Some Laneys Died: A Skipping Sideways Thriller

by Brooke Skipstone

  She must love Dad or need him desperately to have followed him to Alaska. They stay together but are never really together. Now she’s out of a job and could be homeless. And I’m sure that’s happened more than once.

  She must depend on Dad to get her out of trouble. He obviously cares for her, but he blames her lack of restraint for her problems. And thinks they do better when they have their own corner to go to. Maybe she wants something more from him, and he won’t give it. Why?

  I know of a Starbucks not far from the school, so I head that way. I need to think about what to say to Gibbs.

  Is that her real name? I’ve never heard her called anything but Gibbs. Maybe short for Gibson? Isn’t that a boy’s name?

  I stop at a light and look left toward the park, an oasis of trees, supposedly peaceful, a nice escape from traffic and city living. But I can remember only bad things happening there.

  A car honks behind me. The light has turned green. Impulsively, I jerk my wheel left and race across the intersection, heading toward the park. I need to see the embankment where I died.

  I try to remember where Garrett first stopped when I leaned out the window, but that area was dark last night. I do remember the tree we hit and find a large oak near the road at the top of a hill sloping down toward a culvert. Several hundreds yards away is a stop sign. The road in between curves in two places, so this could be where we hit the curb and then the deer.

  My hand feels for any marks, any broken bark. Of course, the tree is whole and I see no divots in the grass. Like nothing happened here.

  Behind me is the entrance to campgrounds and the trail. I feel a need to check them out. Maybe find the campsite where I supposedly found Dad and Gibbs without a tent.

  I drive by empty campsites shaded by mesquite and oak trees. Dead leaves swirl behind my car as I drive through the loops. After a few minutes, I find the trail entrance and park.

  The trail is defined by limestone pieces and dirt with roots pushing through in some places, but generally wide and flat. The trees are tall here, many still holding leaves, so the trailhead is dimly lit under the cloudy sky.

  My feet crunch acorn caps on the pavement, but my steps turn silent as I move onto the trail. The air is cooler than yesterday, more humid, and the stillness clings to my ears as they strain to hear any sound outside myself. I half expect to see Caden pedaling toward me, but nothing moves here except my feet.

  Where did I see the tent three years ago? Or not see it. My head swivels as I walk, my eyes peering through gaps in the foliage, every nerve alert for any movement or sound.

  A bird’s loud whistle startles me—a long high note with two descending chirps. I hear my heart beat in my ears, look up and see a small white bird with a black cap. How can something so small sound such an alarm? The call is repeated by another bird, this time from behind. Then another from the side, syncopating the timing so the initial whistle seems continuous. Are they mad at me? Or warning me?

  I pick up my pace, focusing on the trail as it winds smoothly through the woods, punctuated occasionally by stone outcroppings. After several minutes, I find limestone stairs to a lower area, thick with juniper trees, where the trail runs straight for one hundred yards before running into a natural stone ramp. This must be where I crashed my bike. I walk up and see a narrow footpath branching off to the left. Is this a human trail? Or an animal path?

  Another black capped bird whistles, making me shiver.

  I take a few steps and gaze ahead. The path disappears after twenty feet. Unsure of which way to go, I stop. Should I follow it? For some reason this area looks familiar. Maybe I saw the tent down this way.

  Then I remember what Khannan said—there was no tent. At least not at the campsite Dad and Gibbs used. But I distinctly remember seeing one. I take another few steps, trying to find the path.

  “That’s not the trail.”

  My muscles clench as I jerk to a halt.

  “That’s just a deer trail that goes nowhere.”

  I turn around and see Caden sucking on a cigarette. The smoke clouds his face and rises above his head as his lips widen, revealing yellow teeth. “Did I scare you?”

  My heart wants to punch through my chest, and my legs want to run, but anger grips my skin and tightens. “Shit, Caden! Did you try to sneak up on me?”

  “Nope. Just walking down this trail. Saw you over here. Didn’t want you to get lost or anything.” He drops the butt and steps on it.

