Bad Things

by Tamara Thorne

  “Richard Piper!” his mother said. “What on earth?”

  Robin was staring at him with a funny look on his face, sort of a cross between amusement and fury.

  “He said something bad about Delia.”

  “Well,” said his father, “we expect you not to solve your problems with your fists, Rick. Apologize to your brother.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said, and it was easy because he felt suddenly brave and knew he wasn’t sorry at all.

  “That’s okay, Ricky,” Robin said like some Goody Two-shoes kid off a TV show. “I had it coming.”

  How could he compete with that?

  They stood to leave, and as they filed out, he heard his dad tell his mom that it was nice to see he had backbone. He smiled to himself, still shocked that he’d pounded Robin.

  Outside the tent, a tall, dark-haired man stopped them, saying to his father, “Hello, sir, did you enjoy the show?”

  Frank Piper nodded.

  “I’m John Masello. My brother Vince and I own the carnival.” He looked at Robin. “And what’s your name, young man?”

  “Robin,” he said brightly.

  “I bet you can do some pretty neat tricks, huh?”

  “Sure.”

  “What is it that you want, Mr. Masello?” Dad asked. He sounded angry.

  “I noticed that this young man is special and I was wondering if, since you were at the freak show, you might be interested in giving him a better life.”

  “What are you talking about?” That came from his mother, and she didn’t sound happy either. Delia chose that moment to come out of the tent. She stood next to Ricky and listened intently.

  “People with deformities often like to be with their own kind,” Masello said. “This boy could make huge sums of money and have many, many friends who would never judge him by his looks.” The circus man pulled two cigars from his pocket and offered one to Rick’s dad, who shook his head. “Forgive me for being forward,” Masello continued, “but would you be interested in letting Robin here travel with our show?”

  “I told you he’d do anything for a half boy,” Delia whispered to Ricky. “Those cigars are imported from Cuba!”

  Ricky stifled a giggle.

  “His contract would be very lucrative,” Masello went on. “He’d make enough for his handsome brother here to go to college, and he could keep the whole family in—”

  Say yes, say yes, say yes. Ricky prayed.

  “No,” Dad said with stern finality. “We’re not interested.”

  “Let me give you my card—”

  “No, that won’t be necessary.” He turned to his family. “We’re going home.”

  “Ricky,” Delia said. “Can you come back? Tonight, maybe?”

  Go outside at night? For an instant he almost said yes, but common sense set in.

  “No, but I live just two blocks from here. Could you sneak over to my house?”

  “Ricky, come on,” called Mom.

  “Just a second.”

  “What’s your address?”

  “It’s 667 Via Matanza. That’s—”

  “I’ll find it. Can you meet me outside?”

  “You don’t have to sneak. My mom won’t mind. How early can you come?”

  “Six-thirty?”

  “Come to the door at six-thirty. She’ll invite you to dinner.”

  “Really?”

  “She invites everybody to dinner.”

  “That sounds great.” She paused. “Will your brother be there?”

  “Yeah. Why?”

  “What’s wrong with him?”

  “He was born that way.”

  “No, not that. He’s . . . I don’t know, creepy. No offense,” she added quickly.

  “No offense. I think he’s creepy too. You’re the first person besides me to ever say that, though,” he told her with delight. Maybe Delia would be able to see the greenjacks, too. But even if she couldn’t, he could hardly wait to talk to her some more.

  “See you tonight,” she said.

  “See you.”

  “How about some fresh coffee?” Rick asked, bringing the pot to the table.

  “Thanks.” Audrey pushed her cup toward him. “What a romantic story.”

  Rick shrugged.

  “But I won’t let you leave me in suspense. Did your mother invite Delia to dinner?”

  “Yes. We had a great time, too. It was the first time I ever felt like I had a real friend my age—you know, the kind who understands things about you that would make other people think you’re crazy.”

  “I know,” she said softly.

  “Anyway, my parents got a kick out of her—Delia was very mature for her age, very feisty—and I wished with all my heart that I could have her for a sister instead of Robin for a brother.”

