Lacey snapped her fingers. “Oh, wait—yes I can! Kindergarten. I faced my fear of the jungle gym, just like you told me to do. Climbed all the way up to the top, I did. Was so proud of myself I started fist-pumping the air. Boy, was that a mistake.” She flicked the tip of her tongue over the tiny, moon-shaped scar right below her bottom lip and then sighed, the disappointment of missing the school’s dog show that day as fresh as the ache in her battered elbows.
Aw, boo hoo—want a tissue, crybaby?
With an angry grunt, Lacey pushed herself to her feet. Picking up the overturned plastic bucket, she was about to gather up the cleaning supplies when she remembered Clint’s stash. Nerve tonic is what he called it, and if anyone’s nerves needed tonic-ing it was definitely hers.
No—that is not the answer.
“Just a taste,” she said, pulling a brand new bottle of whiskey from the side pocket of Clint’s beat-up recliner. “One little sip.”
It won’t help.
Lacey stared at the cap. “It can’t hurt.”
You don’t believe that.
Closing her eyes, Lacey took a deep breath. She let it out slowly as she shoved the bottle back into the recliner’s pocket.
What was wrong with her today? First, excitement about going to a place where she’d be forced to interact with the people she normally was desperate to avoid. Second, sympathy for a complete stranger who, in less than six months, she’d never see again. And now this. What the hell was next? Spending nights alongside her father playing detective? Sharing a couple drinks with him afterward while discussing strategy for finding her mother’s alleged kidnappers?
“I’m losing it,” Lacey breathed as she picked up the cleaning supplies. “For real this time.”
She dropped the bucket outside the bathroom and then stripped down to her undergarments before going inside. After placing the items on the toilet seat, she filled the bucket with hot water, added half a bottle of bleach and then tossed in a sponge. Slipping on a pair of bright yellow rubber gloves, she stepped into the bathtub.
Lacey tried to focus on nothing but the grime, scum and mold caked on the shower tile, but Ghost Boy’s hurt-filled eyes kept popping into her head and breaking her concentration.
Sammy...his name is Sammy.
“I don’t give a rat’s ass what his name is,” she barked, quickening the up and down movement of her arms while pressing harder with her hands. One of the cracked tiles she was assaulting broke in half, and the slimiest piece landed on top of her foot. “Get away from me!” she ordered, kicking it off. The tile bounced off the side of the bathtub and landed on her other foot. “Aargh!”
Lacey flung the sponge, which made a less-than-satisfying splat as it hit the opposite wall and then plopped onto the floor. She ripped off the rubber gloves and threw them at the sink. Another splat. She snatched the piece of tile off her foot and slung it into the hallway, instantly feeling a little better when it broke again as it hit the wall.
Casper jumped a foot into the air and then darted under the bed when Lacey burst into her bedroom. “Sorry,” she mumbled, trading hard stomps for soft pats as she walked to the window. Resting her forehead against the cool glass, she stared into the place solely responsible for turning her into a mental and emotional mess.
There was nowhere to go, nothing to do. No libraries with computers so she could play games on the internet, or movie theaters with discounted matinees, or bowling alleys with pinball machines. If Clint had rented them an apartment in Woodstock she would’ve had all that and more, but he had to choose an unincorporated community where livestock outnumbered people probably 10 to 1.
Lacey shuffled backwards. When her calves touched the bed she fell back on it. Staring up at the ceiling, she breathed as loud as she could in a desperate attempt to drown out the deafening silence surrounding her. No such thing living in town—lots of people and traffic equaled constant noise. She even missed the relentless yapping of Chi Chi, her last neighbor’s annoying little tan and black Chihuahua.
Clenching her teeth, Lacey slammed her fists down on the bed. She was going to be in Hermit until the end of February, and if she didn’t get a grip—and fast!—she would be leaving in a damn straight jacket. “I control what I think and feel,” she said in an assertive tone as she walked over to the desk. “Me. No one and nothing else. Just me.”
After loading one of her 80’s music CD’s, Lacey decided to give cleaning one more try. She had just stepped into the hallway when she heard the not-even-remotely creepy intro to the song Ghostbusters. “You have got to be fucking kidding me!”
