Inevitable

by Tamara Hart Heiner

  I made the necessary call and joined him. “All right.” Out of habit, I ran my hands in front of the vents, which, of course, weren’t on. “They should be here in about twenty minutes.”

  He nodded, still not looking at me.

  Well, that was that. I’d managed to freak him out. The night was black outside the windows, the trees flanking the road noisy with crickets and frogs and whatever else was out there.

  I leaned against the seat and heaved a sigh, my chest feeling like someone had put a leaden ball in it.

  “Hey, sorry.”

  I moved my head, looking at Aaron when he spoke. “Why are you sorry? I’m the one who ruined everything.”

  He blinked. “Did you put cooking oil in my engine? If so, then yes, you owe me an apology. And plenty of money.”

  I tried to smile. “I ruined our evening. I ruined—” I thought of Dana and squeezed back tears.

  The phone in my hand rattled, and I looked down. Dana’s father. “Hello?” I answered nervously. Certainly Dana wouldn’t call right now to tell me off.

  “Jayne,” his deep voice boomed in my ear, “we went to the location of the bonfire, but Dana was already gone. She left her car there. Do you know where she went?”

  Already gone. The words echoed around my mind. I pictured the street I’d Seen them driving on. It wasn’t familiar to me. “I don’t. But I think they said something about maybe going dancing.”

  He exhaled into the phone. “All right. Will you call me if you hear from her?”

  I swallowed past a lump in my throat. “Yes. Of course.” I dropped the phone and put my head in my hands. Failure. Again.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” Aaron asked softly.

  “I...I...” Dang it all, now I was crying. “Something bad is going to happen to Dana.”

  “What is it?”

  “Those guys she was with. They’re really drunk. They shouldn’t be driving.”

  “Maybe they have a designated driver.”

  I knew what he was trying to do, but I was in no mood to be comforted. “They don’t.”

  “How do you know?”

  Somewhere in this car was my bag. I turned around and fished through it, trying to find something to clean my face. All I came up with was a napkin from the bagel shop. I dragged it under my eyes. “I just know, okay? Sometimes when something bad is going to happen, I know it ahead of time. But no matter what I try to do, I can’t change it. I’m such an idiot.”

  “What do you mean, you just know? Are you psychic?”

  I didn’t answer.

  Crazy Jayne, Crazy Jayne. The middle school taunts whispered in my ears. When I was ten, my father took me to a psycho-therapist because I told some people about my visions. He diagnosed me with schizophrenia and put me on tons of medications. The only way I’d escaped the nickname was switching schools and not telling a soul about my curse.

  “Okay,” Aaron said with the attitude of a parent who is playing along with a child. “So what do you think is going to happen to Dana?”

  The way he phrased that question irked me. “Nothing. Just forget it.”

  “Just tell me.”

  “There’s going to an accident.” I flinched, seeing the car wrap itself around the light pole in my head. “Somebody dies.”

  “Who?”

  “The driver. I don’t know who else.” I couldn’t meet Aaron’s eyes. Why had I told him, anyway?

  Lights flashed behind us, and we both turned around to see a tow truck. Aaron got out and conversed with the driver, gesturing emphatically at the car.

  The tow truck driver nodded, threw down a cigarette, and came over to investigate. He walked around the car, then called Aaron over to look at something.

  Aaron listened to him, nodding his head, and then got back in the car, looking chagrined. His cheeks were rosy. Flushed from the chill outside?

  “Well?” I asked.

  “I’m out of gas. Either the light indicator on my console is burnt out, or the gauge in the tank is broken. Bloke’s going to fill us up and we’ll be on our way.”

  I wanted to laugh. Gas? That was it? But I could tell from Aaron’s face that he was embarrassed. “At least it’s an easy fix. And it wasn’t because of the cooking oil I put in your engine.”

  Aaron’s eyes shot to my face, and then he laughed. “Yeah. You’ll have to try better next time.”

  The driver finished filling up the tank and brought over a paper for me to sign.

