Jenny Pox (The Paranormals, Book 1)

by JL Bryan

  She imagined them pointing at her, demanding to know who she was. To make things much worse, they were talking with Dr. and Mrs. Goodling. Ashleigh’s dad wore a brown, fairly realistic toupee, and his hair was unnaturally dark for his wrinkled face. Mrs. Goodling looked about twenty years younger than him, though it was hard to tell because her face had been stretched into Barbie doll smoothness by plastic surgery, and her hair was many layered shades of dyed blonde. She wore diamonds at her ears, neck and fingers, outdazzling the restrained pearls and gold worn by Mrs. Barrett.

  Jenny tried to avoid them with a sharp turn, but Mr. Barrett must have noticed the lost, panicked look she’d been trying to hide.

  “Hey there, young lady,” Mr. Barrett said, and his wife frowned. “Can I help you?”

  “Oh, hello, Mr. Barrett,” Jenny said, making herself smile. “And Mrs. Barrett, you look so lovely.” Jenny hoped this was the appropriate kind of thing to say.

  “Why, thank you,” Mrs. Barrett said. “I think that dress is just adorable. I do apologize, but I’m having a little trouble with names tonight. Forgive me.”

  It took Jenny a few seconds to realize Mrs. Barrett was asking Jenny’s name. She panicked again. If she said the truth, they would know she was Darrell Morton’s daughter, someone they hadn’t invited. Fortunately, Mr. Barrett spoke before Jenny could think of anything to say.

  “No, let me guess,” he said. “Luke Bamford’s daughter. Liza May. Am I right? Liza May Bamford?”

  Jenny smiled very wide.

  “I knew it,” Mr. Barrett said. “She looks just like Darlene, doesn’t she, Iris?”

  “Is that right?” Mrs. Barrett eyeballed Jenny. “We haven’t seen you in, well, it must be six years? Eight?”

  “I’m not really sure, ma’am,” Jenny said.

  “Listen to that,” Mrs. Barrett said. “There are a few polite ones left.”

  “Well, she’s a gorgeous young lady now, isn’t she?” Mr. Barrett drank from his whiskey, ignoring his wife’s arched eyebrow. “Have you met my son, Seth?”

  “Our daughter Ashleigh is Seth’s girlfriend,” Mrs. Goodling told Jenny, in a pleasant, honeyed voice that Jenny found uncomfortably familiar. “More than three years now. They’re very serious, aren’t they?” she asked Mrs. Barrett.

  “I believe so,” Mrs. Barrett said.

  “To be honest, I’m still looking for Seth…and Ashleigh and everybody…I only just arrived,” Jenny said. “Are they nearby?”

  “The kids are upstairs on the back veranda,” Mr. Barrett said. “They think we don’t know they’re getting drunk up there.”

  “Jon!” Mrs. Barrett gave the preacher’s wife an apologetic look. “How is your mother, Liza May?”

  “Oh, just fine, ma’am. She’s never been better. She loves the holidays.” Jenny made herself shut up.

  “That is amazing,” Mrs. Barrett said. “I heard she was confined to her hospital bed not three weeks ago. Well, you know how people get things wrong. Don’t you?”

  Jenny wanted to slap herself with both hands. Dr. Goodling, who hadn’t said a word, now looked openly suspicious of her.

  “So I just go upstairs, then?” Jenny pointed her finger off in a random direction. She gave Mr. Barrett a big smile, since he was the only one who seemed to like her. Thank God for strong whiskey.

  “You’ll want to head on out through that door and down the hall,” Mr. Barrett said. “You can’t miss the back stairs. Get yourself a drink first.”

  “I already have one, sir, thank you,” Jenny said.

  “Then get another one. You need it with this crowd.” He finished off his whiskey. Mrs. Barrett looked mortified and shook her head.

  Jenny followed his directions, past little clumps of people. A waiter offered glasses of plump shrimp with cocktail sauce, and Jenny shook her head. Her stomach was a knot of nerves. It felt like she would never eat again.

  The back staircase was built in two flights, the walls hung with framed black and white photographs, some of them with that sepia color of very early photography. They were family pictures, stern elders, frowning adults, moping children in ties or puffy silk dresses. The family had never been particularly large in number, and many of them had a sickly look.

