A Dark Road

by Amanda Lance

  McKay was wearing jeans with torn knees and a black t-shirt. Like yesterday, his hair was a mess and falling into his eyes. He looked down on all of us from the highest bleacher, smiling, just enough to reveal a dimple in his cheek.

  It could have been my imagination, but I thought he was smiling at me.

  Chapter 8

  McKay

  It was stupid. More than stupid. I know better than to do anything like that. But when the normals started laughing at the goddess of a new girl, my brain went all dumb on me. Maybe Frank is right; I’m nothing, I’m a retard, and I’m worthless.

  I had every intention of just sitting in the bleachers like I usually did for gym. Gym class by itself ridiculous. It’s like the sheep and normals are only allowed out of the barn long enough to walk in the pasture. (Can’t let their meat get full of gristle, right?) Isn’t school supposed to be for learning? What am I supposed to be learning by getting dressed and undressed with a bunch of dudes and tossing a ball over a net? No thanks, not for me. But when I saw her again, making those shorts they make us wear look freaking amazing, I temporarily lost my mind.

  I plead insanity, Judge.

  Lock me up and throw away the key.

  For the record, I officially have a newfound respect for those nylon shorts. If someone put them on a pedestal, I might kneel down in worship.

  I wasn’t just watching her hips, though, I swear. I saw that evil look in her face when the line rotated and Ryan stepped up in front of her. I wasn’t certain what she was going to do until I saw her arm flex back, and when the volley landed, it was magnificent.

  But I should have just kept my mouth shut, because now she was looking at me, and getting noticed is so freaking bad for your health.

  I should have just kept my mouth shut.

  Ears open, mouth shut. Ears open, mouth shut. Ears open, mouth—

  I apply this policy as gym ends by pretending to do my English homework. Really, I am listening while Ryan and some of the other sheep baa on. For the life of me I still can’t figure out why the normals are better than me. Maybe I’m like the Dolly sheep, created by science but not meant for sheep to sheep interaction.

  I wonder when I’ll drop dead, too.

  “Mark, what do you think about Hadley?”

  A sheep he talks to marinates himself with cologne before putting his shirt on. Without looking up, I know one of them is from the football team (a concussion sheep), but I don’t know the others even though I have classes with both of them.

  “That’s the brunette, right? Simon’s sister?”

  “Yeah. What do you think?”

  “I don’t know, Dude; I didn’t really talk to her. What’s her name again?”

  “Hadley, man. Shit, pay attention once in a while. I think she’s pretty awesome.”

  “Tim, you think everything in a skirt is awesome.”

  When the bell rings I get the hell out of there, but it’s interesting to know Bo Peep had a name…a real one, anyway.

  I stop by Gino’s and pick up a couple slices on my way back from school. I didn’t have any real homework to do, so I thought I’d just hang around with Dog for the afternoon and keep it light. Maybe I could have had time to make a batch, but that would involve rushing, and I might be many things, but stupid enough to run through a batch is not one of them. Rushing is how you mess up, and messing up leads to boom—or Dog and McKay well-done.

  I’ve gotten used to being alone by now, but for some reason today it bothers me. Dog and I eat hot dog pizza and he snores on me while I play Zombie Republic IV. Afterward, I scrub every beaker, funnel, and faucet I can find with boiling water from the microwave.

  I still don’t feel any better.

  When I stop up my ears with my headphones I sit on the couch, fingering the little holes that Dog’s nails have made. Heavy metal drowns out even the sounds of Dog’s sleep apnea, but it doesn’t make the thoughts in my head go away. I’m thinking about Mom and where she might be, and if Frank gets the right kind of cold pills and what would happen to the money stashed in the safe deposit box if I go to jail.

  And Goddamn it all to hell, but I’m thinking of Hadley Grayson and why she looked about as alone as I felt. I start thinking about her legs again and decide I need a cold shower. Worried that I’ll never return, Dog follows me upstairs and whines outside of the shower curtain. I try to tune him out, but between him and the Little Bo Peep nursery rhyme in my head, I’m getting a freaking headache. Maybe I’m inhaling too many chemicals but it wouldn’t matter even if I did. I feel the pulse in my head like beats to a bad song when Dog starts scratching on the back door.

