Outcasts

by Craig MacLachlan

  “See you, Skylar,” his voice trailed off.

  Peering through the hole, she watched Trevor punch the bag and mutter, before entering the house through the sliding glass door. Skylar was about to head back inside herself, but she couldn’t move. Her nostrils filled with Trevor’s scent, much more than the first time.

  Skylar craved it.

  Her brain buzzed, trying to decipher the familiarity of Trevor. Her sense of smell had always been the keenest of the three girls. Yet, she couldn’t connect Trevor to anything in her memory.

  Then his scent was gone.

  She picked up the camera, pointed it at Trevor’s house and tilted the camera from side to side.

  The sound of cars pulling into her driveway alerted her.

  Rushing inside, she pushed the lock, but it wouldn’t latch. She tried again unsuccessfully, not liking the fact the house wasn’t secure from whoever was after her. Sighing, she made her way into the living room .

  She couldn’t shake the encounter with Trevor. Turning the camera on, the digital display came to life. This is what she had wanted, to be a part of something and fit in. Her lips parted in a smile. Thoughts of taking photographs and being busy in the yearbook office pushed Trevor from her mind. Well, mostly.

  She aimed the camera at the front door as it opened, and Skylar’s parents walked inside carrying groceries and briefcases.

  “Say ‘yearbook photographer’!” She squealed and snapped a photo.

  “Honey, you scared us!” Mom said as she stumbled into dad. “What’s this about a yearbook?”

  “My girl’s on the yearbook staff. I’m so proud of you,” Dad said.

  “I know, right? I’m so excited!” Skylar hopped in place.

  “See, you’re fitting in already.” Her mom hugged her.

  “Still, you need to be careful,” Dad said, as he walked to the kitchen.

  “I know!”

  “Good.”

  “I thought you fixed the lock on the sliding glass door,” Skylar said as she followed Mom into the kitchen.

  “Sorry, I’ll fix it this weekend.”

  “We should ban him from building his kayaks, Mom,” Skylar giggled.

  “That’s right, no boat building until you fix that lock.” Mom flicked Dad on the head.

  “Okay, fine, the women’s club wins.”

  Skylar set the camera down and smiled.

  “Any new problems with that girl at school?” Mom asked.

  “No, not really. Really nothing at all. She was quite nice today.”

  “That’s great to hear.”

  “I heard someone bought the house behind us,” Dad remarked.

  “It’s about time. That house has seen better days,” Mom replied.

  The subject was dropped for yearbook talk, yet she couldn’t push the boy from her mind.

  Moonlight seeped into Skylar’s bedroom casting shadows on the walls. It was late and she kept slipping in and out of restless sleep, waking at every sound. She pushed herself up and sat cross-legged.

  She slid her hand under the pillow and retrieved a photograph she kept it hidden from her parents who hadn’t noticed it missing.

  Examining the photo, she compared it to her earlier vision. It had been taken near the fence and showed the rear of the house and backyard. The wind chimes dangled, the grass was green, and a hummingbird sipped from a flower-shaped feeder. The slide and swing set were both adorned with large pink bows. The image of her four-year-old-self smiled, holding the chains. The eerie sensation that her younger self was looking at her, trying to warn her of something caused her to flip the photograph over. On the back were three words.

  Our First Home.

  She dropped the picture and looked out the bedroom window at the dark house next door. The one Trevor now lived in.

  The house Skylar once lived in.

  Chapter Seven

  Skylar’s eyes closed and snapped open countless times as she sat on the bed. A light appeared, and at first, she didn’t think it was real—that she’d fallen into a dream. But, with every wink, the glow focused.

  Rubbing her eyes, she slid from the bed and sat at the window. The other house was dark except for an upstairs bedroom.

  The same bedroom her kidnapper had found her.

  She pressed her face against the cool glass. Eyes fixed on the other house, a discolored sheet covered the window as a figure moved behind it. A second appeared, thinner and taller, and with long hair. The thin figure walked around the other and then stopped.

