“It was actually three times,” I say, as if the distinction even matters.
“He’s still a hero,” Wes says.
“A superhero,” Kimmie clarifies, “with just the right amount of bad boy to keep him interesting.”
At the same moment, a couple of senior girls walk by him. They smile in his direction, but Ben remains focused on me.
“Get over there and mark your touchable territory,” Kimmie insists. “Mark it with a detentionworthy kiss.”
I make my way over to him, still feeling a bit vulnerable after last night. “Hi,” I say, stopping right in front of him. “I missed you today in chemistry.”
“I got to school a little late.”
“But you left my house early,” I say, wondering what time he did in fact leave—if he waited until I fell asleep or stayed until the last possible moment.
“I still overslept,” he explains.
“I’m sorry if that was my fault.”
“I think it was your fault.” He smiles wider. “Once I got home, I couldn’t really fall asleep. Too wound up, I guess.”
“Because of all the drama with Adam?”
He shakes his head and touches the side of my face, raising my chin slightly to kiss my lips. “Do you need a ride home?”
I peer over my shoulder at Wes and Kimmie, only to discover that Adam is there, too. He’s parked his Bronco in one of the empty spaces. Kimmie and Wes are talking to him through his driver’s-side window.
“Looks like I’m not the only one who wants to whisk you away,” Ben says.
“Wait here,” I say, reluctantly heading over to Adam’s car. Kimmie and Wes step aside.
“I’m sorry to bother you,” Adam says. “I just didn’t know what else to do. I was going to call you, but then I thought you’d want to see it.”
“See what?” I ask, noticing how troubled he looks. His neck is splotchy, and all the color has drained from his face.
“Can you talk? Can we go somewhere to discuss everything?”
“Just tell me,” I insist. “What’s going on?”
“I got another one.”
“Another crossword puzzle?”
He nods and reaches into his pocket, unfolds a piece of paper, and hands it to me. It’s just like all the other ones. And the message is very clear: I WANT TO SEE YOU BLEED.
ADAM WAITS WHILE I tell Kimmie and Wes that I have to go.
“No big deal,” Wes says. “We’ll break in my UV light another time.”
I look back at Ben, knowing that for him it is a big deal. The last time Ben really cared for someone, Adam snatched her attention away. And here it’s happening again.
I give Kimmie and Wes a hug good-bye, and then I join Ben again. “Adam really needs me right now,” I tell him.
“Yeah, I kind of figured.” He looks down at his helmet, maybe so I can’t see his disappointment.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, wishing there could be some other way.
Ben nods and pulls his helmet on. He revs up his engine and drives away. Meanwhile, Lily Randall’s Volkswagen Bug follows close behind him, creating an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach.
I tell Adam to take us to his apartment. We don’t really say much on the drive, mostly because I’m far too tense for small talk.
Adam can feel the tension, too: “I’m sorry to pull you away from your friends.”
“Forget it,” I say, knowing that, as hard as it was to leave Ben, I would’ve regretted it if I hadn’t.
We finally get to Adam’s building and climb the stairs to his apartment. To my complete and utter surprise, the writing on his door is gone.
Vanished.
“What happened?” I ask.
It takes him a second before he realizes what I’m asking. “I washed it off,” he explains.
“You what?”
“I wasn’t going to, but I didn’t want the super to give me a hard time. Plus, I thought it might freak out some of my neighbors. You have to admit, death threats on doors can be pretty offensive, generally speaking. Not to mention the sheer fact that it made me look like a total asshole—like some old girlfriend was trying to get even.”
“Did you take pictures at least?”
“Actually, no.” He cringes. “That probably would’ve been a good idea.”
“But Tray saw the writing, right?”
“Um…” He nibbles his lip, clearly reading my angst.
“You told me he was with you last night. You said you called him.”
“I tried, but he didn’t pick up, and I didn’t want you to worry.”
“So, you lied?” I snap.
“I didn’t want you to worry,” he repeats. “Please, don’t be upset.”
“How can I not be? We’re talking about your life here. You can’t go erasing evidence off your door. And you can’t be lying to me, either. How am I supposed to help if you don’t tell me the truth?”
“Why are you helping me?” he asks, taking a step closer. “I mean, I’m grateful and all, and you know I love spending time with you, be it death-threat missions or pizza and a movie. It’s just…what do you get out of it? What’s this sudden interest in my life?”
My mouth drops open, but I manage a shrug, almost forgetting the fact that he knows nothing about my premonitions.
“What about Ben?” he continues; his brown eyes are piercing. “He can’t possibly think it’s a good idea for you to get involved with all this…to get involved with me.”
“Don’t worry about Ben.”
“Are you worried about him? Are you at all concerned about what he might think?”
“Ben trusts me,” I say, hoping to put an end to this line of questioning.
“That’s good,” he says, clearly sensing the sudden awkwardness between us. He fakes a smile and then turns to unlock the door.
I follow him inside; he stops me at the kitchen island. “I found it right here.” He points to the countertop.
“You found what right where?” I ask, feeling my face scrunch up in bewilderment.
“The crossword puzzle from today.” He pulls it out of his pocket. “I found it here when I was making breakfast this morning.”
