Rattled

by Lisa Harrington

  “Maybe he’s the one who did something bad.”

  I took my time answering. “Okay…guess that’s possible.” I doubted it though. “Still, she must know you guys are going to want to know about him. I mean, really, why won’t she just tell you? Or make something up even? You have no reason not to believe her if she did. It’s bizarre. You must think so too.”

  “Just because she acts weird, or isn’t like your mom, doesn’t mean she’s a murderer.” That last word, murderer, just kind of hung there, letters strung through the air.

  The screaming in my head finally took over. “You’re totally right,” I said. “When you put it like that, I don’t know what I was thinking.” I knew exactly what I was thinking. It made perfect sense to me, but sometimes you just have to know when to quit.

  “I think maybe you should go,” she said quietly. “I’ve got some stuff I’m supposed to do.”

  I puffed out my cheeks and let the air leak out through my mouth. I felt like I was being dismissed. I made my way towards the door, real slow, waiting for her to call me back. She didn’t.

  To be honest, Megan’s reaction surprised me a bit. Their mother-daughter relationship had always seemed sort of strained. Guess you never really know how someone feels about their mom until you suggest that she might be a murderer. I’d have to remember that for the next time.

  Back home I stomped in the front door, sulk mode on high.

  Mom was on the phone and held up a hand to shush me before I could even open my mouth. My shoulders slumped, I sighed and leaned against the doorframe. After listening for a minute, it was obvious she was talking to her editor. She wrote training manuals for different companies—guess someone has to. Knowing the call could last forever, I made my way upstairs.

  The new Teen Vogue was lying on Jilly’s desk. I grabbed it, took it to my room, and threw myself across my bed. I hung over the side, staring down at my matted pink and purple shag carpet. When I was nine, my parents let me redo my room, with Barbie pink walls and this carpet. I just had to have it. What was I thinking? My eyes ran along the baseboard, looking for a ripple or bubble, something big enough to get my fingers under. I was tempted to start ripping it up that very second, put my frustration to good use. Probably an all-day job, though. Maybe I’d save it for tomorrow. Or maybe I’d get Dad to do it on the weekend. He’d be way better at it than I would. I flipped open the magazine.

  “You’re back early,” Mom said.

  I looked up, surprised she was off the phone. She seemed a little frazzled and had at least three pencils sticking out of the hair piled on top of her head.

  “Yeah.” I returned to the magazine.

  I felt the mattress shift as she sat down on the corner of my bed. “Something happen? You two are getting along okay, aren’t you?”

  I didn’t answer. I just kept turning pages but a little more violently.

  “Was Sam there?” she prodded. “I know Jilly asked him to a movie, but if you have a crush on him too…”

  “Mom! Stop!” Sputtering and choking, I rolled over onto my side. “Why would you say something like that?! I totally do not have a crush on him!”

  She held up her hands in defense. “Whoa, sorry I brought it up. I just thought I picked up on a little something.”

  “What are you talking about?” I grumbled. “And FYI, nobody says crush anymore.” I was starting to feel a little lightheaded over the fact that apparently the whole world knew I had a crush on Sam.

  “It’s okay, he’s absolutely adorable. And tall,” she added. “All the boys in your group are so short.”

  “Mom! I don’t like him! And in case you didn’t know, Jilly called first dibs.” It sounded even stupider when I said it out loud.

  “You see him more than she does,” Mom pointed out. “And you know Jilly, she’ll have her eye on someone else before the week is over. She goes through boys like they’re on a Rolodex.”

  “A what?”

  “Never mind. Before your time.”

  “Let it go, Mom. I’ll just stay out of Jilly’s way, thank you very much. Do you want to find me in a shallow grave in the backyard?”

  “Fine. Like I said, sorry I brought it up.” She sighed and got up to leave.

  I pulled at a loose thread on my bedspread. There was a tug of war going on inside me. I took a deep breath. “Mom?”

  She turned in the doorway.

  “What do you think of Mrs. Swicker?”

  “Well…I’ll admit, she’s a bit unusual.”

