by K. C. Neal
I glanced at Mason and knew he was thinking the same thing: Harriet? We knew she wanted the pyxis, but she knew I had it. What would she be doing here?
“Any idea who it was?” I asked.
“Not at this point,” Dad said.
“Dave, could we get you to take a look ‘round back?” I recognized one of the officers beckoning my dad to follow. He was a slightly paunchy middle-aged guy, the father of Hunter Smith, Sophie’s last victim before she hooked up with Andy.
“Do you think we should tell Mr. Sykes?” I said to Mason once my dad and the officers disappeared into the house.
He nodded. “I’ll go over there now.”
Mason jogged back to Mr. Sykes’s house, and I stuck my head through my grandmother’s front door. Another officer passed through the kitchen doorway.
“Hey, is it okay if I take a look around?” I asked. “I’m Dave’s daughter.”
The officer, a tall guy with acne on his chin who looked barely out of high school, regarded me for a moment.
“Prolly not a good idea,” he said. “We haven’t got the fingerprint guy here yet.”
“What if I promise not to touch anything?” I shoved my hands into the kangaroo pocket of my pullover hoodie. “See? No hands. I know the house really well. I’d notice if anything was stolen. I just want to check.”
“Well …. Okay. I’ll give you a coupla minutes. Tell me if ya notice anything missing.”
I headed past the kitchen and down the hall to the den. The black, metal filing cabinet looked well-rifled, with drawers askance and papers poking up from some of the folders. My grandmother’s pine secretary desk was a mess, too. It seemed like whoever had broken in was looking for information rather than an object.
I made a quick pass through the living room, the kitchen, and the second floor, where nothing seemed noticeably out of place.
On my way back out the front door, I met my dad.
“Anything I can do to help?” I asked.
“Oh no, I think things are under control,” he said. He looked up at the house and chewed the inside of his cheek. “Maybe it’s time to try and sell the place. Abandoned houses are magnets for these kinds of break-ins.”
“Well, it’s not like this is south central L.A. or something,” I said, and immediately regretted the annoyance in my voice. I just hated the idea of getting rid of this house.
Dad shrugged. “Still. No reason to hang onto it, really. I’d better get back to work.”
Mason joined us, and we watched my dad wave and pull away in the café delivery van.
“What’d he say?” I asked.
Mason waved his hand dismissively. “Not much. He didn’t seem worried that somebody might be coming after him next or anything.”
“I’m not so sure it was Harriet,” I said. I started down the sidewalk in the direction of our neighborhood, and Mason fell into step beside me. I told him what I’d observed in the den.
“Maybe she was looking for the list from the pyxis. Or something else. Maybe about the website.”
“Or maybe it was just totally random and had nothing to do with any of it,” I said.
Mason was silent, which I took to mean he didn’t think it was a random break-in.
“Ang and I are going to Danton to buy dresses for Spring Queen,” I said. “And we’re going to stop at the old folks’ home and visit Aunt Dorothy.”
Mason perked up. “White liquid?”
“Yep.”
“You’re not worried about, you know, hurting her, are you?”
I twined my fingers together inside my hoodie pocket. “A little. But Mr. Sykes seemed to think it was okay. And, my grandmother…” It would just sound ridiculous to say out loud that my dead grandmother came to me in a dream and told me to do it.
“You want to try it first?” Mason asked.
“You mean…?”
“On me. I’ll try it.”
I looked up at him. “Really?”
He cracked a grin. “Sure, why not? Maybe it’ll unlock all my superpowers.”
|| 24 ||
MASON HELD A SMALL paper cup, one of those shot-glass sized cups that usually came out of ugly ceramic dispensers with big-eyed deer or stupid butterflies.
He brought the cup to his lips, and Ang hollered, “Wait!” A few drops of liquid sloshed out as he jerked to a stop.
“What?” I could tell he was trying not to sound exasperated.
“You should just, I don’t know, make sure you’re aware of your mental state. Your pre-white-liquid state of mind,” Ang said.
