The Dead of Summer

by Heather Balog

  “What the hell was that?” Carson asked, shining his flashlight toward the noise. The deep freezer stood in the corner.

  “It’s just the freezer kicking on,” I sighed with relief.

  It was then that I remembered Mama claimed the freezer had been broken. Was it really broken, or was she trying to keep me out of the basement? Come to think of it, she had been doing my laundry quite quickly, too, not nagging me to do my own. She hardly ever did my laundry for me, trying to teach me responsibility and all. It was all adding up to equal an odd picture.

  Doubts about Mama began to swirl around in my head. She had never lied to me before, but then again, how did I know that for certain? I mean, I had just never caught her in a lie. The idea that my mild-mannered Mama might be lying to me about something this huge was just inconceivable. But the more I thought about it, the more I knew it had to be true. She had lied to me. Why else would she not have wanted me to go down in the basement?

  You’re crazy, Kennedy. It’s just a coincidence. Mama couldn’t possibly know about this body. She’d never stay in a house with a dead body, acting like nothing was going on. And furthermore, if a repairman went down in the basement to fix the freezer, wouldn’t he have seen the body?

  A chilling thought ripped through my body from the strands of hair on my head all the way to my freshly Lindy-painted toenails. Was this body the repairman? And. . .did Mama kill him?

  My head felt swimmy, like I hadn’t gotten enough sleep (which I hadn’t) or I was about to pass out from shock (which was also a very distinct possibility at the moment).

  “The deep freezer was broken,” I stammer. “Mama said she let the repairman in to fix it. Could it…” I couldn’t even finish the sentence.

  Fortunately, Carson finished it for me. “That could definitely be a repairman,” Carson said thoughtfully as he continued to stare at the body. I glanced away. It was more than I could take. Until I saw Carson reaching toward the pocket of the body.

  “Hey! What are you doing?” I asked, slapping his hand away.

  “I wanted to see if he had a wallet on him,” Carson said sheepishly. “Why did you smack my hand?”

  “You’ll get your prints all over the body! Come on now, don’t you read?”

  “Um, I watch CSI,” he said. “Sorry. I thought maybe we would find ID so we would know who he was.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t want to know who he is. . .was. I just want him out of the basement. I really just want to get out here.” I wrapped my arms around my body and shuddered. Carson nodded.

  “You’re right. Let’s get out of here. That smell is making me want to lose my lunch that I haven’t even had yet.” He shined his flashlight toward the exit and guided Colt toward the cellar door.

  I followed him as he ascended up the steps into the night air. It was still stifling, but the fresh air was a welcome change from the corpse-rotting basement air. We stood on the grass, staring at each other for a few minutes. A breeze blew through the trees, creating an eerie whistling noise. It send shivers down my spine.

  “You still haven’t gotten into the house,” Carson whispered.

  “I don’t think I want to get in the house now,” I said. I glanced around the backyard. Sleeping in the house with a body in the basement was about as welcome as an outhouse breeze. “Maybe I’ll just sleep here,” I said, pointing to the picnic bench.

  “That’s full of splinters,” Carson said, pointing to his thigh. .

  “Well, um, I’ll sleep on the swing in the front, then.”

  Not waiting for Carson’s response, I pushed open the gate and crept down the path between our house and the neighbor’s. I was going to cozy myself on the ancient swing in the front yard (that nobody actually used because of course Mama wouldn’t set foot outside in the front yard).

  As I stepped out onto the front lawn, it looked so lush and inviting despite the fact it hadn’t rained in two weeks and I hadn’t cut it in even longer. My head started spinning, the front lawn seeming like it was rushing up to meet me.

  “Maybe I’ll just sleep on the lawn,” I said deliriously as I sat down.

  “The lawn?” Carson wrinkled his brow. “I don’t think you should sleep in the front yard.”

  “It’s fine,” I mumbled, my words feeling like marbles in my mouth. Suddenly, I could barely move, exhaustion from lack of sleep and the shock of finding a body in the basement catching me unaware. Without another word, I curled up in a ball and fell fast asleep.