  “What would you say if I told you I think she killed her husband?” I just threw it out there, then braced for her reaction.

  She did a double take, like something from a cartoon.

  “Pardon me?”

  I repeated my question but softer, basically because Mom was looking a little scary, like she was going to snap any second.

  “Lydia, is this some kind of test?”

  “Mom. You’ve gotta check out this woman. She’s hiding something, I know it. She has these dreams. ‘I had to do it. You made me.’ That’s what she yells. And no one knows what happened to Sam and Megan’s father. It’s like he’s fallen off the face of the earth.”

  Mom didn’t respond. But she looked even more scary, if that was possible. Making matters worse, Jilly appeared in the doorway.

  “You know, Lid…”

  “Get out!” I shouted.

  She ignored me and flopped across the bed beside me. She slid the magazine over in front of her. Typical.

  “She could be talking about anyone in her dream,” Jilly continued.

  “How long have you been in the hall listening? Mom! Make her get out!”

  “She could be dreaming about a friend or something, or if it is her husband, it doesn’t have to be something that awful. Like maybe she spent all his money, you know, left him penniless.” Jilly was on a roll. “And like maybe he deserved it.”

  “I think if it’s causing nightmares and she’s yelling, it’s probably a little worse than that.” I wanted to add “you idiot,” but I knew better.

  “Well, I couldn’t imagine anything worse than that,” she stated, scratching and sniffing a perfume sample.

  “Oh my God! Mom! Please make her leave!”

  “Jilly,” Mom sighed. “Could you please leave, I want to talk to Lydia alone.”

  Crap. “It’s okay, Jilly, you can stay.”

  “Nice try.” She flashed me a triumphant grin, and scurried out of the room. Of course she took the magazine with her. I could still smell the perfume sample.

  “Lydia, I honestly don’t know what I’m going to do with you.” Mom sat back down on my bed. “Where in the world do you come up with these ideas?”

  I sat up. “There’s something wrong with Mrs. Swicker. I really mean it, Mom. What about the barbecue? She wouldn’t come, just like I said! And I never told you about our trip to the waterfront. When we—”

  “Just because someone doesn’t want to come to our barbecue, doesn’t mean they’re a murderer.” She cut me off. “And you better not be sharing these wild ideas with Sam and Megan. God knows what could get back to Mrs. Swicker.”

  I bit my lip. I was fighting a losing battle.

  “How would you feel if someone made the same accusations about me?” she added.

  “But Mom, you don’t act like you’re crazy!” Most of the time.

  “Lydia. Allow me to make this perfectly clear. I don’t want to hear anymore talk like this, not a word. Do you understand me?”

  She was actually wagging her finger at me, like I was a five-year-old.

  “Fine!” I said it kind of nasty, through clenched teeth.

  “Would you like to rephrase that?” Mom asked, folding her arms.

  I was defeated. The only person who would suffer would be me. “Fine. Not another word.” I beamed a fake smile, zipped my lip, and threw the imaginary key over my shoulder. “Guess I was just being overly dramatic. Must be all those wacky teenage hormones and stuff.
” I made my voice sound super chipper.

  She looked at me suspiciously. “Yeah, must be.” She closed my door softly behind her.

  I picked up my pink, heart-shaped pillow with the sequins, and tossed it across the room. It was just all so unfair. My ditzy sister was trying to get her claws into my future husband, plus, I was pretty sure I was living across the street from a murderer, and of course no one believed me. I threw myself back on the bed and pulled a pillow over my face. Could my life get any suckier? I didn’t know it yet, but apparently it could.

  Chapter 14

  It was inevitable. The date had been rescheduled. I’d been so wrapped up with my new theory, the box of baby stuff, renewing my efforts to get back in that furnace room, not to mention being worried that I’d majorly ticked off Megan, that I momentarily forgot about Jilly’s efforts to scoop Sam.

  She was making toast when I went to the kitchen for some breakfast.

  “I’ve got a date with Sam,” Jilly sang. She turned, waiting to see if I’d say anything. She could be such a witch.

