by Holly Hook
“She didn't run away!”
Shawn stands next to me like he's backing me up. “I don't think she did, either. If you read the article, there's some really suspicious stuff going on.”
Mom goes back to wiping the counter. She's become a woman in a cleaning commercial, perfect and fake and detached from reality. “I might read it later, if I can find it. I need to get this ready to entertain a couple of guests tonight. Your stepfather has some guys from work coming for dinner.”
I want to bring up that the man she was once married to came from a poor family, but I know that'll only make her point sharper and make it stab harder.
“Whatever.” I storm past and head up to my room. I keep my hand linked with Shawn’s as we trek across the living room and past the door to Garrett's office. He runs an industrial supply company called Skilled LaborWorks and he's home today. The office door is open and he's leaning out.
“Afternoon, you two,” he says, smiling. He's trimmed his beard down and combed his dark hair back. Yes. He's expecting guests.
He's better company than my mother. “Afternoon,” I say. I stop and tell him what happened with Talia.
“Wow. I'm sorry,” he says. “I'm sure the police will find her eventually. I know it sounds horrible, but there's a good chance she just ran away. I say you just sit tight and let them find her. They will.”
“Thanks.” I'm not telling him of my plans to go searching. He'll just tell me to sit here and wait for dinner. He's not as bad as Mom, but he won't be any help, either.
Shawn and I climb the stairs, leaving the two of them to prepare for whatever boring dinner I'm expected to attend in a couple of hours. The balcony squeaks underfoot as we walk. I pass our first spare room, and the next. I can't bear to look at them.
I reach my bedroom and I slam the door.
“The sympathy here is overwhelming,” Shawn says.
“Tell me about it.” I cross my room and dump my school books out on my canopy bed. “I hate this place. I really don't want to sit down there and use good manners and do my hair just because Garrett's going to have some guys from work over.”
“Once I graduate and get a job, you can move in with me,” Shawn says.
“I think I will.” Less than two years left and I won't have to ride in that Prius anymore. I’m going to get a beater once I’m out of here, one with all kinds of stupid bumper stickers and dents and rust just to make Mom and Garrett mad. Well, Mom. She's three times as bad as Garrett and she was never that way until after my father landed in prison. I stare at the white confines of my room, with its canopy bed in that pink shade that I hate but Mom insists on.
I set my backpack down and let all my school books fall out onto the floor. It’s so much lighter now, like I’m dumping my whole life out of it. “I think we can go,” I say. “This is all I wanted to do here, anyway. I'll keep my backpack with me in case we find anything at Talia's we can take to the police.”
“And after we do that, you can bring your homework over to my house,” he says. “So you don't have to sit at that dinner.”
“I think that’s a good idea.” I stuff my notebook and a few pens into my backpack so I can work on the math worksheet that’s due tomorrow. I’m glad to leave my heavy books here, at least. “Let’s go.”
Shawn and I head down the back stairway. Mom’s music is even louder now, as if she’s trying to drown out all the imperfections in life. I don’t care. She probably won’t notice me gone. I don’t even think she hears us as I climb into Shawn’s car and we back down the driveway, past the stupid stone lions at the gates and out onto the street. I can’t wait until I can legally leave. I want to feel like a real person again and not a piece in a museum.
We drive for a long time, out of town and onto the expressway. Talia lives about fifty minutes away from here. It's fifty minutes too far. I put my homework on my lap and try to work on the math equations, but my mind's on Talia. I give up trying to concentrate and stuff my papers back into my pack.
At last, we pass the sign for Badwater. This is the place where Talia could still be for all I know. Dead or alive.
“I think she lived on the far side of town,” Shawn says as we pull off the expressway. “I don't know if we'll find anything, but we'll sure try.”
