Ana nodded slowly, careful not to move her head too much. “Sure.” Then, when he continued to watch her expectantly she stiffened. “Now?”
His charming smile broke across his face. “Oh no! Another time, but soon.”
They heard Caroline French’s heels before she made a physical appearance in the doorway. Her gray eyes swept the room before settling on the group watching her. Her gaze moved from face to face before finding and fixing on Ana.
“What happened?” She pushed her way between Ms. Dawnay and Mrs. Kane to take the seat next to Ana.
“There was an accident in gym class,” Principal Finnegan explained before Ana could open her mouth.
“Another … incident?” her mom asked, voice faltering as her round eyes darted between the principal and Ana.
“Oh! No, nothing like that,” the principal assured her, palms up.
“I hit my head in gym class,” Ana muttered, annoyed that her demon incident was going to haunt her forever. “I keep telling them I’m fine—”
“You threw up on the coach,” Rafe said, speaking for the first time.
Ana glared at him. Traitor!
Principal Finnegan straightened, as he seemingly just realized Rafe still stood there. “Mr. Ramirez, what are you still doing here?”
Beside Ana, Mom turned to take in the antichrist of Chipawaha Creek as Mayor Andrews had painted him to be. Ana watched her watch Rafe, wondering what her mom saw, because when Ana looked, she saw Rafe; tall, golden, gorgeous Rafe with gym clothes that did nothing to conceal his long, lean legs, hard chest and ripped biceps. Somehow, she doubted her mom was seeing him quite like that. If Ana had to guess, her mom was seeing a boy of seventeen with a surly scowl on his face and too much hair hanging over his piercing brown eyes. He stood with his arms folded over his chest, back against the wall, one foot planted on the white linoleum and the other pressed flat into the wall behind him. This would no doubt give her mother the impression of disrespect, followed by aggression and a bad attitude. The way Rafe was glaring at them through his thick fringes probably didn’t help improve the image.
Ana wasn’t even sure why it bothered her so much, but she wanted to sigh, to hang her head, to leap to his defense and make her mother understand that he wasn’t what everyone was saying, except he was. He’d said so himself.
“I wasn’t asked to leave,” Rafe answered simply.
“Coach asked Rafe to bring me to the office,” Ana quickly chimed in before she could stop herself.
“Well,” Principal Finnegan started slowly. “You better head back to class, Mr. Ramirez. Thank you.”
With a last glance at her, Rafe pushed away from the wall and stalked out.
“We better get you to the hospital,” her mom said, breaking the silence Rafe’s departure had left behind.
“I don’t need a hospital!” Ana protested, dreading the long wait. “I’m fine!”
“I think your mother is right,” Principal Finnegan piped in. “It’s better to be safe than sorry.”
Easy for you to say, she thought grudgingly. You don’t have to sit in the waiting room for twenty hours.
She followed her mom out of the school. They drove in silence for most of the way to the hospital. Inside, they signed in at the front desk and since Ana wasn’t going into cardiac arrest or bleeding across the floor, the nurse told them to sit down and wait for their name to be called. This was the part Ana hated, because it was all the time her mother needed to grill her.
“Are you going to tell me what happened?”
Ana shrugged. “I already told you, I tripped.”
“Anything else?” Her mom sounded dubious.
Ana shook her head. “Nope.” She rubbed the tips of her fingers up and down her thigh, her eyes glued to the TV bolted into the wall in the corner of the waiting room. It was some cooking show on mute. Ana watched the woman beat eggs in a bowl, but her mind was a million miles away. “Mom?” She looked at her mother. “He’s not always so … grumpy.”
Her mother frowned. “Who?”
“Rafe.” Ana sucked in a lungful of air. “I mean, he is. A lot. But sometimes, he’s actually really nice.”
Mom’s frown deepened. “Yeah, I’ve met him.”
“I know!” With a frustrated whine, she rubbed her face. “I just don’t want you to think he’s what everyone says.” Even if some of it is true.
