Spiral

by Jacqueline Levine

  “Don’t touch me!” she hisses, slapping at my hands. “You threw your temper tantrum back in New York and got your way, so now I’m gonna throw mine!”

  I feel like I am trapped in Crazytown. “Got my way? What’re you talking about?”

  “This!” she shouts, gesturing to the room. “Take your stupid stuff and go upstairs to my old room. You can even have the stupid TV. Just get out! I deserve this space! This is my house!”

  “No way,” I guffaw. “In case you forgot, I didn’t want to move into your house to begin with. You can throw as many tantrums as you want, but I’m not giving up this room.” I flinch again when her hands ball into fists at her sides.

  “Well, I’m not living in that animal house with your loony family!”

  Now I’m offended. She’s lumping my mom, sister and brother in with her crazy cousins and uncle. My own hands ball at my sides instinctively.

  “Watch it.”

  Her eyes are cruel, but her words are worse. “No, you watch it, Jack. If I were you, I’d cede this place to me now, because otherwise you’re going to wish you never stepped foot in it.”

  I don’t even know what to say. I’m actually a little threatened, and very confused. Am I not being fair by keeping this room for myself? Am I supposed to do this for her since she’s been through a lot? I’d heard that grief makes people do and say crazy things, but this is sheer insanity!

  “You don’t know what you’re saying,” I conclude finally, and I return her stony expression with an equally hard stare. Looking into her eyes this way makes my blood boil for a dozen different reasons, but the most prominent is how much I can’t ignore how hot she looks when her eyes squint and the red flush of anger fills her cheeks.

  Finally, she takes a step back. “Okay then, Jack Hansen. It was nice knowing you.” As she begins to turn away from me, I see the glimmer of a vengeful smile on her lips, and I know I’m in for it big time.

  Mom calls us to dinner at six o’clock, sharp. She’s prepared pasta for dinner, and we each grab a plate and get in line. It’s just my mom’s same old cooking, but it looks like a catered event in this elaborate kitchen on someone else’s fancy dishes. There’s a platter of pasta, a big bowl of salad, bread sticks, and brownies. I feel like I’m in the cafeteria, only I can reach over everyone’s heads and take what I want without having to wait. This causes some complaints and elbowing, but nothing will stop me from getting back to my mini-castle. I eat as I serve myself, starving from the move and all of the unpacking I’ve completed.

  Cherie hovers over a plate of salad at the end of the kitchen’s island, but she doesn’t seem to be eating. She pushes lettuce back and forth. A cherry tomato rolls along the end edge of her plate. She glowers at us, visibly disgusted by our typical dinner routine. I realize this is the first time she’s joining us for dinner and never observed the chaos that goes into feeding seven people.

  Trust me, Cherie, we’d all like to be only children, I think bitterly, cramming more ziti into my mouth before I swallow the first bit.

  “It’s good tonight, Mom,” I say. I reach over Brenton’s head and snag a Coke from a collection of unopened soda cans.

  “Gee, that’s nice to say,” Chloe replies sarcastically from behind me. “And please don’t talk with your mouth full; it’s gross.”

  I turn and chew in her face while saying, “Sorry if I offended you, Chloe.”

  “Jack, stop,” Claudia groans.

  “I’m gonna eat in my room anyway,” I call out over the din, quickly heading for the door.

  Mom looks up at this, and she’s all scowls. “Jack…” she says in that tone, the one that warns me to make a better choice.

  “The Knicks are tied!” I tell her indignantly, and that one reason alone should absolve me from the mandatory family dinner. But I know I have to make a better case. “Besides, I got a lot of unpacking done – I’m in the zone!”

  Jim looks up from his plate of food and cocks an eyebrow at me. He’s never been one for basketball, so I know he doesn’t get my need to see the game, but he can appreciate my play at my mom’s weak spot: accomplished chores. I see a hint of humor in his forced stern gaze. I shrug, wink, and continue to push the sliding glass door open.