“We have to try.” I keep my backpack on my lap. I know Talia better than anyone else, except for probably Talia herself. Maybe she's left a journal or something, or written something on her computer that the police have missed. I know her passwords to everything. She always uses the same one—it's the name of the cat she had when she was little, Mr. Sunshine. She's probably just complained about her foster mother some more, but it's something. It's all evidence. If Lily Abner has really done something to her, I want to see her pay.
Badwater is a large town that's mostly poor and made up of small, sad houses in rows. It's a place that Mom and Garrett wouldn't want me to explore or associate with anyone in. Some of the lawns are overgrown and the mailboxes, dented. The sidewalks are cracked and a few houses have boards across the windows. I'm amazed any people live here and I can't imagine what kinds of lives go on behind these walls. What kinds of transactions take place. What kinds of fear play out.
“Here,” Shawn says, turning onto a street. “I remember this one. At the end is her turn.”
He's right. I was so tired the night we dropped Talia off that I don't remember most of the drive.
At the end of this street is Willow's End. I hate the name. I don't want to see any name with the word end in it.
He turns right.
This is the worst street out of them all. There's trash in some of the yards and a creepy guy with a beard sweeping something up in his garage. He stops and stares as we pass. My heart falls and I wonder if any of these neighbors had anything to do with Talia being missing. It might even be this guy for all I know. The cops probably get called here all the time for things like drugs and break ins and whatnot. This isn't a place where Talia belongs. She has a future ahead of her. She wants to go to college and learn nursing. Her old foster home was in a good part of my town. This place is bleak. Hell. I hate the courts and the system for banishing her here.
Shawn parks in the driveway of her old house. It's a low ranch with dark windows and one beat-up white car in the driveway. The mailbox is still as dented as ever. A pair of small purple flowers struggle out of the mud, resisting the November chill. The poor things. But there's no sign of human life here, at least. The windows have the curtains mostly drawn and no shadows wait behind them. I check to see if the creepy man is still watching. We've gone around a curve and left him behind. I hope he thinks we're gone.
We wait for Travis to get here. We only have to wait about five or six minutes before his car rounds the curve. I'm glad Shawn is sitting here beside me, in case someone does try to mess with us.
“As soon as we're done poking around, we leave,” I say. Garrett might have had the right idea about me sitting tight. He must know what Badwater is like.
“I agree.” Shawn turns to study the street. A house across from us has graffiti sprayed across the boarded windows. “I don't like this place. I expect a gang to show up any second. If that happens, I'm flooring it.”
“I'm surprised all Talia complained about was her new foster mom and those sounds in the walls.”
Travis pulls his Buick up into the driveway. He gets out and we join him. “You know,” he says. “I don't think we should park out here in case the police come to investigate. They're going to know someone's messing around in here if we don't move our cars. I really don't want to ruin my record.”
Shawn nods. “That's a very good point. Let's go park them down at the corner. I don't need to get arrested."
“As long as we go in the opposite direction of that creepy guy,” I say.
“Yeah, I saw him.” Travis gets back in his car. “What a freak. No wonder everyone moved away from here.”
We move the cars down the street, away from t
he creepy man. Shawn and Travis park at another house that's boarded up. There's more ghetto artwork on this one. It's some symbol that might be an orange flame. “Let's be out of here before dark,” I say.
“I agree.” Shawn keeps his hand linked with mine as we walk back to Talia's old house.
The neighborhood is silent and it's creeping me out. I don't even hear any birds chirping out here, as if they've sensed something they don't like. Even the rain has stopped as if it, too, is fleeing. “I don't like this,” I say once we get to Talia's house. “There's something about this building giving me the creeps.”
Shawn shakes his arm out like he's reacting to it as well. “I don't, either.”
“Since when do you let something bother you?” I ask.
“Since when am I human?” Shawn says. “We all have things that bother us, I guess.”
There's no one peeking at us through the windows. If the police have been here, they've already come and gone. Maybe they have whatever evidence they wanted already and they've already combed the house. I wouldn't be shocked. Maybe we came here for nothing. But still, we have to check. I want to go to sleep tonight knowing I've done everything I could.
