Amber stopped. She began to sway to another beat playing from the speakers overhead.
"Sadie, you are so dramatic," she said. "It’s not going to be that bad. You really need to just calm down and relax." She stopped to take another sip of her cola and tucked a strand of her delicious blonde hair behind her diamond-studded ear. Her ocean blue eyes sparkled against the bright disco lights trying to blind me. She was perfectly styled in a sleek champagne-colored jumper with camel Prada heels. Unlike me, she belonged there, with the careless crowd at the club. She was beautiful, and she had her own way of looking at life. Amber never took things seriously. She'd been carefree ever since kindergarten, when she was the only kid in the class who would talk to me. She didn’t judge me like our Catholic school prep peers. She was like a serene butterfly, beautiful, yet hard to contain. My vintage inspired style never seemed to bother her the way it did Jacqueline, my arch-enemy since third grade. Amber never cared that trendy styles never appealed to me; I had my own taste and she loved me for that. Amber was my best friend–well, let’s be honest here: other than Lia, she was my only friend.
Amber threw her head back so that her hair bounced against her shoulders. She waved across the club at a boy, who I’m sure, unbeknownst to him, would become her next victim. "Sadie, you hate living here," she said. "Just think of where you're going as just another place you'll hate to live." I knew she was trying to be helpful, but Amber’s view on helping wasn’t much to offer.
In less than twelve hours I'd be on a plane, leaving my friends behind. I guess I always knew the move was coming. My mother was ready for an artistic change. She was a painter, and she'd been able to create a highly lucrative business for herself in California as a painter. Her portraits were amazing, full of color, life, and edge. Apparently, the California weather was too perfect, and she needed a new climate for new ideas. Now that my dad was retiring from the police force, we'd be able to move back to the very town where my parents were born and met. The only comfort I could find was hoping that with the move, I’d be able to leave the painful, wicked cries of the dead behind.
The room began to spin so quickly that I could no longer make out individual faces. I squinted and tried to refocus, but I knew the heat mixed with the atmosphere was going to drive me over the edge. I had to get out of there, and fast. "Amber, I’m leaving." I announced, and I jumped up and rushed toward the exit sign.
"You can’t leave," she screamed, grabbing my arm and pulling me back down next to her. "This is your last night here. I won’t see you again until…" She stopped talking because we both knew it'd be longer than we wanted to admit before we'd be able to see each other again.
I pulled my arm from her grasp, stood once more, and checked my black shorts for debris from my fall. "Amber, my plane leaves at 8 a.m. I really need to get home and finish packing. Besides, it’s not like I’m going to be missed around here by anyone besides you and Lia."
"Trust me, I know," she said through gritted teeth.
"What’s that supposed to mean?" I hissed back. "Come on, Sadie. It's not like you’ve tried to fit
in. I mean, every time someone wants to do something fun you make every excuse not to go."
"I’m leaving," I announced one last time, and I jumped off the couch and began pushing my way through the crowd. With the majority of Shady Oaks High School watching me, I walked toward the glowing exit sign. I wanted to get out of there, and fast.
My car was parked just a few blocks away (like the rest of my peers, I had my own car).
I couldn’t really argue with Amber. She just didn’t understand. No one did. It’s not like I hadn’t tried to be invited to parties, but the only thing worse than being excluded from every major school and social event, was knowing that your mother had to bribe your way in.
Amber chased after me and found herself entwined with a cute boy I recognized from geometry class. I sighed and didn’t bother to wait. I knew Amber‒this detour could take all night. I threw my hand into the air in a quick good-bye gesture and made my escape out into the fading sunlight. I'd have to call her tomorrow.
When I stepped out of the nightclub, the fading sunlight hurt my eyes. Tanner’s new red sports car was parked directly in front of the club, and I quickly secured the note from my pocket under one of the windshield wipers. A smile danced across my face as I turned to walk away, leaving the club and my old world behind.