  I gave her a sarcastic thumbs-up, refusing to comment or ask for any details.

  “And you said his mom wouldn’t let him,” she added smugly.

  The urge to scratch her eyes out was overwhelming. I walked out of the kitchen and back to my room without a word, without my breakfast.

  I didn’t want to be around for the pre-date preparations, and I certainly didn’t want to be around for the post-date debriefing. Was it possible I could just leave town for a few days?

  The doorbell rang.

  “Lid!” Jilly yelled. “It’s for you!”

  Megan was standing in the doorway. “Hi,” she said, as I came down the stairs.

  I was surprised to see her. “What’s up?” I looked past her shoulder to see if Mrs. Swicker was hiding in the bushes or something.

  “I was wondering if you wanted to catch a movie tonight.”

  “Ummm…you’re not mad at me?”

  She smiled and shook her head. “No.”

  “Because I’m really sorry. Sometimes I just say stuff without thinking.”

  “It’s fine. I was…tired, that’s all.”

  “Right,” I nodded. “The not sleeping thing.”

  “So a movie?”

  “Sure.”

  “Just so you know…Mom’s taking us. She’ll pay, though. A thank you for looking after Peter.”

  I could tell by the look on Megan’s face that she was expecting me to change my mind. But what was the point of that? It wasn’t like I had anything better to do. Plus the thought of being here when Sam picked up Jilly… “That would be great,” I said.

  Megan breathed a sigh of relief. She was about to leave, then spun around. “Oh yeah, Mom wanted me to get my key back.”

  My lying gene immediately kicked in. “Ooooh…I had Jilly’s hoodie on when I fed Peter and I put the key in the pocket, then Jilly wore it to Vivian’s and left it there. I’ll get it back right away though.”

  A look of panic flashed across Megan’s face. “Okay…Just get it as soon as you can.”

  I nodded, chewing the inside of my lip. I didn’t want Megan to get in trouble, but there was no way I was ready to part with that key yet.

  “What time are we leaving?” I asked, changing the subject.

  “About ten after seven.”

  “See ya then.”

  • • •

  The van was idling loudly in the driveway when I crossed the street to meet up with Megan. It was as though Mrs. Swicker’s impatience was being blown out through the exhaust pipe. I checked my watch—it was exactly 7:10. I took a deep breath and slid open the door.

  It’s funny the way things work out sometimes. If anyone had suggested I might experience a moment of joy during this movie outing, I would have called them a liar. How wrong I would have been. When I opened that van door, imagine my surprise when I saw Jilly and Sam crammed into the back seat. My mouth hung open, my eyes bugged out of my head.

  “Hey, Lydia,” Sam said as though nothing was unusual.

  I wanted to say hey back, but no words came out. I hopped up into the seat beside Megan. Mrs. Swicker peeled away from the curb before I even had the door closed. I stared straight ahead, pinching my lips together, trying not to smile. The look on Jilly’s face was seared onto my brain, a combination of horrified and mortified with a touch of excruciating pain thrown in. Too bad there wasn’t some magical way I could make it into my screen saver.

  Megan was watching me the whole time. I could feel her eyes on me. Somehow I had a feeling she knew exactly what I was thinking.

  Leaning over I whispered, “You could have told me it was a group outing.”

  “I thought you might not want to come,” she whispered back.

  “I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

  The drive to the theatre was…odd. Jilly and I never spoke or acknowledged each other’s presence. I was dying to turn around and give her some kind of look, but I didn’t want Sam to see. Mrs. Swicker didn’t utter a sound, not that I expected her to. Sam and Megan chattered away as if this was all so normal, but it so wasn’t. Every few minutes I just wanted to break out into fits of maniacal laughter. There was something about this whole situation that I found hysterically funny. Guess Megan wasn’t the only one who was overtired.

