I shrug. “Eh, it’s something different.”
“I’ll say.”
Truth be told, I just want to leave a symbol, so if I ever come back to visit Charleston, I’ll know I really was here, and I won’t have to pinch myself. Plus, my stomach is all knotted up at the thought of where Ben might be. Has he arrived safely in Hartford? Will he remember everything like I do? It’s only a matter of time before I find out.
Sirens wail in the distance. I already know who they’re after and what will happen from this point—receiving a lecture from my parents, the decision by a judge that I need some form of therapy, the agreement my parents make with him that I’ll be sent away to live with Randy and Beth. The next three weeks will feel like an eternity, because I’m that much closer to seeing Ben again. I just wish I had a fast-forward button.
“Shit, they’re getting closer,” Sean says, snatching the spray paint from my hand and shoving it into his backpack.
The old me would’ve poked along. To be completely honest, I feel as numb now as I did back then. Who cares if the police are about to arrest us for trespassing? Who cares that I’ll have to go to court for fessing up to destruction of private property? It’s all going to play out exactly as it’s supposed to, right?
“They’re coming for us,” I say, impassively.
Sean and Layla seem frazzled by my sudden psychic capabilities. They glance at one another and then at me.
“How do you know that?” asks Layla. She and Sean slowly step backwards, toward the doorway. They’ll run. They’ll run, and they’ll escape. But if I try to run with them, I’ll trip on the stairs, injure my ankle, and by then, I won’t catch up.
I genuinely smile at them. “You two better get going before you’re caught.”
“What? We’re not just going to leave you here,” Sean protests. “Get up! Let’s go!”
“Unfortunately,” I say, “I have to stay here. I can’t explain everything right now, but I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.” Taking a seat on the floor, I wait.
Layla sprints over and grabs my arm, attempting to pull me up. “Candra, don’t do this! Now is not the time to play the part of a rebellious teenager. You have to come with us!”
“Go!” I yell. “You don’t have time to argue. I’m staying right here.”
Sean shakes his head in disbelief. “You’re fucking crazy. C’mon, Layla. Leave her dumb ass here.”
Of course, this isn’t how the event originally happened, so I’m a little surprised to hear Sean’s callous words, especially coming from a best friend. He and Layla meant more to me in this era of my life than my own family. There was nothing I wouldn’t have done for them. But now? I see things have changed.
I laugh cynically. “Run, bitches, before I tattle that you two were in on this!”
Sean stares at me like I’ve suddenly grown a second head. “Who are you, and what have you done with Candra?”
With a stable grin adhered to my face, I gaze up at the pale moon through the broken glass jutting out of the windowpane. “She doesn’t exist anymore.”
They don’t hesitate any longer, taking my words as confirmation to flee this dump. Even as I recall what happened previously, I realize they weren’t my friends at all; they left me injured so I could take the blame. I was just the pawn. Now entirely alone in this dark house, I understand why fate sent me back to this precise event in my life. Since I recognize Sean and Layla were never my friends to begin with, I can move forward, without them. Currently, though, the one recognizable piece of the puzzle gleams at me through the window, conveying its message loud and clear: You did the right thing.
Chapter Fourteen
Unlike last time, I actually enjoy the Colonial houses and majestic trees towering over me. Apparently, Randy and Beth reside in the same home as before, because we’re traveling on the same route as the first time I came here. As far as I know, Conard High School still sits a couple of blocks away, which is where I’ll be attending on Monday.
Two long days until I see Ben. Is he like me? Does he remember everything, or was I the only one? If he doesn’t recognize me, I don’t know what I’ll do. Probably crawl into a corner and bawl my eyes out, to be honest.
“Here we are,” Mom says. She and Dad haven’t conversed with me much over the last few weeks, not since the incident at the abandoned house. I don’t blame them; what I did was wrong, and I knew it then like I know now. But that was my only chance to end up in Hartford, so I can be with Ben once again. How else would I have explained my sudden interest in my distant aunt and uncle?
I was correct in assuming Randy and Beth live in the same house. Dad coasts down the gravel driveway, and the front door opens as we pull to a stop. I jump out before my parents can protest. To say Randy and Beth are taken aback is an understatement, especially when I yank them into a small group hug.
“Oh, my!” Beth chuckles, even though her eyes are wide and her eyebrows rise taller than a skyscraper. “We’re happy to see you, too, dear.” She returns the hug, lightly patting me.
Randy smirks. “We didn’t think—”
“I’d be happy to see you?” I finish for him. “Yeah, well, you were wrong.” I grin so hard my cheeks hurt.
Randy and Beth glance at each other, and then at my parents. Obviously, they weren’t expecting my excitement. Before, I was too upset about moving to a new town, where I didn’t know a soul, except my relatives. Now I can’t wait to see Jana and Blake . . . and Ben. My Ben. My everything.
“Let’s get you inside,” Beth says. “I have dinner on the stove, and I’m sure you’d love to rest a bit from your little road trip.”
“Actually, I’m not tired at all,” I respond. “So, if it’s okay, I’d like to sit down and chat with you guys.” I smile once again, and she narrows her eyes skeptically.
Beth motions all of us inside, and I step onto the foyer and realize everything is exactly how I remember. Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.
“Candra, dear,” says Beth, “your room is the first—”
“On the right, upstairs? Got it, thanks.”
All four adults stand dumbfounded in the entryway. I’m sure, if I could read their minds, they’d be questioning how the hell I know so much and why I’m acting so strangely.
