Part 20 (1/2)

I really did have to use the bathroom, though. That part of what I told Kane wasn't a lie. But before I pushed the ladies' room door in, my ears perked up. Someone had said Kane's name.

I didn't immediately recognize the girls' voices, and pressed my ear against the door, straining to listen.

”Seriously, your brother is so hot.”

”Ew, guys, shut up.” Ellie's voice.

”Is he dating that new senior?”

Um, that would be me. They are talking about me.

I listened closer as Ellie replied, ”I think so. But I don't know.”

The other girl snorted in disbelief. ”How can you not know? You two tell each other everything.”

”I don't know because he doesn't know. They're taking it slow.”

Another voice. ”I can't imagine living in that house, where Kayla died. Gross.”

”Seriously,” said the first girl. I guessed there were three in there. Ellie and two of her soph.o.m.ore friends. ”I bet that nasty old man watches her like he watched Kayla. What a perv.”

They knew about Mr. Tucker? My mind was processing this as the door suddenly swung inward. I stumbled, making it quite obvious that my ear had been on the wood.

”Oh, hey, Ellie,” I said, smoothing my hair and walking past her into the bathroom.

Her two friends continued on out the door, but Ellie hung back. ”Can I talk to you?” Her voice was sweet as usual, but her eyes were different. Suspicious.

”Sure.” I pretended to primp in the mirror. ”What's up?”

”What's going on with you and my brother? I mean, are you into him or what?”

My eyes found hers in the reflection of the mirror, and I felt like she was seeing right through me. I was using Kane and she sensed it. I understood her protectiveness. Respected it. I can only imagine how I'd feel about Colby's girlfriends when he was old enough to date. I couldn't imagine anyone being good enough for him.

I slowly turned around. ”We're friends. I don't think either of us is rus.h.i.+ng into anything.” I smiled to try to set her at ease and hoped that the blush forming in the hollow of my neck didn't betray the nonchalance I was forcing into my voice.

Ellie's posture seemed to relax, but doubt remained in her eyes. ”Friends are cool. I just wanted to see if you're on the same page. I don't want him getting hurt, you know?”

Kane was lucky, having a sister like this. I wanted to tell her that. Maybe someday I would. But right now I had one priority and that was saving my own brother. I was doing my best not to lead Kane on, but if I did a little bit - well, that was something I had to live with. But it wasn't like I was completely faking. I did want to be friends with him.

”And one more thing,” she said, worry creasing her forehead. ”Watch out for your neighbor.”

”Mr. Tucker?”

”Yeah. There's something not right about him. The way he watches. And ...” she lowered her voice. ”Kane told me something Kayla said that I've never been able to forget.”

I involuntarily stepped closer. ”What?”

”That when she first moved into the house when she was little ... there were weird piles of dirt in his backyard. Like Mr. Tucker had buried something.”

Or someone, I thought.

By the time I returned to the bleachers, the third quarter had already started. The conversation about Mr. Tucker had added a mental chill to the already cold air, and I wished I'd worn a coat instead of a hoodie. But when I reached Kane halfway down the row, he smiled and said, ”There's my girl!”

I flinched. My girl. In front of everyone. We were suddenly but surely not on the same page.

He held out a Styrofoam cup. ”Even though you said you didn't want anything, I figured you could use a hot chocolate.”

I felt a dozen eyes on me, gauging my reaction. If I rejected the ”my girl” thing, it would hurt his feelings. And I didn't want to do that, especially in front of his friends. Plus, I needed access to those friends, hopefully only for a little while longer.

I inhaled a deep, wavering breath. ”That was so nice.” I took the cup from his hands. ”Thanks.”

I drank a sip and winced as the heat slid down my throat. I tried to swallow my guilt with it.

I went home after the game, a mix of emotions boiling and bubbling in my stomach like a witch's cauldron. I was a good person. Not the type to lie to people, fake my way into a crowd, lead a boy on. I told myself over and over that I was only doing what had to be done.

I crawled into bed and pulled the covers up to my chin, relieved to finally be warm. The night had taken a lot out of me. I hadn't played a game out there on the field, but mental exhaustion can wipe you out just as much. Soon, sleep came over me with a welcoming, warm haze.

But hours later, in the blackest dark of the middle of the night, I was instantly awoken by a sharp cry. I shot up in bed, holding the comforter up to my face as if it could protect me. My eyes took their time adjusting to the darkness, but my ears were immediately attuned. I listened hard for any sound over the heavy beat of my startled heart.

Had I imagined it? Was it a dream?

I had to check on Colby, just to be sure.

As I slipped out of bed, my breath was loud in my ears. I padded quietly down the hall, the floor cool under my bare feet. Hushed murmurs came from my parents' bedroom. I peeked my head in. Dad was gone, not returning until Sunday. Marie had fallen asleep with the TV on. The bluish glow illuminated her sleeping face.

The cry came again. Colby's cry. The sound pierced my heart like a bullet.

I rushed into his room, my quick footsteps almost making me slip on the hardwood floor. He lay in his bed, peacefully at first glance. But as I moved closer, I saw the scrunched up expression on his face. He was having a nightmare.

I was considering whether or not to wake him when a loud thud came from behind me. Colby's prized baseball, one Dad had caught at a Red Sox game, was on the floor. It was always, always on Colby's dresser. I realized, with building trepidation, that it couldn't have fallen off the grooved pedestal on its own. It had to have been nudged.

The temperature in the room plummeted. I started to s.h.i.+ver uncontrollably. I wanted to rub my arms in a feeble attempt to get warm, but my muscles seemed frozen and stuck.

I stared in rapt attention as the ball began slowly rolling toward me. The st.i.tches thumped against the floor as the ball scuffled along. Fear slithered over me, around me, tightening, suffocating.

Colby's nightmare.

The rolling ball.

They were messages. Reminders. Kayla was playing with his toy, but could just as easily play with him. Possess him at any time. Make him do anything.

”I'm working on it,” I whispered through my suddenly dry throat. ”I promise.”

The ball kept on its slow, purposeful roll.

”I made progress tonight. I have a strong suspect. I'm going to investigate him further tomorrow. I have a plan. I'm close, I know it.”

The ball stopped.

Kayla was in control. She could lose her patience with me at any moment. And she needed me to know this. Fear and panic clawed its way up my throat, wanting to emerge in a scream. I swallowed it back down, forcing myself to stay strong.