  Skylar took the camera from the desk and aimed at the thin figure as they flailed their arms. The other shook their head as the first figure shoved something into the thinner figure’s face, who tore it away and tossed it behind them.

  Skylar was startled as the thin figure suddenly slapped the other.

  Losing her grip on the camera, her thumb pressed a button and a bright flash lit the room. She glanced to the other house as the sheet was pulled back.

  Ducking, she made her way to the floor. Breathing heavily, she crawled to the far side of her bed. Easing herself upward, she looked back at Trevor’s house.

  The house was dark once again.

  Easing onto the bed, Skylar viewed the picture. Saturated in white light reflected by the window, she first noticed a superimposed image of herself holding the camera at an angle. Behind it, the two figures had been caught moments after the slap. The thin figure’s arm was across their body and the other’s head was turned in the same direction. But there were too many shadows and distortions to clearly identify anything.

  Disappointed at her own failure, Skylar set the camera on the table, curled into a ball and tried willing herself to sleep.

  Instead, she watched the house, waiting.

  The alarm came far too soon. In the morning’s light, Trevor’s home—Skylar’s home—appeared much safer than it had during the night.

  Beside her in the car, Haley read while eating cold popcorn. Exhausted, Skylar fluttered her eyes closed and crossed the center line.

  Popcorn hit her head and she veered back into her lane.

  “Wake up!”

  “I am! And find that yellow greasy thing before it stains something.”

  “No,” Haley replied and pelted her with another kernel.

  When they arrived at school, Skylar threw the popcorn onto the grass and they headed toward their lockers.

  At the lockers, Skylar lowered the book from Haley’s gaze.

  “Hey, I’m at a crucial point in the story,” Haley protested.

  Skylar raised her brows. “You can look forward to it later.”

  Haley pursed her lips as she stuffed the book into her backpack.

  “Why couldn’t you sleep again?”

  “That’s what I need to tell you about.”

  “So, it wasn’t crickets?”

  “Not exactly.”

  Skylar opened her locker and noticed something taped to the inside, wrapped in tissue.

  “Well?” Haley asked.

  “I’ll catch up and we’ll talk during break.”

  “You okay, Skye?”

  “Just tired, is all. Go and read.”

  Waiting until Haley walked away, Skylar delicately removed the object and unwrapped the tissue. She blinked several times to make sure that the entwined blades of green and yellow grass she had dropped under the bleachers was real.

  She pinched the grass. First, the letter written in chipmunk blood and now this. The two had to be connected. There was no way it was Morgan. Not unless she could break into lockers, or crack combinations. It eased Skylar’s mind that she could rule Morgan out as a suspect.

  The locker door slammed shut, almost trapping her fingers inside. Large hands pressed against the locker on both sides of her face. Muscular arms trapped her and a body pressed against her from behind.

  Wet lips touched her ear and she quivered in disgust.

  “You’re nothing, you hear me? My girlfriend is upset, and I don’t lik
e it.” Brad slammed his hands against the locker. He paused and breathed into Skylar’s ear. “Now, what you’re going to do is everything Samantha tells you. You and your pathetic sidekick belong to my Samantha. To us all.”

  “I—”

  “Did I say you could talk? Nod if you understand me.”

  “No.” Skylar clawed her nails against the metal locker.

  “Excuse me?”

  “No.” her voice was soft and meek.

  Skylar’s fear mixed with rage, but fear won out.

  “Last chance, bitch.”

  Her skin turned cold. She closed her eyes, shook her head as a memory flashed. She was a child hugging a tree and afraid. Two bony hands pressed on either side of her face. The arms were thin, yet muscular.

  The memory faded as Brad’s tongue licked her ear. It was unnerving, uncomfortable. She didn’t understand why she was so scared of Brad when she hadn’t been before. Maybe she should give in, make life easier for her and Haley.

  But that wasn’t the plan.

  Skylar had wanted to be normal, but that also meant not always being in control. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be, how she’d imagined school. Her perfect image of fitting in was being shattered day by day.

