It’s one thing to be warned your mom is nuts. It’s entirely another to expect to see her healthy, only to have her attack you seconds after seeing you for the first time in years. I shiver. That animalistic blaze in her eyes. It shouldn’t be possible for a human being to look that feral.
Heat pulses from Todd’s body, warming my left side. His feet move in synch with mine, and we leave the pockmarked driveway behind to scrape along the grass. Only, my steps grow heavier the closer we get to my porch.
The smell of spent exhaust emits from Joel’s gray Ford Taurus, and the metal ticks in that way cars do when they’ve barely been shut off. If he just got here, he would have turned on a few lights.
Darkness emanates from the blackened windows of my home, tacking shudders along my skin. The shady feeling breeds; it creeps in through the cracks in my ribs and settles warning over my heart.
I stop in place, and Todd stumbles into my side. Without any kind of aim, I reach for him and end up with a fistful of his shirt. The house heals itself. Always. There’s no way the siding can be chipped off. But a colossal gash disfigures the gray exterior, revealing a chunk of the skinny lath boards beneath.
“What is that?” I ask.
A surge of energy injects through me. I run closer to the side, near the linden tree. Sure enough, the gash is there. It looks like someone took a giant scraper and mauled the siding.
My mouth goggles open while thoughts bumble around inside my brain like jumping beans. It shouldn’t be there. The walls know. What had she meant—there’s no way she could have known about this.
“Damage,” Todd says with his hands in his pockets. He shuffles a foot over the grass. Shadows cover his features in the moonlight, so it’s difficult to read him, but his voice sounds careful. Checked. “Probably just somebody vandalizing. We can patch it up. Repaint it, if you want.”
I shake my head, hands trembling, and for a small moment, the echoes of my mother’s craziness disappear. Something is wrong.
The door opens for me before I even get my key. Almost like the house is eager to have me back. I check the knob. Though the door swung open, it’s still locked.
“Joel?” I call to the darkness. The lights flick on of their own accord, teasing the flesh at my neck.
“Whoa,” Todd says, whirling around, but I ignore him.
I tread through to the brightened kitchen. The microwave, the bamboo knife block, the stove—all untouched. The basement door pulls my gaze, but I drag my attention away and scurry to the dining room. Stacks of paper create a small city on the table, but the old iron fireplace and the painting above it are the room’s only inhabitants.
“Joel!” I run to the stairs and gawk up, but I know I wouldn’t find him up there, either. Blood chugs in my system. He’s not here.
But his car is, a thought adds to the conversation with myself in my head. Where is my brother?
I meet Todd in the entryway. He leans against the circular table sitting smack in the center of the opening, directly beneath the chandelier.
“He’s not in the parlor thing,” he says, gesturing to the open room across from us. “Did he tell you he was going anywhere?”
“No!” I say, sounding a little too hysterical.
“Maybe he was here when whoever did that to your house. Maybe he’s just tracking ‘em down.”
I run my hands through my hair and pace across the floor. My breathing is almost too fast for my lungs to keep up with.
“Too much is happening, Todd. It’s impossible for anyone to vandalize this house. You know, impossible, that thing you’re such a fan of?”
“Maybe you should sit down. Are you sure you’re okay? It was probably hard on you, seeing your mo—”
“You don’t understand. See this spot?” I point to the wall behind the door.
“Joel and my dad were fighting, and Joel threw a radio at Dad, but it missed and went into the wall. There was a gash there—I saw it. But the house creaked and repaired itself, like it never happened, right in front of our eyes.”
Todd raises his eyebrows. “The house did? Or your dad?”
The lights pop and flicker.
I swallow and drag Todd to the kitchen. I crouch down and stroke the smooth floorboards in front of the china hutch, feet away from the red rug.
“When I was ten years old I was drawing right here with a permanent marker, something for school. But the marker bled through my paper all over the hardwood floor. I freaked out and ran to get something to wipe it off, clean it up. But the marks were gone when I got back.”