Her mom’s fingers were warm and gentle as they closed around hers. “Ana, I think I can judge people for myself without having others paint them for me. Yeah Rafe is crass and sullen, but I like to think I saw a lot of who he is the morning he brought you back in the rain. He’s a good kid beneath it all. Your father might not agree, but he’s looking at the picture through his dad goggles. We will never know what might have happened if that guy got you in his car that day. We might never have seen you again. We’ll never know. What I do know is that Rafe brought you back. I owe him for that.”
There was a flood of relief washing over her at hearing her mother say it and knowing at least one person was on her side about Rafe. Although Ana wasn’t sure which side she was on anymore herself, she did know she felt safe with him and after everything that had happened since her move, feeling safe was a big deal.
Their conversation was put on momentary lockdown when the swinging doors across the room burst open and a man was shoved through by a pair of orderlies. He staggered, but remained on his feet.
“Get your hands off me!” he snarled, slapping at the hands offering to keep him from hitting the ground.
The orderlies put their palms up and took a step back, but remained very stoic in front of the doors, blocking the man from returning.
“I pay your checks every week!” the man spat, adjusting the collar of his long, dirty coat. “You work for me!”
The orderlies didn’t seem to be buying it.
“You should leave, Mr. Dicen,” one orderly said calmly and pointed to the exit.
“Useless!” the man growled, shoving the matted hair off his brow. “All of ya! Useless!” He staggered as he turned on his heels.
Ana recognized him instantly. It was the man from the supermarket, the drunk who was yelling at the lawyer.
As if her gasp of recognition had alerted him, the man’s bloodshot and watery eyes swept the nearly empty room and found Ana. He seemed surprised to see her. His eyes widened as recollection flickered across his face.
“You!”
Ana stiffened. Her fingers tightened around the armrests as the man staggered towards her.
“Excuse me?” her mom cried as she grabbed Ana’s wrist and stared at the orderlies over the man’s shoulders.
“You’re the girl from the house!”
Ana swallowed hard. “What?”
“Hey!” The orderlies ran towards them.
“The house!” the man hissed, eyes wild and panicked, bulging from his skull. “He’s still there!” He was breathing hard and his face dripped with sweat. “He’s still there!”
Ana’s heart leapt in her chest, lathering her throat with the bitter tang of fear. “Who?”
The orderlies grabbed the man, pinning his arms to his side. They dragged him forcibly towards the exit. All the while, he screamed at Ana from over his shoulder.
“He’s there! He’s still there! He can’t rest!”
Then he was out the doors and Ana was left with her mother’s clammy hand around her wrist and a surge of terror poisoning her veins.
Chapter Eighteen
Ana
The drunk’s words followed Ana to bed that night. It replayed on her mind while she scrubbed her teeth, changed into an oversized t-shirt and took the sedatives the doctor prescribed. There was no reasoning with her over-exhausted brain and terrified imagination. His words were hooks anchored into the very core of her thoughts, tormenting her. Who was he? And why would he be in her house? Ridiculous. She was being ridiculous. The rational thing to do would be to let it go and pray the meds worked. She was so r
eady for a good night’s sleep.
Hopefully, she wiggled under her blankets and closed her eyes.
The digital numbers on her clock announced the time as three. Night whispered against the window, painting everything in shadows. Ana stared at the ceiling, not fully recalling having opened her eyes.
“No. Way!” she cried, exasperated.
Her hands shook as she shoved back the blankets and sat up. Her head swam as she tried to make sense of what had gone wrong. The doctors had assured her the sedatives would last for a full eight hours. But she had only just lain down. It hadn’t been more than four hours.
On the other side of the house, only a handful of steps away, her father’s snore met her ear. The clock downstairs ticked unnaturally loud. The wind whistled through the branches outside and she could just make out the tinkle of the pond. It all seemed to shatter the silence she so longed for. Had one of them awakened her? Disrupted the effects of the pill? Maybe she needed something stronger, a higher dose.