The sky was a bright canvas of oranges, yellows, and deep reds. I wondered if Salem, Massachusetts would look the same, feel the same. My eyes burned, and I scolded myself. Don't you dare cry, don't you dare cry, I told myself, coaxing my subconscious to wait until I'd reached my black Honda Accord. Instead of jumping into the car, I stood motionless beside it, looking at myself in the window, and felt as if I was looking at a stranger. The reflection in the window had the same big blue eyes and dark auburn red hair that reached just above her shoulders as I did, her almond complexion resembled mine, she was the same, petite, five foot three, but I felt like I was staring at a stranger. I didn’t know that girl anymore, and I wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing.
When I made my way up the short driveway to my house, I looked past the moving trucks, and the boxes on the driveway that had yet to be packed away. I kept my eyes down, so my parents wouldn't see the red glow that lurked there. I was upset, and I didn't want to get into a deep conversation with them. After I'd finished packing a few outfits and necessities into my suitcase, I scanned my room again. All I wanted was to crawl into my bed one last time and drift off into a deep sleep.
Chapter Two
Our plane landed at exactly 4:58 p.m. in Boston. The first thing I noticed when I stepped off the plane was the difference in temperatures. California was hot, but the atmosphere in Boston was a comfortable 75 degrees. Our rental car, a shiny new silver Audi, was waiting for us at the airport–of course my parents would want to arrive in style. Their vehicles would be sent to us in a week or so. My dad's black BMW and my mom's candy apple red Mercedes were being delivered by truck, my car would arrive sometime later‒only the best for our babies. I hated leaving my car behind, even if it was only for a few days.
"The house should be ready," my mother announced, trying to make small talk as we loaded our bags into the car.
"The drive should only take about an hour," my dad said, a little too enthusiastically. He rested a hand on my shoulder. "Come on, kid, perk up. It won’t be that bad."
"Okay, Dad," I replied.
In preparation for the long drive ahead I leaned my head against the cool glass of the passenger's window. The scenery outside became a blur, and I closed my eyes and tried to focus on the darkness inside my mind. My fingers wound themselves around the long white cord of my earphones, connecting me to my iPod. It was a restless habit I had: my hands were always fumbling for something to hold. It was a calming mechanism I'd discovered after self-diagnosing my extreme boredom. I usually ran when I was stressed or nervous, but at the moment I was a prisoner in a rolling cell. I needed something to keep my mind off of Charlotte, Amber, Lia, and everything I had left to worry about.
"Sadie, wake up," Mom called from the front seat of the car. "We're entering Salem. Look at how majestic the town is!" I'd been dozing off, but Mom's voice woke me, and I pulled the earphones from my ears just as my favorite Jack Johnson lyrics were about to play.
I looked up in time to see the dark sign welcoming us to Salem, Massachusetts in black, gothic lettering etched onto a rustic sign. I couldn’t help but feel an eerie sensation course through me as we entered the town. It was already evening, and the sun was hidden behind large gray clouds creeping slowly through the sky. A brick wall lined the sidewalks, separating a small wooden area from white-washed homes in desperate need of repair.
As we passed by the corner of North and Essex Streets, I got my first glimpse into what life in Salem would be like. The animated town was nothing like I'd imagined.
There was a three-story, gray, wooden h
ome standing alone on the corner. An awning protected the short entryway walk-up to the large home. Seven large windows tempted onlookers to become curious as to what lurked behind the walls. It was hard to take my eyes off the building. I placed my hands on the window and pressed my face against the glass. In that short moment, I felt a strange sensation come over me. It wasn’t fear‒more of a scared curiosity. I dismissed the feeling, noting how I definitely wasn’t in California anymore.
The car continued to move, unaware of my interest in the town’s historical monuments, as we traveled through the town, and made our way to the historical downtown area. Old, rust-colored brick buildings lined the cobblestone streets and black iron lampposts were situated on every corner. I rolled down the passenger's window, to let a fresh breeze enter the car. In the distance, behind a set of older homes, I could see small sailboats leaving the harbor. The sapphire water was choppy and uninviting. White waves broke harshly against the golden beach. The sweet, salty air wafted into the car as we passed.