  The stairs brought her to a second-floor gallery, with more paintings, some very large urns, bookshelves displaying sculptures and leather-bound volumes. There were antique, uncomfortable-looking chairs. She saw a wooden table with a chessboard painted on it and black and white armies set up for a new game. One corner of the gallery held a harp and a piano.

  Two hallways led into the depths of the house, and two pairs of French doors opened out to the back veranda. The outdoor lights were turned off, and a few tabletop lamps outside provided low illumination. A stereo had been set up out there, playing Mos Def at a loud, thumping volume.

  She saw Cassie and Ashleigh, both in dark cocktail dresses. They drank wine as they stood at the veranda railing, looking down on people in the back yard. Then she saw Seth.

  Seth sat at a table with Everett and a couple of guys she didn’t recognize. There were several people like that on the veranda, probably the high school and college age children of party guests. Nobody looked exceptionally happy to be there.

  Seth wasn’t saying much, just sipping his glass of whiskey while the guys at his table made bets with each other about the upcoming bowl games. His eyes looked distant, not focused on anything.

  Jenny stayed in the gallery and watched. She didn’t yet have the courage to go outside. She didn’t know how Seth would respond to her presence, but she knew how viciously Ashleigh and Cassie would react. This was her last moment of safety, before her presence was known.

  She took a deep breath and stepped toward the nearest French doors—only to see two guys coming inside, walking straight toward her. She didn’t recognize either of them, the taller one with freckles, or the handsome, tanned guy who was looking her up and down. They were college age, and both of them wore suits, but without ties.

  “Hey,” the tanned one said to Jenny, “You know where the bathroom is?”

  “Uh…” Jenny picked one of the two hallways and pointed. “Down that way.”

  “Maybe you should show us the way.” He glanced behind him, then lifted out a plastic bag, twisted and tied closed, filled with a fine white powder that probably wasn’t a half-cup of sugar. “You look like you could use some of this.”

  “Bet we could use some of her! Ow!” the freckled one said. He reeked of bourbon.

  “Shut the fuck up, Kevin,” the first boy said, and handed him the baggie. “Why don’t you go warm up the bathroom or something?”

  “More like blow up the bathroom! Ow!” Freckled, drunk Kevin staggered down one of the halls, not the one Jenny had indicated.

  “Don’t worry about my stupid cousin,” the boy said. “We can ditch him. He’ll probably pass out, anyway. Hey, let’s go up to the third floor, I heard it’s haunted.”

  “No, thanks,” Jenny said.

  “Don’t tell them we have any, okay?” he said, with a nod towards the people on the veranda. “I didn’t bring enough for the whole class.”

  “I won’t.”

  As he walked away, Jenny gathered her nerves again and looked out through the veranda doors. There had to be some way to get Seth away from Ashleigh and Cassie. Maybe she could hide somewhere and wait for him to come inside. Or maybe Ashleigh and Cassie would come in and leave him out there alone. Or maybe—

  “Hey, boy!” Jenny called after him. “Wait!”

  He stopped in the hallway and turned. Jenny walked over to him, trying her best to do a sexy smile.

  “Change your mind?” he asked.

  “No, I’m good,” she said. “But you know who would love it? Did you see those two girls out there, the blond and redhead, in the tight black dresses?”

  Now she had the boy’s attention. “Yeah. I think we noticed. Isn’t one of them Seth’s girl or something?”

 
; “Not that much,” Jenny said. “But they’re pretty friendly about the…” Jenny nodded at his coat pocket. “They’re actually kind of slutty about it. But don’t tell them I said that!”

  Jenny was inventing all of this. Years of being picked on by Ashleigh and trying to figure out what Ashleigh might do next had apparently taught her to think like Ashleigh. She was becoming her enemy.

  “Really?” He looked back out at the veranda, his eyes on Ashleigh’s rear. “They look kind of stuck up.”

  “They are,” Jenny said. “But they’ll get friendly. I heard them complain about how they were fiending for it.” As far as Jenny knew, Ashleigh might get offended at the offer of hard drugs, even run downstairs to narc him out to the police chief. It was worth a try, though. And the guy was kind of a douche, anyway.

  “Cool, thanks. What’s your name?” he asked.

  “Liza May.”

  “Nice to meet you, Liza May. I’m Davis.”

