by Tara Brown
I didn’t even swallow as the breaking of the twigs and branches attempted to drive me insane.
Instead, I waited until I heard his footsteps walk in a different direction and I grabbed my phone from my pocket and clicked the sound off completely. I was glad I’d worn a hoodie and not a jacket that made noise. Slowly, I put my cell back into my pocket and left it there. Nothing would make me leave that spot.
Through the brush I saw him. I wanted to run, but I held my breath and sat very still. It was definitely a man or a guy my age. He was tall and wore a black fleece with the hood up with dark jeans. I couldn’t see his face at all.
“Aimee, come out, come out, wherever you are.” He spoke as if he were disguising his voice. A noise like a bird squawking rang out into the forest. Then it happened again. He cussed and pulled a cell phone out of his pocket. “Hello,” he answered abruptly, still sounding horse as he spoke. “Yeah, fine. I don’t care. Okay good. See you then.” He put the phone in his pocket and pivoted around, scrutinizing the forest more intensely.
When he turned his face to me I could see he wore sunglasses. He was white. I saw his lips clearly. I would never forget them. They were thin lips, not my favorite kind. Beyond that, I couldn’t tell anything else about him.
“Aimee, I know you want to play cat and mouse, but we’re running out of time.” His voice gave away his impatience, no matter how hard he tried to sound calm.
A dark fear inside me whispered that he was the one who had drugged me, and he wanted to finish what he had started. The idea of him touching me while I had been drugged made me sick. I swallowed the bile back as I sat, ever so still, against my tree hidden in the brush.
He crept around the bushes a bit longer and then he stopped moving. I couldn’t see or hear him. I knew what he was doing. He was sitting somewhere like me. He was trying to wait me out. But I was the girl who sat on the concrete for hours on end. It was not a game he would win.
My breaths were shallow and my heartbeat stayed steady to keep my senses heightened and alert. I didn’t hear a sound from the forest, which told me he was still here.
The birds were not chirping because a predator was in the woods. Ignoring all manner of pain, I sat motionless, like a statue, and listened but there was nothing.
Then, like the angels were singing to me, I heard the greatest sound in the world.
“Dammit, Aimee! I had to walk home from friggin’ school. What the hell is taking you so long? Where are you?” Shane shouted from his yard.
I wanted to jump up and shout that I was over by the tree house, but the evil one remained in this forest somewhere. I hadn’t heard him leave, had I? I was starting to doubt myself as I panicked, knowing my salvation was across the forest, and he would leave soon.
“Aimes? The truck’s here, where are you?”
Desperately, I pulled my phone from my pocket and texted Shane with the sound off completely. The text hit his phone. His text tone was unmistakable—it was Ralph Wiggum saying, “My cat’s breath smells like cat food.” He had downloaded it when we were sitting in the restaurant, after my sister left with Blake. He was trying to lighten the mood. It was stupid. Of course cat breath smelled like cat food.
A second after the text, he walked to the forest, obeying my message perfectly, until he reached my exact location.
Sobs began to slip from my dry lips as relief flooded me. “Here.” I barely managed to get out as I reached my hand from the bushes and Shane grabbed it. He pulled me from my spot. As I stood, my legs buckled and I started to cry.
“It’s okay. I got you now.” He picked me up and carried me from the woods. I glanced back at the forest, seeing nothing, but I noticed a brisk pace in Shane’s steps. “I’m getting tired of carrying you out of these woods.” He was joking but I continued to sob into his shoulder. I felt safe, even if I was scared senseless.
He brought me into the house and sat me on a bar stool in the kitchen. He poured a glass of lemonade for me and handed me a tissue. “What happened?”
“I saw him.” I wiped my eyes and told him exactly what had happened. His eyes widened as I told the tale.
“This guy goes to our school. How else would he have seen you take my truck? Aimee, he was invited to my house and drugged my friends and you.” He paced and ranted, shaking his hands and shouting, “I’m gonna kill him!” He separated me from his friends. I wasn’t one of his friends? I tried to be polite and sip the lemonade, but I gagged and put it down. I guessed it would be joining the ranks with the veggie burger.
