by L C Smith
I stay on my back for another minute, my shoulder is stinging where it hit the ground.
“Man, this place needs some serious cleaning,” I say, watching the corners of the ceiling move. “Definite spider and bug issues.” I say out loud again.
I slowly come up to my knees, then to my feet, moving like I'll give the house a fright if I go too fast after it has been empty for so long.
The smell is really intense, like death. I can say that, I can say it smells like death, I tell myself walking into the living room. It smells like death because no one lives here.
I stop in the centre of the room, all the furniture is in exactly the same place it was the morning of the accident. Only, someone has put plastic covers over everything. I stop in front of dad’s chair, ripping the plastic off, letting the tips of my fingers run over the leather remembering the last time I saw him in it.
The leather isn’t smooth any more, I sink slowly to the ground, the plastic piled on the rug crinkling under my weight and a cloud of dust explodes into the air choking me. But I ignore it, keeping my hand on the leather staring at it until the burning in my eyes forces me to blink.
The massive motes of dust stir again as I slowly rise to my feet and pull the cover back over dad’s chair, and stumble to the kitchen.
I open each cupboard along the wall one by one. All the plates and bowls are still stacked up, someone has even put plastic covers over the glasses. My breath catches in my throat and I reach out to touch the small clay figurine I made for mum on Mother’s Day when I was eleven, still stuck to the fridge. I can feel the scratch of tears starting to build up. I touch it again quickly, and walk out.
I let my hand trail up the wood as I step up each of the stairs one at a time, letting both feet land together before moving on. I go into my old room first. My bed is stripped back to just the mattress, it’s the only thing of mine that is left here, wrapped in plastic sheets like we are just waiting for the movers to take all our things away. The rest of my stuff is at school now.
I cross the hall into my parent’s room. I know what’s waiting for me, but I pause in the doorway anyway. Their bed is wrapped like mine. I slump against the door frame, and rub my face with both hands looking at it all. It’s just the same as the last time they were here, I wouldn’t even let them take away the newspaper dad was reading the night before he died. It’s yellowed now, sitting next to the lamp, sitting under a cover of plastic.
The front door rattles, and my head pops up, shaking a few tears free. Something hard raps on it, and I race to the window, looking down onto the street. I press my head and nose into the glass trying to see the front door, but I can't see a person. I race down the stairs to the front door.
“Who's there?” I call out loudly.
“Police. Open up.”
“Sorry, I can't. I don't have the key.”
“How did you get in?”
“Through the back window.” Oh … that sounds just a tiny bit like I have broken in.
“Climb back out.” He commands.
I run back into the laundry and launch myself out the open window, landing face first on the lawn. I cringe as my cheek is pushed further into the grass until I can taste the dry grass and dirt in my mouth.
“Don't move. Are you alone?”
“Yes.” I say as well as I can with a hand on the back on my head. Someone puts handcuffs around my wrists and hauls me to my feet in one pull.
The kids next door stop playing and peer through the gaps in the fence, before I’m turned around and marched down the driveway.
“Sorry, officers.” I say trying to make this seem real, “someone must have seen me go in the back window. I own this house. I wasn't breaking in. I just forgot my keys.”
“You own this house young lady? What are you, fifteen?”
“Seventeen,” I say indignant. “My parents died and the house was left to me. I go to a boarding school near here. I was just coming to check on it.”
The exchange doubtful glances. “Is there anyone who can verify your story?”
“Take my phone out of my bag. It is down next to the tap at the back. My aunt Kelly's number is in it. Call her, she’s my guardian.” One of the officers runs back down the drive and is back searching through my bag.
“Is there a reason you have a blanket in your bag? Were you planning to sleep over?”
“No, I was reading under a tree. Outside of my school,” I add quickly. “I was avoiding someone, so I thought I would come up here, just to check on things.” I look at them both. They believe my story less now than before.
“You can call my school if you want. Anyone of the teachers can tell you.”
The one with my bag scrolls through my numbers. “This is officer Jordan, are you an aunt Kelly?” He asks holding my phone up to his face without letting it touch him.
“Oh my goodness, has something happened to Reid.” I can hear her shrieking on the other end.
“I'm fine,” I shout toward the phone.
“Quiet, Miss,” the officer without the phone says sharply. I move my arms to cross them over my chest, but I am in handcuffs. So I lean awkwardly on the edge of my driveway, listening to the one side of the conversation that I can hear now.
“We found her inside a house that she is claiming is hers.” He stops, listening to whatever aunt Kelly is telling him. He looks at me, then nods his head. “Okay then. Can you tell me the address of the property?” He looks at the number on the letter box. “No that's fine, ma’am. Thank you for your time.”
He hands the phone to me. “She wants a word.”
“No hands,” I say, moving my arms behind my back. One holds my phone up for me while the other sits down in their car and starts filling out some forms. “Hi, aunt Kelly.”
“Are you okay?” She breathes hysterically down the phone.
“Yeah, I was just a bit bored, so I thought I would come up and take a look at the house. You know, make sure everything is fine, I forgot my key, so I jumped through the laundry window. Someone must have seen me. Sorry for bothering you.”