Todd’s forehead wrinkles with disbelief. “Are you sure this has nothing to do with seeing your mom?”
Infuriated, I pull him to the living room and point at the stained glass above the entrance. The dyed reds and blues don’t make any particular pattern, but they’re still a nice touch.
“Joel and some friends were throwing a ball in here and shattered that window. Dad was furious. The pieces picked themselves up and put themselves back into place. Don’t you see? There’s no way—even if someone did vandalize—that it would have stuck!”
“Piper, maybe we should…”
I grab his hand and tow him toward the front door and back outside into the chilled air and beaming moonlight. The huge gash is still there, as if a giant lion slashed its claws through the gray siding.
“The house never would have stood for it,” I say, my brain trying to work things over. But I feel like a drill is stabbing behind my eyes, and I can hardly focus.
“I thought it was just a joke,” Todd says, rubbing his eyebrow. “The way you guys talk about your house. The stuff about your house being alive.”
“It’s all true! Everything you’ve heard. Right after the party, when you thought you fell through the floor? You really did!”
Todd shakes his head and turns away from me. I follow him and plead to his bony shoulders beneath the boughs of the linden tree. “We’ve never replaced anything. EVER! The claw-footed tub that looks brand new? It’s the same tub. From like, 1875! The cupboards, the floor, the rugs, the furniture? It’s all the same.”
“It can’t be.”
“You can’t be logical about this one, Todd. It won’t work.”
Night air nibbles at my arms, and the sight of the peeling paint leers at me. “I have to call Joel.” My world is spiraling downward, and I have no way of stopping it.
With quivering hands I dial Joel’s number. His phone burps three annoying, screechy tones until I get his voice mail. The sound of his pleasant voice only jerks my heartstrings tighter. Where is he?
I look again to the pitch black windows, and panic smashes me in waves, one roiling in after the other. After all that has happened, quietness is foreign, as is stillness. I drive two hours to get answers from my mother and learn she’s deranged. Now Joel has disappeared, who knows what’s next.
“I can’t do this,” I say, dropping to the grass. The blades are so cool they feel wet through my jeans and on my palms. Stars glitter in the cloudless sky above.
“Can’t do what? Didn’t he answer?”
“I should have told him where I was going,” I rant to the lawn, to the bows on my brown ballet flats. “He texted me, and I just ignored it.”
“Maybe he called my mom,” Todd offers.
Of course, Todd’s mom! “Did you tell her where we were going?”
“What do you think?” Todd asks, crouching beside me.
Just as quickly the hope deflates. Of course Todd wouldn’t tell his mom where we were going. For the same reasons I hadn’t told my brother. That, and she pretty much hates me.
She’s never liked the idea of Todd playing with a murderer’s daughter, and she was the one who pried the truth from my dad after we moved our house here. Mrs. Dawes isn’t a busybody, thank goodness. She kept the truth to herself, but I could a
lways sense her dislike in the scowls she gave me whenever I came over.
“Joel,” I say under my breath. Elbows resting on my knees, I sink my head between my legs. What have I done?
I dial Joel’s office, but the weekend receptionist tells me she hasn’t seen him all day. Too late, I remember it’s Saturday. No wonder he’s not at work. He could be at school, but that’s unlikely, on a weekend. In a flash of impulse, I scan my contacts and tap send on Walter Warren’s number.
Someone picks up on the third ring. “Oh hell? I mean, hello?” I fight the urge to roll my eyes. Not only is the voice too young to be Walter, but that’s totally Todd’s line. What a copycat loser.
“Jordan! It’s Piper. Have you seen my brother?”
“I wasn’t looking for him,” Jordan says with obvious annoyance in his voice. Idiot.
“Shut up, is your dad there?”
Jordan moans and there’s a huge pause before he calls out, “Dad?”