  “I’ll come back when it’s over, promise!” Before either of them can argue, Irush back to my sanctuary. Before I can close the casita’s door, I hear Cherie’s shrill voice complain:

  “Well, if he doesn’t have to stay –”

  DIRTERAZZI.COM

  MISERY LOVES COMPANY: CHERIE BELLE MOVES BACK TO LA PAD WITH NEW GUARDIANS AND JACK HANSEN…DID SOMEONE SAY AWKWARD?!

  It’s official: the moving trucks rolled into Cherie Belle’s driveway this afternoon, as did the Goldman family and, you guessed it…Jack Hansen! Hansen was the first to arrive to the swanky 10-bedroom mansion Cherie’s parents purchased back in 2009. Cherie was out for the day with some friends as her new family unloaded their things in her home. Sources close to the situation tell us tensions are high, especially now that Jack and Cherie will be around each other more often.

  “They’re still not speaking to one another,” our anonymous source tells us. “She has bigger things to worry about, and he’s not worth her time.”

  Maybe so, but he’s worth someone’s time: 216,042 someones to be exact, which is the number of members belonging to the newborn site, WeLoveJackHansen.com. Veronica Page, the site’s owner, tells us, “We earn almost ten new members a day. The people love him; in fact, a lot of the members think Jack can do better than Cherie. They feel she’s too shallow for him.” The site has a complete bio on Jack, as well as pictures gleaned from the numerous internet reports about him and Cherie over the past two months. When asked why she started the site, 29 year old Veronica says, “I’m a sucker for the underdog, and he’s a total underdog. He’s gotta compete for a celebrity like Cherie with a guy like Caz Farrell – that’s tough! They’re young, they clearly like each other, but the odds are stacked against Jack, so I thought he needed a cheering section.” Veronica likes the idea of a Belle-Hansen relationship. “I, personally, am rooting for Jack and Cherie to be together. I think Jack is just what Cherie needs right now; he’s a good kid and a normal boy who could help her have a normal life. It’s the situation that’s tearing them apart, and it’s just sad; they’re a tragic couple who aren’t supposed to be in love, like a real life Romeo and Juliet.”

  It isn’t clear if our Romeo is aware of the site or his popularity with the ladies yet, but one thing is certain: his Juliet is not one of the site’s members. Stay tuned…

  CHAPTER 17

  It almost feels like a giant fist plunged through my chest and clamped down on my lungs. My voice coughs from my throat, the air frozen in my esophagus as I stare forward, horrified.

  “No –”

  I had only wanted to retrieve my iPod. I was committed to staying in my room and avoiding any further run-ins with any of the girls, particularly Cherie. It was never my intention to get into a fight tonight.

  Instead, I gawk at my egg-yolk covered car and feel my veins throbbing with an impending murder spree.

  “Are you kidding me?!” I finally shout. My car – my beautiful car – soiled with the grossest, slimiest substance in the world. The sight alone makes me wretch, not to mention the smell.

  I can only think of three possible, logical culprits: Claudia, Chloe, and my newest nemesis, Cherie.

  “Which one of you did it?” I bellow, storming through the front door of the house. My strides eat the ground beneath my feet as I soar toward the stairs.

  “Jack?” Mom calls from the kitchen. “What’s wrong, honey?”

  I’m so angry that my voice rumbles through the house like thunder. “My car! They egged my car; there’s yolk all over the hood – whoever did it is dead!”

  Mom’s nose scrunches. “What? I’m not following, dear.”

  “Go look!” I command, pointing to the front door. “Someone trashed my whole car with eggs
! It’s one of the girls – or all of them. You’ve got to do something, now! Or I will.”

  Jim appears in the foyer, his hands resting on his waist, looking me over like I’ve gone nuts. “What happened?”

  I grind my answer out between my teeth, “Your niece happened. My car’s covered in eggs!”

  Neither of them seems to believe me. “Let me see,” Jim says, and he follows me out to the driveway. He pauses in mid-step when he sees my beautiful, black coupe polka dotted with white egg shells and dripping with slimy yellow yolk.

  His first question doesn’t surprise me. “How do you know this was Cherie?”

  “Really?” I ask, folding my arms over my chest and pitying his uselessness as a father and as an intelligent adult. “If it wasn’t her, it was your daughters.”