“You're fine? Are you sure everything is all right? Do you need to come home early for the break?” she asks sounding worried.
“No,” I attempt to laugh. “Really, I'm fine. Nothing more than a forgotten key.”
The officer holding the phone sighs loudly. “Hey I've got to go. The officers want a word with me.”
“Okay. Please call if you need to, okay?”
“I will. Don't worry, there's nothing wrong.”
“Okay then.”
“Bye.”
He hangs up before she can ask any more questions. The other officer gets out of the car and comes around to me.
“You might want to introduce yourself to your neighbours before you climb in the window next time, yeah?”
“I will. I am so sorry to be such a pain. I just wanted to look at the house.”
“It's okay. Can we give you a ride back to your school? Your aunt said it's an hour away.”
“I'm fine thanks, I have my bus fare.”
“Have a good day then, Miss.” They say getting into their car.
I run back up the driveway, pulling myself back through the window, and run up the stairs to my parent’s room. I don't know when I'll have a chance to wear it, but … I don't know. I pull their closet door open, then I stop surprised, I shouldn’t be after how the rest of the house looks like. I wish aunt Kelly had told me she was going to get someone to cover everything. I would have wanted to be here.
I sift through the plastic. There it is. I pull out mum's green dress. It's beautiful, vintage 1940’s, classic in every way, emerald green to match her engagement ring. I roll it around and around on itself to form a plastic ball, and push in down into my bag.
I slowly walk down the stairs. Every surface is covered in dust. Even the things under plastic don’t look that clean. I stare back at the house from the laundry doorway for a minute. It used to smell sweet in her
e, and warm, kind of like cookies just being pulled out of the oven. Now it smells like a house for ghosts.
I want to be out of here, it crushes me again to know they will never come home.
I turn around and pull myself out the window, trying to be more careful. But my shoe catches on the latch, halting my fall for a second, before releasing me to the hard ground below. I land on the same shoulder as when I went in. I breathe deeply, hold my shoulder lying on the ground fighting back tears. I crawl up to my feet and stagger back up on the tap and shut the window with one hand.
I pull my bag over my other shoulder and head to the bus stop, waving at the kids next door who are in their driveway on their bikes.
At first they just watch me.
“Did you steal anything?” The boy finally asks.
“Mum said don't talk to her,” his little sister says nervously.
“It's my house. So no I didn't steal anything,” I answer.
“But you don't live here,” he accuses me.
“Not right now. I grew up in this house, but I live at my school now.”
“Oh.”
“Can I play on the swing if mum says it's okay?”
“That's fine. My dad put it up when I was six.” I tell him.
“I'm six,” The boy shouts excited, like that must mean that he should play on it.
“Then you should have a turn, if your mum lets you,” I add quickly.
Speaking of his mum… “Get back down here you two. What did I tell you?”
They both disappear.
“But she didn't steal anything, mum. She owns that house. She is gone away to school. She said that I could swing on the swing in the tree. Because I am six.” He shouts even louder.
Two minutes of listening to the boy trying to convince his Mother that I am not a thief almost changes my mind to go and explain the situation to her and give him permission to use the swing. But I don't want to say why I don't live here anymore or listen to her tell me how terrible it is and ask if there’s anything she can do.
So instead I wait until my bus rumbles up to the stop.
* * *
It’s a long painfully slow drive back to school. It’s time for dinner by the time I finally reach my room and Sara has gone down already.
I trudge down. I don’t want food. But I have to, even my thoughts are coming in a whiney voice. We don’t have a choice, they take a roll at all meals to make sure you’re here.
I hate this place.
“How was your day?” Megan calls out as soon as she spots me in the dining hall.
“Good, thanks.” Pretending to be in a better mood than I am, wandering over to an empty seat by Sara.
“That's great. How did Keller get back to the store so fast? We thought we would swing by after we went to the library.”
I don't even pause for a breath, “His dad called him back to work before he even got to me, so I found a pretty tree to sit under and read a book.”
I half smile and hold up the book.
“That's weird. Because then he showed up here about two o'clock.”
“Did he?” I ask, like it doesn't matter either way. Where’s my phone. My tray is full of food, I can’t get to my pocket. I can feel my blood rushing to the tips of my fingers filling them with pins and needles. I need to get to my phone. But not in front of Megan.
“Yeah, I just said that you had gone out with him. And he said he hadn't spoken to you today. Apart from the phone call this morning. You know when he called you?”
“Yeah I remember. It was only a couple of hours ago.”
“Funny that, he didn't, though.”
“What's your point, Megan. Are you trying to say something, or are you just enjoying the sound of you own voice?”
“Are you sure you're not sick? You're not in a great mood, Reid. Maybe that's why he hasn't been over.”
“Or maybe it's your creepy stalking whenever he comes near this place. It's like you have a radar on him. You always seem to know where he is.” She turns away from me mumbling something to the girl next to her.
“So you got out of bed?” Sara looks annoyed that I went out without her. “I thought Keller had gone away.” She hisses at me.
“Me too.” I lie, dropping my tray to the table. Fishing through my bag to find my phone. “I’ll be back in a second.” I say ignoring the fact that it looks like I’m running off to call Keller. “Hi, just me.” I say to Keller’s voicemail. “Call me when you can.”