Mom pointed out the window and shrieked with excitement, "Sadie, look out at the water. We should go out on a sailing trip once we get settled in."
She'd always been infatuated with sailing. The city had contained my mother inside a cement fence. She'd felt trapped between the millions of people and Starbucks Coffee Shops. Sure, we had beaches, but the overcrowded scene just wasn't her thing. She needed a more natural setting, something to remind her of her childhood home. She'd loved her life in Massachusetts, where she'd lived until she and my dad went off to college in California.
"We're about to pass by some of Salem’s witch museums. I'll bet you'll find something interesting in there," Dad said, continuing Mom's trip down memory lane. I contemplated the irony of his statement. I've been haunted by enough spirits; I'm not about to go looking for any on my own.
I may be weird, but I'm not crazy.
Mom was enthusiastic as we passed a street with two ancient brick buildings on it. Large trees cast shadows on the sides of the buildings, partially obscuring their view from the road.
"Sure, Dad, maybe I could also have a séance in one of the cemeteries and conjure up a witch to invite over for dinner."
He chuckled and mumbled "maybe" under his breath.
I laughed off the idea of actual witches. Sure, I'd learned about the Salem Witch Trials in history class, but they were just stories to me. The real scary stories were the ones I lived every day, dealing with stalker dead girls and crazy deceased teens on a mission.
As I watched the scenes pass, I couldn’t help but notice the town seemed obsessed, almost fanatic, with the idea of witches. Every street corner had some sort of historical monument or witch-themed restaurant. I didn’t want to get caught up in the hype and act like some deranged tourist, but this was my new home and I felt the need embrace every part of its charm. As much as I hated to admit it, the drive was exhilarating. I tried not to look too excited, hoping the curiosity I felt would be masked by my face.
"This is where you'll go to school, Sadie." My dad pointed to a large brick building to the left of our car. Enormous oak trees outlined the long drive leading up to the school. My old school in California was much larger.
I had to stop making comparisons‒Salem and California were two totally different places; hopefully, my new start in Salem here would bring better memories.
After what seemed like an eternity our car finally turned onto a cobblestone street. I peered out the window, glaring at the large homes, most of them displaying historical plaques with names and dates beginning in the 1600s, mounted in the front yards.
My dad stopped the car and my parents introduced me to our new home. I opened the car door, stepped out onto the sidewalk, and peered up at the house. It looked like a creepy Victorian doll's house. Six cement steps invited me up to the onto the covered, white-columned, front porch. The front door, made of stained Cherrywood, stood to the right of a round, bay window. I looked up to gawk at the three-story home, which seemed too much for our small family.
After both sets of my grandparents passed away my parents had inherited a large sum of money, allowing my dad to retire early and my mom to focus on her painting career. And this was where they'd decided to do it, in the town where they'd grown up.
The gray shingled exterior had many levels, painting the picture of an architect’s dream. Three large trees occupied the front yard, and one large oak tree sat in the side yard, scraping its long arms against the side of the house.
I grabbed my purse and phone from the car and made my way through the overgrown path leading to the front porch. Thanks to the trees in the yard, the path was covered in a dark shadow, and the front steps were almost impossible to see. I stepped lightly onto the porch, slowly inspecting the delicate, hand- crafted, gingerbread woodwork adorning the front door jamb. My hand ran along the edges, feeling every crevice of the intricate design. I looked up to paint chipping off the front door and in dire need of a paint job, but the rest of the façade of the house seemed nicely restored. My dad, who was a sort of handy man, planned to fix the rest of the house up. The last tenants had renovated the home before my parents purchased it, and partially furnished some of the rooms with antique furniture, which was a huge selling point for my mom.
I placed my hand on the gold doorknob and felt an invisible push from behind. I turned quickly around expecting to see one of my parents, but to my surprise, no one was there. I turned to look at my parents who were discussing possible landscaping ideas while standing on the front lawn.