I didn’t know what to do to get my feeling of safety back, but I was worried for myself and for Giselle in the city. The hospital had good security, as it was a children’s hospital, but I wasn’t sure it would be enough; the creep seemed pretty shrewd.
“Thanks for coming for me,” I whispered after a long time.
Shane smiled down at me. “Aimee, you’re my date for the dance. Where would I find a date with this short notice?”
I punched his arm, hurting my hand. “Ow.” I frowned. “I don’t think I should go to the dance.” The fear of the person in the woods made me want to go home and never leave again.
“Why?”
“What if—”
“I’ll kill anyone who tries to hurt you. He won’t even try, trust me.” The way his eyes burned would have scared me if I hadn’t spent my entire life with him as a friend.
“I don’t have a dress picked out. And I don’t like school dances.” And I didn’t want to talk about any of it. “What color dress should I get?” I wanted the conversation to be light. I missed Giselle for that.
“I don’t know. Whatever you want. I’ll match you.” He didn’t sound excited about it either.
I jumped as a knock on the door interrupted us.
Shane’s eyes grew serious as he walked to the door and peeked through the window. He unlocked it and greeted my dad. “Mr. James, come on in.”
My dad hurried in to see me. “I called the police, Aimee. I know nothing happened and they understand that, but they’re as worried as I am. It’s better for them to have a full handle on what’s going on.” His eyes were tired.
“Okay.” I hated that we would have to talk about it all again.
“They’re coming here, Shane. I hope you don’t mind. They should be here any minute.” My dad walked into the house and put a hand on my shoulder. “How’s it going, kiddo?”
“I’m good, if I don’t think about it.”
“I think most things are like that. What were you thinking?”
“I don’t know. I’m an idiot.” My face flushed as I remembered seeing Giselle as a ghost and assuming maybe I’d developed some new talent since I died too.
“We established her being an idiot already, sir.” Shane walked around the bar and started to make some coffee with his mom’s expensive coffeemaker. The huge stainless-steel contraption could have belonged to a barista. Shane had a cup of coffee for my dad within seconds. “Want a coffee?”
“Sure.”
“Cream or sugar?”
“No thanks, son. Black is perfect.” He sipped his coffee. We all stared out at the backyard, watching. “This is a good cup of coffee.”
“Yeah, my mom bought it in Seattle. It cost more than my truck, I think.”
My dad laughed.
“Where’s Alise?” I asked, knowing the answer.
“She is at Blake’s house. His parents are letting her stay over. They know about the situation and that we need to go see Giselle and the hospital management and make certain they understand the gravity of the situation. Alise knows she’s not to leave their house until we arrive home.” My dad spoke as if he had an awful taste in his mouth. I wondered if I was reading things into it or this was my sister’s way of twisting a bad situation to her advantage. He gave me a concerned look. “Did you get a good look at him?”
“No. He had a dark fleece on with a hood, sunglasses, and his voice was raspy, so I wouldn’t be able to recognize it
if I tried. He knew my name. He was tall, like Shane’s height and build, and white. He was wearing jeans—dark jeans. His lips—they were so thin, cruel and thin. His phone rang with the sound of a squawking bird. It was black I think, maybe a Blackberry.”
My dad turned toward Shane and me. “Sounds like every one of your friends.”
“We have iPhones.”
“Yeah, only business people have Blackberrys.” Shane continued, “But I get what you’re saying. At this point everyone should be on the list of suspects, including me. I’m certain the police will say the same thing. Though for the record, I have nice lips and an iPhone.”
I rolled my eyes. “We know it isn’t you.”
He smiled back, but my dad’s eyes were not as trusting as he watched us.
The doorbell interrupted. “The police,” my dad said.
Shane walked to the door, opening it without checking.
Two police officers entered the house, shaking Shane’s hand and introducing themselves.