  “Okay, see you, Davis.” She pointed down the hall in which they stood. “I’m going to the other bathroom now. By myself. For the normal reason.”

  He grinned as he returned to the veranda, looking cocky, betting on a sure thing with a big payoff. Jenny watched him swagger toward Ashleigh and Cassie, who remained at the railing, talking to each other.

  Davis whispered in Ashleigh’s ear. Ashleigh immediately put her hand on his and turned her face toward him, so that their noses were only an inch apart. She clearly liked what she saw, and gave him a big smile. The boy seemed suddenly enchanted by Ashleigh, staring at her with profound admiration.

  Jenny felt her heart leap. Maybe she’d done more than she hoped. Maybe Ashleigh would get interested in this rich, handsome college guy and leave Seth alone.

  Ashleigh whispered in Cassie’s ear while tightening her grip on Davis’ arm. Cassie brightened and nodded. She stepped forward, introduced herself to Davis, and shook his hand. Ashleigh’s PR department.

  The three of them turned and crossed the veranda, going inside. Ashleigh cast a quick, narrow-eyed look at Seth, who still stared into the distance, holding his glass, while the guys talked around him. Seth didn’t seem to notice Ashleigh, or anyone else, at all.

  Then Jenny realized that Ashleigh and Cassie were walking through the French doors, heading straight towards Jenny. They hadn’t seen Jenny in the dark hallway yet, but she had only a few seconds to hide.

  Davis followed them in. He laid his hands on both girls’ backs as soon as they were inside and out of everyone else’s sight.

  Jenny turned and dashed down the hall. The first door she tried was locked; the second, a closet crammed full of boxes and coats, no room for her. The third door was open and lighted—the bathroom, where Kevin would be chopping out white lines to snort. Jenny dashed past that door. The fourth door opened without a problem. She hurried inside and closed it most of the way, without letting it click into place.

  She was in a bedroom, with a huge four-poster bed and very heavy antique dressers and mirrors. The walls were hung with posters of supermodels in skimpy underwear, hip-hop artists, professional football players, and one picture of Albert Einstein sticking out his tongue. There were socks and boxer shorts and jeans scattered all over the carpet, a heap of big trophies thrown carelessly in one corner, and the smell of boy-sweat everywhere. There was a picture of Seth and Ashleigh on one dresser, and next to that, a picture of a younger teenage boy Jenny didn’t know. She had to be in Seth’s bedroom.

  Jenny realized she wasn’t safe yet. The light in this room came from the open closet door. On the far end of the walk-in closet, instead of a back wall, there was a door open to the bathroom. The closet served as a small, private hall between the bedroom and bath. In the bathroom, Kevin bent over the marble countertop, scraping around with a razor blade. If he looked up, he would see Jenny in the mirror.

  “What’s up, Kev?” Davis said. He and Ashleigh and Cassie trooped into the large marble bathroom. Davis locked the hallway door behind him. “This is Ashleigh and Cathy.”

  “Cassie,” Cassie said.

  Kevin snorted a line and stood up, pinching his nose, his eyes squeezed shut. He blinked a few times and looked the girls over. Ashleigh was quick to grab onto his bare arm. Kevin tensed up like he’d been electrocuted, and then he smiled at Ashleigh.

  “Well, all right, ladies,” Kevin said. “Hey there, blonde girl. Bend over and snort this fat one.”

  Jenny eased open the door to the hall. With her shoes in her hands, she jogged past the bathroom door. She stopped in the gallery to replace the shoes, and she retrieved her wine glass from the 19th century rosewood table where she’d placed it without so much as a coaster. Then she strolled onto the veranda with her head high.

  Seth was in the same chair, at the table with the guys. Jenny smiled as she walked toward him.

  “Hi, Seth,” she said.

  He looked up at her, his eyes blurry.

  “Oh, hey,” he said. “It’s Jenny.”

  Seth did not look surprised to see her. He did not look upset that she had crashed his party. He did not look worried that Jenny’s presence might upset Ashleigh. He did not stand up and sweep Jenny into his arms. He did not seem very aware of anything. His eyelids were low, his mouth slack.

  “Merry Christmas,” Jenny said. “How are you?”

  “Merry Christmas,” he echoed.

  Jenny sidled up next to his chair. She peeled off one of her long black gloves. Then she touched his hand, wrapping her fingers around it. It felt good to touch him, to touch anyone at all.