  Audrey smiled. “I thought you said she was your first love.”

  “She was. We saw each other every day until the carnival left town, and my mother told her to come back the next year. But Mom and Dad died two months later.”

  “So you never got to see her again?”

  He gave her a ghost of a smile. “I saw her. We just sneaked around after that first year.”

  “Why did you have to sneak?”

  “My brother mostly. Plus Aunt Jade and Uncle Howard would have made fun of her.”

  She cocked her head. “A while ago you said Delia asked you what was wrong with your brother. What did she mean by that?”

  He chose his next words carefully “He hated her from the moment they met. He even called her ‘Troll’ to her face. She stayed away from him, but it wasn’t because of the name-calling—she could handle that. It was because she didn’t trust him. I think she must have sensed his meanness.” He gazed at Audrey, wanting to tell her the whole story, but afraid to.

  “Delia had been raised in such a different way than most people,” he ventured. “She really didn’t notice physical things: They didn’t mean much to her. So I think that because she didn’t spend time feeling sorry for Robin or cutting him slack because he had no legs, she could sense his cruelty very easily. She hated his eyes,” he allowed himself to tell Audrey.

  “If you were identical twins, weren’t they just like yours?”

  “They were darker than mine, almost black,” Rick explained. “Delia said that when she looked into his eyes, she could see he didn’t have a human soul.”

  Audrey’s green eyes had grown large. “That’s a pretty strong statement for a little kid.”

  “Well, frankly, I didn’t think he had a human soul either.” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop himself.

  “Rick, really?”

  He nodded, his guts tying themselves in knots. How was he going to tell her more without sounding crazy?

  “Why?”

  “Because Robin told me so, and I believed him.” He shook his head. “I always believed everything he said, and he claimed he was a little jack who’d possessed my brother’s body, and that my real brother was outside with the jacks . . .”

  “Don’t stop now!” She gestured impatiently.

  “Well, when we were seven, Robin pulled a Halloween joke on me that backfired. He took a skeleton mask and climbed out our window into the oak in the front yard to scare me. He wanted me to think he was Big Jack.” Rick clutched the coffee cup to keep his hands from shaking. “To make a long story short, he fell out of the tree and hit his head. After that, he started claiming—but only to me—that he was a changeling or whatever you want to call it. He said what he really wanted was my body since I could see—” Oh, shit, he thought, Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.

  Icky Ricky, sicky Ricky, dicky Ricky.

  For the first time tonight, he heard them. Had they been calling all along or had his guard just gone down? Or maybe he just thought he heard them. I hear voices, he thought. Oh joy That probably means I’m certifiable. Just what Audrey wants.

  Audrey shook her head. “Children are incredibly cruel. You must have been terrifi
ed.”

  He took a deep breath, grateful that she’d said nothing about his slip. “I was incredibly gullible. I believed it all.”

  She reached across the table and took his hand. “Do you still?”

  “No. Robin’s personality changed when he fell on his head, so I assume he sustained some kind of brain damage.”

  She nodded. “Probably. But you still see the greenjacks, don’t you.” It was a statement, not a question, but her hand stayed firmly on his.

  “N-No,” he replied, flustered. “Like I said, I had a deadly imagination.”

  “The other night you told me you didn’t want to judge yourself by your brother anymore. You’re doing it.”

  “I don’t understand,” he said dully.

  “You saw them, your brother didn’t. I bet there are more kids who think they see things than ones who don’t. I mean”—she grinned at him—“didn’t you ever have an invisible friend?”

  “Shelly did,” he answered with relief. “And Cody’s just acquired one.” He smiled. “His name is Bob. Bob the invisible friend.”

  Their laughter broke the tension.

  “My invisible friend’s name was Miranda,” Audrey said, “because that’s what I wanted my name to be. The cutest girl in school was named Miranda.”

  “Cody doesn’t know any Bobs,” Rick said thoughtfully.

