Taken In by the Pack: Second Chances

by Alana Hart

  “Yes!” she squeaked, bouncing in her seat. I rolled my eyes, picking up my bowl to finish off my soup, but truth be told I was rather looking forward to it myself. It had been too long since I had treated myself to buying anything new, and this seemed like as good an excuse as any.

  Angie, of course, spent the rest of the afternoon as bouncy as a bunny rabbit on speed; it got to the point that I seriously considered suggesting skipping our last class, but I couldn’t afford that on top of yesterday’s inattentiveness.

  ❖ ❖ ❖

  Angie managed, somehow, not to spontaneously combust before our classes were over. Since she lived in the dorms, we just took my car and headed for the mall. It had gone rather downhill in the last few years — most malls had, from what I’ve heard — but there were still plenty of clothing stores to be had, at least.

  Being a weekday afternoon, I managed to find a good spot near the food court entrance. We strolled in, laughing and cutting up, in no particular hurry.

  Even though this was not the mall I had ‘grown up in’, it had a pleasant familiarity, a uniformity shared by almost all malls. It put me at ease, relaxing the knot of tension from all the oddity of the last few days.

  We flitted from store to store like a pair of hyperactive hummingbirds, browsing, trying things on. Angie found at least half a dozen things she ‘just loved’, and bought most of them. I wished idly I had that kind of money to burn. I still hadn’t found anything I liked enough to spend my meager funds on, by the time we left the ninth or tenth store we’d stopped in.

  As we walked out, giggling about the awkward boy who had checked us out, I caught sight of Mr. Mutton-Chops again. My feet seemed to glue themselves to the floor and I nearly stumbled.

  “Adalyn? What is it?”

  I nodded in the direction I was staring. “Over there, by the Sunglass Hut… isn’t that the same guy from this morning?” I almost managed to keep my voice from quavering.

  She narrowed her eyes, peering in that direction, then frowned. “I think you’re right. Huh. Weird.”

  “He was in the plaza before class, too. I… maybe I’m just being paranoid, but I’m beginning to think he’s following me.” Maybe I was just being paranoid, after Bryson had followed me yesterday, anyway.

  She cocked her head to one side, pursing her lips. “I admit he’s weird looking, Ada, but why would he be following you?”

  I could feel myself starting to tremble a bit with adrenaline. “How should I know? But that’s three times today, in three different places, two of which he seemed totally out of place.”

  “Well, if you’re really worried about it, we can go ahead and head out. I have something to wear to the bonfire now, anyway.” As if she didn’t have a closet stuffed with at least three or four times as many clothes as I owned.

  I nodded, and we linked arms, turning to head back towards the food court.

  “You mind if we stop so I can grab something to go, to eat back in my room?” she asked almost timidly as we started to pass the food kiosks.

  I winced, chuckling a bit. “Of course I don’t mind. Probably not a bad idea for me too, anyway.” I waved for her to take her pick, and she went over to her favorite little Chinese place.

  As we waited for our orders, I glanced around edgily. When I caught sight of the man again, I felt like someone punched me in the gut, and I nearly fled, food be damned. I managed to keep myself under control, but I spent the remaining moments shifting from foot to foot anxiously. I probably looked like I needed to pee.

  “Hey, Ada, breathe, it’ll be okay,” Angie tried to reassure me.

  I frowned and nodded, and nearly snatched the little Asian woman’s hand off with the food when she finally proffered our bags.

  I looked around, then, and caught sight of one of the mall security guards. Well, if this wasn’t a perfectly good time for one, what were they even there for? I grabbed Angie’s hand and tugged her in his direction.

  “Uhm… excuse me, sir?”

  The rotund man turned to look at me curiously. “Yes, miss? What can I do for ya?”

  “Well, I uh… I’m not sure, but I think there may be a guy following us. Me. Maybe. Is there any chance you could walk us out to my car? We’re right outside this exit, just a few rows in.” I motioned towards the nearby doors.

  “Sure, I could do that for ya, dear. You sure you don’t want to call the cops, though, if ya think you’re bein’ followed?”

  I considered for a long moment, but then shook my head. “No, I don’t think so, not yet anyway, though I will if he keeps it up.”

  “Alright, it’s up t’you.” He smiled, an offhanded sort of friendliness, and motioned for us to lead the way.

  We made it out to my car quickly; as I’d told him, we were not parked far away. To my relief, I saw no sign that Sideburns had followed us outside. I thanked the guard profusely, and we climbed into the car.

  ❖ ❖ ❖

  I took Angie back to her dorm, dropping her off right by the door. She leaned over to give me a kiss on the cheek after she gathered up all her bags.

  “Try not to stress it, Ada,” she reassured me. “It’s gotta be a coincidence.”

  I frowned, but nodded. I believed in coincidence even less now than I had a week ago, which wasn’t much to begin with. There was no need to make Ang fret about me any worse, though, I figured.