Lacey ran back to the stereo, punched the SKIP button. Quarterflash’s Harden My Heart started playing. “That’s more like it,” she said, returning to the bathroom.
Singing as loud as she could, Lacey scrubbed until every inch of the bathroom gleamed and then, with a raw throat and quivering arms, peeled off her undergarments. She was looking forward to taking a shower without trying not to touch anything like she’d done since moving into Hell House.
The cool water felt as refreshing as a cold glass of lemonade on a hot summer’s day as it flowed over Lacey’s heated, sweat covered body, but it wasn’t enough to revive her exhausted mind and body. Yawning, she decided to spend the rest of the day—and hopefully the entire night—sleeping. Since she never dreamed it was the only sure-fire way to silence her thoughts.
Chapter 15
Pulling the comforter over his head, Sammy croaked, “Go away!”, but still the door creaked open, just as he knew it would.
No one ever paid him any attention.
He sighed as the clicking sound of heels against wood echoed throughout the room. “Get up!” his sister’s shrill voice demanded as she yanked the comforter off his head. “You’re going to be late for school!”
“I’m not going,” he said, covering his head.
She uncovered it again. “Yes you are!”
Groaning, Sammy sat up. “Why, is he here?”
“No, but—”
“Then I’m not going,” Sammy said, ducking under the comforter.
Alexis gathered it up in a ball and threw it on the floor at the end of the bed. “You know that doesn’t matter, Sammy! He’ll know. And then you’ll be locked in The Room again and I’ll have to listen to him bitch for hours again so get your ass up now!”
Get your freaky, albino-looking ass away from me. Now.
Sammy leaped out of bed as his vision blurred. He ran to the window, keeping his back to Alexis. He couldn’t let her see his face, the tears in his eyes. She wouldn’t stop pestering him until she found out what was wrong just to satisfy her own morbid curiosity.
After clearing his throat Sammy said, “Fine, I’ll leave. But I’m not going to school. I’ll spend the day somewhere else.”
A few moments passed before he heard the clicking of Alexis’ heels. His relieved sigh was cut short when he realized the sound was getting louder, not softer. Before he could even think to make a break for the bathroom she was standing next to him. “Look at me, baby brother,” she said, her voice stern.
Sammy turned his head in the opposite direction. Alexis spun him around to face her. When their eyes locked, she narrowed hers. “Is someone giving you shit at school?”
“Try everyone,” he said before he could stop himself.
Alexis bared her teeth. “Then I’ll kill them all.”
Sammy’s eyes widened. He knew first hand what his sister was capable of. “Don’t say that!”
“No one messes with my family,” she snarled. “No one.”
“No one’s messing with me, Alexis!”
She inhaled and exhaled loudly as her hands flew to her hips. “Then why don’t you want to go to school?”
Sammy turned back to the window, his gaze stopping on the black punching bag attached to one massive limb of the giant oak tree in the side yard. Once again, the new girl’s words echoed inside his mind. He was use to being spoken to like that, but he never
would’ve thought that she was capable of saying such a mean thing. Even so, he refused to believe that she was just like everyone else. Was that because he didn’t want her to be or because she truly wasn’t and he had somehow sensed it? He didn’t know. Had he really seen regret and guilt in her eyes after she’d said what she did or had he imagined it? He didn’t know that either.
Alexis cleared her throat loudly, started tapping her foot. Sammy sighed. It was pointless to keep pretending that there was nothing wrong since she’d read his diary and knew the truth. Besides, he didn’t have the energy to lie anymore. “Everyone avoids me like the plague,” he confessed.
Her eyebrows shot up. “What do you expect? I’m surprised your public appearances don’t result in a rash of zombie sighting reports.”
Sammy frowned, disheartened by his sister’s caustic but true remark. “Yeah, well, there’s nothing I can do about it.”
“Nothing you will do about it,” she corrected, tossing a disapproving glance over her shoulder as she sashayed over to the dresser mirror.
“Sorry that I’m not like you and Zane,” Sammy mumbled. “I don’t live to kill.”
