I know that sounds lame, but I don’t know what happened. Honestly, Monica. I don’t understand it. I didn’t mean to. It’s like I couldn’t not do it.”
I must have sounded either convincing or nuts because she softened a fraction. “You’ve got serious issues.”
“I’ll figure something out,” I said.
She sighed, “I doubt it.”
“Becky—” I started.
“Becky isn’t the one you need to be worrying about anymore.” Monica didn’t elaborate. She spent the rest of the dance thinking in silence, her gum chewing reaching a speed I thought impossible.
After the song ended, we headed over to where Rose sat at a table entertaining a crowd. Becky and Jason were nowhere to be found. They must have left when Monica and I were dancing.
My sister and Trevor were there. Trevor was focused on Rose and grinning like an idiot, while Eve wore one of the fake smiles she plastered on when she was with someone she secretly hated. Monica had gone full bimbo, complete with bubble blowing and hair twirling.
The guys certainly had no problems with Rose; they rotated between posturing and looking smitten. I heard more football stories and “dudes” and “bros” in five minutes than I had in the last month. Each one tried to outdo the other and win her attention.
Rose seemed to be enjoying herself, and it was clear that we were here for the long haul. I guess Rose decided that since she didn’t go out often, she was going to make a night of it.
I couldn’t help thinking about Becky, where she was, and what she was doing.
I must have seemed antsy, because Rose gave my hand a squeeze and told me to relax and enjoy myself. After that it got easier.
We sat at the table and made small talk with everyone. Rose dismissed each clumsy advance with a clever deflection or backhanded compliment. It was effortless for her, something she had obviously been doing for a long, long time, and in the company of much smarter and more capable suitors. She never left a doubt as to whom she came with and whom she’d be leaving with.
We danced and chatted, and danced some more. Finally, the dance was over, and as the last song wound down, Rose slid an arm around my waist and we exited the gym, one of the last couples to leave.
We pulled up to the mansion’s garage just before midnight. It was a large converted carriage house big enough to hold three cars across and two deep. It sat behind and to the side of the main house like ours did. It also had manual doors like ours, so when Rose stopped fifteen feet in front of the carriage house, I jumped out of the van to open them.
Just like Rose had said, she had a car as well. It was a twenty-year-old gargantuan light blue Buick. I was glad we’d taken the van. Behind the Buick sat another vehicle, but it was covered by a tarp, and in the dark I couldn’t get a good look at it.
Rose extended her arm as she exited the garage. “Walk me home?”
“I’d be honored.” I took her arm and walked with her down the drive and through the front gate. The dogs lifted their heads as we started up the walk, then put them right back down.
“Thank you for a wonderful night, Christopher.” She stood facing me in the doorway, taking one of my hands in each of hers.
“Anytime. You sure can dance.”
“I’ve had a lot of practice.” She smiled, then continued, “Sorry about your little friend, but it was for the best. There’s no room for her. It gets difficult if there are too many. I didn’t even plan on you at first. It’s been decades since I made another.”
I nodded. I had no idea what she was talking about, but that seemed to happen with her a lot.
“That leaves us with one last problem: your ghost. Once the ghost is gone, your family will be safe. Then it will be time to go. I never want you to look back and think I didn’t care. Do you understand?”
“Totally.” I was lost, but she seemed happy when I smiled and nodded.
“I
’m glad to hear it. Good night, Christopher.” She leaned forward.
It was pretty obvious what she was waiting for. I tried to gather the nerve to just leave her hanging there, but as I looked into her eyes, my courage failed. At this point, it wasn’t like I could have done any more damage to my relationship with Becky, so I brought her into my arms and kissed her.
After a time we parted, and when I gazed down, Rose looked truly happy. She held my hand for a few moments and then released it.
“Thank you again, Christopher. It’s been a very long time since I’ve had a night like this. I think we get into a routine sometimes, and forget about the small pleasures.” She gave me one final smile, then stepped inside and closed the door.
