by Eden Beck
I watch the boys laughing and smiling as they talk to the gaggle of kids surrounding them like groupies. The longer I look on, however, the more it looks like they’re not exactly enjoying the attention. At least, not all of them.
The boy in the middle, Marlowe I think, looks genuinely in his element. He stands slightly forward, his shoulders relaxed and his smile genuine. To one side, Rory stands rigid with shoulders pushed back. He tries to look friendly, but he doesn’t seem to be responding with anything more than single-syllable answers.
And then there’s the third. Kaleb.
He stands uneasily, his weight shifting between his feet as his hands fidget at the strings of his jacket. There’s an air of excitement about him. Unease.
As if sensing my gaze, Kaleb glances straight down the hall towards us, and for a second we lock eyes. I recognize those eyes, they’re the same deep gray that looked at me in the gas station store. This time I know I’m not imagining it when it happens.
And this time, I can’t contain the shudder that runs down my spine.
It’s a feeling not easily shaken.
When Kaleb looked at me earlier, I felt a jolt in my stomach. I felt a race down my spine.
More than that, however, it was almost as if a quick glance conveyed more than a brief moment of understanding. There was something there. A moment shared, an unvoiced whisper.
Even now, with the cramped hallway replaced with the narrow-lined benches of the cafeteria, I’m finding it difficult to focus on the other conversations happening around me.
I sit with Jess at lunch and am introduced to another one of her friends. I’m half-listening to the girls chat about some upcoming dance while Tom keeps laughing a little too loud and sitting a little too close beside me.
I’ve never understood why boys, even the well-meaning ones, think they’re going to win a girl over by acting like a show-off. I push another carrot stick in my mouth and enjoy the satisfying crunch of it between my teeth. Free lunch is always a good deal, especially when the food is decent.
That isn’t the case here.
I don’t realize that I’ve been staring blankly across the lunchroom until the second girl at the table pokes me in the arm with her fork.
I jump a mile in my seat, recovering with a mumbled, “Sorry, what was that?”
“Sheesh, Aimee, you scared the poor girl,” Jess says, but she’s stifling a laugh along with Tom.
The girl, Aimee, swishes her hair over one shoulder, and ignores Jess in favor of me. “You shouldn’t bother.”
“With what?”
“With them,” she says, pointing blatantly across the cafeteria in the direction I’d been staring … which just so happens to be where Rory, Marlowe, and Kaleb are seated at a table by themselves.
“I wasn’t,” I say defensively. “I was just daydreaming.”
“Yeah sure. Daydreaming about them, you mean?” Aimee says. “Which one was it? Rory? Marlowe? I’ve always had a thing for him. Not that he’s ever noticed me.”
“I … I wasn’t …”
Jess keeps having to smother her laughter in her elbow, but Tom, beside her, just looks peeved.
“Please, don’t worry about me,” Aimee adds, quickly. “Basically everyone here has a crush on them. It’s not like I’m calling dibs. I just thought I should warn you ahead of time in case you decide to think about it, I wouldn’t bother. They’re not allowed to date, anyway.”
“Not allowed?” I dare another glance in their direction. I was just caught staring, so there’s no harm to be done with another look. “Are they, like, focusing on sports or something?”
“I dunno,” Aimee says as she forks some mashed potatoes into her mouth and then tries to continue talking while politely covering her chewing with one hand. “Sports would make sense if they were ever actually at school. It’s got to be some weird religious thing. It’s the only other thing I can think of.”
At this, Jess can no longer stay silent. She flops down across the table, letting out a dramatic sigh.
“And that, right there, is the true tragedy of North Port High.”
7
Sabrina
The rest of my classes seem to pass by in a rush. I’m not really paying attention to any of them anyways. Aside from spending most of my time actively trying not to think about Rory, or Marlowe, or Kaleb, I’m also thinking about having to walk back home after school. As much as I normally enjoy solitude, I’m still a little bit sketched out about that howling sound, but even more thanks to that guy from this morning.
What if he’s still hanging around in the woods somewhere waiting to get his revenge on me for spilling my coffee on his arm? In my experience, men aren’t quick to forgive being made to look weak … especially not by a woman.
By the time the bell rings, I don’t have time to think further about any of it. I promised my mom I would come straight home and I know that she’ll spin into a panic attack if I don’t. It’s not her fault, she always gets this way when we get to a new town.
First, she’ll struggle to settle in. She’ll jump at shadows, just like me, freak out when class runs late or I forget to tell her about an after-school program. Then she’ll grow complacent. She’ll start to get comfortable. And just when things start to feel normal—really normal—it’ll all be snatched away from us yet again, and we’re back to square one.
I’m too lost in my thoughts as I’m leaving to notice the boys loitering outside later until I nearly run into them. Or, more accurately, nearly run into the crowd of girls trying their best to flirt with them.
From the looks of things as I hurry past, mumbling a hasty apology, the boys are about as interested in them as they are a swarm of pesky gnats.
One of the boys calls something out as I pass, but I don’t hear what he says the first time. Thinking he’s calling out to someone else, I keep walking.