“Kill to live, baby brother,” she replied, scrutinizing her reflection. “There’s a difference.”
Sammy rolled his eyes. “But you like doing it.”
Alexis offered him a shameless grin. “Since I have to do it I figured I may as well enjoy it.”
Shaking his head, Sammy faced the window. “You’re eating a person, not a sandwich.”
“And that is the root of your problem,” she snapped, storming over to him. “You refuse to see them for what they really are—our food source. Plants are eaten by animals who are eaten by humans who are eaten by us. That’s just the way it is and the sooner you deal with it the happier we will all be because let me tell you, baby brother, your whining isn’t just old, it is ancient. And Zane and I have had enough of it.”
All the fear, loneliness, anger, hopelessness, hate and sadness inside Sammy exploded like a grand firework display, sending his fist through the window as a loud sob burst from his mouth. Shards of glass clinked against the floor as he raced out of the room, down the hallway, to the stairs. With his already impaired vision further obstructed by the tears in his eyes, he missed the first step and tumbled all the way down to the first floor. He tried to get up. Tripped over his own feet. Tried again. Succeeded.
Sammy could hear Alexis’ yelling his name as he sprinted to the front door, threw it open and then bolted out of the house. He crashed into something and bounced backwards, hitting the floor with a room-jarring thud. “What the fuck is wrong with you, Samuel?”
A few rapid blinks brought Zane into focus. Choked sobs prevented Sammy from speaking. He tried to get up but his legs refused to support his weight. “Rudolph here, instead of eating the other reindeer, wants to play their games,” he heard Alexis say. “They won’t let him.”
Zane’s jaw clenched as tight as Sammy’s chest felt. “Open the door, Alexis.” Zane scooped him up. Like the scenery outside of a speeding car, Sammy’s surroundings zipped by him. “And get the tube.”
No, please, no!
Sammy tried to thrash his arms and legs, to scream, to beg. All he could do was lay limp in Zane’s arms and cry.
He squeezed his eyes shut tight.
Opened them.
Found himself secured to one of the four steel chairs inside The Room. He heard a scream followed by a loud snap.
He stopped crying.
Zane’s voice was like a clap of thunder right next to his ear. “You leave me with no choice, Samuel.”
He pried open Sammy’s mouth. Alexis forced a half-inch thick rubber tube down his throat. He couldn’t feel it. He was grateful.
Alexis looked at Zane. “One?”
“To start.”
“To start? But he has only three!”
“There are two more in the van, Alexis,” he said, his tone curt and bright eyes locked on Sammy’s. “Now move your ass.”
No, please stop! Just stop!
Unable to talk because of the tube, Sammy tried to convey what he was feeling with his eyes, hoping that for once his brother would take pity on him. Instead, Zane looked away. Sammy followed his gaze to Alexis who was kneeling in front of the brown-haired woman in the chair next to him.
Becca.
She had told Sammy that her name was Becca.
And that she wanted to go home.
Please.
Becca couldn’t tell him anything now.
Tears filled Sammy’s eyes as he looked away from the red stream pouring from Becca’s wrist and streaking the white surface of the funnel attached to the gallon milk jug.
The only thing he could do now was hope that Becca was finally home.
Glancing at the bicycle rack as she walked by, Lacey sighed with relief when she noticed Ghost Boy’s BMX wasn’t there. She hoped that meant he’d skipped school just like she’d considered doing. After insulting him in front of everyone yesterday, she figured he would leave her alone now. But if she was wrong...
Shoving her books into her locker, Lacey exhaled sharply. Ghost Boy’s devastated expression seemed to be permanently etched in her brain. She couldn’t get it out of her mind, and knew that if he tried to talk to her again she wouldn’t be able to deliver another brutal tongue lashing.
I’m getting soft again.
Lacey slammed her locker door when the bell rang, cursing under her breath as she merged with the stream of cologne and perfume scented bodies rushing to class.
Ducking into study hall, Lacey almost collided with The Brute. “Hey, watch—” The furrowed brows of the man-sized boy shot up as recognition filled his close-set eyes. He gave her two thumbs up and then, with a chuckle-snort, ran out of the room.