  Once inside the theatre, Mrs. Swicker actually let Sam and Jilly break ranks and sit by themselves. Unfortunately we weren’t so lucky. She waited to see where they sat, then ushered Megan and I into seats a few rows back. The house lights were still on, so I wasn’t worried about Sam and Jilly, yet. I glanced over periodically as Megan and I made small talk. I couldn’t think of too much to say, and Mrs. Swicker was listening to every word anyway. Megan told me how Sam had just received an invitation to play a solo at the conservatory.

  That caught my attention. “That’s great. When’s that again?”

  “Thursday night.”

  Day after tomorrow. I filed that information away for later.

  The movie was some romantic comedy. I didn’t pay much attention. My view of Sam and Jilly was pretty good. They were about four rows in front of me, diagonally. My eyes adjusted to the dark and zeroed in on them. Their heads constantly touched because Jilly wouldn’t stop whispering in his ear. I’ve been to movies with Jilly, she never shuts up. After about thirty minutes, my eye muscles were so tired from looking sideways, I had to stop. Digging my fingers into my eye sockets, I massaged my eyeballs.

  “Are you okay?” Megan whispered.

  “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.”

  I focused my eyes again on Sam and Jilly, hoping I hadn’t missed anything. I was waiting for the classic yawn and stretch. If it actually happened, I wasn’t sure how I was going to react. I had a vision of me jumping up and screaming “Nooooo!” across the dark theatre. Mentally I glued my butt to my seat. I didn’t have to wait long. It was beautifully executed. Jilly was truly a master. Sam probably didn’t even notice that all of a sudden her arm was now around his shoulder.

  “Hey! Watch it, would ya?”

  Apparently I had squeezed my popcorn bag in a kind of reflex action and managed to empty half of it onto the lap of the girl sitting beside me.

  “Oh, sorry.” I felt like a total idiot.

  By the time the movie was over, I was worried I had done permanent damage to my eyes. I couldn’t stop blinking. We quietly filed out of our row and met up with Sam and Jilly in the lobby. Jilly seemed royally miffed or something. I was pretty sure nothing resembling making out went on between them. I don’t think they ended up doing anything. Poor Jilly. I was starting to change my mind about not wanting to hear the post-date debriefing. But I bet she wasn’t going to be so eager to share the details of this one—probably not one of her success stories.

  The whole way home, I noticed Mrs. Swicker’s eyes hardly ever left the rear-view mirror. She was trying to monitor Sam and Jilly, who were sitting together in the back seat, and of course now it wa
s dark, making it harder for her to spy. When she almost drove us off the road, I finally let loose my pentup hysterical laughter. Everyone in the van looked at me as though I was a raving lunatic.

  If Jilly had some scenario in her head of a romantic goodbye neck fest under the porch light, she was sooo out of luck. Mrs. Swicker barely let them say see ya before she marched Sam and Megan up the driveway. Once again, Jilly and I were left standing there, just watching them.

  Jilly followed me to my room and collapsed onto my bed. “Ohmygod, was that the most brutal evening of your life or what?” She had her arm flung over her eyes. “By the time I realized what was happening, that the Swickster was actually coming, it was too late to do anything.”

  “It wasn’t that bad, was it?” I wasn’t sure if I should agree with her or not.

  She rolled over and sat up on her elbows. “Oh come on! That woman honestly needs help.”

  “At least she didn’t sit with you.”

  “She might as well have. I could feel her eyes drilling into the back of my head the whole time.”

  No, that was me. I nodded sympathetically.

  “Anyways,” she continued. “It’s never going to work.”

  “What? Why?”

  “God, all he talked about was his violin and music. Mozart this, Beethoven that. Like seriously, shoot me now. All I know about Beethoven is from that movie with the dog…yeah, I have to end it.”

  “Um, Jilly, you’ve been to one movie, and that was with his mother. Is there really anything to end?”

  “Look, Lydia, I’ve been down this road enough times, with enough guys to know it only takes one date, and they fall head over heels. I just have this magnetisism or something.”

  “Magnetism,” I corrected.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Back to what I was saying,” she sighed. “I’m nipping this in the bud right away.”

  “Well, you tried, Jilly. If he’s not for you, he’s not for you. I mean you gave him a good three hours of your life. What more can you do?”