“You always say that all of these bad things happen to you. Do you think you’re a bad person?”
I lick my lips. A terrible case of cottonmouth.
“I don’t know,” I answer honestly.
She looks up at me over the mound of potatoes. “You’re not a murderer, are you?”
I jerk back. “What?”
“Because that’s the worst sin, right?”
I frown. “Yes.”
She tosses up an onion and catches it. “Then you have nothing to worry about. I’ve come across some really terrible people in my life. I promise, you’re nowhere near them. Stop worrying about your place in life. You’re seventeen, Calla. I think sometimes you forget that.”
She’s right.
I’ve never had the chance to just be.
Be a kid.
Be a teenager.
Be me.
I cover my mouth, a bit of bile rising.
“You okay?” Aunt Polly asks. “You look a little pale.”
“Just making a list of all the things I’ve missed out on.”
She laughs.
“Well, at least you were tucked under a staircase during puberty. No one wants to be seen during those years.”
She moves on and I follow her with the cart.
“Do you really think Diablo is home to the Devil, Aunt Polly?”
“Sure,” she says easily. “There has to be some sort of gateway, don’t you think?”
“And what about the Hales? What sort of involvement do you think they play in the town?”
“Now that is a bigger story, I think.”
My head starts to hurt thinking about it.
“It doesn’t… scare you?”
Aunt Polly looks away from the fruit and back to me. A serious expression on her face.
“I told you, Calla. I’ve already faced the Devil.”
“And?”
“He doesn’t scare me.”
A movement catches my eye, and when I look over, I freeze.
The officer who seemed to have a special interest in the Hales is pushing a cart in the frozen aisle. He reaches in and grabs what looks like a frozen pizza.
The officer in question catches us staring and approaches our cart. “How are you ladies doing today?”
“Fine,” I tell him, “Officer…?”
He reaches out to shake my hand. His grip is firm, and I’m surprised by the shock running up my arm. “Valencia, but you can call me Val.”
“No, first name, Officer?” my aunt asks.
His dark gaze glides over to the voice. “Don’t go by it, ma’am. I’ve always gone by Val.”
“Hmm. I’m Polly. Calla over here is my niece.”
“Calla,” the officer says in a smooth tone, “do you go to Diablo High?”
I nod, trapped by his gaze. “Yes, that’s right.”
The officer nods slowly. “You’re one of the ones who found the body, right?”
I swallow the lump in my throat. “That’s right.”
His eyes narrow. “Twice, I understand?”
I only nod, recognizing the look behind his gaze. He’s purposefully analyzing my words, doubting my innocence, most likely.
“And they turned you kids loose?”
My spine stiffens at the underlying accusation. “That’s right.”
He hums. “Well, I’m glad to be posted at the school then.”
Aunt Polly looks intrigued. “Ah, so you’re one of the officers who volunteered to provide security for the high school?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he says. “I go where they send me.”
“Well, as a guardian, I’m thankful you boys came from out of town to help us out. With all of these murders and the rumors this town was built on, it makes me feel a little better sending Calla here to school every day.”
I look over at my aunt, unsure why the sudden info dump on the officer. Other than telling me to be safe, Aunt Polly hasn’t expressed any further concerns about my safety.
The officer rocks on his heels. “Yes, the ‘rumors’ about the town. Can’t say I know too much about it, but as an officer of the law, I can promise you ladies this investigation doesn’t have any monsters and magic.”
My aunt smirks. “So no special ops trainings for the students on how to kill demons?”
The officer laughs. “I’m afraid this isn’t a fantasy novel.”
“Shame,” my aunt says. “Wouldn’t it be easier if we could chuck it up to demons?”
He laughs again. “Would definitely make my job a lot easier.”
“Well,” Aunt Polly continues, “if you do find anything interesting, let me know. I’m writing a piece about the towns history.”
I take this opportunity to find out more about his relationship with the Hales. “I don’t know, Aunt Polly, Officer Val knows the Hales. If he found anything other worldly, I doubt he would tell you.”
The officer shoots his eyes toward me. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean.”
“Oh,” I say with fake innocence, “I saw you speaking with them after the assembly.”
“Ah,” he responds. “Just some follow up questions about their guardian. The Hales have a lot of unfenced land surrounding their property. I was sent to ask whom we should speak to about getting access to search their property, should our investigation lead us there.”
My grind my teeth.
“I should get going. I’ll see you soon then, Calla.” He nods to my aunt. “Ma’am.”
Aunt Polly waits until he’s out of earshot before snorting. “Ma’am? Just how old does he think I am?”
I laugh at her concern. “I’m pretty sure it was the respectful thing to do.”
“I mean, I said you were my niece, so I’m not that old.” She continues on with her fit. “Demons might not be real, but if they were, sign me up. Eternal youth, here I come.”
I shake my head at her lightheartedness.
God save me.
I flinch at my old habit.
A couple hours and a pile of pancakes later, I’m feeling refreshed.
