The backyard was long and deep.
There were no stars and no moon.
The wind yanked silently at the young trees and the hovering hedges.
The world swayed and leaned down to scrape her face.
She could not see a thing. But a flashlight would be a diamond point for Lannie to see out her bedroom window. Lannie must never know about the tangles, the privacy and the pleasure of the truck deep in the shadows.
How deep the yard was!
I must be taking tiny steps, thought Meghan. I feel as if I’ve gone so far I’ve crossed the town line.
The ground became mucky, and her feet quaked in the mire.
Where am I?
A hand grabbed her hair.
She tried to scream, but was too afraid. Her whole chest closed in as if a giant’s hand had crushed her like newspaper for a fire.
“You walked right by,” whispered West. “Come on. Truck’s way back there.”
Meghan’s knees nearly buckled. “You scared me!” she whispered.
West led her back to the truck, where the driver’s door hung open. She was amazed she had not walked smack into it and broken a bone. She climbed in first, and West got in after her, and on the wide single seat they crushed against each other.
“Tell me,” said Meghan.
“About what?”
“About Lannie!”
West said nothing.
Meghan was used to the dark now, and could see his eyes. They were large and shiny. “Did you make it clear to her that you and I are going out with each other?”
West was silent for a long time. At last he said, “No.”
“West! Why not?”
“Because.”
Meghan hated him. Just as much as she loved him, she hated him.
West closed his shiny eyes and Meghan felt buried.
“She was serious,” said West. He did not touch Meghan. He ran his hands over the torn dashboard, as gently as if he were stroking velvet. “When we talked, she slid over next to me, Meghan. She never took her eyes off me and she never blinked. I couldn’t see down into her eyes. It was like riding around with a store mannequin. People shouldn’t have eyes as pale as that. But she’s like that all the way through. Too pale. What’s human in her got washed out. Bleached away.” West linked his hands together and studied them. Perhaps he had had to hold hands with Lannie. Perhaps he had scrubbed them to get the Lannie off. “She’ll freeze Tuesday,” said West.
“Why Tuesday?” said Meghan. “Why not me?”
West played with the broken door handles. The wind raked through the open cab door and chewed on Meghan’s cheeks like rats.
Meghan thought: because West would risk me. He would call her bluff on his neighbor Meghan. But he would never call her bluff on his sister Tuesday. Tuesday matters.
West went in stages with his family. There were times he could hardly bear having a younger sister and brother. There were times he hated their dumb names and wished somebody would adopt them, or send them to boarding school. There were times when he and Tuesday and Brown bickered steadily, hitting each other, throwing things, being obnoxious.
But he loved them.
“Lannie is jealous of us,” said West slowly. “We Trevors — our family works. We get along. We talk, we hug, we fight, we have supper, we share, we bicker. It works. We’re a close family.”
I’m jealous, too, thought Meghan. How weird that I can understand Lannie in that. Meghan thought of Lannie’s cold cold eyes growing hot as tropical fever.
“Lannie is alone,” said West. “She’s always been alone. And she’s tired of it. She’s chosen me.”
There was a strange timbre in West’s voice, like an instrument being tuned. She’s chosen me. Could he be proud? Could he feel singled out for an honor? That Lannie had chosen him?
“She wants an excuse, Meggie-Megs,” said West softly. “She’s ready to freeze somebody. I can’t give her an excuse.”
“Just stop her!”
“How?”
The little word sat in the cold night air and waited for an answer.
But there was none.
No parent, no police officer, no principal could prevent Lannie from touching somebody she wanted to touch. No bribe, no gift, no promise could ease Lannie’s requirement. She wanted West.
“What about Friday night?” said Meghan at last.
Friday night they were going to a dance. West had never taken a girl to a dance. He’d attended plenty of them, of course. It was something to do. He didn’t object to dances as an event. He’d go, and hang out with the boys, and do something dumb like hang off the basketball hoop, and bend it, and get in trouble, and have to pay for repairs.