“Oh, good idea,” I chimed in. “So you can tell us if anything changes after you drink it.”
Mason closed his eyes. I examined his face. Smooth forehead, relaxed mouth. He didn’t seem the least bit apprehensive about being our guinea pig. I was kind of impressed.
“Okay.” He opened his eyes, threw back his head, and drank the entire cup in one gulp.
Ang and I both leaned forward, and I sucked in and held a breath.
Mason was still for a moment, then his hand tightened, crushing the paper cup, and he stared at it, his face contorted in horror. “Oh my God, what’s happening to me?” The last syllable rang out long.
He fell to his knees, and Ang shrieked.
“What is it? Mason!” I rushed to him and pushed his shoulder back so I could see his face.
“Boo,” he said. I jumped, and he shot me a wicked smile.
“You are an ass!” I punched his shoulder and sank to the floor in relief.
“I’m fine. Don’t feel a thing.” He climbed to his feet and tossed the cup into the trash can under the basement kitchen sink.
“Are you sure?” Ang said. She held the steno notebook and my purple pen.
“Totally. Seems safe to me.” Mason ran his hand through his hair and flopped onto the loveseat. Ang eyed him for a moment and then flipped to a new page and wrote some notes.
“Well, maybe that’s not good,” I said. “Maybe that means it won’t do anything for Aunt Dorothy.”
Mason shrugged. “Only one way to find out. Want me to try any of the other ones?”
Ang and I exchanged a glance. I pulled the blue and yellow bottles from the box.
“Should we?” I said. I wasn’t sure if I wanted Ang to say yes or no.
She licked her lips and looked at the bottles a second. “No, better not.” She looked at Mason. “You’re part of this pyramidal union thingy. We shouldn’t take any chances.”
* * *
So?? Did you ask him??
I couldn’t bring my phone with me to class, so I wouldn’t get Ang’s answer until afternoon break, but she had promised to ask Toby to Spring Queen today. Even though I’d pushed her to do it, I felt a little nervous on her behalf. She and Toby had been on student council together for a couple of years, so it wasn’t like they were strangers. But I knew it would be nerve-wracking to cross that line between casual acquaintance and wanting more.
My eyes darting back and forth across the hall, I stood at our locker at the start of afternoon break looking for Ang’s blonde head. I spotted her coming from the stairs, and, biting her lip, she walked slowly toward me.
“So? Did you do it? Tell me!” I said, jumping up and down a little.
She dropped her books and grabbed both my hands. “I did it! He said yes!” she squealed, and I threw my arms around her. I may have squealed just the tiniest bit, too.
“I’m so proud of you!” I couldn’t stop smiling. “Tell me everything. How did you say it? Was he surprised?”
We sat on the floor in front of our locker as she recounted every word, glance, and inflection. He’d been surprised. He’d turned a little red. But he seemed happy about her invite.
Ang grabbed my hands again. “He said he’d call me! So we could do something! Like, this weekend!”
I’d never seen her so happy.
“Don’t forget, we’re going to Danton on Saturday. Don’t you dare ditch me for Toby.” We
both stood up just as the first bell rang.
“I know, I promise I won’t. This is going to be the best dance ever!”
I was seriously tempted to roll my eyes because that sounded so cheesy, but I refrained. Who was I to bring her down from her Toby-induced high? I hugged her one more time, and we parted ways for class.
The prospect of the trip to Danton and Ang’s giddiness about Spring Queen helped take my mind off my pyxis obsession the rest of the week.
Ang stayed the night with me Friday, and by the time she left Saturday morning, I was suffering from Toby Ellison fatigue. I loved Ang, but she couldn’t stop talking about the way his hair flopped over his eyes, the sound of his voice, the conversation they’d had about grapes yesterday, etcetera, ad nauseum. My mom ran her home so she could get changed, and then Ang was going to come by and pick me up so we could drive to Danton.
I quickly showered, dried my hair, pulled on some clothes, and did my makeup. I wanted to leave plenty of time to prepare a little bottle of the white liquid. I wasn’t going to screw up this time. I would get this stuff to Aunt Dorothy today. I also printed directions from the mall to the retirement home so we wouldn’t get lost and miss visiting hours.