I went home to find my parents passed out in front of the TV. Thankfully, I was able to tiptoe upstairs and avoid talking to them. I had no interest in rehashing the night. I got ready for bed and lay down for a full minute before rolling over and grabbing my phone.
I called Becky. It rang, then went to voicemail. I hung up.
I was still awake when I heard the muffled thump of the front door followed by hurried footsteps on the stairs. Eve was home and, judging by the uninterrupted speed at which she made it to the stairs, had also managed not to wake our parents.
My door opened, and Eve popped her head in to say, “So stupid.” She ducked back out and shut the door before I could respond.
I sighed and tried calling Becky one more time. Straight to voicemail. I left a message asking her to call me, then went to sleep.
The ghost was blissfully quiet, though Rose haunted my dreams.
Chapter 25
I woke up and knew what I had to do. I would try to repair the damage with Becky, then figure out how to get rid of the ghost, and finally, deal with Rose.
No problem. I felt better with a plan, even if it was really more of a checklist than a plan. And who was I kidding? I probably should have added “win the lottery” to the list while I was at it. That was probably just as realistic.
I tried calling Becky again. It rang, then went to voicemail. I briefly thought about using my sister’s phone, but that was sleazy. Becky was always straightforward with me, so that was how I would play it with her. Fair is fair.
I asked my mom if I could get a ride home from work that night. My dad overheard and said he would do it; he needed to stop by the auto parts store anyway to pick up some oil and a filter. He enjoyed working on cars, and was saddened that most modern automobiles required a computer and a lift for almost every repair. Changing the oil and topping off the fluids was all he had left.
I skated by Freddy’s Drive-In before work, but neither Becky nor Monica was on shift. I still had some time, so on a whim I went to City Hall, where Jack Monroe’s building plans supposedly hung. But it was closed Sundays. Out of options, I headed into work twenty minutes early.
Mr. Sherman didn’t show at all. He called an hour after I had opened the shop to let me know he wasn’t going to make it. He was at a town meeting where everyone was talking about the missing boy, Tim Peterson. He told me to hold down the fort without him.
It wasn’t hard. Between church, NFL football, and Tim Peterson, reading books wasn’t on a lot of people’s minds. Business was so slow that I had time to straighten up the back room. It was in such a sad state that it took me the better part of my shift.
I tackled the ancient stack of boxes last. They were piled almost to the ceiling along one wall. I took down the first two to check what was inside them. Stripped books. Books that didn’t sell had their covers removed to be sent back to the publisher. The books themselves were supposed to be destroyed.
When I removed the next box, it revealed the top of a door. It was almost as if someone had intentionally obscured it with the wall of boxes. I couldn’t imagine why. Curious, I moved the rest of the boxes and tried the door, but its lock prevented any further snooping. I made a mental note to ask Mr. Sherman about it next time I saw him. Lord only knew how much more junk he had stashed away behind it.
After I finished cleaning the back room, I sat behind the register and thought about Tim. Despite the fact that he tried to beat my head in with a flashlight, he still didn’t deserve to die. I hoped he was just on a drunken bender somewhere. But I didn’t believe it.
My dad picked me up. I gave monosyllabic answers to his questions about the dance, then suggested we swing by Freddy’s on the way home. No Becky. Monica was there, though, and skated up to the wagon as we placed our order through the microphone.
“Hey, Mr. Harding. Hey, Chris. How are you guys doing?”
I was surprised Monica wasn’t overtly hostile. I wanted to ask her a couple of specific questions, but my dad’s presence was going to make that pretty awkward. Instead, I asked, “Did you ever find anything interesting in those books I lent you?”
“Yup, sure did! Nothing to help get rid of Charlotte, though; sorry.”
“Oh, okay. Hey, can I call you later?”
“Sure thing!” she said, then spun and skated off to get the drinks. She was almost too happy. Something was up. Maybe she found something exciting in those books. I wondered what it could be, if it wasn’t anything to do with the ghost.
My thoughts were interrupted when my dad turned on his lecture voice.