But he wouldn’t dance.
West knew all the top songs. He knew all the good groups. He owned all the best cassettes and CDs.
But he wouldn’t dance.
He was a senior, and as far as Meghan was concerned, you could not have a senior year without dances.
There were to be raffles and games and prizes. There was a DJ (nobody wanted a band; they never played the songs right) and the chaperones were somebody else’s parents. That was key. A good dance never had your own parents there. There was even a dress code this time: dresses for girls and a shirt tucked in with a tie for boys. Meghan could hardly wait.
“You have to understand,” said West Trevor.
He meant he was not taking Meghan to the dance. Meghan could have overturned the truck on top of him. “Lannie won’t freeze Tuesday!” shouted Meghan. “She knows you won’t go out with her if she freezes your own sister!”
West swallowed. Meghan could hear the swallow. Thick and difficult. “She said she would.”
If Meghan cried, West would not comfort her. He was frozen in his own worries: he had to protect his little sister. That was first with him.
I want to be first! thought Meghan.
She slid away from him, and jerked open the handle on the passenger door. The handle being broken, of course it didn’t work. She tried to roll down the window so she could open the door from the outside. That handle didn’t work either. She fumbled and muttered instead of storming away. There was nothing worse than a slamming exit — and no door to go out of. Eventually she had to look back at West.
He was laughing.
“You bum,” said Meghan. She absolutely hated being laughed at.
West’s grief and confusion evaporated. His long crosswise grin split his face. His head tipped back with the laugh he was choking on. He had never been more handsome. “Don’t be mad,” he said. His hands unzipped her heavy jacket. “So I have to take Lannie to some old dance.” His hands tugged at Meghan’s thick sweater. “Big deal,” said West. He leaned forward, hands and lips exploring. “I’ll wear Lannie down somehow,” he promised, “and get rid of her. It’ll be us again, okay?”
The cold and the wind were forgotten. The torn seat and the broken handles meant nothing. The heat of their bodies left them breathless and desperate.
Yes, yes, it was okay! What was Lannie Anveill, against the strength of true love?
Meghan’s adoration for West was so great it seemed impossible they could survive the pressure; they would explode with loving each other. Her arms encircled his broad chest in the tightest, most satisfying embrace.
More, thought Meghan Moore, more, more, more, more, I will never have enough of you, West. More. More.
A thin white hand ran through West’s hair and resettled it gently behind his ear.
The hand was not Meghan’s.
A long narrow fingernail traced West’s profile and stopped lightly on his lip.
The finger was not Meghan’s.
A wrist as bony as a corpse inserted itself gracefully, slowly, between West’s face and Meghan’s. Fingers like falling snow brushed lightly on Meghan’s cheeks.
“He’s mine,” whispered Lannie Anveill in Meghan’s ear.
Meghan heard, but saw only mistily.
She
felt, but through many layers.
Neither West nor Meghan moved away from each other. But there was no more heat between them. Their excitement had been iced over. They might have been anesthetized, waiting for some terrible surgery.
The only thing that moved was Lannie’s hand, stroking here, touching there.
Lannie covered her victims like a snowdrift with her hatred for one, and her love for the other.
The game of Freeze Tag had gone on.
Lannie was still It.
Chapter 6
WINTER WIND PROWLED OVER Dark Fern Lane.
Snow crept behind shutters and blanketed steps.
Cars left in driveways were rounded white monuments, casting fat meaningless shadows where streetlights touched them.
In the yellow halos beneath the streetlights, snow seemed not to fall, but to hang, separate flakes caught in time. Listening.
Listening to what?
Dark Fern Lane was full of listeners.
Tuesday Trevor was so wide awake it felt like a disease.
Her eyes strained to climb out of their sockets.
Her lungs tried to turn themselves inside out.
Her blood circulated in marathons.
What is the matter with me? thought Tuesday. Her heart revved, and raced, and took corners on two wheels.
