by Eden Beck
“Sabrina!”
I bite my tongue to keep from incriminating myself further.
After a moment, the teacher just shakes her head and sighs. “As I was saying … Sabrina …” she eyes me warily, as if sizing me up to determine whether or not this is going to be a year-long problem, “everyone else has started on the semester project already.”
“That’s fine,” I say, a little too quickly. I feel eyes on me as color floods my cheeks. “I can catch up. I’m used to it.”
From the look on her face, however, she highly doubts that. “Well, you’re in luck. Rory here missed the assignment as well, so I’ll be pairing you together.”
I grimace at her in appreciation, but as soon as she turns her back I let out a little breath and mutter under my breath.
Perfect. This should be great.
Not quietly enough, it seems.
I think Rory must hear me, because he makes some sort of low and painful sounding groan. Geez, he must really hate me now.
This time, I keep the words in my head just to be safe.
I’m still slightly bent out of shape about Rory when lunch comes around. As much as I tried to focus so I wouldn’t get called out in class a second time, I couldn’t get my mind off him. I eventually got up the courage to ask him about an idea for our project, but the bell rang in the middle of me talking, and he took the opportunity to barrel out the door before the rest of us could even start packing our things.
Maybe he doesn’t like being paired with a junior, although I’m pretty sure his reasons are deeper than that if last night was any indicator. I just wish I knew what those reasons were.
The three Gray boys are sitting by themselves at the far table across the cafeteria again with their backs toward me. I guess my stare has been boring a hole into the back of Rory’s skull for a bit too long because Jess finally has to ask me if something’s wrong. And then when I don’t answer, she flicks a slice of ham at me and asks again.
“Nothing,” I say, but the way my eyes flick over to their table—to Rory, Marlowe, and Kaleb—betrays me.
Clearly unconvinced, Jess presses me into a half-truthful explanation.
It wouldn’t hurt to get her opinion on the matter considering she knows more about those boys than I do. But I also can’t tell the whole truth, so I’m careful not to mention the cabin, or anything about where I actually ran into them.
“It was his car, at least I think it’s his car?” I say, shaking my head. “I kind of stumbled into it, and you should have seen his face.”
At first, I’m worried they’re going to ask me more questions, the kind that I can’t answer without giving away too much. I feel my mind reeling, reaching for answers to questions that don’t actually come.
Because instead, Jess just laughs.
“Seriously,” Jess says. “I had this boyfriend once who named his car Hilga and would flip out anytime I tried to get in without taking my shoes off first.”
“I hope you dumped him,” Aimee says as she wraps her lips around the straw sticking out from the top of her soda bottle. “All guys are the same deep down, even the unbelievably gorgeous ones.”
She takes a long pull, her own eyes flickering over to the three pairs of bowed heads across the cafeteria.
Unlike me, the boys seem able to keep their conversations private.
“Maybe their weirdness has something to do with their religion,” Tom says. Up until now, he’s been unusually quiet.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“Oh, give it a rest,” Jess says, but no one’s paying her any attention.
Aimee leans her whole body across the table, arms outstretched as she drops her voice conspiratorially.
“I heard they’re Pagans,” she whispers, tossing her hair over her shoulder a moment and glancing over at their table again, this time in a show of dramatics she isn’t trying to hide. “But that’s just the rumor.”
Tom scoffs. “Every rumor has a bit of truth.”
“Says the boy who everyone was convinced was gay until, what was it, last semester?”
Tom’s face goes red.
“That’s different,” he snaps, his eyes flickering over to me, and then just as quickly away. Though not fast enough to go unnoticed. “That wasn’t fair. Go to drama camp once and no one believes you.”
While the rest of the conversation drifts away, my mind keeps turning over what my new friends said about the Gray family. Sure, they’re strange … but Pagans? It sounds more like the kids at school are just stoking a wildfire of theories and half-baked ideas to appease their imaginations.
That’s coming from someone who’s something of an expert in that area herself.
Aside from the bombardment of thoughts in my head, the rest my day turns out uneventful and fades into an equally uneventful night. I use the break to prep myself to Rory again, this time determined to come out sounding like a little less of an idiot. For the sake of the project, of course.
The only problem with that is that Rory isn’t at school the next day.
In fact, none of the boys are.
I ask around a bit, but it turns out no one’s seen any of them in class. Seems like the whole family is absent from school today.
I remember what Jess and the others told me that first day. They’ll be here for a few weeks, and then they’ll be gone again.
Best then if I don’t hold out hope for a quick return.
An unusual cloud settles over me in class over the next few days.
Rory does not return. Neither does Marlowe or Kaleb.
The table where they sat remains empty for a couple days, as if the whole school is holding its breath—waiting to see if this time they come back. I find myself glancing over at Rory’s empty seat in class more often than I should. As much as he seems to hate me, I have to admit I feel his absence now that he’s gone.
He’s left a mark on me. Just as the other two have.
With the boys gone, that unsettled feeling returns.
Everyone around me seems determined to tell me there are no wolves here, but that doesn’t stop me from hearing their howls at night. Especially when I’m home alone for long stretches thanks to the hours at my mom’s new job.
