Dark Dreams
Page 24
Chapter Five
Rani
“Please tell me you’re kidding,” I begged Tyler. “Tell me that this is some kind of joke.”
I could tell just by looking at him that he was definitely not kidding. His eyes, usually full of life and love, were filled with fear and anxiety. His clothes were disheveled, his hair was messy, and he even had little cuts on his hands and face. He looked… terrible.
“I have to get out of here, Rani,” he said. “They will come looking for me.”
“They who?” I asked. “The police?”
“I wish,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “The police would be a helluva lot better than who is really coming after me.”
“This is crazy, Tyler,” I said, growing more and more annoyed by the James Bond behavior. “Who is they, and why would they be coming after you?”
He held up his hand. “Look, I promise, I will explain it all to you later, but I don't feel safe here. I just don't want to put you in any jeopardy,” he replied and then looked into his rearview mirror nervously.
“Tyler, you’re my best friend and I want to help you, but I can't unless you tell me what's going on.”
Something or someone must have caught his attention, because he tensed up and then insisted that I get out of the car.
“You’ve gotta get outta here,” he repeated urgently. “NOW!”
“But Tyler, I can help you,” I begged. “Please let me help you.”
“No, Rani, you’re my best friend and I love you way too much to drag you into this shit,” he said sternly. “I’ll try to call you once I feel safe. But please, if anyone starts asking you questions, just tell them that the last time you saw me was yesterday, at school.” He then reached over me, opened the car door, and then, kissed my cheek. “Now go!” he ordered, half pushing me out of the car. “I swear, I’m only thinking of you. Shit, I shouldn’t have even picked you up.”
Feeling defeated, I stepped out of the car and then bent down to look at his face. I wasn’t even sure how it was possible, but overnight he’d gone from a carefree teenager, to what seemed like a stressed out middle-aged man. Just by looking at the anguish on his face, I could tell that whatever had happened to him, it had changed him forever.
“Tyler,” I said softly. “Just remember, I will always be here for you.”
“I know.”
I closed the door and watched as his car drove off into the distance. What the hell am I supposed to do now?
Just then my cell phone rang.
My heart raced, hoping it was Tyler and that he was going to tell me that it was all a joke and was coming back around to pick me up. I looked at the caller I.D.
Dad.
“Hey, dad,” I said, trying to sound as normal as possible. “What's up?”
“What's up is dinner,” he replied, sounding annoyed.
I looked at the time - it was already six-fifteen, which meant that I was already fifteen minutes late.
“Ah crap, Dad,” I said. “I totally lost track of time. I’ll be home right away.”
“Just make it quick, your mom made her famous chili,” he said, and I could hear the amusement in his voice.
“In that case, maybe I should crawl home.”
“Nobody likes a smart mouth, young lady,” he replied teasingly. “Just hurry up so I don’t have to do this alone.”
I grinned. “I will.”
“Good.”
I hung up and thought about my mom, the “Homemaker.” She always loved to cook, clean, and take care of my dad, but the problem was that she’s a horrible cook. Once, when we were out having a nice fried-chicken dinner, she’d decided that it made no sense to leave the house for the same meal she could make at home and decided to make her own special recipe, giving the restaurant a “run for their money.” When she’d mentioned it, my dad and I had exchanged fearful glances, knowing that once she’d put her mind to something, nothing would change it. So, the following week at dinner, my mom had surprised us with something that looked like a platter of burnt potatoes.
“Viola!” she’d exclaimed proudly. “Fried chicken.”
I’d glanced at my dad’s face and knew from his expression that we were both terrified of the monstrosity that my mom had made.
She set the platter in the middle of the table, grinning from ear-to-ear. “What do you think?”
“Looks delicious,” my dad said through a gritted smile. “You have obviously outdone yourself again, dear.
“Ah, you are so sweet to me, my darling,” she replied lovingly. “Just for that, you get to have the first helping.”
I’d had to bite my lip from bursting out laughing as my mom used her tongs to find the biggest piece of chicken on the platter.
“Lucky me,” he’d answered quietly, looking at me, with terror in his eyes.
I watched in horror as she’d placed the chicken down on his plate, and then scooped a large helping of very sad-looking mashed potatoes next to it. Then, she’d handed me a plate to fill. “Come on, Rani,” she’d urged. “Don’t be shy.”
I’d swallowed hard and looked at my dad, whose turn it was now to be amused.
“Don’t be shy, dear,” he’d said mimicking my mom with a twinkle in his eyes. “You don't want the food to get cold.”
Giving him the dirtiest of looks, I’d reached over and grabbed what appeared to be the smallest piece of chicken, and scooped some mashed potatoes onto my plate. Looking down at the meal in front of me had almost made me want gag. The chicken actually looked as if it had been run over a few hundred times by the car. Looking even closer, I’d noticed that there were lumps in it.
LUMPS!
In the chicken!?
Grimacing, I’d tried using my fork to cut open the meat, but that had been a “no go.” That chicken had definitely needed the big guns.
Grabbing a steak knife, I’d pierced it, watching in disgust as some kind of oily substance squirted out from somewhere under the skin, actually hitting me in the face, and temporarily blinding me. As I’d wiped the juice from my face and glanced down at the leg, I’d almost felt like it had been mocking me.
Oh, it’s on now, chicken. This is war,
Chicken: One.
Rani: Zero.
But not for long…
Clutching the knife firmly, I’d attacked the chicken with more force, removing the skin. Then, when I’d pushed it aside and looked down in victory at my opponent, my stomach had rolled in disgust. The meat was pink and raw.
Stone cold.
Chicken: Two.
Rani: Out.
“Well for Pete's sake,” mom had complained, while cutting into her piece. “This chicken is raw.”
I’d looked at my dad and we’d shared a smile. We knew what that meant.
Pizza!
I pushed away that memory and decided to make a quick detour over to Tyler's house on the way home to see if he’d returned. I just couldn’t believe that he’d killed his parents and was running from someone. This was real life, not a movie.
I turned onto his street and crossed the road, walking as fast as I could. As I looked toward his house, which was almost a block away, I could already tell there were no police cars or any other kind of action going on at his place. Still, my heart began to race as I neared his home. In fact, when I reached the front door, I almost ran away in a panic. Instead, I forced myself to be brave and rang the doorbell.
Nobody answered.
I tried it again and waited.
Still no one came to the door.
He has to be messing with me, I thought. If he’d killed his parents, there’d be cops around and it would be a circus over here. This is ridiculous.
Turning around, I bound down the steps and took off into a light jog. I knew that my mom was going to be pretty pissed off that I was now almost thirty minutes late for dinner.
When I finally made it home, I walked through the door and took off my sweatshirt.
I quickly went into the downstairs bathroom and washed my hands. I looked in the mirror.
Holy cow, I was a mess!
Not only was my hair was matted to my forehead from sweat, but my makeup had run, and my jeans were wet on the bottom from an earlier rain.
After washing my face, I ran a brush through my hair, rushed out of the bathroom, and took my seat at the table, hoping my parents would just be cool about me being late.
“Sorry, guys,” I said, scooping up a bowl of dry chili. “I was with Kelly and we lost track of time.”
To my surprise my mom replied, “Rani, we’ll let it slide this time, but next time you won’t be so lucky, young lady. You know how we feel about eating dinner as a family and not being late.”
I apologized again and tried eating as much of the bland chili as I could. I didn’t want to piss her off any more by not eating her food.
“How’s the chili?” asked my dad, his eyes dancing.
I lied through my teeth. “It’s really good. You’ve outdone yourself again, mom.”
She smiled.