  “All right.” Aaron sighed and turned the key. The car roared to life, luke-warm air blowing out of the vents. “Let’s get you to your car, Jayne.”

  An awkward silence descended over us. I knew Aaron was trying to figure out how to tell me goodbye. What could he possibly say after my eerie confession?

  We pulled up to the restaurant and Aaron put the car in park. Well, at least he wasn’t just dumping me at the curb. He leaned over the seat and grabbed my backpack. I was suddenly aware of his musky scent, the way his arm moved when he pulled my bag up to the front.

  He looked at me and exhaled, the scent of spearmint gum lingering in the air between us. “Are you going to be okay, Jayne?”

  Way to go, Jayne. You ruined everything. My heart thumped in my chest, and I realized how much I wanted to stay in the car with him. I managed a weak smile. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good.” I shouldered my bag just as my cell phone buzzed. My heart skipped a beat when I saw Dana’s number. Immediately I answered. “Dana?”

  “Jayne.” She sounded funny, like her nose was stuffed up. I gripped the dashboard in front of me, feeling dizzy.

  “Dana, are you hurt? Where are you?”

  “I’m at the police station. Can you come get me?”

  “Of course.” I turned to Aaron and mouthed, “Bye,” and then pushed the door open.

  Aaron grabbed my backpack strap. “Wait.”

  “I’ll be right there, Dana.” I hung up and pushed a hand through my hair. Lucky for her, I’d just been to the police station and knew it was a block away from JT’s.

  “Who was that?”

  I swung my head toward Aaron. I’d almost forgotten he was there. “Dana’s at the police station. She needs me to go get her.”

  Aaron pulled me back in and put the car into drive. “Do you know where it is?”

  “Yes.” I closed the door and put my seatbelt back on while trying not to think about the fact that he wasn’t ditching me by my car.

  Five minutes later we pulled up to the squat, red-brick building. “I’ll wait here,” Aaron said, turning the car off.

  “Sure.” I clattered up the five steps leading inside. An officer directed me to a waiting room. I could see Dana through the blinds on the glass windows, her arms clutched around her shoulders, staring at the linoleum flooring. I walked around the corner. “Dana?”

  She looked up at me, her mouth working for a moment before she burst into tears. I ran to her and wrapped my arms around her. “Are you okay? Were you hurt?”

  She shook her head. “They said I might have some whiplash tomorrow. But I didn’t want to go to the hospital, and since I’m not a minor, they didn’t make me.” She paused and drew her head back, looking at me with bloodshot eyes. “How did you know about the accident?”

  I helped her wobble out the door. “It was a guess. They were pretty drunk. Did the police book you?”

  She choked back a sob. “No, just gave me a warning. Since it was my first offense.” Dana lifted her eyes and scanned the parking lot. “Where’s your car?”

  “I came with Aaron.”

  She let out a groan. “Oh, please! I don’t want anyone to see me this way!”

  I tried to calm her down. “It’s alright. Let’s just get you home, sweetie. Do your parents know?”

  Aaron opened the passenger side door and helped me arrange Dana in the front seat.

  “Oh!” Dana tossed her head back, tears leaking out the sides of her eyes. “The worst part! My dad had the police looking for me! As
soon as I came in they called him.” Her words were totally slurring together, but they did that anyway when she was excited, so I got the gist. “And he refused to come get me! Said I needed to learn to take responsibility for my own actions!”

  I had to admit his reaction was a bit harsh, but it probably worked. “Do you want to come to my house?”

  “I better not.” She wiped her tears on her arm. “He’ll be in a much better mood if I’m there when he wakes up tomorrow.”

  I patted her shoulder and climbed into the back. “Do you know how to get us out of here, Aaron?”

  “Yeah, I think I got it,” he responded, revving the car engine. Dana whimpered and put her head in her hands. “Are you all right, Dana?”

  “I’m okay,” she whispered, dropping her hands. “Hank was driving. He ran off the road.” She pressed her face into her elbow, blond ringlets falling forward. “He died on impact.” Her sobs filled the space in the tiny car.