She doesn’t complain, so neither do I.
By Thursday, I have no choice but to start the Civilizations project on my own, and for lack of a better idea, I settle on something that hits close to home.
Lycaon—the Arcadian king that was turned into a wolf.
Maybe studying the creatures will banish the ghost of the wolves that haunt me.
The project is supposed to have three parts: a written report, visuals, and some sort of presentation. I’ve always been good at writing, and since I’m not too bad with drawing and photography, I can probably handle the visual aspect of it too.
But I’m dead awful at presentations. I’m hoping that if I can at least put enough of it together, that Rory will be willing to present it to the class.
If he ever comes back.
After school on Thursday, Jess and Aimee are hanging around in the front parking lot looking at Tom’s new pickup truck. I wish he didn’t always tag along with them. No offense to him, he seems nice and all, but sometimes he seems a little too nice, like the kind of kid that acts like someone he really isn’t. Everything Tom does, he does for someone else.
Of course, Jess spots me before I can make a hasty retreat.
“Hey, Sabrina!” Jess waves me over to the car.
I have no choice but to approach.
“What do you think?” Tom shouts to me across the lot, so breathless with excitement that he can’t wait for me to draw closer. The look on my face must look less impressed than he expected, so he quickly elaborates. “About my new truck?”
He looks disgruntled, unsure of himself all thanks to my delayed reaction.
I seem to have already forgotten the lecture I got earlier this week about how much boys like their cars, because all I can muster up i
s a pathetic, “Yeah, it’s nice.”
Tom’s nose crinkles in a way that ages him about two decades. Apparently “nice” isn’t a good choice of words to use when complimenting a guy on his new truck. I know better. Maybe I just don’t want to encourage him.
“Don’t worry about it,” Aimee says, giving Tom a playful pat on the back. “Sabrina’s just preoccupied today.”
“With what?” he asks, looking over at me.
“She seems to be the self-appointed keeper of your three favorite boys,” Aimee laughs. “And I don’t think she likes that they’ve gone and disappeared on her.”
For a minute, it looks like Tom is trying to figure out what she’s talking about. Then he starts to laugh right along with her.
“Really, Sabrina?” he snorts between laughs. “Those boys? You’d be better off steering clear of them. Especially Rory, he’s a tough nut to crack. I thought you might be smarter than the other girls around here.”
“Hey!” Jess practically shouts at him. “Don’t be an ass.” She smacks him, though not as playfully as Aimee. The best thing I’ve noticed so far about Jess is that she doesn’t take any shit, especially not from boys. Especially not from Tom. If it weren’t for her keeping him in line, he would’ve long since crossed over from annoying to insufferable.
“I’m not caught up with Rory,” I say, defending myself, “or anyone else.” I’m not sure why I feel the need to defend myself against anything, especially not to Tom. I haven’t done anything wrong. I quickly backtrack a bit.
“I just ran into them the other night and now that Rory and I got that big Civilizations project, I kind of need to talk to him about it or I’m going to fail the class.”
“Wait a minute,” Jess says looking suddenly intrigued in the conversation. “Where did you run into them? They don’t usually hang around much.”
Shit.
I managed to avoid this the last time I brought up the subject, and here I am bringing it up again. I stumble over the words in my head as I try to formulate a story, but I can’t come up with anything fast enough. So, even though I know it’s a bad idea, I settle on the truth.
“I just ran into them outside in my yard.”
“They were at your house?” Aimee’s eyes are now hugely wide.
“No,” I sigh, there’s no walking back on this explanation now. “I’m pretty sure I was at their house.”
“What do you mean?”
“My mom and I are living in the cabin at the bottom of the big hill.”
“Which hill?” Jess asks, but then her mouth drops open as she realizes exactly which hill I mean. “Oh my gosh, you mean the hill! You live in the little cabin beneath the mansion?”
“Still doesn’t explain what they were doing there,” Tom says, acting protective as if he’s now my self-appointed guardian.
I shrug my shoulders and scoff at him.
“It’s their property, I imagine they can do what they want.”
Just like they can go where they want … but knowing that doesn’t make that ache in my stomach go away.
11
Sabrina
The weekend arrives, and then another, and there’s still no sign of the boys. No word from them either.
I’d thought, at least, that Rory would say something … he is my partner after all. But nothing. Not a peep. Not a word.
As far as I’m concerned, they were the ghosts haunting this place. Or better yet, they never existed at all.
Jess tries to reassure me that they always seem to come back … eventually. But from the sound of her tone, and the way she doesn’t quite meet my eyes when she says it, I know not to hold out much hope.
But then, why should I care?
It’s not like we were close or anything. Besides, it’s better for me to stay unattached to anyone. As it is, I’ve already gotten too close to people here. The more people know about me and my mom, the more danger it puts us in of my dad being able to find us.
When I get home after school on Friday, the cabin is dark and quiet—aside from the rustling of one of the mice that always seems to find a way inside. I throw my backpack on the creaking sofa and take a second to splash my face with the rust-tinged water from the faucet.