  “Gotta go, bud?”

  Since he’s pushing eleven, I don’t hesitate in these moments. I throw on my jeans and the same sweatshirt I was wearing before and let Dog lead the way. But the second I opened the door, he makes a run for it.

  “Dog!”

  As if he would answer back.

  I looked beneath the rubble of the cars Frank always said he’d fix up. When Mom left, his ambition went with her, but Dog liked to hide in the mess, so it’s the first spot I check when he pulls this shit.

  When he wasn’t there, I started looking around the cornfields. If he gets skunked again, I swear to Christ I’m going to get him stuffed and mounted.

  Okay, so maybe that’s an exaggeration.

  That’s when I know the chemicals are really getting to me, because when I do find Dog, he’s wrapped up like a Christmas present from Santa Claus in Hadley Grayson’s arms. I want to run away, flee to the safe confines of my lab, but Dog gets a whiff of me and runs for me before I can get away safely.

  Good for nothing traitor.

  Chapter 9

  Hadley

  That night I couldn’t sleep. I kept thinking about my friends at home, wondering what everyone was up to. I was tempted to text Jordan or answer one of Ian’s e-mails, but just trying to think of something to report made me depressed. It also didn’t help that I had given up my semi-denial and finished unpacking the remainder of everything but my summer clothes. I swore the moving company switched my mattress with another because this one was too uncomfortable to be slept on. I was sure the conspiracy ran deeper with my floor rug and Dad’s lounge chair.

  I sat up and tried fluffing my pillow again. It was probably over an hour ago when Simon stopped killing zombies and turned off his TV. Mom and Dad had gone to bed long before then.

  I pulled up my hair and straightened out my socks. I switched my pajama pants for jeans and slipped on a fleece over my tank top. The floor boards creaked as I crept out of my room, but it didn’t disturb the sounds of sleep coming from my parents’ and brother’s rooms. How could they adjust so easily in such a strange place? It was easy to sleep in hotels or at a friend’s house but only because consciously you knew it was temporary. Why did Mom and Dad think I was a chameleon that could instantly blend into the environment? I knew this job was a serious opportunity for Mom, but she still seemed to have no awareness of what she had asked me to give up.

  The air outside was cold but dry. I almost wished that I had grabbed my coat, but I didn’t want to go back inside and risk waking anyone up. It was only pure luck that I had managed to get out of the house the first time. This place didn’t look so different from home, but it felt different. The crescent moon was like a fingernail in the sky and the few stars I could see were bright and poignant enough to create the outline of shapes I couldn’t name.

  I stuck my hands in my pockets and walked down the dirt path that ran along the abandoned corn field off our property. The vast amount of land was part of the selling appeal for Mom and Dad, after spending their twenties in an apartment building and feeling guilty about the small yard we grew up with, they sought to make it up now.

  The realtor told us the farmland was useless, and that the closest surrounding property was two and a half miles. I had to admit I liked this idea of privacy, after so many years of running out of candy on Halloween and having
to deal with solicitors and late night parties, it was nice to think that I could get the newspaper in my pajamas and have no one see me.

  Even as I walked I felt confident that nobody would bother me. I wasn’t even spooked by the remaining cornstalks and overgrown weeds that cluttered the pathway. I only had my phone for a flashlight, but it was enough.

  I dragged my feet, creating wafts of dirt that went flying in the air. I wondered how long it had been since it had rained here, and if it did so often. I could imagine the dirt path transforming into one of mud, into one where shoes were lost and rotary vehicles got stuck.

  I kept the light on my feet to prevent myself from tripping, only stopping when I saw the obscure shape appear before me. If I wasn’t so fond of dogs I might have been intimidated by the large K-9 that clearly outweighed me with his combined fat and muscle. It was hard to tell at a glance, but I thought maybe it was an old pitbull, something between a boxer and a retriever. It didn’t growl or anything but I thought better safe than sorry. After a second, its short wagging tail gave rest to all my fears.