“So what did you do today?” Sara asks when I sit down again, looking at my bulging bag.
“Sat under a tree and read a book mostly,” I lie.
“We had an awesome day.” Sara says, forgetting that she’s supposed to be angry with me.
“Great.” I smile putting some real enthusiasm into my voice. I look at her intently trying to stop my head focusing on my not-ringing phone.
“So great.” She laughs looking at Hannah.
“Brilliant.” Hannah agrees.
“That’s awesome.” I say, if I just eat a few bites and push it around a bit I can leave and go call him again.
“Reid? What do you think?” Sara looks mad again, her head is tilted to the side. “Did you even hear what I said?”
“Sorry. I feel funny.” I say wincing like I’m sick, and push my tray away from me. “I think I’m going to head to bed. Sorry.” I grab my tray, dump it on the counter and rush out the door pulling my phone out again.
Chapter Twelve
“It's Wednesday, Reid, if he hasn't called by now. He's not going to.” Megan is at the door of the dining hall, waiting for me to go past on my way to my next class, like my own special, personal tormentor.
“I wasn't aware that I was waiting for someone.” I keep pushing buttons on my phone as I walk to the dining hall for breakfast so it looks like I am texting, instead of checking my messages, again.
I left a message Sunday night to say sorry that I wasn't at school. But nothing. I don’t know why he came if he was just going to ignore me. And everywhere I turn, there’s Megan with more information about what Keller has been doing. It’s driving me insane.
“So Reid, is he going to come and see you?” She mocks. “Or would you rather sit around reading under a tree?” Her group of followers stands in a half circle around her smirking.
“I don't know when Keller's coming over. I'm not his mother. And I'm not the kind of girlfriend who tells him what he is and isn't allowed to do. Isn't that why Jason broke up with you Megan?” Her face blazes red. “'Coz he just ‘needed some space,’ right? That's gotta suck. Is it because you have to hover like a fly?”
Sacha, standing next to her, lets out a little pop of breath like her breathing space just choked her. The room is silent and every face is watching us. I thought everyone knew she had broken up with Jason. Haven't they all heard her talking about Keller? I hold Megan's gaze. She looks like she wants to hit me, then cry. Public humiliation isn't one of Megan's good friends.
I ignore everyone else and Sara, who’s watching me, torn between being worried about me and laughing at Megan. I wave, but go straight out the door.
Gross, Miss Lep; I’m sure she’s related to Mrs Snouse. She must be here to substitute for English next class. I have English next class. She walks past me glaring. No, not now, not here. Please, don’t do this to me. My heart races as I follow behind her, holding out my hand, catching the edge of the locker block, gripping it until the muscles in my shoulder screams at me from the pressure of the rest of my body moving forward.
My hand pops off the metal, ringing loudly down the empty hallway.
“Is there a problem?” Miss Lep asks turning around at the sound.
“No, I’m fine.” I smile, slowing my steps to make it look like I’m almost at my locker.
No! She turns away and I fly at her back, reaching her almost instantly. No, no, no, no.
I have to get out. If I miss class I’m going to be in so much trouble, I try to step out the ba
ck of her, but I can’t concentrate. I can’t see myself stepping out and it won’t work. I just keep hitting her back and get bounced back in. I stamp my feet, no, no, no, no. Let me out.
I close my eyes focusing on myself stepping out calmly, nothing’s wrong, just a normal day I tell myself. Now step out.
NO. It’s like stepping into a brick wall.
She stops at the office and chats with a parent. “Get to class,” I tell her, desperate to get her moving. I only have a couple of minutes before class starts. “To class,” I prompt again. But she keeps talking over me.
The bell rings. Now I’m going to be marked absent. I’m going to be banned from the swim team for another week. My head doesn’t take it in, I feel numb. I am inside my stupid teacher!
Now she goes. Now, when the hall is full of people and I can’t do anything except stand here watching them fill the room.
“Let’s begin thank you.” Miss Lep calls. She starts reeling off the names on the roll.
“Does anyone know where Reid is?” Miss Lep asks when she gets to my name. “It's always the ones that need to be here.” She mumbles to herself while she rummages in the draw for a truant form.
That's a bit harsh. I'm not that far behind. And it's not even behind really; more like challenged. And it’s hardly my fault I can't figure out what Shakespeare is trying to say.
“I don't know where she is,” Megan volunteers. “But I do know that she is having some problems with her boyfriend. He is finished school. She could have gone to see him.” She says innocently.
“Thanks, Megan, I'll look into it.” Then Miss Lep starts on about female points of view in literature.
“Megan is texting.” I shout quickly. I know, I was supposed to be quiet. But it's not about me, and she doesn’t know my voice well enough to think of me.
Megan looks up to see Miss Lep glaring straight at her, so she quickly shoves her phone up her sleeve.
“It's up her sleeve,” I call out.
“Do you have something up your sleeve you would like to share with everyone, Megan?” Miss Lep asks her.
“No, Miss Lep,” she lies, her face growing red under her intense gaze.