After a long time, Tuesday got out of bed. Silently she walked down the narrow hall to the boys’ room. The door was cracked, in order that West could slip back in without making noise. Without making noise, Tuesday opened her brothers’ door all the way.
West was not back.
Tuesday crossed the dark bedroom without bumping into anything. Since the windows looked out only onto yards and woods, her brothers never pulled the shades down. She looked out their window. Snow was falling. West’s footprints in the old snow were covered now. She knew he was in the Chevy but nobody else would. If search parties went out, they would not think of the truck. How long had he been out there? Her heart revved again, fueled by worry.
“Do you think they’re all right?” whispered Brown.
Tuesday jumped a foot. She’d been sure he was asleep. She shrugged.
She said, trying to sound knowledgeable, “I guess they’re having fun.”
“It’s awfully cold out to have that much fun,” said Brown.
Tuesday and Brown felt weird thinking about their own brother with their own best friend Meghan.
“Gag me with a spoon,” said Brown, who hoped that when he was a high school senior he would not disgrace himself like that.
Tuesday had to deep breathe twice in order to say her next sentence out loud. “Lannie’s there, too.”
Brown sat up. “You saw her light go on?”
“I saw her cross the street.”
Brown was full of admiration. Nobody ever saw Lannie cross the street. She just vanished and then reappeared.
“She loves West,” said Tuesday.
“She always has. Talk about making me gag. I think we’d have to give West over to terrorists for a hostage if he ever loved Lannie back.”
“Lannie’s the terrorist,” said Tuesday. I am terrorized, thought Tuesday. “Let’s go down to the yard and check on them,” she said.
“Yeah, but … what if … West and Meghan … you know … like … ick,” said Brown.
What did Lannie have to do with it? Why was Lannie out there in the snow at one in the morning?
“Something happened in school,” said Tuesday. How odd her voice sounded. Like somebody else’s. She tried to catch her voice and bring it home. “This girl. In the cafeteria. At first everybody thought it was an unexplained paralysis. A girl named Jodie. But then somebody said it was Jennifer, and she had fallen down and broken her spine. And then somebody else was sure it was Jacqueline and she had a fever and some virus attacked her brain and turned her stiff as a board.”
“Get to the point,” said Brown.
“It was some girl, okay? And Lannie froze her. The way she did that time when we were little and Freeze Tag was real.”
“It was never real,” said Brown.
“Then why are you pulling the covers back up? It’s because you remember that night, Brown.”
“Do not.”
“Do so.” Tuesday looked back out onto the snow. The wind caught and threw it, as if the wind were having a snowball fight with its friends. The backyard tilted downhill, and vanished into the dark. A cliff to the unknown.
Tuesday stared at her little brother. He stared back.
“Okay,” said Brown. “Let’s go look. But it’s going to be tough living with West if it turns out we’re just interrupting the good parts.”
The door of the truck cab was open.
Lannie was swinging on it, pushing herself back and forth with one small foot. She was smiling as she looked inside.
She knew Tuesday and Brown had joined her but she did not look at them. She was too pleased by the inside of the Chevy.
Brown took Tuesday’s hand. She was glad to grip it. They did not let themselves touch Lannie. They peered into the truck.
Two statues. As cold and white as marble.
Carved in a half embrace; lips not quite touching; eyes not quite closed.
Lannie chuckled. “Hello, Tuesday,” said Lannie. “Hello, Brown.”
The snow ceased to fall. The wind ceased to blow. The world was smooth and pure and white. It lay soft and glittering and glowing on all sides.
“Are they dead?” whispered Brown.
“Just frozen.” The chuckle was full of rage.
I have to reason with her, thought Tuesday. I remember that night in the grass. The last time we ever played Freeze Tag. West reasoned with her. He told her he was impressed. “I’m impressed, Lannie,” said Tuesday. “They look very real.”
Lannie favored Tuesday with a look of disgust. “They are real. They are your brother and your neighbor.” She made “neighbor” sound like “road-kill.”
