by Daka Hermon
I exhale and release the pain from all my swirling emotions in one loud breath. “Sorry. It’s just … Never mind.” Lyric is right. I need to let it go for now. I gotta pull it together. Nia is depending on me.
“So, we good?” One blond eyebrow arches.
“Yeah. We’re good.” Not even close, but I gotta stop whining. I’m annoying myself.
“Cool.” He extends his fist. I reach out to bump it with mine and spot the mark on his wrist. My eyes fly up to meet his.
“When?”
He avoids my eyes. “After Nia was taken.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?!”
“What’s to say? We knew it was coming.”
“I know, but …”
Lyric lightly punches me in the shoulder. “C’mon, dude. Let’s not make this a moment.”
He stares at me, his eyes pleading. He’s holding it together, barely. A lot of people don’t get to see the real Lyric. They buy into all the negative stuff they hear about his family and expect him to be a certain way, but he’s so much more. He’s loyal, generous, hilarious. He’s not as hard as he pretends. He keeps things close and he doesn’t trust everybody with his friendship and emotions. He trusts me.
I nod. “Yeah, okay.”
He smiles. “About those backpacks … I think Nia is right and that could work. I’m sure I can find some supplies at home that may help. My dad has this secret storage closet …” He shakes his head like he’s let something slip. “Forget I said that. Just know I got us covered.”
“I’ll pack stuff, too.” We have no idea if this will actually work, but this is the only plan we have. And yeah, we may get things inside, but how do we defeat the Seeker? We know nothing about it.
“I see the wheels turning,” Lyric says. “We’re gonna figure it out. We don’t know all the details about what’s about to go down, but we’re a team. We got this,” he says, like it’s the only option. “And when we get back, I’m gonna pay Hyde a little visit. He did us dirty and I can’t let that slide.”
Uh-oh. I don’t want to know what he has in mind. Lyric is creative.
With a smirk, he backs away and salutes. “I’ll see you on the other side.”
“Wait. You’re leaving?”
“Don’t know how much time I have left. Got business to take care of,” he says. “There’s a lot of monster butt-kicking to prepare for.”
“Yeah, okay.” He’s right. What did Nia say? To be brave you have to prepare before the challenging situation.
“What should we do with Nia’s bike?” Lyric asks.
“I’ll take it with me.” We had to leave Quincy’s. I won’t leave hers.
We awkwardly stare at each other for a long moment.
He runs a hand through his hair. “When you get there, look for me, okay?”
“That’s the first thing I’m gonna do. Find you and Nia. And nobody will be left behind. We’re coming home together.”
With a little chin lift, he grabs his bike and walks away, holding it by the handlebars. With his other hand, he reaches into his pocket and removes his harmonica, playing a hauntingly off-key song.
He walks toward the setting sun. The orange glow creates a halo effect around him as he disappears around the corner. My heart kicks, then settles after a few deep breaths. I will see him again. I have to.
I walk the bikes toward my house. My legs shake. I’m drained and each step takes a huge effort. The world around me is different now, shaded with dread. I don’t even feel like myself anymore. It’s like I’m missing already.
Victoria’s green Honda is parked in the driveway. I’m both sad and happy she’s home. I could tell her what’s happening, but would she believe me? She couldn’t stop it. She’d have to watch me leave like we watched Mom go. Maybe not knowing is better. Maybe I won’t be gone long enough for her to miss me.
I park the bikes near the garage and stand in the driveway, not quite ready to go inside. The front door swings open and Victoria steps onto the porch. “Yes, you live here. You gonna stand there all day or what?” With arms crossed and head cocked to the side, she looks so much like Mom my heart hurts. She even wears crazy, bright colors head-to-toe like Mom—today is yellow. She looks like a giant banana.
I force a smile. “Ha, ha.” I stroll up the steps. “Since it’s your day to cook, I was tryin’ to figure out if I should risk my life again. Last week you ’bout killed me with your tuna surprise. I guess the surprise was food poisoning.”