  Dana quieted down as we drove. I murmured directions to her house over Aaron’s shoulder, leaning as far forward as my seatbealt would allow me. When we got there, I realized she was asleep. I half dragged her up the walkway and used her key to let us in. The house was quiet, with only one light on in the hall. Getting her up the stairs was a bit of an issue, but Dana barely stirred. I laid her in bed and took her shoes off.

  “Jayne?” she whispered.

  “I’m here, Dana.” I hovered close to her, feeling such relief that she was alive that I hardly noticed how bad she smelled.

  “I’m sorry for what I said.”

  “It’s okay. Go to sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Aaron had his head down on the steering wheel when I opened the door. He jerked up, blinking several times.

  I didn’t really know what to say, so I just climbed in and closed the door. “Thanks for taking me to get her.”

  Still he didn’t start the car. “You really did know, didn’t you?”

  My eyes darted to his face and then I looked away quickly. “Yes.”

  “Do you know things about everyone?”

  I inhaled slowly. Uh-oh. Here it came. “No. Just—some people.”

  “Do you know things about me?”

  I squeezed my eyes shut and shook my head quickly. I couldn’t tell him about Libby and his death. Not yet.

  Aaron backed the car out of the driveway and got back on the freeway. “It’s really late, you know.”

  The clock on the dash blinked, moving to two fourteen. “I know.” My parents hadn’t called. Having a clean slate gave me loads of freedom and trust.

  We reached the bagel shop, and once again I grabbed up my backpack. The adrenaline rush had worn off now, and I felt the tiredness pulling at my eyes. “Maybe I’ll see you in school tomorrow.”

  “Maybe?” He gave a ghost of a smile. “Planning on skipping again?” His smile faded. “Listen, why don’t I follow you home? You look about ready to pass out.”

  I gave my head a shake, more to wake myself up than anything else. “No, I’m good. Get this car home before it dies on you again.”

  “Right.” His eyes flicked over my face. Did I imagine it, or did they linger a moment on my mouth? “Call me when you get home. So I know you made it.”

  I saluted. “Yes, sir.” I closed the door and spun to my car, hoping I could convince my body to stay awake a little bit longer.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  The sun streamed across my bed, forming a stripe over my eyes. I squeezed them tighter, desperate to block the light out and get back to dreamland. A heavy ache in my chest warned me that I didn't want to face reality.

  My bedroom door bounced open, bringing with it the lemon perfume. I wrinkled my nose, rolled over, and shoved my head under the pillow. “Beth! You’re not supposed to be in my room!”

  “And you’re not supposed to be in bed.” I heard her at my vanity, picking up candles, smelling them, and putting them back. “Are you sick? How am I getting to school?”

  I took a deep breath, trying to remain calm. “I don’t know. Ask Dad.”

  She harrumphed and trotted out of the room. “Mom! I need a ride to school!”

  I groaned and sat up, listening to my mom and Beth yell back and forth from the kitchen to the stairs. A quick glance at the alarm clock confirmed my fears: seven twenty. It was time to leave for school, not wake up for school.

  My room stank. I lit one of my cucumber melon candles and opened a window, shooing out the musty air. I didn’t like sleeping with the windows closed, but I couldn’t shake the creepy feeling I had that someone was watching me. Which reminded me, I needed to call the police station today.

  A knock on my door gave me a two-second warning before my dad walked in, straightening his tie.

  “What’s wrong, Sis? I’m almost out the door and your sister tells me she needs a ride. Feeling sick, honey?”

  My dad. Always so kind and gentle. I’d seen it as a betrayal all those years ago when he took me to the shrink. Now I knew it was out of concern for me.

  The events of last night came rushing back to me, and I longed to throw myself into his embrace and let him make it all better. “No, not sick. I just didn’t sleep well. I’ll go to school late.”

  Mom appeared behind him, her expression not nearly so sympathetic. “What time did you get in last night, Jayne?”

  “Well...” I made a big show of yawning and thinking. “It was pretty late.”

  “How late?” Mom pursued, not about to be put off.