Please let him know where Joel is. Ugh, and I bet Jordan told his dad about the library this morning and how ludicrous I acted. Warren gets on, and I spit the words out as quickly as possible.
“Sorry, Piper,” Warren says. “I haven’t seen him.”
I haven’t seen him.
The phone goes dead. I don’t even have the strength to hold it; I let it fall to the dirt.
“Whoa,” Todd says, taking me by the shoulders. He lowers himself so his eyes can bore directly into mine. They gleam like liquid. “Look, just come to my house for the night. Joel will turn up.”
At Todd’s suggestion the house groans like it’s being racked with violent winds. The windowpanes rattle, and the wood whines as if it’s being pulled away with the nails still spiking it down. The sound jabs at me and I bristle like a spooked cat.
“See! I’m not making things up, Todd. This is real!”
“All houses make noise.”
“Not like mine.”
Todd’s warm hand draws circles on my back. I melt into a puddle and fall into his chest. His warm scent of soap tugs at me, spiking me in a way it never has before, and I cling to him. His heart beats assurances in my ear.
“Seriously,” he mumbles, low and soothing, “just come to my house. Until Joel gets home, at least.”
I nod, though I know in my gut he’s gone. If Joel is on business, Walter Warren would know about it. And Joel would have told me. And the house doesn’t want me going, that I know for sure.
I think back to how the glass shattered and attacked the kids who’d been throwing rocks at me. The last thing I want is for the glass to start spearing Todd’s house and maybe hurting someone until I agree to come back.
I’d always thought it was protecting me, but it doesn’t make sense why. Not anymore. After all that’s happened, the house doesn’t seem caring. It’s possessive.
“I can’t come over, Todd. I have to stay here.”
He sighs and stares up at the moon. His arm settles around my waist, providing more security than I’ve felt in hours. “I’m not gonna leave you all alone, Pipes.”
“Then stay here with me.”
It’s not about the refuge being near him provides. It’s this patched wholeness and the comfort inside, like I’m complete with him. He is my Friend Space. I need him.
eighteen
“How did you get past your mom?” I ask, fanning the thick comforter out over the rug on my floor—the same spot Todd fell through a few nights ago. But judging from the house’s silence, I’m not sure it will do anything to him this time. It knew I didn’t want him around the night he fell through; I’d been worried we’d get caught.
But tonight. Tonight I want him here. Flurries have taken over my stomach, and they haven’t stopped since we got to my bedroom.
Todd will be sleeping here. Todd will be. Sleeping. Here.
He unfolds another blanket, this one covered in bold, patched colors and little tufts of yarn, and positions it over the puffy plaid comforter I just laid down. Then he tosses his pillow at the base of my desk and the blanket’s top.
“Told her I was at Kody’s,” Todd says, shucking off his shoes and kicking them to the wall. The thud thud of their landing plucks my nerves, and I wipe my palms on my jeans. Todd plops into the chair at my desk, and his ankle wiggles.
Heat builds across the room, tethering between us. It snares my glance, trapping it to his. A smile flirts with the corner of his mouth.
“I’ll just—go change.” I jab my thumb into the air behind me. He knows where the bathroom is, dummy. I turn for my clothes and knock my knee into the dresser. A shaky laugh leaks out.
I don’t know what my problem is. It’s not like we’ve never had a sleepover before. Yeah, but you weren’t into him before, were you? Excitement brews in my stomach at the thought.
I pad my way to the bathroom, one of the four doors connected to the upstairs landing. I’m a wad of anticipation, and I yank off my clothes and slip into my nightshirt. My legs stand white against the mid-thigh-long blue shirt. A wave of modesty flushes over me. Shoot, I should have grabbed a pair of shorts.
Oh well. It’s not like he’s never seen my legs before, either. I brush my teeth and hair, and for once I don’t wash my face.
When I come out, Todd is spread out on the makeshift bed in his jeans, shirt, and socks. Curls spill down his forehead, and shadows from the lamplight play on his features. I snag my lips with my teeth.