It’s been a long week.
Only a week?
It feels longer than that.
A white slip of paper on the counter catches my eye. My mother has picked up another forty-eight-hour shift at the care center, so I’ll have the cabin to myself for a couple days. She left me a batch of chili that she made and a bag of popcorn, which calls my name for a TV binge-watching stint.
This is just what I needed.
No nagging voices. No expectations. No jumping at shadows.
Just me, a heaping pile of shredded cheese atop spicy tomato sauce, and some gorgeous TV hunks who aren’t going anywhere.
But try as I might to tune out the rasp of wind through the tree branches outside, the sound of it keeps dragging my thoughts back to the forest. Just outside the warm, dim light of the cabin is a great deep-green darkness. It’s restless tonight.
Just like me.
I need a good distraction to escape reality for a bit, something that won’t let my mind wander off into thoughts about the boys. Why do I keep thinking about them? And it’s not just random thoughts either, it’s more like they’re haunting my mind.
Thoughts about Kaleb’s entrancing gray, glittering eyes. Rory’s sharp unease with me in class. Even the way that Marlowe watched me until I went into my house, the way he plays careful peacekeeper between the other two. It’s almost like I can feel them watching me now.
I would shudder at the thought if a sudden pounding of fists on the door didn’t make me full-on panic instead.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
My mind only goes to one place.
He’s found us.
The panic sets in, but it’s a panic that I’ve been living with for so long now that it’s almost like a trusted, albeit unwelcome, friend. I know how to choke down fear sufficiently to think clearly and defensively, at least enough to grab the lamp from the side table to use as a weapon. I don’t even bother pulling the plug from the wall. Maybe if I hit him in the face with it enough to break the bulb, it’ll electrocute him a little too.
One can only hope.
There’s no sense in me trying to hide now. My father will only break in if I wait, that much I’ve learned. So instead, I open the door to meet him head-on, with the lamp raised above my head.
“God, Sabrina, what the hell?” Jess says as she looks at me in shock from the doorway. “Do you always greet visitors by brandishing a lamp over your head at them?”
“Dude,” Tom says, taking a step back in only half-mock horror. “You know that lamp is still plugged in, right? That’s hella dangerous.”
Dude? Seriously, this guy is trying too hard.
“Sorry,” I say as I put the lamp down and allow myself to breathe again. “I thought you were someone else.”
“Someone like a serial killer?” Aimee laughs. She appears from behind the two of them like a poltergeist, and I almost club her over the head with the remote still glued to my other hand.
“What are you guys doing here?” I ask, hastily tossing the remote back over to the couch before I end up clobbering someone with it after all.
“Well,” Jess starts, “Aimee’s mom works with someone who’s sister works at the same nursing home as your mom …” It goes on like this for a while. I’m already lost trying to follow the work-related lineage, when she at long-last gets to the point. “And, she said your mom is working a double shift with her tonight. That means you’re all alone for the next day or so, right?”
“Yeah,” I say, feeling I’m probably not going to like the direction this is headed. “So what?”
“Soooo,” she continues as the other two start to laugh again. “You’re alone, your cabin is alone, and that mansion at the top of the hill is alone.”
Now I’m really su
re I don’t like where this is heading.
“Let’s go check it out! I’ve always wanted to see if that place was anything like we’ve heard.”
“No,” I say immediately. “I’m not going up there and neither should any of you.”
The sharpness in my voice surprises even me.
“Party pooper,” Tom says, not to be deterred. “Don’t tell me you’re scared.”
“No,” I answer truthfully, “I’m not scared of much.” Despite my jitteriness as of late, the only thing I can think of that I’m actually terrified of is my father, but that’s not information that I want to share. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea. It’s not our property. If we get caught, we could get in big trouble.”
“That’s the beauty of it though,” Jess says, grinning. “We have your cabin to run back to if anyone sees us and we need a place to lie low. It’s right here at the bottom of the hill, it couldn’t be more perfect!”
“Yep, I agree,” Aimee chimes in. “Three against one, we’re going.”
I don’t want to go up to the mansion, but I know when I’ve been bested. So, after only a moment to grab a warmer jacket and another to consider hitting Tom over the head with the lamp anyway, we set out against my better judgement.
As soon as the four of us start walking up the hill, Tom pulls several mini bottles of alcohol out of his jacket pockets and passes them around.
“No thanks,” I say, putting my hand up instead of taking it from him. But then, after the three of them roll their eyes at me simultaneously, I accept it and jam it into my hoodie pocket along with the key to the cabin.
They, on the other hand, crack open the little bottles and guzzle them down in one swig, only to quickly be replaced with more. Jess and Aimee laugh, and Tom tries to impress everyone with his ability to stick three bottles in his mouth at once. My turn to roll my eyes.
Why did I agree to this?
It’s hard to hear the sounds of the forest with the racket these three are making.
The more they drink, the more their footsteps stumble away from the path, and the faster and louder their voices arc. The racket they make pierces the night, basically announcing our arrival to anyone—or anything—we might come across.