  He took her hand, but it felt like an automatic reflex.

  “Zeth,” she said. “I vant to zuck your blood.”

  He just looked at her, his mouth open.

  “Don’t you remember me?”

  “Oh,” he said. “Jenny. I’m glad you came. I didn’t know you were coming.”

  “It’s a surprise,” Jenny said. “Are you feeling okay, Seth?”

  “Oh, sure,” he said. “I’m okay.”

  One of the two guys Jenny didn’t know stood up from the table.

  “Take my chair, I need another drink anyway,” he told Jenny, then noticed her empty glass. “You want anything at the bar? Egg nog?”

  “You wouldn’t mind getting me a whiskey sour, would you?” Jenny asked.

  “Whiskey at Christmas,” the guy said as he walked to the doors. “My kind of girl.”

  Jenny sat down beside Seth and rubbed his hand. She was directly across the table from Everett Lawson, Cassie’s boyfriend. Everett paused his conversation with the other guy, and stuck his right hand across the table, smiling wide at Jenny.

  “Hi,” he said. “Everett Lawson.”

  He didn’t recognize her at all. The liquor probably helped. Jenny’s right hand was still bare, so she held out her left instead. There was an awkward moment, then he changed hands.

  “Hey,” she said. “I’m Jenny.” You killed my dog, she thought.

  Everett looked her up and down, gave her another big smile. He looked like he wanted to say more, but then, happily, his companion started talking and pulled him back into their conversation, which sounded like it focused on the relative hotness of female cartoon characters.

  “You look pretty,” Seth said.

  Jenny blushed a little, caught off-guard by his compliment. His eyes seemed more focused now, looking at her.

  “Thank you, Seth,” Jenny said. “So do you.”

  “Yeah,” he said. He sipped his glass, where all the ice had melted. He didn’t seem drunk, but doped up some other way. Jenny leaned close to him and whispered, her lips brushing right against the delicate, warm skin of his ear. She raised her bare hand and lay it against his face while she whispered.

  “Seth, were you telling me the truth that day? Does Ashleigh really have something, like you and I do? Something that makes people love her?” Jenny thought about how quick Ashleigh was to touch both the college boys, like something she had to check off when she ta
lked to new people. Jenny had always thought Ashleigh was just one of those aggressive-touching types who always wanted to clap your shoulder or sock you in the arm, the type Jenny had to avoid.

  All her life, she’d seen people work for Ashleigh’s attention and approval. She’d seen how they lit up when Ashleigh favored them with a word, and especially a small touch or hug. Jenny just thought they were stupid for adoring Ashleigh. She didn’t notice the pattern until now, looking back. Ashleigh was as obsessive about touching people as Jenny was about avoiding contact. It all fit. Jenny would probably be the same way, if her touch made people love her, instead of giving them a horrible, deadly disease.

  “Ashleigh…” Seth sighed. “I don’t know, Jenny. I forgot.”

  “Maybe I can help you remember,” Jenny whispered. She stroked her fingertips along his face, and looked him right in the eyes, their lips at kissing range. “Look at me, Seth.”

  “Jenny?” He touched her hand. A smile broke across his face, the first emotion he’d shown tonight. His fingers traced up along her arm, then he lay his hand on her side. “I can’t believe you’re here,” he whispered. “Thank you.”

  “Are you awake now?” Jenny asked. “Or still under her spell?”

  “I don’t know.” Seth looked nervously at the French doors. “Is she gone?”

  “She’ll have her hands full for a minute.” And her nose, Jenny thought. And maybe more, if the college guys got their way.

  “It’s addictive,” Seth whispered. “She fills you up with it, and the world is perfect. Then it fades and you want more. I wish I could stop.”

  “You can stop, Seth,” Jenny said. “I can help you.”

  “What do I do?” Seth whispered.

  “I don’t know,” Jenny said. “You tell her we’re together now. You’re not going to be with her anymore.”

  “Oh.” Seth gave the French doors a frightened look, as if Jenny had advised him to jump in a cage with a hungry tiger, and pour a little steak sauce on himself, too. “Now? Tonight?”

  “You’re killing me, Seth.” Jenny stood up and held out her hand. “Okay, then let’s take a break from this party. You can walk me outside and show me all your trees and crap.”