“Wait, you didn’t get it in the mail?”
“I’m sorry; I thought I mentioned that.”
“No,” I say, holding back from whacking him in the head. “I think I would’ve remembered if someone had broken into your apartment.”
“I’m sorry,” he repeats, and then lets out a stress-filled sigh.
“So, someone broke in here last night while you were asleep?”
“I’m not sure. I was thinking that, too, but then…what if I just didn’t see it last night when I got home?”
“Are you sure you didn’t set your mail down here, maybe even for a second, and then leave this piece behind?”
“What difference does it make?”
“It makes a huge difference.” My voice gets louder. “The difference between someone breaking in or not.” I peer around the kitchen and living room, trying to see if anything looks off.
“I don’t know.” He reaches for a box of cereal. “I mean, I’m pretty sure I would’ve noticed getting another puzzle in the mail, especially since we’ve been talking so much about this stuff.”
“Who has a key to your apartment?”
“No one that I know of.”
“None of your friends? Did you leave a spare under the doormat, maybe?”
“No, and no.”
“Then what?” I ask, completely frustrated.
“Look,” he says, running his fingers through his shaggy brown hair. “I don’t have all the answers. That’s why it’s a puzzle.”
“This isn’t funny,” I tell him. “Someone’s sending you threatening notes, writing twisted messages on your door, and possibly breaking into your apartment. Worrying isn’t an option. It’s an order.”
“So what do you order me to do?”
“Call the police.”
“And tell them what? That someone’s sending me crossword puzzles? That I got an angry message on my door, but I didn’t even feel the need to save it? They’ll give me a Breathalyzer test and ask me what I’ve been drinking.”
“At least they’ll have it all on record.”
Adam nods. But still, he doesn’t move.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
He hesitates, shuffling his feet as he snacks from the cereal box. It’s a full five seconds before he finally looks into my eyes again. “I really don’t feel comfortable bringing this up with you.”
“No secrets, remember?”
“Okay,” he says, letting out a giant breath. “Do you think Ben could be the one doing this? Maybe he’s trying to get me back for everything.”
“Seriously?” I ask.
“I mean, I almost wouldn’t blame him. It was totally ass of me to try and steal you away from him…even to seek him out in the first place, and to come back into his life. It’s all so heinous and embarrassing, which is exactly what I told my shrink.”
“It isn’t Ben,” I say, irritated that he could even think so. “Maybe it was Tray. You said yourself that he’s jealous of you.”
“Tray’s my friend. We were good friends before all that BS went down with Melissa.”
“You and Ben were good friends once, too,” I remind him.
Adam manages a subtle nod. “But that was a long time ago.”
“I know Ben, and he wouldn’t do this.” I give him the CliffsNotes version of what happened between Matt and me. “Ben saw what that did to me—how scared I was and how I didn’t know whom to trust.”
“All the more reason,” he says. “Ben saw how effective the stalking was.”
“He also saw how both people got caught. And this person will, too.”
“Maybe,” he says, continuing to snack.
“What about Melissa?” I ask. “She’s angry that you ended things with her. Maybe this is her way of teaching you a lesson.”
“A total possibility. I’m definitely sweet and studly enough to drive a girl literally insane, wouldn’t you say?” He flexes his biceps to be funny.
“Can we please try and be serious here?”
“If we must,” he says between bites. “But whether it’s Ben, Tray, or even Melissa, I really don’t feel like getting any of my past and/or present friends in trouble.”
“Even if one of them wants to see you bleed?” I nod toward the latest crossword puzzle sitting on the counter.
Adam looks at it and then at me, evidently still trying to decide.
AUDIO TRANSCRIPT 7
DOCTOR: Let’s talk today about revenge.
PATIENT: Why?
DOCTOR: What’s your take on revenge?
PATIENT: Some people deserve it.
DOCTOR: Has anyone ever sought revenge on you?
PATIENT: My parents. Whenever I did something that upset them, they got me back for it.
DOCTOR: Have you ever sought revenge on other people?
PATIENT: I suppose.
DOCTOR: Are you seeking it now?
PATIENT: Right at this moment?
DOCTOR: You know what I mean.
PATIENT: (Patient doesn’t respond.)
DOCTOR: Is that a difficult question to answer?
PATIENT: People are so stupid. They think they’ve got the whole puzzle figured out, but they’re really so far off.
DOCTOR: What are you referring to specifically?
PATIENT: This, you, everybody. Everybody’s just so dumb.
DOCTOR: But not you?
PATIENT: I’m just trying to see that things are done right.
DOCTOR: Are you still trying to protect your friend?
PATIENT: Very much so.
DOCTOR: And does that mean seeking revenge on someone else?
PATIENT: Once again, everyone is just so dumb.
Across
13. Rhymes with dead; you sleep on it.
Down
4. Don’t forget to ________ behind every corner to see who might be lurking.
12. I have all ________ answers.
AFTER ADAM DROPS ME off at home, I sit in my room trying desperately to get through the last few pages of The Scarlet Letter. But for some reason, I can’t get my mind off Aunt Alexia’s journal. It practically stares at me from my night table, as if daring me to touch it.