I recognized one of them instantly as the police officer who had asked Giselle and me questions in the hospital. We didn’t have anything to say then.
“Hi, Aimee.” He smiled at me kindly. “How are you feeling?”
“Hi.” I sighed. “Good, I feel pretty good. I’m a lot better. I just wish this was over though.”
The other officer nodded. “Yes, you’ve been through enough, I think.”
My dad laughed sarcastically. “Oh, more than.”
The older officer, who I had never met before, smiled at my dad. “And how is Dad holding up?”
“Oh boy.” My dad groaned. “Our family doesn’t need any extra drama, not this year.”
The police officer, whose name tag said Williams, gave my dad a knowing look. They appeared to have some sort of relationship I didn’t know about.
“Coffee, guys?” Shane asked, breaking up the sorrow hanging in the air.
“Yes, please,” the young officer chimed in. His name was Bindley.
“Aimee, Sergeant Williams here was with your mom at the end,” my dad said quietly as he held his hand out to the tall, older-looking man.
My throat thickened as his eyes filled with emotion.
“Oh.” I dropped my gaze to the countertop.
“I’m sorry for your loss.”
Officer Bindley sipped his coffee. “I guess all we need here is a statement. Shane, were you here when it happened?”
“No.” Shane cocked an eyebrow. “I was walking home from school ‘cause Aimee had my truck.”
I smiled at the hint of bitterness in his voice.
“So, Aimee, you tell it exactly the way it happened, and if no one else could talk while we have the tape recorder going that would be great. Ready?” the sergeant asked.
I inhaled a deep breath and began at the start, ghosts and all. Well, not Giselle but Wade and all the memories I had of him.
Chapter 13
The word is hamtard
When we left for the city, the three-and-half-hour drive gave me more than enough time to consider the essence of life. My dad didn’t need to talk which was nice. We could ride in quiet contemplation, instead of trying desperately to fill the air.
The only thing he wanted to know about was the mystery man in my hazy memories. I told him it was more like a dream than reality and explained that I had believed he was Wade, but he wasn’t.
Fifteen minutes away from the hospital I became excited and scared. I wanted to see Giselle so badly, but I also had to tell her the worst news. Not only had some psycho tried to kill us, but he was hunting us now also. I dreaded telling her but the hospital needed to know every possibility. The police from home had already called and put them on high alert, but it didn’t change things—Giselle needed the full story and Dad wanted to discuss the situation face to face with the staff from her floor. We both suspected her dad wasn’t doing anything of much use.
Dad dropped me off at the entrance and went to the hotel to check us in for the night.
The Children’s Hospital was like an amusement park of doom. Pictures and paintings lined the walls with murals of the sunny days and beaches the children might never see. I swallowed a huge lump to ensure I wasn’t weepy before I even saw her.
I checked my text from her and pushed the appropriate floor button on the elevator. I stepped off and walked down the hall. Giselle’s room was the last door before the hall took a corner. I knocked lightly, hoping she was awake.
“Giselle, you here?” I poked my head in.
“Oh my God, Aimee. What took so long? It’s been like three weeks and I am dying in here. It’s so boring.” She nearly squealed as I entered smiling. She was lying on her bed with a light on but the curtains were closed, making it dim.
I walked up and hugged her. She smelled funny, like sickness. She gripped me so tightly I could barely breathe.
“The nurses can see you, right?” I whispered as I held her and closed my eyes and pretended so many things all at once.
“You’re a moron.” She let go finally and grinned, but I could see through the façade. She was still very sick. Her eyes were yellowish and her skin was tanned. Was Giselle going into liver failure as well as her kidneys being sick? I didn’t know what to say. I ignored it and decided she would tell me if she wanted to.
“So did you hear?” I asked.
Giselle nodded. “Yeah, it’s all over Facebook already. So he followed you into the woods? What the hell were you doing in the woods alone, tard?”
“Hey.” I laughed. “Easy with words like that. It’s really rude.”