  THIRTEEN

  I awoke with a start. Grass was pressed up against my face and my eyelids stuck together. I struggled to sit up, my head thumping like a rap concert was going on inside of it. At first, I didn’t understand where I was. Then, as the early morning light hit my eyes, I remembered the events of the previous evening. I groaned, picking a blade of grass off of my face. That’s when I noticed Carson sitting on the swing and Colt at his feet, nibbling his paws.

  “Good morning, sleepyhead,” Carson said as I struggled to my feet.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked. “Why didn’t you go home?”

  He raised his eyebrows as he also got to his feet. “A homicidal maniac on the loose and you think I’m gonna let you sleep on the front lawn?”

  I swallowed, overcome with the sweetness of it. I pushed away the thought that Mama could be the homicidal maniac. Mama’s not a killer. There’s a reasonable explanation for all of this.

  “Wouldn’t your daddy be looking for you?” I asked.

  Carson shook his head. “He’s probably passed out with a whiskey bottle by his feet.” Bitterness clung to his words. I chewed my lip, awkward silence permeated the air. I could hear the crickets chirping

  “Thanks,” I finally mumbled, wiping the snot out of my eyes. Could I find myself in any other embarrassing situations in front of this guy?

  At the same exact time, I heard the sound of dogs barking in the distance. Colt snapped to attention, his ears perking up as he gazed down the block. Squinting, I could see a hazy outline of hot pink and lime green on the horizon. It took me a minute, but I realized that it was our group of neighborhood busybodies power walking as they did every morning before the sun got high in the sky and it was too hot. If they saw me on the front lawn with Carson there would be a front page ad taken out in the paper, speculating about what happened.

  Had I snuck out? (True) Did we get drunk? (False) Did I sleep with the boy? (True. . .sort of) Did Mama lock me out? (Sort of true) Did she throw me out? (False) We must be drug addicts. (Definitely false).

  “You gotta go,” I hissed as I shoved Carson toward the backyard. If he stepped onto the sidewalk now, there’s no doubt that they would see him.

  “What? We gotta—”

  “Just go!” I pleaded. “And please don’t tell anybody what we found.”

  “I promise,” he said and he and Colt disappeared down the path. I spun on my heel and I dashed over to the front door, scrambling to come up with a plausible excuse if they should see me. I would pretend to be getting the paper and on my way back in the house. . .if I could find the damn paper. I glanced around feverishly, scanning the front walk and the bushes for the wayward paper. Damn it, was it too early even for the newspaper to be delivered?

  Panicking, I realized I had to do something. Inhaling sharply, I knocked timidly on the front door. Hopefully Mama would hear me and open up before the—

  “Well, good morning Miss Kennedy! You’re up bright and early!”

  I closed my eyes before turning around and offering Mrs. Roth (of the hot pink track suit) my most insincere smile.

  “Good morning! Just coming back from my power walk!” I chirped. “Gotta get up and at ‘em before it’s too hot!”

  Mrs. Davis (of the lime green track suit), the widow of the former mayor who died in his mistress’s arms, scowled at me. I didn’t take it personally. She scowled at everyone. “You shouldn’t walk alone. It’s not safe out here in the dark, you know.”

 
Mrs. Anders (who actually was wearing a white t-shirt and gray sweats) flapped her giant bat-wing arms in the air. “Oh, she’s very right dear. Just the other day we saw some suspicious characters behind the bakery. They were going in the dumpster. They could end up robbing you blind if they saw you out walking alone.”

  Mrs. Davis squelched her theory. “That was George and his son, the bakers. George accidentally dropped his wedding ring in the dumpster when taking out the morning trash.”

  “Oh.” Mrs. Anders snapped her mouth shut.

  “Well, nice talking to you,” I said, waving with my fake smile.

  “Bye, dear!” Mrs. Anders called as they huffed away, panting and jabbering. I sighed with relief and turned toward the front door.

  “Kennedy Ann Ryan!”

  My heart stopped as I stood face to face with Mama, her hair disheveled, her pajama top askew.

  “Hi, Mama!” I tried to smile at her but my teeth were chattering from fear. She looked like she could just about kill me right then and there. An image of the dead body flashed to mind, causing me to shudder.