That wasn't weird at all.
"Sadie, go and pick your room," Mom called. The door should be open. The realtor came by this morning and left the keys in the kitchen. The moving truck should be here tomorrow with our furniture and other things. You can start by deciding where you want to put everything."
I took a step closer toward my new home. "Sure thing," I shouted back, trying to sound as enthusiastic as her.
I hesitated and then pushed the large door open to step into the dark foyer. To my right was a large entranceway leading to a small room that would probably become my mom’s studio. Two glass French doors were standing wide open, welcoming me into its embrace. I stepped in to take a look at the small but manageable space. To my left was another entranceway leading to another room which was connected to the kitchen. It was large enough for a kitchen table in front of the wonderful bay window that faced the front yard. In the corner of the foyer was a grand staircase leading to the second story. The dark cherry paneling of the staircase shone as if it had been recently polished. Directly in front of me was a long narrow hallway leading to a larger living room. I took a step forward; the hardwood floors creaked, even underneath my meager weight. A dusty rainbow hovered before me as I walked through the home, a testament to the fact the home had been abandoned for quite some time.
At the top of the stairs was a landing, where four bedrooms greeted me. I walked through each one, disappointed with the choices I'd been offered. When I finally reached the last room at the end of the narrow hallway, I felt the urge to go inside. The other bedrooms were plain and square with no character, no pizzazz. I turned the knob of the last room, but the door was locked, and I couldn't open it. I attempted to open the door a second time, using all of my one hundred and five pounds, but the barricade continued to antagonize me, enticing me to question the secrecy of its contents.
"Mom, this door is locked," I called down to her from the landing.
"There's another set of keys for the rooms in the master bedroom, first room on the right. Try one of those," she yelled from downstairs.
I made my way back through the hallway to enter the master bedroom. The keys were on the large Cherrywood dresser sitting against the far wall. I grabbed the keys and left the room.
I went back, past the landing, stopped in front of the mysteriously locked door, and fumbled with the keychain, searching for the matching key. It took me several tries before I finally found the right one, a small
bronze key‒the last one on the ring.
I pushed the key into the keyhole, turned the key, and then turned the knob. A dusty mist swept through the air as I opened the door making me cough, but I pushed through the mist and walked to the window in the corner of the room. The sun was radiating through the panes separating me from the cool air outside. I peered out the window at the shaded sidewalks to see a group of children ride past on their bikes, laughing. A small smile crept across my face‒maybe this place wouldn’t be so bad after all. I mean, nothing could be as bad as the life I'd been living back in California.
Chapter Three
The room I was in was much larger than the other rooms I'd inspected, larger than I could have ever imagined for a bedroom. Faded floral wallpaper was peeling off the walls to reveal the pale-yellow paint beneath it. In the corner of the room was a small iron, spiral staircase leading to yet another level. A thick film of dust had accumulated on the railing. I placed my hand on the cold metal rail and particles of dust flew into the air causing me to sneeze.
I journeyed up the short staircase to find myself in a small room that wouldn't be able to hold much more than a desk and a chair. A small window allowed light to filter into the small space. This would be the perfect area for me to read, I thought to myself. The secluded nature of the confined space was comforting; I smiled at the possibilities this room might hold
When I was done inspecting the space, I decided it was to be my new room. It was dark and creepy, but I was drawn to its unique atmosphere. I made my way back down the main set of stairs. The room would work just fine.
I rushed down to the car and grabbed my suitcase. Having packed several outfits and other necessities I'd need for the foreseeable future, I'd be okay until the rest of my things arrived with the moving trucks. The sun had just begun to set when I'd returned to my new room. Though the curtains were drawn over the windows, the sun's orange and red rays still shone through. Just as I reached for a pair of jeans from my suitcase, I felt a shiver run down my spine, my veins felt filled with ice water, and my stomach filled with butterflies.
Wicked Cries (The Wicked Cries Series Book 1) Page 2