We don't even try the front door. It's got to be locked, especially in this town. We circle around to the back and wet weeds slap against my pants. I'm going to have a hard time explaining this to Garrett and my mother when I get home. I'll have to take an extra long time getting back there, to let my pants dry. I shiver. I've never been an outdoors girl.
“We can try the back door,” Travis says.
“That's probably locked, too.” Shawn shrugs. He looks over his shoulder. “I hope no one sees us doing this.”
“If they do, we blend right in here,” Travis says. “I hate to break in to a place, but it's an emergency. It's not like we're going to steal anything.”
I think about what we're going to do and if it wasn't for Shawn here keeping his hand locked in mine, I'd lose my nerve. We're about to commit a crime. What if we get caught? Mom will never let me forget this. Neither will Garrett. Does crime run in your family? He might ask Mom.
Travis tries the back, sliding door. “Locked,” he says. “Look around the yard. There's lots of junk here. Let's find a bar or something so I can get a window open. We don't want to break the door or anything. I don't want to do any damage.”
“Well, aren't you nice?” Shawn asks.
I have to laugh at that. He always has ways of breaking up the tension, no matter what we're doing.
I look around the back yard. It's terrible. There's a rusted car sitting in the corner up against the fence and nature is doing its best to take it back and convert it into a pile of weeds. The space inside it looks just as dark and foreboding as the inside of the house. There's a pile of cinder blocks next to it and several trash bags that I can smell from here. I'm glad it's not summer right now. The smell would be overwhelming. This is what Talia had to deal with for the last two months. No wonder she didn't want us to walk her to the door after we dropped her off that night.
“I think I found something,” Travis says, coming back with a long piece of metal that might be a car part. “I might be able to get one of the windows. It's worth a shot.”
He's the strongest. It's best to let him do that.
Shawn looks up the side of the yard. “We're still clear,” he says. “I don't see any cops. Or worse—neighbors.”
My heart pounds. I can't believe we're going to do this. Who actually owns this property, anyway? Didn't Talia mention something about this being a rented property? If it's her, she won't be able to come back here and shoot us. She's in the slammer.
Travis walks up to the window and jimmies the bar under it. He's going to try prying it open. I'm not sure what were going to do if he doesn't succeed. “This window is crap,” he says, pulling the bar down. The window squeaks a bit. “It's rusted. This house is horrible. I'm sorry your friend had to live here.”
“I am, too,” I say.
I should have fought Mom harder. Yelled at her and screamed until Talia got to stay.
If I'd done that, she'd be hanging out with us this afternoon.
At last, after Travis turns red in the face and gives one final push, the window comes open with a scream. I flinch and Shawn keeps his hand linked with mine. It's open. We're free to go inside and explore. It looks like a kitchen window, just big enough for us to fit through.
Shawn lets go of me and walks up onto the deck. “Who's first?”
I manage a laugh. “Not me.” My heart's pounding. We're breaking and entering. The worst thing I've done is try a cigarette after school last year. I coughed and coughed on it and Travis laughed at me. This is way, way more horrible.
Travis searches around for something to stand on. The window is kind of high. He finds an old milk carton full of rusty car parts and turns it upside down. All the parts crash as they fall to the ground.
“Careful,” I say. “We don't want to make noise.”
“No one's here,” Travis says. “Ladies first.” He smiles at me and steps back.
“We don't know that the house is empty,” I say. I remember a story about someone breaking into a house last fall, thinking the owners weren't home, and the guy wound up getting shot.
“I'll go first,” Shawn says, walking up to the window. “I'll look around for a bit, and if it's all clear, I'll call for you guys.” He grins. “And if you hear a gunshot, run away.”
“You are not going in there.” A big part of me wants him to go in and check that it's safe first. But I also don't want him to leave me out here.