  “You’re not supposed to smoke in the park, and you’re certainly not supposed to leave your butts everywhere.”

  He tilts his head and smiles. “My bad.” But he makes no move to retrieve the butt.

  “What are you doing here?” I bark.

  “I was going to ask you the same question. I saw you headed toward the park, so I decided to follow you.”

  “Why?” I recall no other car near that intersection.

  “Because I remembered where I saw you before.”

  My scalp tingles, and I realize I’m clenching and unclenching my now sweaty hands. Can I outrun this guy?

  “Took you this long?” I try so hard to stay cool and seem unafraid. “I knew who you were right away.”

  “I must’ve made an impression on you. You were a cute 13-year-old. With pink underwear.” He laughs. “I couldn’t decide whether you were flashing me or not.”

  “Not.”

  “So you say.” He leans against a tree and lights another cigarette.

  Was he this creepy three years ago? I remember being cautious but not scared. What are the chances he was across the intersection at the exact time I made that turn? And why did I suddenly decide to turn?

  I look down the trail I came from, long and open. How could I not have noticed him following? Then I peer past his head where the trail takes a sharp turn. Did he follow me or intercept from the other end?

  Why stop me here?

  He stands straight, flicking his ash at his feet. “Are you looking for something? Maybe I can help you. I know these woods pretty well.”

  Does he have anything to do with the tent in my memory? “I thought I saw a green camouflage tent down this path years ago. I was wondering if it was still there.” I watch his eyes and see the slightest flinch.

  He forces a laugh and shakes his head. “Like the tent would still be there? Besides, I’ve never seen a tent out here. Campsites are at each end of the trail.” He takes a draw. “You want help looking?” He slowly exhales through his nose like his head is burning inside.

  “Same question you asked me three years ago, and you’ll get the same answer.”

  “Suit yourself.”

  My gut churns. I’m sure he’ll follow me if I walk farther along the path. If I return to the trail, will he let me pass?

  “Well, thanks for ruining my private walk.” I move toward the trail. He stands straddling the path. “I’ve got to get back to school.” I stop six feet from him. He doesn’t move.

  His eyes narrow like he’s considering options. He smashes his cigarette with his boot. “Oops. My bad again.”

  I glance to the right, looking for a way to run back to the trail without using the path, but the vegetation is too thick.

  “I need to go back to my car. Are you going to move?”

  “That depends.” His eyes move down and up my body. His arms and neck tense.

  Shit! He’s going to attack me.

  My phone rings. I yank it from my pocket, see Gibbs’ name on my screen, and swipe to accept. He pulls back the step he started to take, and his hand hides something behind his back.

  “Hey, Gibbs!” I smile and put the phone on speaker. “How’re you doing?” I talk as loud as I can.

  “Laney?”

  “Yeah. Hey! I’m on the Onion Creek Trail in Falls Park heading back toward my car.” I see his eyes widen, and I take a chance, darting past him to the trail where I turn right and quick-walk away. “I finished an English final and had some time, so I decided to take a walk
in the park. But now I have to hurry, or I’ll be late for my next one.”

  I look back over my shoulder to see if he’s following me. He stands, glaring from the steps. As soon I leave the straight section, I start to run. “Gibbs. Hang on a couple of minutes. Please.”

  I run as fast as I can back to my car, open the door, and look up the trail as I start the engine. He didn’t follow me. I shove the phone into my cup holder and shift gears. “Are you still with me, Gibbs?”

  “Yeah. What’s going on?”

  “An asshole was harassing me in the woods. You called at just the right time. I’m OK now. Just trying to get out of this park. Hang on.”

  When I emerge from the loops, I see his Jeep off to the left, racing toward another exit from the park. No way he could have followed me up that trail.

  “Gibbs, are you still there?”

  “Yes. Are you OK?”

  “I am now. Back on the road. And the asshole is gone.” At the light, I turn left and continue toward the Starbucks.

  “Why were you in the woods?”