“Hey, Sabrina … I’m talking to you!”
I stop in my tracks and turn around and point one finger into the middle of my chest, like even I am confused who I am.
“Me?”
Kaleb takes a step closer to me as his brothers keep a solid eye on us. “Yeah, I’m talking to you. You need a ride home?” he asks again. His eyes shift to the parking lot behind me, and beyond that, the gas station down the road. “That was something this morning, wasn’t it?”
All around him, I see a flurry of disappointed looks.
I should thank him for that, all of them, but I can’t seem to get the words out.
“How do you know my name?” I finally manage, even though all I can focus on is how he keeps getting closer to me, and how each step seems to make me feel a little more lightheaded than the last.
Kaleb takes in a deep breath and chuckles. “There’s like fifty people that go here, and you’re the new girl. Everyone knows your name.”
“Oh,” I mutter, not sure what else to say.
It sure didn’t seem like that earlier. Compared to you, I was invisible.
I don’t say as much. I just keep staring like a dumb deer in headlights.
“So …” Kaleb starts again, after a long pause, “do you need a ride? My brothers and I can take you.”
He’s standing so close to me now, I swear I can feel the heat coming off him. I remember the way he glanced back at me earlier after he and his brothers basically saved me from the creep at the gas station. That look on his face then … it’s almost exactly the same as the way he’s looking at me now.
There’s an intensity there that makes heat rise in my own body. I don’t think I have the ability to turn him down, even if I wanted to. I get ready to open my mouth and accept his offer, probably a little too eagerly if I’m being honest with myself.
Before I can accept, however, I catch a glimpse of someone walking down the steps of the school behind them, someone that looks an awful lot like my father. I know it isn’t him. It can’t be him.
I know it’s just new-town jitters, but that doesn’t stop bil
e from rising in the back of my throat.
“Are you okay?”
Kaleb’s voice sounds distant this time, but I can’t bring myself to look at him. My eyes are glued to the figure approaching, the outside of my vision growing dark and my breaths rapid.
And then just as quickly as the panic descends, I finally get a good look at him.
Of course, it isn’t my father. Even from a distance, it’s obvious. But by the time I’ve realized this and I’ve regained the motor function to speak, the moment has passed. Sure, it wasn’t my father, but it could have been.
Any day. Any hour.
If I’m not careful, he’ll find us.
The thought of it sours in my stomach. All I want is to be away from here. Now.
“Uh, I have to go,” I say, trying to compose myself. “Thanks anyway.”
I spin around on my heels and take off in a half-walk, half-run across the parking lot and toward the path to the woods. Once I get inside the cover of trees, I realize how that just now must have looked. I clammed up, lashed out, ran away. And all Kaleb did was ask me if I wanted a ride.
It doesn’t matter, I tell myself as I shake my head to clear my thoughts. I shouldn’t be getting close to anyone anyways. There’s no point in it. I would just have to leave them behind as soon as we have to run again.
Someday I hope my life isn’t like this, and that day can’t come soon enough. But for now, I need to stay vigilant no matter how much it sucks.
The walk home is uneventful and I’m glad of it. No weird guys hiding in the forest hell-bent on spilled coffee vengeance, no howls or growls or any other such noises. In fact, the forest is unusually still. I don’t think I’ve even heard a bird since I left school.
Weird … again. A whole lot of weird happening today. But maybe I’m just skittish.
Even so, I pick up my pace on the hike back up to the cabin.
I honestly just want to forget about the whole day. I want to wash it from my skin, scrub it from my body even if it means I have to hike out to the outhouse-turned-pseudo-bathroom behind the cabin. By the time I reach the top of the hill, breathless and beading sweat along my forehead despite the crisp air, I’ve forgotten everything else.
Including the unusual silence.
“Mom,” I call, my voice cracking from exertion as I turn around the last bend in the path before getting within earshot of the cabin. “Mom!” I call, louder again this time, so that she can actually hear me.
I’m about to call out a third time when I have to stop. My whole body, voice included, freezes in place.
There’s a man standing on the doorstep.
He must have heard me calling out, because both he and my mother turn to look at me from the door. I’m once again taken aback. My head doesn’t swim of visions of my father this time. The man standing in front of us couldn’t be more different. The very stance of his body, the slope of his shoulders, it makes him look like a different creature entirely.
Just like several other men … or more accurately, boys … I know.
This man, here at the cabin, looks exactly like the oldest of the three boys from school, Rory. I mean like, exactly like him. They could be twins … if this man was twenty-five years younger. There’s no mistaking that they’re related though, closely related.
About as close as you can get.
This man, I am certain, is who Rory, Marlowe, and Kaleb call father.
And if this is what Rory’s going to look like in his forties, well then, no wonder the girls at school go weak at the knees at the sight of him.
My mom waves at me and smiles from inside the open doorframe as soon as she realizes it’s me. The man beside her doesn’t smile. No, the look on his face is more like a grimace.