  Her eyes flashed open, her lips snarled. She thrust her arms upward, but Brad’s arms were gone. Whipping around, she prepared to dismantle him, verbally and physically if needed. Brad leaned smugly against the far lockers, nodding. When he wagged his finger at her, she wanted to bite it off—or snap it in two.

  “Think about what I said. Oh, and after school, I’m going to teach your boyfriend a lesson.” Brad punched his palm and walked away, bumping into other students as he went.

  Stepping to her locker, she picked up the grass from the floor. Twirling it between her fingers, she began to relax. She couldn’t let Haley know what had happened—she’d tell Morgan, and Skylar didn’t need to deal with that. Tucking the grass into her backpack, Skylar headed to class.

  Skylar settled into the desk next to Haley, who had an open book in front of her, yet her eyes weren’t moving. Skylar opened her mouth to speak but stopped herself. Instead, she watched Haley gaze at the open book.

  “You know, don’t you?”

  “I told you, it’s not safe for us here,” Haley closed her book and rested her head on her arms. “We need Morgan.”

  “Maybe you’re right. Poor Trevor. It’s all my fault.”

  Skylar buried her own head and questioned whether or not she could handle everything herself.

  A tickle on Skylar’s head alerted her. It reminded her of bugs—and of her old, dirty, self. Her arm flew up and she felt the soft skin of a hand. Clutching the hand, she looked up to see Carly, smiling.

  “Hey, fast reflexes you have!”

  “Thanks,” Skylar answered, a bit surprised herself.

  Carly placed a stack of papers in front of Skylar. “Here’s what I’ll need throughout the year.”

  “Great,” Skylar said and removed her hand. “Sorry.”

  “It’ll get better, trust me. No need to come to the daily meetings, only the weekly ones. Though, I wouldn’t mind seeing you more. We’re not all haters,” Carly said and left the classroom.

  “We’re not alone, Haley.”

  “She stinks of too much perfume,” Haley, said, plugging her nose.

  “Give her a chance.”

  “Fine.”

  Skylar touched the place on her head where Carly had touched her and smiled.

  Beneath the bleachers, they stood in silence after Skylar had told Haley about meeting Trevor and the mysterious bedroom altercation she’d witnessed. She’d left out the blood-letter, Trevor’s scent, and the grass in her locker. Skylar knew she needed to take things slow and not overload Haley with information—besides keeping her from tattling to Morgan. She’d use anything she could against Skylar to get out of attending school.

  “Morgan needs to know,” Haley finally spoke up.

  “Not yet she doesn’t.”

  “Soon then?”

  “Yes, soon.”

  “Weird about your old room huh? I bet it was Trevor getting punished by his dad.”

  “Maybe, maybe not. I just don’t know yet.”

  “Now you can always be in heat,” Haley kicked the ground, lowered her head.

  “I’m not in heat. I don’t even like boys.” Even as Skylar reassured Haley, she wasn’t sure if her words were true or not. She was beyond confused.

  “What are you going to do?”

  The bell rang, signaling the end of break.

  “I don’t know. What I do know is that we won’t be Samantha’s pets.”

  As they left the bleachers, Skylar kept an eye out for anyone watching. She saw nothing.

  The school day ended, and the parking lot filled with students. A circle had formed around Brad. He raised his arms and a loud cheer from rose from the crowd.

  Skylar sat on the roof of her car while Haley read from inside. More students had gathered, waiting for the fight.

  “Trevor!” Brad roared.

  Skylar scanned the school grounds but saw no sign of Trevor. The crowd began chanting Brad’s name and Skylar rolled her eyes.

  “Slackjaw!” Brad yelled, and the crowd repeated in a chant.

  A group of teachers headed toward the crowd.

  Skylar jumped from the car roof and drove away as the students separated.

  “Are we going to see Morgan now?” Haley asked.

  “I am.”

  “Huh? B-But,” Haley stammered.

  “Trust me. You want her with us, right?”

  Haley nodded emphatically.