  “Hi there.”

  The dog sneezed out a greeting, a mist of phlegm coating the end of my jeans.

  “That’s nice.”

  I reached out to pat his short fur. I could see now upon closer inspection that it was light brown with patches of black. Before I could pat him again he moved his head directly under my arm and began cuddling with me. Eager for affection, he nestled himself under my arm and rested his weight against my legs.

  “Whoa.” I tried steadying myself against the unfamiliar body by sitting on my knees. “Friendly guy, huh?” I kneaded my fingers around the warm knots around his neck but didn’t feel a collar. What would Mom and Dad think about me having a dog? I arranged my phone in my fleece pocket so I could use both hands to pet my new friend and he happily allowed me to scratch behind each of his ears and gently under his chin. As I did, his back leg kicked and I laughed as his eyes rolled into the back of his head. It almost made me sad to realize that a dog this well fed surely had a least one person who loved him, and the brief hope I had of taking him home with me was gone.

  In an instant, the dog’s ears perked and his eyes were directed forward. I felt his muscles stiffen and he pulled from me, his head turning in the opposite direction to look for something I could not hear or detect.

  “What’s up, boy?”

  After a second the dog sneezed again, this time a long line of snot lingering from his nose and dangling there like a slow moving waterfall.

  “Very nice.”

  But then I heard it, too—a low whistle in the distance. It was far away but high-pitched in its call. I looked back down at my new friend. He may have been getting along in years, but at least his hearing was still good. A figure stood there, watching us.

  The pudgy mongrel waddled right over and jumped on him. I took my phone out and turned on the brightness of my flashlight app, to see the happy mutt eagerly kissing the face of McKay.

  I laughed at the luscious display. McKay seemed to be trying to get the dog off him, but at the same time was welcoming the affection from the overgrown puppy. Slurs of ‘down boy’ and ‘that’s enough’ were deflated by sloppy kisses from the animal and McKay laughing as he tried to wrestle him to the ground. It was obvious the dog was McKay’s, but since the dog was overfriendly, I wanted to make sure. I’d never be able to forgive myself if I sent a dog home with some pervert or serial killer.

  “Do you two want to be left alone?” McKay looked uncomfortable by my presence, but the dog continued his love attack, slurping away at McKay’s face and neck. “Maybe you guys should just get a room.”

  McKay frowned and pushed the dog down, “Where d-did you come f-from?”

  “Outer space.” I pointed my thumb up the road. “Where do you think?”

  He smiled at me then until I could just see his dimple. I swallowed hard, feeling something catch in my throat. Maybe it wasn’t so smart for me to be outside at night. I was probably catching a cold.

  “Hadley Grayson.” The way he said my name wasn’t a question but merely a statement. I heard a slight stutter in his pronunciation that I hadn’t heard before, but his voice still sounded triumphant. Somehow with the lack of light, he was still so sure it was me. I glanced at the pockets of his jeans for the end of a flashlight but didn’t see any. How was he making his way around here?

  “McKay…something…” My confidence went limp when he frowned, so I lowered my eyes to watch him try and pull the whining mutt away.

  “Is that your dog?”

  “Dog?”

  “Yes, dog. You know the four-legged one, ‘man’s best friend’? In your case, maybe more than friends?”

  He actually smiled a little and kicked the dirt beneath his feet. “Nah, I didn’t lose him. Dog runs around on his own in the fields. W-was he bothering you?”

  “No. He isn’t exactly an attack dog.”

  “Yeah, I know. He probably doesn’t even know how to bite. If he ever felt threatened, he would just r-roll over.”

  I rubbed my thumbs up and down along the fleece on my arms. I tried not to watch how McKay’s dog wiped his nose on his jeans and how he didn’t seem to care. I did this successfully by watching the rim of his dirty sneakers.