  “Mom,” I said, putting some bite into my tone. “I’m not a kid. I was out with some friends and time got away from us. But I’m up and I’m getting ready for school now, okay? So how about some privacy?”

  Dad scooted out the door, eager to give me that privacy. But Mom just folded her arms across her chest. “Take your sister to school. Your dad and I have to work and we won’t be late because you were out having fun on a school night. We’ll talk about this later.” She turned and walked out.

  “Fine,” I grumbled, kicking at my dresser. “After work and after Spanish club, we’ll talk.” The thought of all those after school activities made my head hurt. I just wanted to go back to bed.

  I left my phone charging in the bathroom while I took Beth to school. Then I came home and threw myself back in bed. Sure, I’d said I was going to school. But I was really tired...and no one was around to stop me.

  I finally woke up around noon. My bedroom was warm even with the breeze blowing in through the window. The candle had burnt itself out.

  Stretching, I made my way into the bathroom and examined my reflection. Yeah, definitely not going to school today. I felt the first inkling of panic. Two days of in a row of skipping. My parents would probably get a call today. Even worse, I was officially behind in my homework.

  I shrugged it off. This is my junior year! I told myself. Not like my school of choice cares about my grades. Yeah, all those straight As, except for calculus—for nothing.

  I picked up my phone, feeling my heart start to pound as I contemplated calling the police. Finding the number in my contact list, I hit send.

  “Lieutenant Bailey speaking.”

  “Hi, Lieutenant.” I swallowed down my nerves. “I met with you a few days ago about the serial killer. Gave you a drawing?”

  “Yes! I was hoping to speak with you some more. Can you come back in this afternoon?”

  “No.” I gripped the phone, noticing that my hand shook. “But someone texted me last night. I think it might have been him.” Saying that aloud freaked me out. My knees buckled, and I put one hand on the sink to steady myself. “ I tried to forward it to your number. Did you get it?”

  “I did, I just wasn’t sure who it was from or what it meant. Now it makes sense. So you think he’s targeting you?”

  “Yes,” I whispered.

  “It’s Jayne, right? What’s your last name, hon?”

  Oh, crud. I’d forgotten that the text included my name. I hesitated. If I gave him
my full name, he might figure out that Hannah and I hadn’t been friends. But I couldn’t really stay anonymous if I wanted protection. “Lockwood.”

  “Jayne, what you are telling me is very serious. I don’t want you to get hurt. When can you come to the station?”

  A door slammed downstairs, and I froze, the skin on the back of my neck crawling. “I think there’s someone in here,” I whispered. The room darkened on the edges of my vision, and I reached for something to hold me up.

  “Give me your address. I’ll send a patrol by.”

  The calm authoritativeness in his voice gave me an anchor. I turned the light off in the bathroom and crouched next to the toilet. “Thirty-five Wentworth Ave.”

  Radio crackled on the other side, though I couldn’t make out the words. “Stay on the phone with me, Jayne. There’s a patrol two minutes from your house. They’ll be right there.”

  “Okay,” I whispered. I didn’t say another word, just breathed into the phone, ears perked for footsteps on the stairs. So far, nothing. But it wouldn’t take long. If he was looking for me, he would correctly assume the bedrooms were on the second floor.

  I heard a knock at the front door.

  “Jayne, I’ve been notified that the patrol is at your house. Now I need you to go downstairs and open the door.”

  The thought of moving petrified me. “Really? What if he attacks me when I do?”

  “The police aren’t leaving until the door opens. I can have them announce themselves. Or I can tell them to force an entry, though it might damage your door.”

  I imagined my mom being more upset over the damaged door than a dead daughter. No, that was unfair. “Have them say who they are and I’ll open the door.”

  “Fair enough.”

  A moment later a voice outside shouted, “This is the police. Open the door or we have permission to force an entry.”

  I gathered my courage and stood up. Then I ran down the stairs, phone still clutched in one hand, and opened the door.

  Two officers stood there, weapons drawn. I blinked in the sunlight, unable to focus on their features.

  “Jayne?” one asked.

  I nodded.

  “Stay out here with me while we search the house.”