  “Then I need to go alone.” Skylar couldn’t afford any distractions.

  “Take me to that house I live in then,” Haley said.

  “Wish granted. Are you going to Logging Days on Sunday?”

  “No. Mom and Dad still think it’s stupid.”

  “Lucky you. I’ll be alone, again. At least it’s a three-day weekend, right?”

  “Lucky me.”

  Skylar pulled up to Haley’s house. “I’ll call you tonight.”

  “Tell Morgan I miss her.”

  “I will.”

  Haley climbed out of the car and stood on the sidewalk as Skylar drove away. She hated leaving her friend behind, but there was no other choice.

  The walk along the trail was lonely. Skylar despised the forest. Every smell made her nauseous, every sound reminded her of her wild, unkempt past.

  As the cabin came into view, she spotted an object at the door. She quickened her pace.

  On the porch sat a white envelope with blue flowers laid on top. Picking up both, the flowers were somehow familiar, and she inhaled their sweet, tangy aroma.

  An even stronger scent overpowered the flowers and she dropped them.

  Once again, her name had been written in red ink on the envelope. She ripped it open and pulled her shirt over her nose to mask the scent. She unfolded the paper.

  Her eyes watered and the words blurred as she read the message in chipmunk blood. She swallowed and dropped her shirt from her face.

  The urge was too strong. She plastered the paper over her face and inhaled deeply.

  Skylar’s stomach rumbled as she tasted the blood with her tongue. Her body shook, muscles tensed, and something primitive began to take over.

  No! She wouldn’t—couldn’t—let that happen.

  Forcing herself to think of the sweetness of her new life, Skylar managed to push her primitive senses back into their cage.

  She spat the taste of chipmunk from her tongue and focused on the words.

  I am everywhere. I know everything. Don’t keep me waiting, my wild child. My Skye!

  Who knew about her?

  “Skye? What are you waiting for?”

  Skylar expected to see Morgan next to her but realized Morgan was still inside the cabin.

  She shoved the letter back inside the envelope, gathered the flowers, and hi
d them beneath a board on the ground.

  “I’m here, Morgan.”

  Inside, Morgan sat on the crooked table, the candle lit in front of her. She wore an old tattered brown burlap sack as shadows danced on her skin.

  “You have clothes to wear,” Skylar said, tugging on her own shirt.

  “Way much.”

  “You forgot the too.” Skylar stopped at a metal bucket, extracting a shock collar, activator device, and a long rope.

  “We are two today, not three, right?”

  “Right, Haley is not here,” she agreed and walked to Morgan.

  Morgan lowered her head and held her hair out of the way.

  Skylar strapped the collar around Morgan’s neck, connecting the latch to the collar. She unlocked the metal cuff from Morgan’s ankle and Morgan hopped down and took the lead. Skylar followed, holding the control in one hand, the rope in the other.

  “Is that dinner I smell?” Morgan asked, looking toward the board.

  “Go, enjoy yourself.”

  They walked for several minutes in silence and then Morgan ran in circles like a horse in a corral. Morgan was fast, and though she still resorted to leaps from all fours, her movements were fluid.

  “I had a visitor today,” Morgan calmly said.

  “Another live meal?” Skylar allowed Morgan to lead her into the forest beyond the grassy meadow.

  “No.”

  “Who was here?”

  “I sensed someone cycli . . . circling the cabin.” Tearing bark from a tree, she snatched a handful of white larvae, offering one to Skylar. “You look hungry.”

  Skylar waved the larvae away. Morgan shrugged and stuffed the larvae into her mouth. The popping sound made Skylar want to puke.

  “Are you sure someone was here?”

  Morgan nodded.

  “It stood at the door for some moments. All I could hear were foots, no talking—”

  “It? Anything else?” Skylar cut in.

  “Only the odor of chipmunk blood and your favororates flowers.”

  “You couldn’t smell who was there?”

  “No. Are you mating with this Trevor creature?”

  “Morgan! It wasn’t him so just . . .”

  “He can be smelled. He was all over you yesterday.”