Finally, I cave in and grab it. I start to flip through a few of the pages, but the phone rings, interrupting me. I click it on, but no one answers when I say hello. “Who’s there?” I ask, sitting up in bed.
But somehow I already know the answer.
I can hear someone breathing on the other end. It’s a rhythmic, faraway sound that makes my skin itch.
“Aunt Alexia?” I ask; my heart tightens.
A few moments later, the phone clicks as if someone’s hung up, and then eventually it goes to a dial tone. I press star-six-nine and scribble the phone number that’s given on the edge of a notebook. It’s definitely from out of town; I don’t recognize the area code or the exchange.
With trembling fingers, I click the receiver back on and dial the number. A voice-mail recording comes on right away: “Hi, this is Haven. Leave me a message, and I’ll jingle you right back.”
I hang up, beyond disappointed, totally confused, and maybe even a little surprised. Because I have no idea who Haven is (someone with a wrong number, or who likes to make random prank phone calls?). And because my gut really told me the call was from Aunt Alexia.
My adrenaline surging, I grab the most recent crossword puzzle and venture down to my studio, hoping to relax—to take my mind off things by sculpting something meaningful. But I can’t really concentrate. I run my fingers over the crossword’s paper, hoping for a little inspiration. But nothing comes to mind.
No specific images.
No voices in my head.
Nothing extraordinary whatsoever.
I set the puzzle back down and continue to wedge out my ball of clay. Twenty minutes later, with my fingers waterlogged and my hands cold and clammy, I’m no closer to finding out the answers than I was before I started.
I glance over at my tile pieces from the other day. They’re almost fully dry now. I spend several moments arranging the tiles so they form an exact replicate of the crossword puzzle. Then I grab a carving tool and begin filling in all the clues we have so far.
The sight of some of my predictions—of the precise number of tile squares, and the overall shape of the crossword puzzle, not to mention the YOU DESERVE TO DIE clue etched out on several of the tiles—is almost invigorating. It almost makes me begin to embrace this power I have.
So how come I can’t get that power to work now?
I cover my work with a plastic tarp. A second later, the phone rings again, making me jump. Only, this time it’s my cell, buzzing from inside my pocket.
“How did things go with Adam?” Kimmie asks, as soon as I pick up.
“It’s all so confusing.”
“Only to you it is. Wes and I tend to see things a whole lot clearer than you do. And, as luck would have it, he just happens to be here with me, hiding out from his dad. So why don’t you get your confused ass over here, too?”
“Why is he hiding out?”
“Because his dad paid Helga to come on to him.”
“Helga the cleaning lady?”
“Believe it. That woman may be sixty years old and carry her teeth around in a Dixie cup, but apparently she still has game.”
“Heinous.”
“To put it mildly. So, are you coming over or what?”
“I’ll be there,” I say, snapping my phone shut. I climb the basement stairs to the kitchen, where my mother is preparing dinner. Dad’s helping out by dicing up some raw potatoes.
“Better wash up,” Mom says. “We’ll be eating in a few minutes.”
I glance toward her mixing bowl, in which she’s blending something resembling Cat Chow.
Dad gr
imaces at the sight of it. “What do you say, Camelia?” he says. “Maybe after dinner you and I can head over to Flick-tastic to rent a couple videos?” Translation: Let’s save ourselves from this swill by hitting the drive-through of Taco Bell.
“Actually, Kimmie just called,” I say, breaking the news to him. “Wes is having some major drama with his dad and they asked me to come over.”
They both study me for a couple of seconds, as if trying to decide whether or not to let me go, but then Mom gestures toward her keys. “You can take my car. Just promise you’ll be home by nine. School tomorrow.”
“Thanks,” I say, noticing Mom’s monogrammed pendant. Her name—Jilly—is written on it in a pretty gold cursive. Aunt Alexia sent it to her for Christmas, and Mom’s been wearing it ever since. “Have you spoken to Aunt Alexia or her doctors since our visit?” I ask.
Mom nods and continues to mash her mush.
“And?” I ask, when she doesn’t elaborate.
“And it’s a long story that we can discuss at some other time.”
I look at Dad to see if he might have some answers, but he shakes his head slightly, implying the subject is definitely taboo.
“What’s wrong?” I persist.
“Go along to Kimmie’s,” Mom says. “We can talk about it later.” She turns her back on me, gobbles a giant spoonful of almond butter—her edible vice—and then chases it with a shiny green pill—something her therapist claims will soothe her, even though it never does.
I linger a few more seconds, but Mom doesn’t turn around.
“I haven’t forgotten about that calculus assignment you asked me about,” Dad fibs. “How about after you get back I give you a hand with it?”
More code. This time he’s suggesting that we have one of our heart-to-heart chats tonight, whereby he’ll clue me in as to what’s going on with Mom.
“Sounds good,” I say, and grab Mom’s keys, annoyed that she continues to keep secrets from me, while I’m expected to tell her everything.
ABOUT FIVE MINUTES LATER, I arrive at Kimmie’s, where she and Wes are camped out on the floor of her room amid remnants of denim and pleather.
Deadly Little Games Page 10