I pulled the pyxis from its cubby and took the bottle of white liquid down the hall to the bathroom. I washed out a nearly-empty eye-drop bottle, carefully let one drop of the chalky liquid fall into the bottle, and then used a paper cup to fill it the rest of the way with water. I snapped the applicator back on and screwed the lid tight.
While I waited for Ang, I checked my bag about twenty times to make sure I had the bottle and the directions.
“Here, take this,” my mom said from right behind me. I jumped. When I turned, she handed me some cash. “Money for your dress.”
“Thanks, Mom.” I looked at her with surprise and gave her a hug. I’d expected to pay for my dress using my coffee shop earnings.
“I’m so pleased that you’re going to the dance with Mason.” She smiled faintly.
Oh, ugh. She obviously liked the idea of me and Mason together. Too bad. This was purely platonic.
When Ang honked, I ran out the front door and climbed into her mom’s Volvo. I picked up a stack of printouts from the passenger side floor. It looked like Ang had done some recon in preparation for our shopping trip. “What’s all this?” I asked.
“I stayed up late looking at dresses and hairstyles, that sort of thing.” She practically vibrated in her seat.
“Someone is super-excited!” I teased.
“Maybe just a little,” she said with a laugh.
“So what’re you thinking? Long and flowing? Short and sexy?”
“I want something with a romantic flair to it,” she said. “You know, feminine, maybe with a little lace or beading.”
“You’ve really thought about this.” I flipped through the printouts. “I have no idea what I want.”
“Well, we have plenty of time to look.”
“Don’t forget Aunt Dorothy.” I didn’t think she would, but frankly, the trip to see my great aunt was a lot more important to me than dress shopping.
“Of course I won’t!”
“We can stop by the retirement home after the mall.” I rolled Ang’s printouts into a tube and stuck them in her bag. I didn’t want to spoil her mood, but all I could think about was Aunt Dorothy. It had to work this time.
“Oo, then let’s go out to dinner!” she said, and I brightened. It wasn’t often I had the opportunity to dine somewhere besides the café or the handful of other restaurants in Tapestry.
We arrived at Danton’s huge mall, and Ang navigated into the parking garage. We locked the car, found the entrance, and stepped into the cavernous space. The din of shoppers, the competing aromas of mall food, and the artificial lighting washed over me. It was pretty much the opposite of the quiet mountain town where we lived.
Ang grabbed my arm and pulled me toward a store with a neon sign and three taffeta-dressed mannequins in the windows. We sifted through the racks of dresses, which seemed to have no organization. I pulled out a turquoise floor-length gown that looked like something out of a Miss America pageant. I was attracted to the color, but no way. I was not going to be beauty queen-tacular.
Ang appeared with an armful of dresses. “I’m going to try these on. Don’t go far—I’ll need your opinion!” she said over her shoulder as she headed to the dressing rooms.
I spotted a short, sky-blue dress with spaghetti straps and bead-and-sequin detailing. I held it up to myself in front of one of the mirrors. It made my eyes look vibrant. I slung it over my arm and maneuvered through the racks to the dressing rooms.
“How’re you doing in there, Ang?” I called down the row of rooms. One of the doors opened, and she emerged in a pink number with a bubble skirt. I covered my mouth to stifle a laugh, but I could tell she thought the dress was horrible, too. “How’s Ken? You two still living in the dream castle? Is Skipper still in rehab?”
She rolled her eyes and disappeared back into her dressing room. I took the room next to hers.
Ang made a strangled, frustrated noise.
“We’re just getting started,” I reassured her. “You have to get the ugliest ones out of the way first, right?”
I stepped out of my jeans, pulled off my sweater, and zipped myself into the blue dress. I opened the door. “Hey, what do you think of this?”
Ang cracked her door and peeked out, and then she opened it wider. “That looks amazing. Is that the first one you’ve tried on? I hate you!”