Well, it was too late to take another one, she rationalized, climbing out of bed and reaching for the lamp. Soft, golden light broke the darkness and chased the shadows into the corners. She stood for a moment staring at the wall above her desk, contemplating what to do, how to spend the remainder of her few hours before dawn, when something moved out of the corner of her eye. Ana turned her head and peered through the window at the untamed garden below.
Someone, probably her dad, had dragged all the gardening equipment out. It lay in a massive pile at the bottom of the stairs. She assumed he was going to try and tame the wilderness making home in their yard, but she didn’t think that would last long. For all his many talents, he didn’t possess a green thumb. Most of the plants they ever owned were killed by him. No doubt he would start and then get someone else to finish. Or rather, her mother would because her father would never admit to not being able to do it. A little further away, the winding path slicing through the brush seemed to glow as it marked the way to the pond … and the boy standing over it.
Ana didn’t stop to think. She didn’t stop to consider what she was doing or how reckless it was. She turned on her heels and ran out the door. Her feet thundered down each step until she hit the bottom. She turned down the hall and bee-lined straight to the back door at a run.
Not this time! She told herself, throwing open the door and charging outside.
“Hey!” she called, pounding across the porch and down the three steps to the bottom. “I know you’re here! Come out!” The wind snatched up her shouts and threw them back into her face. She shoved away strands of hair off her face and picked her way hurriedly along the path towards the pond. “I don’t believe in you!” she told the night. “Ghosts don’t exist! Whatever you’re doing, whoever you are, stop it!”
The pond was as deserted as it had been the last time she’d seen the boy. Only the soft, tinkle of water rippling over smooth stones and the mocking whisper of the wind kept her company.
Breathing hard, Ana dropped where she stood, the world a boulder on her shoulders. Sharp pebbles gouged into the palms of her hands as she leaned forward to stare at her own reflection dancing in the dark surface of the pond.
“You’re crazy,” she told herself, resigned, finally accepting once and for all that she really had lost her mind.
Tears blurred the heartbreaking realization burnt bright on her face. Soil sunk into her nails as she curled her fingers. A weak sob slipped her lips, opening a floodgate. Tears slipped from the corner of her eyes, clung to the ends of her lashes before plummeting to the ground, where they leached into the dirt.
She opened her eyes, looking her reflection square in the face.
But her reflection wasn’t alone.
Someone screamed her name. It was faint, distant, so minuscule in the scheme of things. Her own scream lodged in her throat, a slimy wedge of terror trapped behind her teeth. Sharp fingers of frost sunk into the careening muscles of her heart as she whipped around. Jagged rocks carved into her flesh, drawing blood as the ground vanished and the pond rose up and embraced her, pulling her into its murky depths.
The initial slice of pain was startling. The slivers of ice that had formed with the late evening, sliced into her flesh and burrowed into her blood stream. Agony and trepidation unhinged her jaw, but her scream frothed from her lips in a burst of bubbles. The pond drummed into her temples, pounded in her ears. She thrashed in the darkness, somehow lost for directions. Her disorientation joined the crescendo of her heart, rising in volume to join the screams of her lungs.
God, where’s the surface?
From somewhere, something boomed. She squinted through the murk, twisting and turning. Then hands grabbed her. Fingers gouged into her numb flesh. She was hauled and lifted. Then there was air, beautiful, glorious air. It all rushed into her lungs, a joyous reunion. She greedily gulped as much of it as she could, coughing and gasping and wheezing.
“Ana?” Hands pushed the hair from her face. “Say something!”
Turning in the arms holding her, Ana lifted her face to peer into Rafe’s. “You saved me!”
He didn’t say anything. With his arm still firmly around her, he dragged her to the lip of the pond and hoisted her out. They both flopped onto the ledge, dripping and cold. Ana rolled onto her back, chest still aching from oxygen deficiency, and stared at the black canopy above them. She listened to his panting, to her own as her heart lowered its tempo enough for her to speak.
She rolled onto her side to peer into his shadowed profile. “Why were you standing behind me?”