  I waited to make sure she made it into the dorm okay, before I pulled out to head for home. I noticed, absently, that an old red pickup pulled out at the same time, a good bit down the road behind me.

  I didn’t think anything of it when it turned the same direction I did at the end of the road. After all, it was a 50/50 chance, right?

  The second time it turned the same way as me, it didn’t ring any alarm bells, either. It’s not like it was right on my bumper, there were even a few cars between me and the truck.

  By the third or fourth turn, though, I was starting to get anxious. More in an attempt to reassure myself than anything, I turned down a little used side-road. I stopped at a stop sign, watching my rearview, and after a few moments of nothing, I let out a sigh of relief.

  Then the truck turned down the road behind me, after I normally would have been several blocks down the way. My adrenaline spiked into overdrive. I slammed my foot down on the gas pedal so hard my tires actually squealed; I don’t think I’d ever squealed my tires before, other than trying to accelerate from a stop on a wet hillside.

  I wasn’t even sure what I should do, where I should go, except I knew I wanted to go there fast. Eventually, I decided to do what any sensible, mature, independent young woman would do.

  I ran for mommy.

  Well, okay, drove, not ran. Never mind that Charlottesville was better than an hour away; never mind that it probably would have made more sense to go to the police station; I wanted the safety and security of my mother.

  I spotted the truck a few times after I first got on the highway, but it grew further and further away, until I lost it completely about halfway there. Not too surprising, since I made the hour long drive in around forty minutes. That old beater probably wasn’t even capable of going that fast.

  As I hit the outskirts of town and had to slow, I fished my cellphone out of my purse and called my mom.

  “Hi, honey!” she answered cheerfully. The relief I felt to hear her voice was almost startling.

  “Hey, mom.” I tried to make my voice sound as casual as I could. “You guys at home?”

  There was a pause, then a confused, “Yeah…?”

  “Mind if I stop by?” Despite my efforts, my voice quavered a bit. All the emotions and adrenaline of the last two days was catching up with me.

  “Of course I don’t mind. What’s wrong?” Of course there was no way she would have missed that tremble in my voice.

  I sidestepped her question. “I’m just getting into town, I’ll be there in five minutes or so.”

  “Adalyn, what is wrong?” she persisted.

/>   “See you soon. Love you.” I hung up before she could protest. At least I didn’t see the truck again.

  ❖ ❖ ❖

  I went slowly once I got onto the street my family lived on, watching my rearview to make sure the truck didn’t magically appear again. It didn’t; I seemed to have lost it, for now at least. I pulled in on the driveway as far as I could next to the house, hoping my car wouldn’t be immediately visible from the road.

  I hopped out of the car, and resisted the urge to sprint for the door. It opened just before I got to it, framing my mom in light from inside. I gave her a tight hug as I stepped up the three steps to the door, which she returned, pulling me inside.

  My stepfather, and my three younger half-sisters, were all in the den on the couch, and greeted me with smiles and waves.

  My mom shepherded me into the kitchen, sat me down at the table, and put a big plate of some sort of casserole on the table in front of me. This was always my mom’s answer to stress: good food. It’s a wonder we weren’t all horribly obese.

  “Not that I’m complaining, having a chance to see you, honey, but why are you here, unexpectedly?”

  I must have really worried her, for her to be so direct. I took a bite of the food, frowning thoughtfully.

  “I uh… I think there’s been a guy following me.”

  “Following you? For how long?”

  “Just today. But I saw him a few different times in different parts of campus, but he didn’t look like he was supposed to be on campus, really. Then I saw him again at the mall, and he seemed to be following us. And then, after I dropped Angie off, there was an old pickup following me.” I took another bite of the casserole, bracing myself for hysterics.

  “Oh, is that all?”

  I choked on the bite of food. “’Is that all?’” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Aren’t you the one supposed to freak out? Who are you and what did you do with my mother?” I tried to laugh, but it wasn’t really very funny.

  “Oh, honey, you know I worry about you. But thinking you saw the same person a couple of times in one day isn’t exactly something to panic over.”

  “I didn’t “think” I saw the same guy. Trust me, it was the same guy. He was… really distinctive.”

  “Still, seeing a guy a couple of times in the same day is hardly proof that he’s following you. I’ve had that happen dozens of times, and it never amounts to anything. It’s probably just coincidence.”

  I was seriously beginning to wonder if I had somehow ended up in an alternate universe or something. I just stared at her, words having entirely fled.

  She smiled at me and stroked my hair. “Don’t worry, honey. If it keeps up, we’ll see about it, okay?”

  I nodded slowly, unable to frame a reply.

  “Eat up, then want to come watch a movie with us?” she offered, seeming conciliatory.

  “I… uhm…. Sure.” I probably shouldn’t stay that long, I should get home and study… but I’d come all this way, and it seemed silly not to stay for a little while at least.