“Is that why you wanted to come here? Okay, look, Chris. I know this is a new town and you’re trying to make an impression, or rep, or whatever it is you kids call it. But it seems like you’ve been seeing a lot of different girls since we got here, and we haven’t even been here a month. First Becky, then Rose, and now Monica? And who is Charlotte?”
Great, my dad thought I liked Monica now. In my parents’ minds, I must have gone completely off the deep end. I had dated maybe two girls in my life before moving here, each for a couple of months, and at least a year apart. Now they thought I was on my third girl in three weeks—and trust me, these girls were nothing like the first two.
I tried to protest, but my dad held up his hand to stop me.
“Look, sometimes it’s better to stay with the current process—er, girl—for a while to see if it works. Most of the time only a week or two isn’t long enough to tell. You have to slow things down. Establish a baseline. You know, try out the shoe for a while to see how it fits.” He paused, misinterpreting my look of disbelief.
“I understand it might not be perfect right out of the box, and maybe you get a blister or two in the first couple of days, but then you make small, incremental changes, like a different pair of socks. And before you know it, you find that they’re the most comfortable shoes you own!”
I opened my mouth, then shut it, then tried again. Still nothing came out. I probably looked like a fish.
“Chris, you don’t just throw out a good thing every time you see a prettier pair!”
If this was how he managed the guys at work, I felt sorry for them. “Uh, sure, Dad. But—”
“Look, I understand. I do. I know you want to be cool like your sister.” I was not hearing this. “But even Eve has settled on that Trevor boy. You went out with Becky for, what, two weeks? Then you decided to go the dance with this Rose, and I know she’s very pretty, I mean she’s clearly something special, but I just think you should have given Becky more of a chance. Or, if not Becky—who, by the way, your mother and I liked—what about Rose? The dance just ended, what, last night? And now you’re asking to call this Monica girl? And isn’t she Becky’s friend? And who is this Charlotte girl, anyway?”
“Dad, I don’t like Monica!”
“Like, that’s so not what you said last night.”
A bubble popped and we both looked over to see Monica, head tilted, holding out a tray with our drinks. My dad took them in silence.
“Call me!” she said, giving me a wink while making a phone shape with her hand and holding it up to her ear. The she blew another bubble, popped it, sucked in her gum and left. My dad turned to me, eyebrows raised.
I decided the only thing le
ft to do was bang my head on the dash a few times.
“Careful not to damage the airbag, Chris. They’re expensive.”
I stopped. “Um, hey, what you said made sense. I think I get it now. How about giving me a ride over to Becky’s? I just want to stop by and say hi. You know, see if I can work things out with the old pair.”
He looked slightly relieved, and then got serious. “Now, are you positive Becky is the one you like? Not Rose, or Monica, or Charlotte? You can’t just keep changing your mind like a pair of—”
“Yes, Dad! Becky! She’s the one I like!”
“Okay, sure, I’ll drive you. But why not call her first?”
“She’s kind of not answering my calls.”
My dad shook his head and murmured something about sons being easier than daughters, but when he pulled out of the parking lot, he aimed the car toward Becky’s.
The drive over was blissfully silent, and when Dad stopped the car in the Baileys’ driveway, I got out while my dad remained in the idling car. Mrs. Bailey answered the door. She looked like an older version of Becky, but with blonde hair.
“She’s not here, dear,” she said, before I could even ask. Judging by the forced smile on her lips, Mrs. Bailey had heard what happened at the dance, and was not my biggest fan.
“Okay, thanks, Mrs. Bailey. Could you let Becky know I stopped by? I have something I wanted to give her.”
“Of course. You can leave it with me if you’d like.”
“If it’s all right, I’d like to give it to her in person.”
“Whatever you want.” Becky’s mom was shutting the door on me when I heard Mr. Bailey’s voice call from somewhere in the house.
“Who is it?”
“It’s Chris, Becky’s… acquaintance.” She had spent a full two seconds searching for the last word.
“On my way!”
Uh oh.
Mrs. Bailey stepped aside so Mr. Bailey could fill up the doorway.
The Haunting of Pico (Pico, Texas - Book 1) Page 20