“I wasn’t.” He pushed up into a sitting position. “I was reading when I heard you shouting. Then I…” he trailed off, raking his fingers back into his dripping hair, sending droplets flying in every direction.
“What?” she pressed, and forced herself up as well.
He started to shake his head.
“Tell me!”
He continued to hesitate a moment before speaking, “I thought I saw something.”
Ana stiffened. “What?”
Rafe pushed to his feet, offering her his hand. “It’s stupid.”
“What did you see?” she demanded.
His gaze roamed, taking in the vast stretch of emptiness around them. “I thought…” He faltered, caught himself, then continued, “I thought I saw someone just … appear, behind you.”
Nausea boiled up inside her. “You … you mean that wasn’t you?”
Rafe’s eyes widened. “Wait, you saw him?”
No sooner had their eyes met and realization flared when something like a two ton truck slammed into Ana’s chest and she was sent sailing backwards. The unseen attack crushed the air in her lungs, stealing her scream, and her air even before she struck the water a second time and sank.
Chapter Nineteen
Ana
Ana broke the surface with a greedy gasp.
“Rafe?” she called, paddling to shore. “Rafe!”
At the bank, she threw herself face down on the rocks, dragging her weary body to safety, all the while her mind raced with her heart.
“Rafe!”
She was pushing up on all fours when a pair of feet in shiny loafers appeared in front of her. When did Rafe start wearing loafers? She wondered, following the feet up a pair of black slacks. Already, her heart was petrified, knowing without a doubt what she would find the moment her gaze hit the narrow shoulders.
It was him, the boy from Chemistry. The boy she’d seen standing by the pond her first night at the house. But his face wasn’t mutilated. It wasn’t dripping blood and his blue eyes stared down at her, brimming with regret, pain, anger … so much anger.
Ana swallowed hard, scrambling back. “W … who…” Her chattering teeth nipped the tip of her tongue, drawing blood. She tried again, “Who are you?”
Gingerly, the way one might behave around a wild animal, Ana rose to her feet, eyes never leaving the boy watching her. She peeled her wet shirt away from her body, adjusting i
t so it covered the essentials, although, she was almost certain he didn’t care.
“What do you want from me? Where’s Rafe?” she asked, too afraid to take her eyes off him long enough to check for herself.
Seconds passed, each one dragging for what felt like hours. The wind sliced through Ana’s soaking frame, rising goose bumps along her flesh. No amount of huddling, of wrapping her arms around herself, helped ward off the biting.
Then, just when she was certain he would say nothing, his arm shot out, fingers reaching as if to touch her face.
Unthinkingly, Ana yelped.
“Get away from her!” Suddenly, Rafe was there, his face a mask of fierce fury.
Taken by surprise as much as Ana was, the boy had just enough time to whip around before the branch in Rafe’s hand swung for his head.
The scream that had up until that moment been lodged in Ana’s throat, split the air. She wasn’t sure what she expected to happen, but it certainly wasn’t for the branch to slice through his skull like a hot knife through butter, or for the boy to dissolve before their eyes like sugar in water. In his place, Rafe stared at her, breathing as hard as she was, but with a wild, ferocious glint in his eyes. His head whipped from side to side as he raised the branch bat-style across his shoulder.
“Where is he?” he growled, doing a circle. “Where is he?”
“I … I think he’s gone,” Ana croaked, fighting not to give into the fainting sensation beckoning her to sway into its arms.
Rafe hurried over to her and took her hand. “Come on!”
She let herself be dragged up the path to the house, positive she would never have made it there on her own.
On the porch, he stopped and faced to her, his eyes intense. “Get inside and lock the door.”
Ana wanted to laugh. If she could’ve stopped shivering, stopped her teeth from chattering, her heart from going crazy in her chest, she would have reminded him that a closed door didn’t apply to ghosts. That locked or not, it wouldn’t stop that thing from getting inside. But there was something else, another reason that going inside wouldn’t help.
Betraying Innocence Page 16
