by B. F. Simone
Petty. Warranted, but petty.
She was doing it again, staring at him, and he noticed. She focused on the lines in the table and finished her food.
“That will be us soon, Katie,” Lucinda said, clearing the table. Katie helped. “Will is Brian and Allison’s mentor. He’s getting them familiar with Gray City and the type of people you find there.”
“Gray City?” Katie said.
“You’ll find out about it soon enough,” Lucinda smiled.
They finished clearing the table and cleaning the dishes as Tristan pretended to read the paper. She knew this time he was pretending because he was turning the pages. Her reasoning was mental, but she just knew. She could feel his eyes on her, even when he wasn’t looking. There was a crooked smile on his face every time she gave in and looked. It was a game. She was going to beat him by not playing.
She left the kitchen, and Will stopped her on her way upstairs to find Allison. “Katie, I’ll stop by your house on the way back so we can let Drew know what’s going on. I know it will be hard to explain by yourself.”
She wanted to nod her head and say, “Sure” but in the back of her mind she heard, “No.” She couldn’t shake the feeling. She didn’t want her dad to find out from his ex-best-friend who he barely talked to except on forced occasions.
“No. I’ll do it,” she said. She knew her dad. He’d feel uncomfortable with Will in the house, might even refuse to talk to him, just to avoid the awkwardness.
“I don’t know,” Will said.
“I’ll do it, Will.” They looked at each other for a long moment before he nodded and headed downstairs. Katie exhaled. She felt like she’d dodged a bullet. A big bullet, but she didn’t know why. She just knew it wasn’t right—not the way she wanted her dad to find out. He had been hiding this from her after all.
In the room she found Allison putting on her shoes. “I have to run home to change and get ready. Want to walk together?”
Katie shook her head. She didn’t want to go home yet. Her world had been shattered. Here everything was still hanging on by a string, but she didn’t know what going outside would be like. She found her washed clothes from the previous day folded in the dresser. Not a bloodstain to be found.
Lucinda never missed anything.
It didn’t take long after Will, Brian, and Allison left, for Katie to get restless. She had to go home. She needed to tell her dad what happened and find out, if anything, why he kept everything from her. She let Lucinda know she was leaving and took her first step outside since yesterday.
She didn’t even make it to the sidewalk.
She felt anxious. Sweat beaded on her forehead and the hair on the back of her neck rose. She couldn’t go back inside, Lucinda would make a big fuss and tell everyone. Katie couldn’t risk that embarrassment. She needed something to sooth the feeling of impending doom. Books.
She didn’t care much for reading them; she just liked to collect old ones. She headed out of the neighborhood, with her book-bag slung across her shoulder, toward her favorite bookstore.
Barnaby Books was a sanctuary. A book buyers dream heaven. Katie wasn’t always a book buyer, but looking for first-edition odd-end books was an emerging hobby. Something about collecting an original made her feel like a distinguished hoarder. The scholarly kind.
As she made it out of the mouth of the neighborhood, and into the belly of downtown, she waited for the crosswalk light to change. It wasn’t so bad. Being out in the open. The way the lady from the board talked about “protection” Katie thought she’d be dodging paranormal activity left and right.
Nope.
It was just her and the normal downtown crowd. The regular homeless hustling the crowd coming out of the theatre. A few joggers. Someone with a dog so small, it’s little legs are on full throttle to keep up. Kids from the nearby public school. She could always tell they were from the public school because they all looked the same, like a fashion hurricane swept through it every three months. Skinny jeans in this month? Yup. How about shirts with the neon colored writing? Check. Fringe bang? No, not this month. This month all the girls are rocking bobs.
Katie laughed. Impending doom? Good thing she didn’t go back to Lucinda with that. She skipped the last few feet into Barnaby’s and was welcomed by a sound of light jazz and the smell of coffee. Why the bookstore smelled like coffee she didn’t know, because they didn’t sell coffee, and she never saw anyone with coffee, staff or customers alike.
She made her way to the antiques section. Walking through Barnaby’s was like walking into a house of books, because that was what it was. A house filled with books. The walls were floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, and everything in between was filled with books. Floor stacks. Tables full. Six-foot tall shelves. It was the mirror image of it’s owner, Barnaby—intense.
Katie had met Barnaby a few times before she realized he was the owner. For a while she thought he was the homeless male-version of a crazy-wicked cat lady. He had hair longer than any man with a giant bald spot on the top of his head should, and huge eyes that drifted off to the side when she talked to him. It must have been a condition. He was there now by the classics. Just standing and staring at the books. He did that a lot. Katie used to think he was looking for a book, but now she knew better. He was really sleeping—with his eyes open.
The antique section was the smallest in the store, but also the hardest to get to. Katie had found it on accident once, when she fell through a floor stack of books. She’d found a first edition, Peter Pan. She never really liked the story, but the idea that it had once been in England, and then years later in her hands, was trippy. So she bought it.