  “Well, I know you’re convinced it’s one of the girls, Jack, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s just some crazy fan of Cherie’s or some of those paparazzi folk.”

  Paparazzi folk. I’m reasoning with someone who calls them “paparazzi folk.” I hang my head and rub my eyes with my hand to avoid grabbing the man and shaking sense into him.

  “I guess we can check the video surveillance cameras,” he says suddenly, and I look up.

  “Huh?”

  “The property has a pretty good security system of cameras. I haven’t really tinkered much with them yet, but we can do it together if it will help us get to the bottom of this,” he says with a smirk. I want to punch the smirk off of his face.

  But I’m willing to do anything to catch one of those rats in the act. After her threats this afternoon, I can’t think of a guiltier party than Cherie.

  “Fine. Let’s go,” I reply.

  Jim leads me to his study, which used to be his brother’s study, based on the nameplate on the desk. One wall is covered with full, oak book shelves that span from the floor to the ceiling. The other walls are garnished with family photos, awards and trophies belonging to Cherie, and her parents’ college degrees.

  “Let’s see here.” Jim turns a giant computer monitor on an angle and double clicks on a small icon in the bottom left corner of the screen. I lean down and peer over his shoulder.

  The screen instantly divides into 8 squares, each displaying a corner of the massive property. I can see the heads of some neighbors walking past the front gate, the entire pool area in the back, the garage, the driveway, and two gardened portions on the sides of the house. I marvel at this little piece of technology and exchange awed glances with Jim.

  “Pretty cool, huh?” he says. I nod, and I watch him nimbly type and click his way into the main controls of the videos. He manipulates the square showing the driveway and makes it rewind, but he goes back to two days ago.

  “Too far,” he mutters, adjusting the playback over and over as he skips forward and back in time. I’m growing impatient, already past the fascination with the cameras and refocused on the witch hunt for my car’s vandal.

  “Well, this is just a few hours ago,” he murmurs. My eyes flicker around the screen, hopeful for a glimpse of something. Wouldn’t it be my luck that my car is just beyond the periphery of the camera’s point of view? I can see my front bumper and that’s it.

  “Ugh. Of course,” I groan.

  “Hold on, let’s watch and see if anyone walks by,” he suggests. He speeds up the video, and I watch intently, hoping for a glimpse of something viable. The only thing we see is a dark shadow that flickers past the screen like a ghost in a horror movie.

  “What the – come on!”

  “Look,” Jim sighs, defeated. “It’s not that I don’t believe you, okay? I will talk to them about this, but you and I both know they’re going to deny it. I can’t punish them for something I can’t prove, especially when there are a lot of sick people out there who would do this out of anger or jealousy toward you.”

  I stare at him. “Huh? Me? Like who?”

  He cocks an eyebrow at me. “Well, people who don’t like Cherie would do this, but it’s more likely people who do like her and are mad at you because they think you’re her boyfriend.”

  My chest tightens instantly. “How do you know about that?” I demand, feeling the back of my neck burn.

  Jim shrugs. “I see the news and the magazines in the stores, Jack. It’s impossible to ignore. I just ask that you keep things like that in mind before you blame the girls for crazy things like this. I know they like to tease you, but I don’t think they’d go as far as to throw eggs at your car.”

  “You don’t know Cherie that well,” I mutter under my breath, still unwilling to believe that some nutty stalker is so obsessed with Cherie that he or she would take it out on my innocent car.

  His mouth twists to the side. “I know this whole thing has been rough on you, kiddo. It can’t be fun to have your name in the papers and stuff, and then things like this happen and you don’t know who is to blame. The other day, I found a stuffed animal covered in red paint in the mailbox with some death threat attached to it, addressed to Cherie.”

  “What? That’s nuts!” I shake my head at the gruesome picture in my mind. “Did you call the cops?”

  “Of course, but it’s not the first time I’ve received something like that unfortunately,” he sighs. “And the cops, they’ll investigate and find some sicko who hates that she wears fur. So, you see, it’s possible the girls didn’t do this. Just try to take it all in stride, okay? It was probably some nutcase with a crush on her. How they got the eggs over the gate, I’m not sure…but I’ll look into that in the morning….”