It makes me hesitate a moment, because for a second there, I swear I catch one of his teeth glint in the light … and it looks like a fang.
Whatever this man has to say to us, I have a feeling I’m not going to like it.
8
Sabrina
They say some people can tell when something bad is about to happen. Some call it intuition, others call it a gut feeling. I’ve learned the hard way to listen to myself when things don’t feel right, even if I’m the only one that notices it.
“Hello Sabrina,” the man says as I walk up to the cabin door. His voice is edged with unease and there’s a sharpness to his tone that seems intentional. How does my mother never pick up on any of this stuff?
I don’t answer him, instead I nod my head try to force a polite smile that never comes.
“Romulus here was just coming by to welcome us into the area and to give us some helpful tips. Apparently, he knew the original owners,” my mom says.
“Oh yeah? What kind of helpful … tips?”
The tea kettle starts to whistle, and mom excuses herself to run back into the kitchen momentarily to take it off the stove. Meanwhile, Romulus and I stand stiffly out front next to each other. I decide not to wait for an answer from him and walk up the steps to go inside with mom, but he grabs my wrist and holds me in place.
I turn to look at him with angered shock. I’ve had just about enough of people messing with me today.
“You should stay inside the cabin,” he says. His voice sounds more like a growl now than a voice. “It’s not a good idea to walk around in the woods alone. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you.”
I straighten my back to try and match his height and posture. It’s not very effective.
“Well, considering I have to walk to school—and hell even the bathroom is outside—I think what you’re suggesting might be a little unrealistic. Unless there’s something I should know about? Something here, in the forest?”
Even as I ask it, I feel a slight racing of my heart. I can still hear that howl in my memory. Still see the rustle of leaves, the flash of fur.
Romulus avoids my question completely.
“It’s just a friendly bit of advice,” he says.
Funny, it doesn’t sound all that friendly to me. For a minute we just stand there glaring at each other.
“Can you let go of my wrist?” I ask, trying to sound as pissed-off as I possibly can without letting him hear my voice shake.
“My apologies.”
As soon as he lets go of me, I storm up the steps and past my mom who has just returned with two cups of tea in hand. She tries to call after me, something about chamomile and mint calming nerves, but I’m not listening.
I ignore all of it and climb the ladder to the loft, where I can still hear them talking for another couple of minutes. Mom offers Romulus the teacup that was meant for me, but he politely declines. He asks her a couple of questions about our move here, which I’m proud of her for answering as evasively as Romulus tried earlier.
My mom knows how to be careful, just not as careful as me.
Finally, I hear the conversation tapering off.
“Enjoy your evening, Deliah. It was lovely meeting you.” The words signal the end of the conversation, and I know his visit has finally, thankfully, ended.
The door closes and I wait, my back leaned against the wooden slats of the wall, while my mother climbs the creaking rungs of the ladder up to look at me. The mattress up here covers literally every inch of floor space, so she simply stops on the top rung, rests her chin on her folded hands, and stares at me.
“You okay?” she asks.
I lift my head up to look at her.
“Yeah, I’m fine. First day and all.”
She finishes climbing the ladder and squeezes onto the mattress next to me. She holds her arm out for me to lay on her shoulder and starts running her fingers through my hair as soon as I accept the invitation.
The small, rhythmic motions lull my mind into silence. She used to do that when I was a little girl too. It would help me fall asleep on the rough nights that seemed like they would go on forever. Now the nights are a different kind of rough, less violent, but sometimes … just as lonely.
; “I don’t trust him,” I say quietly after a few minutes have passed.
“Who, Romulus?”
“Yeah.”
“He seems harmless enough,” she says.
I sit up in bed and peer at her. “Did you listen to anything he said? I mean, really listen? I just don’t trust him.”
I don’t realize how what I just said really sounds until I see my mother’s face pinch up, and her body shift subtly away from me.
“Of course, I listened to him,” she says, carefully, “I’m just trying to stay positive.”
“Sure, but …”
I’m not even entirely sure what I was going to say, but my mother has already decided she’s had enough.
“Sabrina, come on,” she snaps, getting up and starting down the ladder with surprising speed, “enough of this.”
I scramble to the edge of the ladder after her, but I don’t follow her down.
“What’re you talking about?”
“The doom and gloom, Sabrina, it’s got to stop.”
I blink down at her in shocked surprise. She’s started anxiously doing dishes. Her first victim is the kettle, which she snatches from its peaceful resting place and throws it into the sink.
“I’m just trying to make sure we don’t get caught. Not this time.”
My mother’s shoulders go slack, and she stops before she’s scrubbed a hole in the cheap appliance.
After a moment, she lets out a defeated sigh. “I get it. I really do. You’re scared, and so am I.” She stops and looks back up at me now. “But we’ve got to let someone in, sometime. Romulus is a good man. I’m sure of it.”
She starts her scrubbing back up, her fingers working at the kettle until I’m pretty sure she’s going to snap the plastic handle right off.
I want to argue, but I’ve got no fight left in me. I flop back on my bed and stare out the skylight, up towards the stars.