  “What’s his name?”

  The dog stuck to him like a growth as he took a step closer to me. At this angle I could see the dampness of his hair and smell something like bleach on his skin. Had he been up late cleaning? With shoes that dirty and an appearance that unkempt, it seemed unlikely that he was a neat freak. But then again, it takes all kinds.

  “I call him Dog,” he said. “He sometimes answers to ‘get off me’ though.”

  I laughed. “Wow, you know I really hate ‘that’s what she said.’ But if you didn’t give me the perfect opportunity—”

  The color in his face changed to a light pink. How could such an adorable boy be so bashful? “I guess I did do that, didn’t I?” The dimple was back as he looked up and smiled. This time I had to look away. I looked into Dog’s brown eyes instead. They were oblivious and happy. If only we could all be so lucky.

  “Why didn’t you ever give him a name?”

  He shrugged. “Didn’t seem important.”

  “Maybe if you showed up for English class, you would know that names are extremely important.”

  “Is the new girl lecturing me about attendance? You’ve been in town less than a week and going to school for two days. What do you know about my academic performance?” He scoffed as he asked it, mocking my sarcastic scorn of him with his own attitude. I was slightly amazed he had noticed my family’s arrival last Thursday, or especially that he had taken the time to realize yesterday was my first day.

  “Don’t be so dramatic.” I tried to deflect, tried to tease. With his little tail, Dog was swooshing up dust and it was getting in my eye, reminding me of how late it was. I knew I should have been getting back to the house, but something was holding me back, not just a dislike for my new house and life, but an instinct to be out here.

  “What are you d-doing out here anyway?” he asked suddenly

  I shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep. What about you?”

  “Same.”

  Before realizing it, I sighed. “It’s hard to sleep here.”

  “I know what you mean. I’m a bit of an insomniac myself.”

  “At least your dog is nocturnal.”

  He nodded. I was beginning to speculate that maybe his stutter was what inclined him towards silence but I couldn’t imagine how he could get away with that for the better part of his life without probing questions.

  “Do your parents give you grief for leaving in the middle of the night?”

  His face crinkled up and he flinched from my question like I was speaking another language. When he translated it in his head and answered, his voice was even softer than before. “It’s, ah, it’s just my Dad. He’s a truck-driver, so he isn’t around much.”

&nb
sp; We stood around in the quiet for a second longer. I kept getting the feeling that he really wanted me to go away, but that only made me want to stay more. He was a weird kid, that much I knew was true. In the middle of the night, his hair and clothes were damp and his eyes had a look of perpetual dilation, darting here and there, searching for something unseen.

  “Is he okay?” I made my point by stretching my hand out and scratching Dog behind his left ear.

  McKay smiled again but it was meant for Dog, not for me, and that was not hard to miss. “Don’t mind him. He’s g-got really bad allergies.”

  “What do you go by? Other than McKay?”

  “You’re serious about the name thing, aren’t you?” He almost laughed and joined me in petting Dog. Our hands were so close they could have touched if he had wanted them to.

  I shrugged. “I’ve just never heard anyone call you by anything other than McKay. And unless you’re super Irish, I just doubt your name is McKay, McKay.”

  He frowned slightly, as if deciding whether or not to reveal such a startling secret.

  “My first name is James. But no one has called me that in a long time.”

  “Why not?”

  He shrugged.

  “I like that you go by your name.” His words were abrupt and rushed. “It’s nice.”

  I wiped at Dog’s nose with the end of my sleeve. He reminded me of a small child who was just happy to be paid attention to.

  “I never understood why people compliment someone else’s name.” I gently peeled a booger from Dog’s eye and flicked it to the ground. “It seems more appropriate to compliment that person’s parents or guardians for picking out the name instead of the individual themselves.”

  He nearly smiled and picked up the hood of his sweatshirt. As he did, I caught a scent of chemicals again and laundry detergent.

  “People give themselves too much credit when it comes to their kids. They shouldn’t be so proud.”