“Shut up.” She surges forward, wraps her arm around my sweaty neck, and drags me inside the house. I could totally break this chokehold ’cause I watch wrestling and know some slick moves, but I let her rough me up a bit for fun.
“Eww, you are so funky.” She shoves me away and shudders, glancing down at her clothes. “Now I’m all gross.”
“You’re always gross,” I say as she pushes me into the kitchen and down on a chair.
She swipes her curly black hair off her wide forehead and tries to glare at me, but her lips twitch. “Whatever, troll boy.”
“And you’re supposed to be the mature one.” I roll my eyes.
She wets some paper towels and throws them at me. I wipe off my face and clean my hands. I covertly sniff my armpits and grimace. Got that outside smell—dirt, sweat, grass—with an added scent of fear.
“I know it’s a little early for dinner, but I gotta meet my study group.” Victoria gestures at the brown paper bags.
My stomach growls. “Takeout?” We don’t have a lot of extra money since she’s the only one working an actual job.
“Orange chicken and shrimp fried rice from Wok and Roll. Thought we deserved a treat.” Nia hates take-out containers. She says they make the food toxic and everything ends up tasting like Styrofoam. It takes five hundred years to decompose, which is bad for the environment. Nia.
I rub my cold hands along my thighs as Victoria heaps food on my plate.
The phone in the living room rings.
“I’ll get it,” I say.
“No, don’t worry about it. It’s probably just a bill collector. They’ll leave a message and call back like always.”
My fork freezes halfway to my mouth. Should I tell her about the woman who stopped by yesterday from the utility company? Victoria is in a good mood and we haven’t had dinner together in a long time. The bills aren’t going anywhere and there’s nothing we can do about it right now. And our problems are much bigger than a late notice.
The ringing stops. From the other room, I hear the click of the answering machine and a muffled voice leaving a long message.
“So, why are you so nasty? What’ve you been up to today?” She pours us some soda and sits across from me.
I stab a piece of chicken with my fork. “Uh, nothing much. Hanging out with Nia and Lyric,” I mumble.
“Staying out of trouble?”
“Mmmm-hmmm.” My throat burns.
“Hey, with that Shae Davidson girl missing and all, you should stay close to home until the police figure it out. Don’t be roaming around, okay?”
“Yeah, uh, sure.” I take a bite of orange chicken. Tastes like tangy dirt. Can’t even enjoy my last meal.
When Mom was alive, the kitchen used to be my favorite place in the whole house. My friends would come over and hang out, and we’d play games and work on puzzles together.
Victoria tries hard to keep things normal for me with the family meals, helping me with my homework and stuff, but she gets busy with college and her jobs.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asks through a loud yawn.
The heavy bags under her brown eyes make them appear bigger. Is that a gray hair?
She sighs when I don’t answer. “Justin?”
“I’m just wondering why you don’t close your mouth when you eat.” I fake shudder. “It’s disgusting watching your food slosh around like that.”
She growls and throws a fortune cookie at me. It bounces off my head and hits the flo
or. “Ouch. That’s gonna leave a bruise.”
“Shut up.”
“That’s the best comeback you got? What’s up with you?” She’s usually quick with the insults. As a big sister it’s pretty much required.
“I’m being nice. You should try it.”
My eyes narrow. “First takeout and now ‘nice’? What’s going on?”
The last time she acted this weird was when she told me about Mom’s cancer. My stiff fingers curl around the seat of my chair. Oh no. She’s been tired lately, lost a little weight. She cut her hair, but maybe it’s falling out. Is she sick like Mom? My pulse rockets into space.
She eyes me uneasily. “I wanna talk to you about something.”
“Wh-what?”
“I think we need a roommate,” she blurts out.
Roommate? That’s why she’s acting strange? “You want someone to live with us?” I gulp down some soda. The liquid cools my overheating body and I slump against my chair in relief.