She scanned through the books and didn’t see anything new, besides a small copy of Othello—it looked nice, but she hated anything that reminded her of school—and a book on formaldehyde. She cringed at the memory of dissecting a pig fetus in biology. Her fingers smelled for hours.
She wondered around the store for a few minutes, slowly making her way to the front. She heard the door open, as the bells tied to it jingled, and looked up.
It was him.
Tristan.
She ducked behind a pile of books and ran to the other side of the store. What was he doing there? Why was she asking herself that question? Of course he followed her. Everything about him screamed stalker the moment he showed up on her front porch. The real question was, why was she crotched down sneaking around the book store?
She began to stand up but stopped and made a b-line for the door instead. Who was she kidding? She was jumping over book-piles and running ninja-style through the bookstore, because she didn’t want to be alone with him. He was nuts. Not to mention a vampire—half or whatever.
She waited for him to disappear into a room, and made it out of the bookstore and back out onto the street unseen. Her heart pounded—absolutely jumping out of her chest. A part of her wanted to laugh and call Brian because she totally pulled off some high-level evasive moves, but she didn’t. Tristan showing up at the bookstore made her nervous. She completely doubted it was coincidental. He didn’t seem like the coincidental type.
She walked to Sunny Music, looking behind her every few minutes to make sure he hadn’t seen her. But, the coast was clear. No Tristan.
Sunny Music was past her favorite ice cream shop: Kat’s Ice Cream. She’d known the guy who owned it for forever. Larry. He always gave her discounted or free ice cream, ever since she told him she liked his new sign post of a fat cat licking ice cream. He was nice, but dumb. There was no profit in giving away free ice cream. Not when she went every Friday. She passed by it but made sure to wave at him as she went.
Sunny Music was anything but sunny: black walls…black floor…black lights. The only ‘sunny’ things were the little bit of light coming through the window by the door and Bob Marley’s One Love playing in the background. Bob Marley was the only music ever played on the loud speaker.
Katie tried to shift through some indie rock, but Trist
an was all she could think about. Why was he following her now? Maybe she should have stayed and confronted him. That’s what would have made sense. Why did she always think logically after the fact? She couldn’t go back now, she’d just look stupid.
She shuffled through some alternative rock, not seeing a single title. She sighed and moved to leave when she saw him again. Just outside the window pulling on the door. She ducked down, as light filled the dim room. He was really stalking her.
Again.
What kind of nut case just follows people to random places?
She couldn’t sneak out like she did in Barnaby’s. He’d see her the minute she stood up. But, if she stood up now, he’d know she’d purposely ducked down.
She pretended to tie her shoe and took a deep breath before she stood up.
He wasn’t looking at her. His back was turned to her as he shifted through a section pulling up a CD. She made her way to the door and stopped at the sound of his voice.
“Hey?” She turned around expecting to see him smiling at her with that stupid crooked smile, but his back was still to her as he walked up to the counter. “Can you tell me if they’re new album came out yet?”
Was he serious? He hadn’t seen her?
She grabbed the doorknob and ran out of the store before he did. She needed to get far. Somewhere different. Joe’s Coffee Shop. She’d even take the long way two blocks over.
She looked over her back every five seconds sure he’d be right behind her. There was no way he’d coincidentally end up at Joe’s Coffee shop. There were at least two other coffee places between Sunny Music and Joe’s. If he so happened to want coffee he’d go there. Not Joe’s.
The long way took another five minutes, but so far, she was in the clear. She’d even worked up a thirst for an iced coffee with whipped cream and caramel syrup. When she walked into Joe’s she stopped dead. He was there, at the counter ordering something. There was no way. No way…
He turned around and looked at her, his eye brows raised in an accusatory manner.
“Don’t look at me like that,” she said. “You’re stalking me.”
“I was here first.” Tristan said, paying for his order.
“What about Barnaby’s and Sunny Music?” Katie said crossed her hands over her chest.
“So you followed me there too?” he said, backing up like she’d jump on him at any second.
“That’s so not cool. I’m not the crazy one. You showed up on my front porch.”
“That’s old news, Katalina.”
There it was again. Her full name. “Seriously, what do you want?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Tristan said, looking around.
“Obviously not,” Katie said.
“Tristan?” The barista called out. Tristan walked over and picked up his order. An iced coffee with whipped cream and caramel syrup.
“What the—”
“What?” Tristan said, walking back over to her.
Katie was stunned. There was no way. How could he—
“Like the same drink as you? A little self-absorbed don’t you think, Katalina?”
Katie’s eyes grew wide. Her thoughts. He finished her thought. All along—in the kitchen, he was talking to her. Was staring at her.
She backed up toward the door and into someone. She jumped as if the three-eyed dog had jumped out and grabbed her.
“Oh sorry,” she said breathlessly to a girl who looked thoroughly affronted.
Tristan rolled his eyes and walked past her and out the door.
“Wait,” Katie said as the door closed. She needed to know. What had just happened? She ran out of the coffee shop. Tristan had already crossed the street and was headed away from her. She called out to him, but he ignored her. Of course, now that he had gotten her attention he didn’t care about her.