“I'll go in,” Travis says. He's already climbing through the window.
“Hey, man,” Shawn tells him. “I was going to be the hero.”
“Too bad,” he says, disappearing inside.
We wait. And wait. I hear Travis's footfalls through the window and at last, he pokes his head out. “This place looks like it's condemned, to tell you the truth,” he says. “If I didn't know better, I'd say that no one lives here. Except that there's this really horrible furniture and stuff that must have been here since Kennedy got shot.”
I breathe a sigh of relief.
I have to go in there for Talia. She'd want me to do this. I'd expect the same out of her. I have to find out what really happened.
Shawn helps me climb in. I go through to a kitchen that smells like garbage. It's even worse on the inside. I slide across a dusty counter and land on a floor next to a broom that's covered in little fuzzies. Talia must have been sweeping right before she vanished. She must have been doing chores for this lady for the past two months and this place is so bad that she never got the chance to make a dent in it. There are more trash bags up against the counter. Flies dart across them. The refrigerator's pulled away from the wall and unplugged. There are patterns of dust and grime on the floor. How did the courts miss this? Don't they have someone inspect the houses where they're putting these foster kids?
“Man,” Shawn says, landing next to me.
I inhale a little bit of the fresh air coming in through the window. It's the last I'm going to get for the next several minutes. The whole kitchen is dark, with the curtains shut as if Talia's foster mom wanted to hide some kind of horror from the world outside.
Skittering noises sound through the walls and I jump, letting out a small scream. It's as if a tiny army is charging through the house.
“Mice,” Shawn says, holding me close to him. “It's just mice. It has to be. I heard something similar when I visited my grandfather's farm as a kid.”
“That must have been an entire stampede of them,” I say. I imagine some kind of mouse highway through the house, linking all the rooms. It's not like they're going to starve here. There's a dirty pile of dishes in the sink with food crusted on the plates. The dining room table is neat, but with a pile of bills in the middle that have yet to be paid. I wonder if Lily Abner sold Talia for some money to pay off the electric bill. Is that what my friend
was worth? Some free labor and electricity?
I reach for the light switch, but stop. We can't be turning on any lights in case someone pulls up or drives by. I feel the urge to open the back door and run out of there. I don't like this place. It's so dead, like a haunted house. It's even complete with creepy noises.
The mini stampede sounds through the walls again. The sound's all around us and it grows so loud that even Shawn tenses next to me. They must be running through the ceiling now.
“Man,” Travis says, backing into the dining room. “Are you sure Talia didn't just get out of here? I would have if I had to sleep in this place.”
“We need to find her room,” I say. “Then we grab whatever we can and take it to the police if it's interesting.”
“There's a bedroom at the end of the hall,” Travis says. “I have to warn you—it's not nice.”
We follow him out of the kitchen and into the living room. The carpet is worn and horrible, with black, dirty spots in places. The couch has tears and stains all over. I don't see any traces of pets, however. This place doesn't need any animals to make it any dirtier. Whatever's in the walls must be trampling the floor at night or something. And it's getting dark in here. Dusk is approaching. I hate November.
Travis waves us into a bedroom at the end of the hall. He opens the door for us and Shawn and I step in.
“Wow, Talia,” I say.
Things have gotten worse here since we Skyped last.
All she has for a bed is a mattress on the floor. It's old and covered in a green, frayed blanket. She doesn't even have a window. It's got one board nailed across it like it's broken, but I don't see why. The glass looks intact to me. How come no one has noticed? This room looks more like a prison than anything else. Maybe this is what the article mentioned and what made the police suspicious.
“Do you see anything?” Shawn asks me. He's aghast. He balls his free hand like he wants to punch somebody.
I look around. Talia's suitcase is in the corner, complete with her scores of band stickers. AWOLNATION. Twenty-One Pilots. It's the same as it's ever been and it's sad now that she's not here. The last I saw this, she was leaving her old house to come here.