  Mama grabbed my arm and yanked me into the house like quicksand swallowing up a gator. I was visibly shaking. I knew I was going to get massacred for sneaking out and I didn’t know how I was not going to mention the fact that there was a dead body in the basement.

  Mama was tiny, yet she still managed to drag me into the living room and shove me down on the couch. I tried not to look directly into her eyes; she would sense I was hiding something big if I did.

  “What in heaven’s name were you doing outside at this hour? Were you out all night?” I could swear Mama’s eyes had changed from a soft blue to a fiery orange. I swallowed hard, my mind racing to come up with some excuse, some reason she would buy and go easy on me. I came up with nothing. “Answer me!” she barked.

  “I. . .uh, I was power walking…”

  “You are full of it! I was just in your room! You stuffed a pillow under your blanket to make it look like you were sleeping in your bed. You wouldn’t do that it if you were just out walking.” Mama planted her hands on her hips and stared me down. I honestly could say, up until that moment, I had never been scared of my mama. Right then, however, I was clenching my thighs together to keep from peeing myself.

  “I’m sorry, Mama! I couldn’t sleep.” I tried a different lie, hoping she’d buy this one. Instead, she saw right through me.

  “Was it that boy I saw you with the other day?” Mama asked me, her voice softening a touch. When did she see me with a boy? Carson? For a woman who didn’t get out much, she didn’t seem to miss much either. She tilted my chin toward her face. “Kennedy, did you sneak out in the middle of the night to meet a boy?”

  I nodded my head up and down, unable to lie.

  “Oh, Kennedy,” Mama moaned as she sat down on the couch next to me. She shoved a throw pillow to the side with annoyance. “I guess you’ve done this before, then.”

  I shook my head. “No, never. I swear, Mama.”

  She sighed again, running her fingers over the scar on her cheek that she had gotten from walking into a window sill when she was younger. “Kennedy, you’re too young for boys and sex—”

  Mortified by her insinuation, I interrupted her, recalling Carson’s words. “It’s not like that Mama, we’re just friends.” Geez, Mama. . .he hasn’t even kissed me!

  She bobbed her head, but still spent the next ten minutes lecturing me about the dangers of being out at night, the dangers of boys and pretty much the dangers of ever stepping foot outside of our house. I had to bite my lip to avoid bring up the danger inside our house, like the dead body festering in our basement. Maybe, just maybe, I was so tired that I had been delirious and imagined the body? Maybe the whole thing had been a dream? The only way to find out was to ask.

  “Mama, I have a question about—”

  “Sex?” Mama asked, flushing scarlet.

  “God no, Mama!” I wanted to fling myself down the stairs next to the dead body. How was I gonna ask her about this? Maybe I could just wait till she told me? Or at least till she got rid of it? What if I told her about it and she decided to pack us up and run away again?

  “What, Kennedy?” Mama was chewing her lip, looking impatient and crazy all at the same time. “Oh God, you’re not pregnant are you?” She clutched her chest. “I don’t think I can take any more surprises.”

  “No!” I yelped. God, she didn’t know me at all.

  “Well, what then?” Mama asked impatiently.

  “There’s a body in the basement, Mama,” I whispered.

  A gasp escaped from Mama and she shrank back from me, pressing herself into the folds of the couch. “What did you say?”

  “There’s a body. In the basement,” I repeated, slowly, realizing how utterly insane I sounded. Mama looked like she aged a thousand years just then, all the color draining from her face, her skin hanging off her skull.

  “You’re wrong,” Mama croaked. “There’s no body in the basement.”

  “I saw it, Mama. I saw it with my own two eyes.” And Carson saw it with his.

  “Kennedy—”

  Just then, there was a rap on the door. Mama just stared at the door in shock.

  “You want me to get the door?” I asked after the second set of knocking.

  Mama shook her head violently. Wringing her hands, she rose to her feet and pushed back the curtain. “It’s Mrs. Harris,” she said, breathing a sigh of relief. Then, she stood frozen, not moving at all.

  “Are you gonna open the door?” I asked, just as Mrs. Harris knocked a third time. “She knows you don’t go anywhere.”