My stomach has finally settled, and I haven’t had any more acid threaten to come up.
Aunt Polly turned the TV on to some rerun of a crime show. Watching episode after episode about cold-blooded murders does make me feel a little less like a terrible person.
I’m thankful to my aunt for that.
She looks over at me from the other side of the small sofa.
I catch her eyes. Hug the pillow deeper into my chest.
“Yes?”
She smiles mischievously. “Come on.”
She rises from the sofa and holds her hand out to me.
“Where are we going?”
A pair of old sneakers are dropped in front of me. She motions for me to put them on.
“I’m going to give you a lesson in self-defense.”
I frown.
“Self-defense?” I ask, bewildered.
She’s already out the door.
I sigh. There’s no stopping her.
I shut the front door behind me and follow her down the steps. The front of the apartment complex is empty despite the beautiful day. The wind hasn’t picked up yet and the sunlight is still managing to peek through the treetops.
We head to the back of the building, where there’s a patio and an outdoor barbecue set. It’s been occupied on most weekends due to the nice weather so we haven’t spent any time out here. The patio is swept clean of the fallen leaves and the barbecue set is freshly scrubbed.
Aunt Polly looks around, making sure we’re unseen.
There’s no one around. Not even a critter in the forest.
“Let’s start with the basics, yeah?”
I go into the center of the patio with her. Unsure what do to, I cross my arms over my chest. “What are we doing out here?”
She cracks her neck.
“You’re always going on about terrible things happening to you, and I want to help you feel safe. I promised you that nothing ba
d will ever happen to you again. And I meant that.”
I remember the promise vividly.
“So,” she says, “put your hands up.”
She mimes what she wants me to do.
I shake out my hands and put them up in front of me.
Slowly, she reaches out one fist and punches it into my open palm. When my hand gets pushed backward, she shakes her head.
“Hold it tight. Don’t let me push you back.”
She does it again. I hold my hands firm.
“There you go.”
I widen my feet so I don’t wobble.
“You ready?” she asks.
I nod.
She reaches out a little faster, a little harder, connecting her fist to my palm each time. The contact stings but I don’t pull back. Instead, I encourage her. Nod each time she reaches out.
“You got it.” She punches. “As long as you can defend yourself, that’s half the battle.”
My feet retreat at the strength of her punch. She follows.
And we begin this dance.
I fall back and she follows.
My wrists begin to ache at the defense but I refuse to give in.
She encourages me throughout the whole process. Telling me how great I’m doing. Telling me that I’m strong.
No one’s ever told me that before.
“Duck.”
My body seems to know what to do before my mind does. I manage to avoid a fist straight to the temple, my hair flying behind me.
“Aunt Polly,” I say in surprise.
I try to retreat further but she keeps coming at me.
I dodge her assault again.
My hands fly up to protect my face. Her fists connect to my forearms. Graze my chin when they manage to break through my barrier.
I trip on a plastic chair behind me.
I yelp. Stumble to get my feet under me.
“Wait, wait, wait!” I plead.
“There’s no waiting in battle,” Aunt Polly snaps back. “Come on, Calla. Fight. Fight back!”
My ankle twists and I fall back into a chair.
Aunt Polly’s hair is wild around her face. She shows no sign of stopping.
I do the only thing I can think of.
I kick my leg up and out.
Aunt Polly’s neck snaps back when my sneaker connects with her nose.
I gasp out in shock when splatters of blood transfer from her bloody nose to my shoes.
“Oh my God, Aunt Polly,” I say mortified. “I’m so sorry!”
My aunt touches her nose and looks at her fingers, sees the blood.
She wipes the blood away with the back of her sleeve. Then she attacks.
I barely have enough time to brace for the fall before I’m on the ground, my head barely missing the concrete. There’s a sharp pain in my side from the arm of the chair digging into me. I groan.
Pushing against her ribs, I manage to fling my aunt away. The plastic chair flies off to the side when we roll off it.
Still on the ground, I keep rolling until I have enough distance between us to get on my feet.
Aunt Polly’s nose drips blood onto the cement. She pushes to her feet, looking around for me. When our eyes meet, I run.
I head straight for the forest behind the apartment complex. My ears are ringing. I can’t hear her but I know she’s behind me. The hair on the back of my neck is standing. An eerie sense I’m being followed.
My side aches. I clutch at the spot and stop behind a tree. Lifting my shirt, I see there’s a scrape along my ribs where the chair dug into me. I carefully put the shirt back into place, hissing when it stings.
I’m not sure what kind of lesson this is supposed to be, but now we’re both injured.
I look around the tree trunk, hoping to raise an imaginary white flag.
Aunt Polly is nowhere in sight.
Breathing hard, I tiptoe out from the tree.
“Aunt Polly?”
Arms wrap around me from behind and I freeze.
Grandmother is upset with me again.
I must have done something terrible for her to carry me herself.
She hoists me up and off the ground. We’re only able to take a few steps backward. My forward rocking frame makes her drop me. The sudden loss of support drops me to my knees.