“They’ll die if they’re left out here,” said Tuesday.
“If they wanted to stay inside, they should have,” said Lannie. “He promised to like me best.” Her voice was slight, and yet filling, like a very sweet dessert. “He broke his promise.”
Tuesday wet her lips. Mistake. The winter wind penetrated every wrinkle, chapping them. “Let’s give West a second chance,” said Tuesday. She had to look away from her frozen brother. “He’ll keep his promise now.” She wondered if West could hear her, deep inside his ice. Could he hear, would he listen, would he obey? It was his life.
“They didn’t believe I could do it.”
Tuesday suffocated in the sweetness of Lannie’s tiny voice. “I believed you,” said Tuesday quickly. She smiled, trying to look like an ally, a friend, a person whose brother was worth rescuing.
Brown was not willing to cater to Lannie. “You’re a pain, Lannie,” he said angrily. “You don’t have any right to scare people.”
“But people,” said Lannie, smiling, “are right to be scared.” Her hair was thin and did not lie down flat, but stuck out of her head in dry pale clumps.
“Undo them right this minute,” said Brown. “Or I’ll go and get my mother and father.”
Lannie laughed out loud. “It won’t be the first time in history two dumb teenagers froze to death while necking in a stupid place at a stupid time.”
“Or call 911,” said Brown. “They’ll save them.”
“No,” said Lannie gently. “They can’t.”
Even Lannie’s words could freeze. Tuesday’s leaping lungs and throbbing heart went into slow motion, and her skipping mind fell down. No. Rescue teams cannot save them. Our mother and father cannot save them. That terrible little phrase “froze to death” hung in front of all Tuesday’s thoughts like an icicle hanging off a porch.
At first Tuesday was going to say, Brown and I will do anything you want, anything at all, if only you’ll undo West and Meghan. But she thought better of it. What promise would Lannie extract? What ki
nd of terrible corner would Brown and Tuesday be in then?
So she said, “You love him, Lannie. He’s better alive. Much more fun.”
“He broke his promise.”
“But he’s learned his lesson now. He’s in there now, listening. He’s ready, Lannie.”
Lannie appeared to consider it. Her eyes shifted from hot to cold like faucets in the shower. “I love doing this,” she told Tuesday at last. Her voice was curiously rich.
Rich with what?
Desire, thought Tuesday. Not for West, and yet it was desire. An unstoppable desire to cause hurt.
The texture of the snow changed.
It became very soft, like an old cozy blanket.
The moon shone through the thin moving clouds, and the snow sparkled in the darkness of night.
The temperature dropped like a falling stone.
She has to undo them! thought Tuesday. What can I offer her? What do I have? My brother! My best friend!
Tuesday scraped through her mind, hunting for anything, the barest scrap, to offer Lannie Anveill.
Lannie swung on the truck door again, making a wide smooth pocket in the snowdrifts. She might have been a six-year-old at a birthday party. Any minute she might lie down in the snow and make an angel.
Lannie. An angel.
Tuesday did not let herself fall into hysteria. She said brightly, “I know, Lannie! You can come to the JV cheerleader slumber party!” Her voice was stacked with false enthusiasm. “At our house! And we’ll have a great time.”
Lannie stopped swinging. She looked briefly at Tuesday, and briefly into the truck.
“But not Meghan,” added Tuesday quickly. “She won’t get to come. Only you.”
Lannie tilted her head.
“All you have to do is unfreeze them,” coaxed Tuesday. She made her voice rich, too. Desire for Lannie’s company. Desire to be a friend to Lannie. “And you’ll have a boyfriend, a dance, and a party, Lannie. All coming up soon. Won’t it be fun?”
Brown was staring at his sister as if they had never met before.
“Well,” said Lannie finally.
“Great!” cried Tuesday. “You’re going to undo them! You’re coming to my party!”
“I’ll undo West,” said Lannie. “Meghan stays.”
Freeze Tag Page 6