When she caught up to him he didn’t look at her. He stared ahead, expressionless. She walked next to him, a thousand questions flying through her mind with no idea how to ask them. But then again, he could probably hear them.
He walked fast; she could barely keep up, especially after running most of the way to Joe’s. Her throat was dry, but she was determined to keep up with him.
He held out the iced coffee. At least twenty scenarios ran through her mind. What if he poisoned it? Or worse, drank from the straw.
He looked at her from the corner of his eye and held out the drink over a trashcan as they passed it.
“No!” Katie’s made a grab for it and saved it from the trash. She sucked down a fourth of it before her throat eased up. “So— Um.” She had no idea what to say. Or was she saying it all now? Could he really read her mind, or was it just a coincidence.
His eyes flashed in her direction.
Not a coincidence.
“Do Will and Lucy know you can read their minds?” she said as he slowed down enough for her to drink and walk at the same time.
“I can’t read their minds,” he said.
“But you can read mine?”
“Yeah,” he said.
“Anyone else’s?”
“Nope,” he said.
“How is that possible? Why is that possible?” she said. His face was still expressionless.
“Gift from your mom,” he said, staring straight ahead.
Katie knew that wasn’t possible. Her mom died giving birth to her. Not exactly enough time to gift anything—let alone some jacked up ability to read her only daughter’s mind.
“You still believe everything your dad told you. Nothing about yesterday made you question a few things?” he said, making an abrupt left turn.
“What’s that suppose to mean? What do you know about my mom?” It was strange saying that word. Mom. It was something she didn’t have but something she always wanted—like a cat, E-Z Bake Oven, a sixty-piece oil pastel set. A mom. Something she’d grown out of and would never have. A mom.
Tristan held her gaze for a few steps before making another left turn. He didn’t say anything else.
Another right…straight…a left. He was walking her home. No matter how many questions she thought in her mind, he didn’t say a word. The only hint that he was truly listening, was the way he looked at her when she wondered if he could turn into a bat and fly. It was a stupid thought, maybe, but plausible given the circumstances.
He stopped at her street corner. She didn’t know why she expected him to continue all the way to her house, or why she’d even want him too. It crossed her mind that maybe he didn’t want to return to the place he was stabbed.
“You’ve been avoiding going home since you left Lucinda’s, right?” he said, looking at the house across the street. She had, hadn’t she? Even now she could feel the anxiety she felt earlier creeping up again. Going home meant telling her dad. It occurred to her, the anxiety attack, the reason she didn’t want Will to stop by…it was all to avoid telling her dad. “Then,” Tristan said, turning around, “I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to be seen by your house. Drew might recognize me.”
Tristan stuffed his hands in his pocket and looked at her.
“How do you know my dad?”
Nothing.
“The same way you know my mom I’m guessing?” she said.
Nothing.
“Fine,” Katie sighed. It was strange. Yesterday—when he was on her porch—he scared her. Now, he was kind of normal and annoying.
“See you Monday, Katalina,” he said, walking away from her. She forgot he could hear that—she didn’t like that he could hear that or anything she thought.
“Wait!” She had so many other questions that the pile was starting to topple.
Tristan disappeared around the corner.
As soon as she walked into her house she could hear her dad in the kitchen. Not her dad exactly, but the radio. He always listened to it when he tried to cook.
“I’m home,” Katie said, taking a deep breath. The radio quieted.
“Katie Bug? I’m in the kitchen. You gotta try this
spaghetti sauce.”
Katie made her way into the kitchen. He was listening to country music and dancing in his sweats and slippers. She stood in the doorway watching his fuzzy brown-gray hair bob back and forth.
“Katie Bug?” He yelled as he turned around. “Oh, I didn’t know you were right there.” He was all smiles—his eyes and his toothy grin.
“Hey, Dad.”
“Who peed in your cereal? Everything go okay—over there?”
“Yeah,” Katie said, sitting in one of the two kitchen chairs.
“You’re not uh—the mother nature stuff?”
“Dad.”
“Just asking,” he said, turning back to the stove. “Would you stop looking like someone shot Santa Claus if I told you I’m not mad about the yard?”
Crap. She had forgotten yard-duty. Mrs. Field, the all-in-one neighborhood-watch probably came over bright and early to remind him. “Sorry.”
“No worries. Will called,” he said.
Katie watched him stir the sauce still swaying his hips to the music. “What he say?” Katie held her breath.
“That you were staying over. Something about issues and needing Lucinda for some lady-talk. I get it, Katie Bug.”
Katie sighed. But froze again when her dad looked at her.
“You’d tell me if something were wrong right?” he frowned. She could see him swallow hard. It was his way of beating around the bush with hard conversations.
“Like what?” she croaked.
“You know–stuff.” He stared into the sauce pot.
“I—I don’t know what you mean.” Katie held her breath as her stomach leaped.
“You’re not thinking of—you know. I’m sure sex seems like what all the cool kids are doing but it’s not.” He said in one breath stirring the sauce faster.