  “Because I’m an idiot. I had a break between finals and for some reason I went to the park.” Should I tell her? “The one where I found you and Dad three years ago.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m not sure. I think I wanted to find the tent you . . . used.”

  I hear a quiet humph. “No tent, honey. Just my pick-up.”

  “My head’s been playing games with me recently.”

  “Who’s the asshole? Did he threaten you?”

  “He was about to. Three years ago when I looked for you, a younger version of this guy claimed he saw Dad going down the trail I was on. He offered to help me find him. I didn’t accept. Then this morning, I saw him again. He’s the older brother of a friend of mine. He followed me into the woods. I’m not sure if he wanted to attack me or to protect something he’s hiding or both. I owe you one.”

  “Don’t you carry something to protect yourself? Pepper spray? A gun? Anything?”

  “No. I never thought I’d need it.” Except for last night and today.

  “Maybe now you’ll think different. You never know what a guy might do, but most think the same way. Except your Dad. He’s one of the good ones. Not too many like him.”

  “I know.” Hearing her say that makes me proud, but also makes me realize how much she cares about him. “Mom and I are going shopping later for the clothes I need up there. She can buy the spray. Or I can have you keep calling me at just the right time. Worked pretty well today.” I try to laugh and hope she will, too.

  But she doesn’t laugh. “Are you mad at me for taking Sean away from you?”

  “No. I’ve been mad at myself for telling Mom about you two. And mad at Dad for wanting you instead of Mom. But I haven’t been angry with you. Besides, you love my Dad, and I’m pretty sure he loves you.”

  There’s a pause, and I think I hear her wipe her nose or an eye.

  “I do love him. I’m just worried . . .”

  “I’m not coming up there to take him back, Gibbs.”

  Her voice cracks. “But he won’t want you to leave. He’s cried for you at times. He thought you never wanted to see him again.”

  I park at Starbucks and tears flow. He cried for me? All this time I thought he hated me. My throat aches. I try to swallow, but the hurt grows until I cough out a wail. I cover the wheel with my arms and bury my face into them.

  “Laney?”

  “I’m . . . sorry. S-so sorry.” After another minute my chest stops heaving, and I try to calm down. “Gibbs. Are you there?”

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t think I’ll want to leave either. I’ve missed Dad all these years, and I need him now. We’ll find a way, Gibbs. I won’t let him leave without you. I promise. I know how you feel because I feel the same way.”

  I hear her crying. I blow my nose and wipe my face.

  “We need to be friends, Gibbs. Good friends.”

  “I hope so.”

  I move my car into the drive-thru line. I need coffee and a sandwich. “Will you meet me at the airport?”

  “I don’t know, but I’ll be at the house when you get in.”

  “I told Dad to let you sleep with him like you’re used to.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah.” I’m one car away from ordering.

  “I don’t live with him. Just see him sometimes. But I want to stay with him. It’s just . . . I mess up. And then we fight. But I can’t mess up anymore.”

  I hear her cry. Then, “Order when you’re ready” from the speaker to my left.

  I mute my phone. “Grande chocolate chip frap with whip and a turkey sandwich.” I move forward, pull out my card, and unmute the phone.

  “Gibbs, I’ll help you if I can. Whatever you need me to do, I’ll try my best. OK?”

  “Thanks.” She breathes several times. “Can you keep a secret?”

  “Sure.”

  “I’m serious, Laney. Can you keep a secret from your father? At least for a while.”

  I’m already keeping secrets from him. “Yes, if you need me to.”

  I’m at the window and give my card to Teresa with the nose ring and pink hair. I see her most days. “Hey, Laney,” she says.

  “Hey, Teresa.” She hands me the sandwich.

  “Laney,” says Gibbs, “I’m pregnant. Sean doesn’t know. You’re going to have a sister.”

  What? Teresa raises her brows and hands me my drink and card. My mouth won’t shut. My pulse races as Teresa and I stare at each other.

  “Did you hear me? I’m pregnant with a baby girl. You’ll have a sister.”