I turned in front of the three-way mirror to examine my reflection. The dress fit snugly over my torso, the skirt flared just slightly over my hips, and it hit a couple of inches above my kneecaps. The color made my eyes practically glow. I loved it.
“It can’t really be this easy, can it?” I shrugged a little guiltily at Ang.
I changed out of the dress and waited for her to emerge.
“Ugh, the rest of them were horrible,” she said. “Are you seriously buying the only dress you’ve tried on?”
“I’ll have them hold it while we look some more.” Even as I said it, I knew I would come back and buy it.
We went to a department store with a much bigger selection, and Ang found a pretty sheath dress with layers of pinky-purple chiffon. The slim cut was perfect for her small frame, and she found a cream-colored wrap with beading on the fringe to go with it. She also bought a hair clip with pink flowers glued to it and a cream clutch overlaid with lace. I hoped Toby would make her feel like all of this was worth it.
I bought the blue dress, and then we went to another department store to look at shoes. She found some strappy, cream-colored heels, and I bought some silver sling-backs that matched the detailing on my dress. We piled our bags around a table in the food court and shared a doughy pretzel.
“God, this place is like a small city inside a stinky, artificial bubble,” I said, looking around at the hordes of people lining up at the various vendors. I pursed my lips.
“I know,” Ang said with an expression that mirrored mine. “It’s like you could get lost in here and forget things like the sky and trees even exist.”
“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m actually kind of anxious to get back to Tapestry.”
We tossed our cups and the pretzel wrapper in the trash and hauled our bags out to the car. I showed Ang the directions to the retirement home and explained that only family could visit patients in the dementia wing.
“You can come with if you want, but if it were me, I’d stay in the car. It’s depressing, and it smells gross in there,” I said, wrinkling my nose.
Ang parked near the main entrance, and I grabbed my bag.
“I promise I won’t be long,” I said, getting out of the car.
“No, take your time.” She gave me another sympathetic smile. “There’s no rush. I’ll be sitting here with all my fingers crossed. Text me if I can do anything.”
I trotted into the
lobby. An orderly escorted me to the same Rec Room where I’d visited Aunt Dorothy before. Several of the residents, including my great-aunt, had little bowls of what looked like butterscotch pudding in front of them. My aunt was alone at a table near the TV.
I slid into the chair next to her and touched her arm.
“Hi, Aunt Dorothy,” I said softly. “It’s me, Corinne. I told you I’d come back, remember? I’m sorry about the cookies last time.”
She looked up, but seemed to look through me. She reached for her spoon and shakily lifted some pudding to her mouth. I noticed her bowl was labeled “sugar free.” I glanced around to make sure no one was looking, and then slid my hand into my purse. My fingers closed around the bottle, and I concealed it in my lap under the table. I unscrewed the lid.
Before Aunt Dorothy could go in for another spoonful, I squeezed the bottle over the bowl, and several drops splatted onto the pudding. I held my breath as she lowered the spoon back to the bowl, scooped up a little, and raised it to her mouth. She swallowed a few times, and I watched her expectantly, my heart tapping against my ribcage.
Nothing happened.
After a moment, she ate another spoonful. I waited. Still nothing.
Why wasn’t it working? My mind skipped around wildly. I looked down at the bottle to make sure it really did have some of the cloudy liquid in it. Was it the pudding? I glanced around the room and spotted a cart with a water tank and plastic cups. Maybe she needed to drink it.
I got up, fetched a cup of water, and squirted a few drops into it as I carried it back to Aunt Dorothy’s table. I offered it to her, and she took it in both hands and drank about a third of it. I set the cup on the table and watched.
|| 25 ||
AUNT DOROTHY STARED AT a spot on the floor, her pudding apparently forgotten.
I felt my face crumple and willed myself not to cry. It had to work!
I watched Aunt Dorothy for another ten minutes, and then felt a hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry, but visiting hours are over at six.” The nurse who had been sitting near the door when I arrived looked apologetic as she said it. I glanced at my watch and saw that it was five after.