  He squints up at my doubting frown. “Can we squash it for now at least?”

  I purse my lips and nod. “Yeah.”

  He claps a hand on my shoulder as he stands and says, “C’mon, I’ll help you clean the car off.”

  CHAPTER 18

  I can’t pretend it doesn’t give me just the slightest bit of satisfaction that it’s raining today and the twins can’t go to Venice Beach, a venture they desperately wanted and begged Jim to do. It took their father and me two hours to clean the eggs off of my car, eggs I’m still convinced those girls are responsible for. Last night, as I was picking shells off the middle of its roof, I realized I was conveniently parked below Chloe’s bedroom window. If my car was a dartboard, my roof was practically her bulls eye.

  So this morning, when I glanced out my window and was met by gray skies and fog, I actually laughed out loud. It wasn’t the type of Karma I really wanted them to encounter, but it was good enough for now. Unfortunately, I had no one to share the perfect moment with.

  That’s when I realized I had slept alone for the first time in years. Britney wasn’t there to jump on me or force me to cater to her whims or whimper that she needed me to follow her to the bathroom because she was scared. Mom wasn’t coming in to remove her from my bed and get her ready for breakfast or school. She and Jim actually kept their promise and made Britney stay inside.

  Oddly, I was kind of bummed.

  When I first settled in to go to sleep, I tossed and turned for a good hour. I checked the door, opened it and closed it, just to make sure Britney wasn’t wandering around the pool in the dark. I put the TV back on and watched highlights from the Knick game on ESPN for a little. It must have been almost 2 o’clock in the morning before I finally fell asleep.

  The silence in the room is deafening. There are no arguments or shrieks of discontent outside my door. My mother’s big band music and Jim’s NPR blah-blahing radio can’t be heard for miles. Brenton isn’t asking me to play with him.

  I could get used to this. I immediately put the TV on and hang out in bed, because what else is there to do on a crappy day during winter recess? It isn’t like I have to be at school yet.

  School. Just the thought of the word gives me a chill. Mom and I are going in extra early next Monday to get me registered for my classes. I’m consumed by the realization that I don’t know this building, I don’t know these teachers, and I certainly don’t have any friends
there. I will be on my own, except for the twins, who are definitely going to drop me like a bad habit the second some tool says hello to them.

  I turn over and reach for my cellphone to flip through pictures. The first few pictures are from my going away party. I linger over one of Josh and Frank performing a keg stand, smiling at the memory. I forward it to them along with the message, “Thanks a lot for the party.”

  When they don’t respond immediately, I’m sort of confused. Usually, I’m the one who is slow to text responses. I send them a few pictures of my new room and tell them about all the cool things Jim put in it. No response. I wait and wait, watching for their replies, but then I remember that California is three hours behind New York time. School also started for them this week. Mom planned our trip out perfectly so I wouldn’t have to miss a day of classes in either state. Thanks, Mom.

  The thought of my mom gets my stomach growling, which encourages me out of bed. I brush my teeth and, for the first time in a long time, take my time in the bathroom. When I am finally ready to leave the casita, I find a folded note on the floor just beneath my door. I scan it quickly.

  Jack – Went shopping. Be back by 3. Please finish unpacking.

  “Sure thing,” I mutter to myself. I look out at the house. Does that mean the girls went with them? Is it possible I can explore the castle freely? I decide to take my chances and cross from the patio to the kitchen door. When I slide the door open, I poke my head inside and listen. Nothing.

  “There is a god,” I whisper. I close the door behind me and immediately raid the fridge. I glower at a near empty carton of eggs. Below them, there are a few pieces of string cheese and some apples, so I grab one of each for my journey and begin to explore.

  I wander around the quiet house, strolling through the long halls and staring up at the high ceilings. Along the walls, Mark and Camille have placed a gallery of expensive-looking paintings and family portraits. Often, they are pictures of Cherie. Sometimes they are stills of her in her TV show, and sometimes they are regular kid pictures made to look fancy on large canvases. Despite how much I don’t like her right now, I can’t ignore how gorgeous she is when she smiles. I haven’t seen her smile since the night she came home wasted with Carl, which seems like years ago now.