Lacey glared after him, wondering what the hell that had been about. Realizing she didn’t care, she took a seat in the corner at the back of the classroom. When a quick scan revealed no Ghost Boy, she started to relax—until she noticed the two blonde girls, who didn’t look like they carried one hundred pounds of body weight between the two of them, staring at her. She narrowed her eyes at them. They quickly looked away but then started whispering.
The day only got worse from there.
Less than a couple of hours later, Lacey had just taken her seat in the back of the Social Studies classroom when the same two girls walked in.
They were not alone.
The Blonde Bimbo slammed her books down on the desk in between the two her companions had claimed. With a sharp flick of her hair, she shot forward, her pink sandals making clicking, slapping sounds as she stormed down the aisle. When she reached Lacey’s desk, her jeweled hands flew up to hips that were wrapped tight in a pair of white, Abercrombie & Fitch skinny jeans. “I’m only going to say this once—stay away from Clark or you’re going to wish you were never born.”
Too late, Lacey thought, and then snorted laughter.
Bimbo’s perfectly arched brows furrowed. “You find something funny, Import?”
“I find a lot of things funny, actually,” she replied, clasping her hands behind her head. “Jim Carrey, Grumpy Cat, Justin Bieber—” Bimbo narrowed her hazel eyes. With a sharp gasp, Lacey placed a hand on her chest. “Oh my God, you’re a Belieber.”
Folding her arms over her breasts, which looked as fake as her Billy Idol bleached hair and Michael Jackson nose built circa 1987, Bimbo snarled, “You’re just jealous because you’ll never be that awesome.”
Lacey nodded. “Totally.”
Bimbo’s nostrils flared a second before her glossy pink lips parted. The bell signaling the start of class rang. She exhaled sharply and then, in a conspiratorial tone whispered, “I’m not done with you yet, Import.”
“We’ll do lunch,” Lacey replied.
With a parting glare, The Blonde Bimbo stormed back to her desk. Her two companions, feeling courageous in the presence of their leader, sneered at Lacey. After giving them an enthusia
stic smile and wave, she turned her gaze to the teacher—Mrs. Fadely, according to what was written on the blackboard behind her—who’d just begun roll call.
In less than a minute Lacey had the names of her new friends: Heather Blair, Kimberly Conrad and Brooke Taylor. Unfortunately, they now had hers, too, and if their snickers were any indication they found something unbelievably funny about it.
Lacey winced inwardly at how wrong she’d been—this school wasn’t just like all the others. Usually it took only one look from her to make people steer clear. Occasionally, a scathing comment or two. No one had ever confronted, let alone threatened, her before. Or tried to befriend her. And she couldn’t figure out why. She wasn’t acting any different...
Was she?
Lacey chewed on her fingernail as she considered her behavior since moving to Hermit. She had been acting somewhat skittish. Was that the signal she’d been sending out? What people were picking up on? But how could she feel anything but on edge when she basically lived alone in the middle of nowhere with a huge, glowing eyed man as her neighbor?
Lacey stiffened at the thought of The Man in the Van. Cursing under her breath, she tried to relax, but her rigid body refused to comply as she recalled the intensity of his gaze and how it had made her feel like Little Red Riding Hood being sized up by The Big Bad Wolf.
Oh give the guy a break, would you? He was just checking to make sure you were okay, not trying to eat you.
A burst of heat stung Lacey’s cheeks. Pushing the disturbing thought from her mind, she turned her attention to the teacher who was discussing the difference between minimum wage and living wage. What about no wage, she thought with a wry grin just as Heather glanced over her shoulder. When their eyes met, The Blonde Bimbo narrowed hers and mouthed, Bitch.
Mrs. Fadely paused in mid-sentence to clear her throat. “Eyes front, Miss Blair,” she ordered.
Lacey stuck her tongue out. A childish thing to do, sure, but it made Heather’s pea-sized nostrils flare before she faced forward so Lacey could live with her immaturity.
Let Him In (Let Him Trilogy) Page 10