She frowned. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“I know.” I rolled my eyes. “Dude, people take offense to that word. Just say hamtard. It’s a word I made up for Alise. She says the other one all the time too. Anyway, I went into the woods because I wanted to find the guy from the party. I last saw him there and thought maybe he was a ghost.”
“Is this ‘cause you saw me all ghostly and in a coma? That was weeks ago, you need to get over it. We were sick and dying and shit.”
“Yeah, that and because the only place I’ve ever seen him was at Shane’s house—”
“Wait.” She cut me off. “What is going on with you and Shane?”
“Giselle, you’re focusing on the wrong part of the story. Nothing is going on. He’s just a friend. Besides, he dated Alise.”
“Gross.” She made a face.
“Anyway,” I continued, “I can’t stop thinking about this guy, and I wanted to find him. So I went to Shane’s and waited in the woods. I hid, basically, at the base of a tree in the bushes. I really thought he would just be walking through the woods, like haunting me, and I would have proof that I can see ghosts and I’m not going crazy. But instead, the other guy followed me there, the one who drugged us. He’s a creep. The guy in my memory, or dream rather, isn’t the guy from the woods.”
“How do you know?” Giselle frowned at me. “You really have the worst taste in guys. First you like Blake—blech—and then this crazy stalker who tries to kill us. And all the while Shane is in front of you and you feel nothing more than friendly love.”
“It’s not the same guy, I swear. What did the doctor say?”
“I don’t know. I can’t seem to shake it. My blah blah blahs aren’t healing or something. I am pretty much screwed, Aimes. I think the doctors are talking about a donor list.”
“What about your parents?”
“My mom came back. I guess she and my dad haven’t been in love for a long time. So she decided to Internet date and met some guy. She brought him here. She’s living in the city with him.” Her face filled with shame as mine filled with shock and disgust. “They come a lot. It’s annoying.”
“She comes here?” I gasped. “With some Internet guy?”
“Yeah. It’s weird. Creepy bastard. He patted my leg, all high up on the thigh, and said he always wanted a stepdaughter. I threw up on him.” She burst out laughing.
> “Oh my God. Your mom has met a pedo on the Internet. Giselle, I’m thinking we need a young priest and an old priest.”
Giselle laughed. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, but I know, right?”
“It’s from The Exorcist. It means we’re cursed.”
“True story.”
“At least you barfed on him—what a nasty pig.”
“God is mad at us for something, Aimes, ‘cause this has been the worst year of my life.” She was still laughing, but I was certain I heard a sob.
“Yeah,” I agreed, shivering. “It has. The cop who was with my mom while she died is the sergeant on our case. I can tell he wants to talk to me, but I don’t want to know what he saw at the scene or talk about it.”
“Oh, that’s too creepy. Don’t they get transferred out ever?”
“I don’t know how it works.”
“I think I’m going to die, Aimee. I’m scared.” Her words became a whisper, hanging in the air, stopping my breath.
“I know. I’m scared too.”
The moment was fleeting.
Then, like the master of her emotions she was, she started chatting about the mundane again. The words still hung in the air like a bad cloud about to pour down on us, but we chose not to look up. Regardless of the fact we both knew of the impending doom, we fought against it with gossip and giggles.
I told her I needed a dress for spring formal. It made her misty-eyed as she told me to take the dress she had bought and that someone should get some use out of it. I tried to argue, but it was no use. She wanted me to wear it and I said I would be honored. For some strange reason I loved this girl with all my heart. She was the sister I should have had. We lay on her bed together, talking and feeling the need for hope in our despair-filled lives.
“If I grow up and marry a rich man like I plan to, I’m totally making him donate all his money to this place.” She giggled, but I knew better than to see anything beyond the “if” in the story.
She started to fall asleep so I left her. I sent my dad a text, saying I was leaving and walked to the elevator and climbed on. I wanted to cry but it wouldn’t change anything. She was dying and our would-be murderer was stalking me.