She was trying to take me to the fireplace again. She’ll make me build my own fire and sit in front of it until my skin burns.
I begin to crawl to it myself, so she doesn’t touch me again.
She calls out my name. I whimper.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I tell her. “I repent.”
An arm touches me. I flinch.
Over my shoulder, Grandmother is looking down at me. Her eyes dark and soulless like always.
She reaches down, and I think she’s aiming for my face.
I do something that I would have never thought about.
I pull her leg out from underneath her.
Grandmother hits the floor with a thud. She props up on her elbows and looks over at me, bewildered.
There’s no time to think.
If I ever wanted to get away from her, this is my only chance. The only time I’ve ever seen her in a vulnerable position.
I begin to swing.
My arms flail around as I try to hit her anywhere I can. The ache where she pinched my side throbs, but it doesn’t matter if I’m straining myself further.
I won’t let her punish me again.
Never again.
She doesn’t say a word. Doesn’t make a sound.
Doesn’t even try to fight back.
A palm smacks me across the face.
I pull back in surprise.
Grandmother would never hit me anywhere visible to the public eye.
I clutch at my cheek and blink rapidly.
The dark eyes looking back at me morph. The hard expression softens. The gray hair turns black. The wrinkles disappear.
It’s Aunt Polly looking back at me.
Not Grandmother.
My hand covers my mouth, bile threatening to come up.
“Polly.” I cry out. “I’m so sorry.”
Her nose is still bleeding. There’s a cut on her cheek bone. But her eyes are…sorry.
“What did she do to you?”
I fall back on my haunches. My palms lie facing upwards on the back of my thighs. My tongue is heavy, stopping me from speaking.
Aunt Polly sits up.
“I’m sorry.”
“Never be sorry,” she says.
She scoots forward, her knees making a clear path in the dirt. Reaching out, she takes my hands in her own. Squeezes them.
I try not to meet her gaze, not wanting to look her in the eyes. But she forces me to. Grabs my chin and forces me to look at her head-on.
“She’s gone, Calla. She’s gone.”
I nod.
It’s all I can do.
She reaches out and rubs a bloody knuckle down my cheek. My eyes close.
I lean into it.
“My father was terrible to me too.”
The words are spoken so softly, I almost don’t hear them.
I look back up at my aunt, and now it’s she who doesn’t meet my eyes.
Grandmother had never spoken of any man in her life. And I was too afraid to ever ask.
After all, I never even knew that she had another daughter.
I squeeze her hands.
Aunt Polly’s eyes are glazed when she looks back up at me. It’s a familiar look.
She licks her lips nervously.
“I always did what he asked of me,” she says softly. “He called me his little warrior.”
“What was he like?”
“I guess you can call him a man of God.” She says it with a sneer. “On the outside, he was this perfect man. Everyone in the community praised him. He could do no wrong. But he expected too much from us. Obedience. Perfection. Honesty.”
It sounds familiar.
“We di
d everything to please him. Everyone around him just wanted some sort of attention from him. To have their name in his mouth.”
Her face begins to harden with every word. I can see her mind working, digging deep to pull what I imagine are painful memories from inside her mind.
“What happened to him?”
“Work took him elsewhere.”
“With the church?”
She nods. “Something like that.”
I’m losing her. Her usually lively eyes are beginning to dull. The warmth in her face leaving.
I want to tell her I’m sorry, but I know it’s the last thing she wants to hear.
And I don’t blame her.
“Can I ask you something?” I’ve never had this thought before, but it’s suddenly too loud to keep to myself. She nods. “What was my mother like?”
She stills, looks like she’s hesitating to answer me.
“I don’t know. I left long before she did, so we never got to know each other.”
I don’t ask anything further.
Grandmother put the fear of God into me when it came to questioning anything about my past. So having no more information about her than I did five minutes ago is surprisingly a relief.
I asked, she answered, and now I’m going to move on. Just like Aunt Polly always said to do.
She sighs when I stay quiet and pats the top of my hand.
“Come on, let’s go get cleaned up.” She pulls me up so we’re both standing. “I really hope you didn’t give me a black eye. I’m supposed to go out tomorrow.”
“I think you might have punctured my lung, so I’d say we’re even.”
Aunt Polly laughs out loud. “I’d say you’re right.”
She puts her arm around my shoulders, pulling me against her side.
I relax in her embrace, lean my head against her.
Together, we limp back into the apartment.
I don’t give Luke a choice when it comes to the time and day we’re going to work on our project.
He was there for lunch, when our table was surrounded by the soccer team preparing for the pre-season game coming up, but not for last period.
If it weren’t for Mr. Riley’s reminder of the upcoming project, I wouldn’t be looking for him. He seemed eager to ignore me during lunch, so I was happy to oblige him. If he doesn’t want to talk about my drunken night, then I definitely don’t.
There’s no rain, so I decide to walk to the manor.
Lily catches up to me and I’m thankful for the company.
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