  “Maybe he got it off TV. Bob Newhart, maybe?”

  “I’ll bet you’re right.” Rick stroked one of her fingers. “So you think lots of kids see things that aren’t there?” he asked, trying to sound very casual.

  “I always see prowlers if I let myself,” Audrey confessed. “In shadows at night, my robe hanging on a hook by the door becomes a living, breathing intruder. It moves. My eyes see it. God, I hate sleeping alone.”

  He didn’t say a word, just sat there and watched the color come up from under her collar, flushing her skin redder and redder until she looked sunburned.

  “I wasn’t coming on,” she sputtered.

  He squeezed her hand. “Too bad.” Seeing the look on her face, he quickly added, “Since Laura died, I’ve been out half a dozen times, blind dates mostly, nothing serious. Not like . . . What I mean is, I haven’t done this in a long time, Audrey.”

  “Me either.” She squeezed back.

  “Okay if I’m blunt?”

  “You’d better be.” She smiled softly.

  “I’m in no hurry and I’m not going to rush you. In fact, I want to go slow.” The truth was, want had nothing to do with it; he needed to go slow.

  “An-ti-ci-pa-tion,” Audrey sang softly.

  “Yes, anticipation’s good,” he agreed.

  They sat in silence a long moment. “Rick, you see greenjacks—saw greenjacks.” She stared into her coffee cup. “I’ve seen a ghost. Have you?”

  He thought about it. He’d been so hung up on his own brand of critter that he’d never thought about hauntings. “Um, no, I don’t think so,” he said finally. “You saw one, huh?”

  Silently she got up and brought the coffeepot back to the table. Her hand shook as she poured. “Yes,” she said at last. She overfilled his cup, slopping coffee onto the table. “Oh, sorry. She reached for a napkin, but he beat her to it.

  “Relax.” He blotted the spill. “Tell me about the ghost.”

  “I’ve never told anyone before.”

  “I won’t tease you,” he promised solemnly. “I’ll believe you.”

  “I know. That’s why I’m telling you, but, Rick . . .” She swallowed. “When I’d been married about a year, my mother died. She hated Ron and she’d begged me not to marry him, but I did anyway.” She shook her head. “We fought and fought and ended up not speaking.

  “The night she died, Ron had come home drunk.” She looked down. “He beat me up. It was ten past midnight—I kept looking at the clock. Ron was snoring on the couch. I was in bed, and I hurt so much, I couldn’t sleep. He’d punched me in the ribs several times,” she added, her mortification obvious, “and I realize now I had some broken ribs. It even hurt to breathe.

  “I hadn’t spoken to Mother in nearly a year, and I was thinking about her, about how right she’d been about Ron. I was only nineteen, still so young and stubborn that I couldn’t make myself call her and tell her so, but I sure thought about it. I wanted to go home, but my pride wouldn’t let me.

  “Suddenly I smelled her perfume—she always wore White Shoulders—and I opened my eyes. She was standing by the bed, plain as day. Just standing there looking down at me.” Sudden tears welled and ran down her cheeks.

  “God, I’m sorry,” she said, picking up a napkin and dabbing at her eyes.

  “It’s okay.”

  She nodded. “She was dressed in a powder blue suit I’d never seen before, and she was a little plumper than I remembered. I remember what I said. I asked her a question. I asked, ‘Are you going to take me home now?’ She didn’t say anything, she just smiled and held out her hands.

  “I took them.” Her own hands trembled as she spoke, and he took them in his, held them still. “Rick, her hands were as warm and solid as yours are now.

  “I sat up in bed and put my arms out, and she sat next to me and pushed my hair out of my eyes like she always used to do. We stared at each other and I said, ‘I love you, Mother,’ and she said it back, but, Rick, I was looking right at her. I heard her, but her lips didn’t move.”

  The hairs on the back of his neck rose.

  “She held me,” Audrey said softly, wonderingly, “and told me she loved me over and over.