  In the end, it was a wonderfully fun time; I missed my little sisters terribly now that I was away at school. By the time I made my way out to my car — after dozens and dozens of hugs — I was almost relaxed.

  Almost.

  I turned on the radio and sang along with most of the songs as I returned to Richmond, trying very hard to keep myself from watching the rearview mirror the whole time. If the truck was there somewhere, the dark obscured it, and that was enough to keep me from freaking out again.

  Considering how little sleep I had gotten the night before, it took me entirely too long to get to sleep that night, though at least it wasn’t nearly as bad as last night had been.

  Chapter Three

  I spent all day Saturday as jittery as the proverbial long-tailed cat in the room full of rocking chairs. Between Bryson randomly reappearing, Mr. Mutton Chops following me — and I was convinced he had been following me, no matter what my mom said — and the bonfire happening that evening, I was a real mess.

  I’m not even sure why I was so nervous about the bonfire; you’d think I’d have been excited about it. Angie certainly was. Maybe it was just due to my mistrust of guys in general, and the inevitable being hit on at a party; I really hadn’t dated since Bryson hurt me so badly. Maybe it was worry about the creepy biker guy showing up in a place with no one but a few dozen college kids around. Or maybe it was a premonition. Who knows. Whatever the reason, I was definitely nervous about it.

  I spent a few hours trying to study; I was starting to fall behind, and that would be a real disaster for me. I struggled enough as it was. I didn’t have the leeway to absorb any setbacks.

  Try as I might, though, my textbooks may as well have been written in Greek for all the information I retained. When I failed to get anywhere with one, I switched to another, and another, and back to the first. I tried reading over the notes from the classes. Nothing seemed to work. Every time I thought I was finally getting somewhere, my mind would wander off, thinking about the restaurant with Bryson, or Mutton Chops showing up in the mall, or any of the other weird events of the last few days.

  Finally I gave up, disgusted with myself, and packed up my books and papers again. What was wrong with me? I couldn’t afford to waste all my effort to get here because of a little emotional upheaval. I had to get this crap under control, and fast. But, clearly, today wasn’t the day that was going to happen.

  I went into my tiny kitchen, and assembled myself a sandwich, though I barely paid attention to which cold cuts and vegetables I was piling onto the French roll. When I had finished that, I grabbed a can of soda — a rare treat for myself — and went to sit on my threadbare couch in front of the television.

  I had several services on shared accounts with my mom hooked up to my box, even though I didn’t watch much. I spent a good ten minutes or more before settling on some innocuous but vaguely entertaining sounding nature show on Netflix. I watched as I ate, and tried to relax and not think about any of the various things that had been stressing me out.

  Once I’d finished eating — I hadn’t managed to pay much more attention to the taste than I had to the preparation — I fetched my laptop from my room, and surfed the internet mindlessly for the remainder of the afternoon, as the show droned on in the background.

  ❖ ❖ ❖

  I finally managed to zone out for a while, and by the time I looked up, it was nearly evening. It startled me, but I was also relieved. Apparently I wasn’t a complete, hopeless mess. Yet.

  I went back to the kitchen, and prepared myself a generous salad, with lots of veggies and a simple vinaigrette, then returned to the couch to eat. Once I had finished my meal, I turned off the television. I washed all the dishes that had been used that day, then went to my bedroom to get ready.

  I took a quick shower, but once I was out I took my time, making sure my hair was neat, a little front section on each side pulled back and clipped together on the back of my head. I then put on eyeliner, eyeshadow, lipstick, and even a bit of blush. For me, I was heavily made up.

  Deciding what to wear was easy enough, at least. It was a bonfire, out on a farm. So, cutoff jeans and one of my favorite baby doll tees. It was just short enough that when I moved right, a little skin would show at my midriff, without looking outright skanky most of the time. Some cute sparkly earrings and a comfy pair of flats, and I was ready.

  It occurred to me that it was somewhat odd that I was putting so much time into my appearance when I wasn’t especially interested in attracting guys; still, I enjoyed making myself look nice. I was attractive, and I knew it, and it was fun to show it off, even if it wasn’t for a particular purpose.

  I checked the clock on my phone; it was about time to go, it should just be getting fully dark as we arrived. I grabbed a little purse and stuck my essentials in it — wallet, phone, keys, tissues, and a little tin of mints — and headed out to my car.

  I had arranged with Angi
e to give her a ride, so I went first to the campus to pick her up. I pulled up in front of her dorm, and shot her a text. When she came bounding out of the doors, I rolled my eyes, thankfully before she could see it.

  She was dressed like a bizarre cross of a hippie, an 80’s hair band girl, and a hooker. Half of her bushy blond hair was pulled up in a high ponytail, the other half loose and fluffy. She had on an oversized midriff tee that hung off one shoulder, exposing the hot pink sports bra she had on underneath. Then came the tight, short denim shirt and oversized glittery belt, and finished off with hot pink high heels. Heels! To go to a farm!