  “Oh, yes!” Mama said, practically jumping out of her skin. She rushed to the front door like a scared little stinkbug. Then she turned to me and warned, “Don’t repeat what you just said, Kennedy. Mrs. Harris will think you need to be carted off in a paddy wagon.” I saw the angry eyes again, and my heart stuck in my throat. Mama opened up the door.

  “Good morning, Tracie!” Mrs. Harris chirped as she stepped into the front foyer. She spied me on the couch and she smiled. “Kennedy! What a pleasure to see you this fine morning!” She held up a basket. “I know it’s very early, but I just couldn’t sleep. So I was up at the crack of dawn and made this batch of corn muffins. I thought you gals would like to eat them hot.”

  “What a lovely surprise,” Mama said in an unnaturally high-pitched voice. Beads of sweat broke out around her hairline. Mama usually was much more relaxed with Mrs. Harris. Something was definitely suspicious.

  “Kennedy, why don’t you go ahead and get dressed,” Mama said to me, jerking her head toward the stairs. “We’ll finish our chat later.” She shot me an unnatural toothy grin, which did nothing to alleviate my fears.

  “Sure, Mama,” I said obediently as I rose to my feet.

  “Let me make us some coffee,” Mama was saying to Mrs. Harris as I climbed the steps. I entered my hot-as-hell bedroom and immediately began to sweat.

  I peeled off the T-shirt and pajama bottoms I had on. They were filthy, either from scaling trees or belly crawling through a corpse infested basement. Tossing them in my hamper, I rummaged through my drawer and pulled out fresh shorts. Then I selected a new tank top and pulled it over my bra.

  I grabbed my phone off my nightstand (fully charged now) and saw there had been fifteen messages from Lindy already, the last threatening to never speak to me again if I didn’t answer her immediately. What the hell was she doing up so damn early for?

  I quickly typed back that I had just woken up. I resisted the urge to ask what can I do for you, Your Majesty?

  Shoving the phone in my back pocket, I headed down the stairs. Peeking around the corner, I could see my mama at the kitchen table with coffee and Mrs. Harris. A visit from our friendly neighbor could range anywhere from an hour to all day long.

  My eyes swept over the door to the cellar oh-so casually. My heart sped up just thinking about the mystery man that lay not so far from where I was
currently standing. Peeling my attention away from the door, I dashed into the kitchen and grabbed a banana off the counter. I glanced at the corn muffins, but looking at them just reminded me of the consistency of the dead guy in the basement and I had to fight off a wave of nausea.

  “Where you going?” Mama asked nervously, her eyes locking on mine. Those eyes were pleading with me.

  “I’m going for that walk now,” I told Mama, heading to the front door and not giving her any time to protest. I was eager to get out of the house, away from Mama and the body in the basement.

  FOURTEEN

  I threw open the front door and stepped out into the sauna that the day had already become. The air hung around me like pea soup, and despite my slow gait to accommodate my banana eating, I was sweaty and out of breath by the time I hit the corner. I wasn’t sure where I was going, but it certainly wasn’t home. That place scared me for all sorts of reasons now.

  I couldn’t imagine my mama to be a killer, but I couldn’t figure any other explanation. It didn’t seem likely that Mama would suddenly snap and kill someone, but neither did finding a body in the basement. It seemed like something you would find in a Nancy Drew novel.

  The phone in my pocket started buzzing impatiently. I pulled it out and glanced at the screen.

  Lindy. Who else? Between the séance and fighting for Carson’s attention, I was still annoyed with her. I didn’t really want to deal with her nonsense today. . .especially not when I had a dead body in my basement. I glanced at some of the messages while I walked (subconsciously heading toward Lindy’s house anyway). Wn 2 go 2 Charleston w me? OMG l%k @ Sam n d hooker shorts! (a picture of our “former” friend Sam wearing shorts with her butt cheeks spilling out the bottom followed), another message regarding Sam, wot a f@ 3:-o! And so on and so forth. What was the point in having twenty-six letters in the alphabet when you didn’t use half of them?

  I wandered over to the marsh trail, wanting to just clear my head. Why would Mama say there was no body in the basement? Did she really not know? Or was she lying?