  “The next thing I knew, I woke up. The phone was ringing. It was my father, calling from the hospital. His voice was shaking. It was almost two in the morning. He said Mother had a stroke and she’d died at ten after twelve. There was nothing the doctors could do.”

  Silent tears ran down her cheeks, but now she smiled through them. “My mother came to tell me good-bye. I know it.”

  “That’s beautiful,” Rick said softly.

  “Yes.”

  Close to tears, he wanted to confess, once and for all, that he still saw them. But he couldn’t

  28

  “Dad!”

  Jolted by the scream and the sudden pain Rick’s fingers caused as they dug into her arms, Audrey pulled out of the good-night embrace.

  “Rick?” He stood there, eyes glassy, chestnut hair mussed from her fingers, the color draining from his uncomprehending face. He didn’t seem to see her. “Rick!”

  “Dad!”

  Slowly his head turned toward the staircase, and then the lost look left his features and everything clicked into place. “It’s Shelly!” He turned and ran up the stairs, Audrey close behind.

  “Dad!”

  The cry was loud as they rounded the upstairs corner.

  “Shelly!” Rick slammed against her door, then grabbed the knob and turned it, practically falling into the room as the door swung open. “Shelly!”

  “My God!” Audrey whispered as she entered behind him. Shelly sat in the middle of her bed, clutching her covers protectively around her neck. Her nightstand light cast a yellow glow over the room and the things it held.

  On the bed, on the dresser and chest and desk, were toy dogs. All of them were pointed at Shelly as if watching her, and they were all in different positions, everything from begging to lifting a leg to urinate. For a moment Audrey couldn’t comprehend what she was seeing, then she remembered Aunt Jade and realized these were the deceased poodles Rick had mentioned. At the time, it was funny; they’d laughed over the story. Now it was horrifying.

  “Daddy,” Shelly whimpered. Her eyes were huge, her dark blond hair tangled around her face so that she looked like a little girl.

  Rick swept a poodle off the bed with the back of his hand, then he had his arms around his daughter, rocking and consoling her, whispering, “It’s all right, it’s okay,” over and over again. Shelly’s shoulders shook with quiet sobs.

  In a few minutes, the girl regained control
, She looked up, directly into Audrey’s eyes, and suddenly she felt like an intruder. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be here. I’ll go.”

  Shelly didn’t react for a moment, then she mumbled, “No, it’s okay.” Then she made a face. “Man, what a feeb I am,” she added shakily.

  “No, you’re not, Shel.”

  “You won’t tell anybody that I screamed and stuff, will you, Daddy?”

  “Of course not.”

  Audrey jumped as something grabbed her legs from behind.

  “Cool!” Cody pushed around her and into the room. “Lookit the doggy rats! One, two, three,” he counted, “four, five, six dead doggy rats. Cool!” He looked at his sister. “Did you steal ’em from Aunt Jade?” he asked, wonder and awe in his voice.

  “Of course not, butthead,” Shelly sneered. “And who told you, you can come in my room?”

  “You screamed, huh?”

  “Up yours!”

  “Shelly’s a screamer,” Cody sang. “Shelly’s a screamer!”

  “Cody, be quiet,” Rick ordered sternly. “Do you know anything about these?” He gestured around the room at the dogs.

  Cody shook his head. “Uh-uh, no way. I bet Bob put ’em here.”

  Cody did it, Audrey thought.

  “Cody,” Rick said, “come clean.” Obviously he, too, subscribed to the theory that a kid blaming an invisible friend was guilty without trial.

  But the boy didn’t giggle or look away from his father’s eyes. “No, Daddy, I didn’t do it.”

  “Shelly? What happened? Do you remember anything?”

  “I woke up. I heard a noise and I woke up. I felt like somebody was watching me, and I wasn’t sure if it was from a dream or not, so I turned on the light.” She glared at Cody. “I’m gonna get you, you little turd.”

  “Shelly, no.” Rick stood up. “I don’t think your brother did it. I think your aunt did it.” He glanced at Audrey as he added, “She’s a few bricks short of a load.”