  I can’t move. The driver behind me taps his horn.

  I struggle to put my foot on the right pedal and finally move forward, pulling up against the curb. My legs tingle like they’ve been asleep. I shake all over. A sister! Wow! Then I wonder why she’s telling me. More insurance to leave Dad with her?

  “Laney?”

  “Yes, I heard you. Now Dad will have two baby girls.”

  “Are you happy?”

  My face flushes with joy. “Very. Seriously. Very very happy. Why haven’t you told Dad?”

  “Because I’ve miscarried three times before, and I’m worried I’ll do it again.”

  I remember Dad said she’d smoked pot. Mom said she’s an addict. Now I’m scared as hell. “Gibbs, you can’t do drugs or drink. You know that, right?”

  “I know,” she cries. “But it’s hard. I got fired last night because I smoked weed during my break. You know smoking is legal here, but not in the restaurant or bar.”

  “You work in a bar?” Why would an addict work there?

  “I did until last night. I couldn’t find any other place to hire me. I need the money, but I’m glad I’m not there anymore. Guys were always hitting on me. Sean didn’t want me there, but I had to pay my bills.”

  My brain races. How would Dad react if he knew she’s pregnant? He blames her urges. She’s not telling him because she thinks he’ll yell at her. Gibbs doesn’t need a lecture. She needs someone with her all the time. Helping her out. Encouraging her. I couldn’t stand if she miscarried my sister and I did nothing to help her.

  “Gibbs, listen to me. I’m going to change my ticket and try to get up there tomorrow. I’ll help you, be with you all the time. You’re going to have that baby, and I’m going to have a sister. We’ll work together and make this happen.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yes, I’m sure. You need to hang on for another day. Don’t worry about anything. Don’t fight with Dad. Just take it easy. No booze. No drugs. I’ll call you every chance I get. Does that work for you?”

  “Yes, Laney. I wasn’t going to tell you either. I was so scared. And I thought that would make me miscarry again. I can’t lose another one of his babies.”

  “All three were his?”

  “All four. I’ll tell you about the other one when you’re here. Thank you, Laney. I want you with me.�
�

  My head spins. Four? “I’ll be there, Gibbs. Just one more day.”

  “OK. Bye.” She ends the call.

  Had she always planned to tell me? Why? To ensure I wouldn’t take Dad away? No wonder she panicked when she heard I was coming.

  Or because she knew she needed help. How can anyone bear losing four babies?

  Whatever the reason, I don’t want anything to happen to my sister.

  11

  I check the clock. Shit! I need to get back to school. I scarf down half my sandwich and suck on my frap. I have too much to do and not enough time.

  As I drive back to school, I make a plan. I’ll finish my Pre-cal test early then ask my French teacher if I can take my Friday final tomorrow between history and chemistry. I can talk to Mom while we shop. I’ll have to tell her about Gibbs’ pregnancy, which is damn well going to produce a baby.

  This is my only chance to have a sister.

  I stop at the same intersection as earlier and see the park to my right. Did Caden follow me from here to the trail? I think I would’ve noticed a car following me. He said he realized who I was when I drove to the trailhead. Is that when? Or was it earlier at school?

  And then I realize he said nothing about me stopping at the tree. He didn’t follow me, or he would’ve mentioned that event. How odd would me feeling the tree have seemed to him? No way he wouldn’t have ridiculed me for that.

  Was he already in the woods when he saw me? How else would he know I was there?

  A car behind me honks. I race across the intersection just as the light turns red.

  What would he have done if Gibbs hadn’t called?

  What would’ve happened to me if I had accepted his help finding Dad three years ago?’

  Maybe some versions of me didn’t make it.

  I slow as I approach Gus’ station then lower my window.

  “How was your lunch, Delaney?”

  I see the half-eaten sandwich on the dash and realize I forgot to eat while I drove. “Kind of rushed.” I’m still hungry.

  “You still have a few minutes. Finish it before you go inside.”

  “Do you know Caden, Garrett’s brother?”