“With all these bills, we need the money. My friend Undrea—”
“If she’s willing to sleep on the couch, I don’t care.” Seems like a bum deal to me and it sucks I won’t be able to hang out in the living room and watch television, but I’ll make it work. That’s if I’m here anyway. If I don’t make it back, at least Victoria won’t be alone. I’d hate for her to be sad all the time.
Victoria stares at me for a long moment. “Undrea would take Mom’s old room.”
The fork slips from my fingers and hits the table with a clack. “Uh, no. Mom’s room … No.”
Victoria sighs. It’s loud and long. “We’ve talked about cleaning out her stuff for a while now.”
“No, we haven’t. You talk and I refuse to listen. So technically—”
“It’s time, Justin. Your counselor even believes if you accept she’s not coming back your panic attacks might stop and—”
“First, I thought my conversations were private. Second, I’m much better.” Lie, but whatever. She set me up with this dinner. The orange chicken and rice churn in my stomach.
“I’m trying to do what’s best for us. Don’t you want to stay here?”
How could she wanna get rid of Mom’s stuff, forget about her?
“Okay, just calm down. Justin, breathe.”
Didn’t realize I wasn’t. She’s a little fuzzy so I blink hard. “I vote no on the roommate. I’ll find more jobs. More recycling and cutting lawns. I’ll do anything. We don’t have to gut Mom’s room.”
“It’s been over a year.”
Three hundred and ninety-eight days.
“She’s not coming back,” Victoria says softly.
I grit my teeth so hard my jaw snaps. “I know that!”
“I’m sorry. It’s just …” She blinks back tears and smiles weakly. “Think about it. We can talk later, okay?”
All kinds of thoughts and feelings bubble up inside me, but I swallow them down. This isn’t how I wanted to spend my last moments with her.
She toys with her food. “So, you hate me now? I suck at being a big sister?”
My gaze drops to the table. The fire in my throat is only a little less intense than the blaze behind my eyes.
“Hey, you’re supposed to disagree.”
I shrug. “You do suck at it sometimes.”
“I’ll work harder at not being so annoyed by you,” she says with a huff.
For a little while longer we can go on pretending everything’s okay. “I’ll work harder at not finding you so annoying.”
She throws another fortune cookie at me, but I’m ready this time. I catch it before it hits me in the head. Miss the other two, though. “Owww.”
The clock in the living room chimes loudly. I jump. Time is speeding away and I have no idea when I’ll be taken. The waiting and not knowing is another way the monster torments us.
Victoria stands. “I need to get to my study group.”
“You’re leaving? Already?”
She throws away her trash. “Open your fortune cookie.”
My fingers fumble with the wrapper and break the cookie in half. “Your greatest danger comes from within.”
Pfft. Danger within? I have panic attacks, but that’s nothing compared to what I’m facing. The Seeker is coming for me, and it won’t stop until I’m trapped in its world of horror. That’s an outside danger. Bet no one would ever find a fortune like that in a cookie.
“My turn.” Victoria breaks her cookie and removes the small slip of paper. “Your brother is a troll, but he will repay your kindness by cleaning up and doing his chores.”
“Ha, ha, ha.” The insults are back. This I can deal with. I launch a fortune cookie at her.
She ducks and runs toward the back door. “Love you, too. And try not to break any more dishes, will ya?”
“Huh?”
“Your cereal bowl. Pieces were all over the sink.”
I wince. “Uh, sorry.”
She picks up her purse. “Hey, we’re good, right?”
“Vic, I …” The words get stuck in my throat.
“Yeah?”
A pain pierces my wrist. I flinch and glance down to see the mark blister my skin. Tagged. I’m next to go. That means Lyric must be gone.
I jump up. My chair tilts on the two back legs, then crashes to the floor.
“Justin?”
My breathing is choppy. I run to the kitchen sink and fight not to get sick. I grasp the edge of the counter. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. I’m the only one left.
Victoria walks up next to me. “You okay?” She places her hand on my forehead. I flinch from the coolness of her touch.