“Where do you think Joel went?” he asks. “Don’t you think you should call the police or something?”
Did his eyes just flick down my body? The pit of my stomach burns, and I fight the urge to tug on my shirt.
“If he’s not back by tomorrow, I will.” The police won’t do anything right away, anyway. I’ve tried not to think of it too much—the thought of Joel disappearing leaves me feeling more helpless than ever. I keep telling myself he’s fine. Everything’s fine. But the words don’t do much.
“I’m sure he’s fine,” Todd says as if reading my mind. “It’s Saturday night, maybe he’s on a hot date.”
“Believe me,” I say, stepping between his feet on the way to my bed. “If Joel had a hot date he would have told me.” I stall for a minute. Maybe I should call him again. Or text him, at least.
Todd sits up, and his hand clasps my wrist. The touch surges clear up my arm and into my chest, and I inhale a rickety breath.
“I should have believed you,” he says, studying my fingers in his. “Before. You’re right. Your house—it’s all been there, right in front of my face. How have I missed things for all these years?”
“S’okay,” I say, kneeling down beside him and toying with the tufts of yarn where the colorful blue quilt was tied. “I’ve ignored things, too.”
“Oh yeah? Like what?”
I stop fiddling with the blanket and look directly in his gleaming, cinnamon eyes. I fight the urge to brush a curl from his forehead. “Like how great you really are.”
Todd laughs. “I am pretty awesome.”
“I’m serious! I’m sorry for getting so upset about Sierra. It just never occurred to me that you actually liked her for who she is, not just how gorgeous she is.”
He sinks back onto his elbows. I plant my gaze to his face, not down the line of his chest to his slim hips. “I’m not as shallow as you thought, is that it?”
“Something like that.”
I expect him to laugh, but instead he sits up again, captures me with his gaze and says, “I never liked her, Pipes. I only acted like it to make you jealous.”
That makes no sense. I don’t see why he felt he had to do that—although, it worked.
“We’ve always been great friends, but lately I’ve wanted more. It was the only way I could think to see if you felt the same. I mean, short of coming out and just telling you.”
Speaking is imposs
ible. I stare at him, pulse ticking all over my body.
“I guess a direct approach would probably have worked better,” he says. Then he balls his hands into fists and taps them at his knees. “I have the biggest crush on you. There. I said it.”
“You—you do?” I know it’s nighttime, but with those words it feels like rays of sunlight pour through every inch of me.
“You’ve always been cool, Piper. I’ve always felt this connection with you, since we were kids.” His Adam’s apple bobs. “I didn’t know what to say to you in the car yesterday morning. Not because of the zit thing, you’ve always been pretty. But I just, I don’t know. I felt something for you that I’ve never…”
This is absurd. And yet I’m ravenous inside. It’s a challenge to concentrate on anything but him, and I want nothing more than for him to keep talking.
“Why do you think I wanted so badly for the guys to like you? I want you to be more than just my friend, Piper.”
The jittery-warm rays inside me ricochet from one end of me to the other, like shards of ping-pong light. I want to reciprocate; to let him know I feel the same, but words won’t do it justice.
Todd fidgets like he’s not sure how to hold himself. It’s strange, considering this isn’t the first time we’ve been alone together, nor is it the first sleepover we’ve had.
I scoot forward on the patched quilt, and he straightens. His eyes follow my every move, and I press my bare knees to his jeans so there’s no space left between us. The closeness tricks up the consistency of the air. It’s electric, whipped with energy. I sense all the invisible particles between us.
His smell of musky soap is faint. I cross a shaky hand to rest on his other side. Heat spells out along my reach. And every rise and fall of my chest brushes with his.
“Piper,” he whispers.
Breaths trip over the jagged rhythm of my heart, and I don’t know how I manage to move so slowly considering the pinwheels under my skin. I’ve never done this before. Ever.
The Forbidden Doors Box Set Page 15