I want to say something, everything. I want to tell her that I’m glad she’s my sister and I appreciate her though I don’t show it enough. Tell her I’m scared almost all the time and that I hate she has to work so hard. Tell her that I have to go away and that she’s one of the reasons I’m gonna fight hard to get back. Tell her Mom would be proud of her. I want to tell her goodbye.
I turn and force a smile. “I’m okay. Just ate too fast and felt a little sick.”
She frowns. “You sure? You—”
“I’m good. Really.”
She stares at me so intensely I squirm, but I hold her gaze. I don’t want to worry her.
“Hey, how about next weekend we hit up the arcade? And maybe I can swing a movie.”
Wow, she really feels bad for upsetting me. “You hate the arcade.”
“Yeah, there’s a lot of loud, stinky kids, but I do love beating you at that dart game,” she says.
“That was once and only because I had the shakes from that supersized soda.” I lift my hands high in the air. “I am dart champion of the world.” I cheer for myself and bow.
She snorts. “Whatever. So we’re on? Date night with your favorite sister?”
“You’re my only sister and eww.” I fake shudder. “Never mention ‘date’ and ‘sister’ in the same sentence again. You’re on. Can’t wait to take you down.” I wiggle my big ears. “And hear you admit defeat.”
She laughs, holding her stomach. I’ll carry that sound with me.
“I won’t be gone too long. Keep the doors locked, okay?”
“Yeah.” That won’t save me from the Seeker.
She hesitates with her hand on the doorknob. “I see you, Justin.”
That’s something Mom said. She thought people used “love” too carelessly. To “see” someone was understanding who they are deep inside—good, bad, and everything in between. Having a forever soul connection that lasted for eternity.
I clear my throat. “Bye, Vic.”
She walks into the dark night. The door slams closed, the sound final. I fall back against the counter, as the last of my energy seeps from me. Pretending to be okay was hard, but I know not telling her was the right thing to do.
The kitchen is too quiet. What do I do now? I could be snatched at any moment. Will it hurt? How long will it take?
I mentally s
hake myself. Gotta stay focused and alert. I run down the hallway and into my bedroom to grab my backpack from the closet. I dump out the junk inside and rummage through drawers and closets for basic survival stuff to take—flashlight, rope, scissors, matches, hand wipes, first-aid kit. I bet Lyric has way cooler items to pack. I save a little room for food—packaged cookies, peanuts, and some water bottles. We have no idea what the food situation is like.
After tossing away my trash and washing the dishes I wander around the house with my backpack securely on my shoulders, trying not to think about the fact that I’m being hunted.
My feet are on autopilot and guide me to my mom’s bedroom. Like it has a mind of its own, my hand reaches for the loose doorknob and turns. There’s a click and the door drifts open. My heart skips a beat. I haven’t been inside since she left.
The bed is neatly covered with a yellow floral comforter. Her slippers sit on the rug next to the nightstand. Pictures are scattered across the dresser. The television screen is covered with a thick layer of dust. Dozens of prescription bottles cover a small folding table near the window.
Sniffing the air, I search for my mom’s sweet, fruity scent but only the fragrance of sickness remains. Now I understand why Victoria keeps the scarves in a Ziploc bag. It’s to save Mom’s smell for as long as possible.
Hovering in the doorway, I stare at the unfinished jigsaw puzzle on her desk. The missing piece burns a hole in my back pocket. “You were supposed to get better.” My voice cracks. “You promised you wouldn’t leave.”
Promises are lies, easily broken. And I promised Nia … I stagger back and start to close the door when the television suddenly switches on. The sound of crackling static fills the room. The snowy, white brightness of the screen is blinding.
“I saved the best for last,” a growly voice says.
“No!” A tingling sensation spreads from my toes, up my legs, throughout my entire body. My feet slide forward like I’m being drawn by a magnet.
I dig my sneakers into the carpet and thrust my body back, but a stronger force pulls me harder, controls my movement. My arms flail as I struggle to hold on to the furniture, to anything solid to stop my momentum. In the back of my mind I know it’s useless, but I need to fight. Can’t go down so easy.