I don’t hesitate to make myself right at home. Besides, this place is my second address. Well, was. I keep forgetting I’m not on the old time anymore.
Pausing at the top of the stairs, I say, “By the way, I know why you guys brought me here.”
They all share dubious looks, then restore their attention to me.
“It’s because you’re going to teach me how to become a werewolf,” I state matter-of-factly, displaying a clued-up grin on my face.
A few seconds of silence ensue before all four of them cackle and shake their heads.
“What an imagination you have, dear,” Beth announces through her laughter. “Amy, Bill, you two never told me she was one for theatrics.” She ushers them toward the kitchen, where a pot filled with goodness bubbles on the stove. “Did she take acting lessons? She’s quite good.”
I have to close my mouth; it’s wide open and cavernous. They’re joking, right? Is the universe toying with me? If it is, I don’t like being punked.
The longer I watch them from my spot upstairs, the more I realize they aren’t joking. And if that means I’m not here to become a werewolf, then what am I here for? I mean, yeah, it was my suggestion to my parents and the judge to ship me off so I could live with Randy and Beth, but I thought that was part of the plan. My fate. Whatever you want to call it.
I drag myself, and my suitcase, into the guestroom. I no more sit down on my bed than I’m hitting the floor running to the bathroom, where I throw up. Car sickness? No, that can’t be right. I would’ve been under the weather on the long trip up from Charleston by now. Maybe I’m coming down with a cold, or the flu. Oh, God, I hope not, especially when I’m about to embark on a quest to revisit everyt
hing I miss about Hartford. I can’t do that if I’m not well.
“Candra, dinner’s ready!” Mom calls from downstairs. I’m almost afraid to eat anything. Perhaps that’s the problem—I haven’t eaten in a while. Not since we stopped for gas and I scarfed down crappy, gas-station hot dogs.
“Coming!” I shout, as I leave the room and bound down the stairs.
The dining table is set with tableware and napkins, and Beth has bowls resting on the countertop, ready for use.
“You first, dear,” Beth says to me.
I obediently fix my dinner, grab a couple of slices of bread, and return to the table, where I wait for everyone else to join me.
“You guys were joking earlier, right?” I fearfully inquire, once they’re all seated. “About the werewolf thing, I mean.”
Mom and Dad contain their smiles, like they’re embarrassed I’m asking such a question. Mom’s the first to reply.
“Candra, why on earth would you believe we’re werewolves?” Visibly becoming more irritated, she adds with a sigh, “It’s such a silly inquiry, we had no choice but to think you’re joking.”
“But I’m not joking,” I emphasize.
“All right, Candra, that’s enough,” Dad belittles. “We’ve all had a long day—hell, a long month—and we understand you’re just as tired as we are, but that’s no excuse to continue this skit.” He spoons a huge bite into his mouth and compliments Beth on her cooking.
“It’s not a skit,” I mumble.
Dad’s fists pound the table once, causing the tableware to clink. “Enough!” he shouts. Lowering his voice, he adds, “Stop it. Do you understand? This isn’t funny.”
“No, it’s not,” I agree. “It’s not hilarious. It’s not a joke. I’m being dead serious. Am I really not here to become a werewolf?”
Randy and Beth refuse to look at me. Instead, they keep their gazes directed at their food, as if I’m not even in the room.
“I’m with your father on this one,” Mom says, raising her voice. “Go to your room.” She extends her arm, pointing toward the stairs.
Lifting my chin, I respond with a bold-faced, “No.”
Dad pulls the napkin from his lap and tosses it onto the table. “That’s it, young lady. You’re grounded. I don’t care if you are in someone else’s house. No TV. No phone. You go to school, eat, sleep, and do your homework. That’s it.”
“That’s all I do anyway,” I retort. Ignoring both my parents, I turn to Beth. “Are there Rendall’s or Thomas’s who live around here? Do you know them?”
Fumbling over the right words, Beth finally says, “I’ve heard the names, but I’m not familiar with them.”
Well, that’s somewhat of a relief. Let’s hope it’s actually the Jana Rendall and Blake Thomas I came to know and befriend.
One more question . . .
“Candra, what’s the meaning of this?” Mom interjects before I open my mouth.
My resolve undeterred, I press forward. “And the Conway’s? Do you know them, too?”
To my surprise, Beth’s face illuminates. “Oh, yes. I know the Conway’s well. They’re good friends with Randy and me. As a matter of fact, they have a son who’s your age.”
My heart soars, and the intense mass in my stomach has lifted, leaving a bundle of pulsating nerves in its wake. “Ben?” I squeak.
Beth chuckles, but the mirth doesn’t reach her eyes. She’s concerned, and she has every right to be. “Candra, dear, if you don’t mind me asking, how do you know so much about a town that you’ve never visited, with people you’ve never met?”
“Call it a hunch,” I say. “Or maybe I have a third eye. Or maybe I’m just a creepy stalker on Facebook, who searched for kids going to the same high school as me.”
Shaking her head, Beth says, “The Candra I’ve known my entire life is not a stalker.”
“So I’m right, then? They have a son named Ben?” I push for more information, wishing and hoping Beth will supply me with the response I’m searching for.
“Yes, dear, they have a son named Ben. They have another son, too.”
That doesn’t sound like the Conway’s I know. “They should have two more sons—Cameron and Ethan,” I dispute.
For a moment, Beth seems completely flabbergasted. She recovers promptly and replies, “They do have an older son named Cameron, who is off at college. I’m afraid I don’t know Ethan.”
My throat swells up so tightly I can’t swallow. “No Ethan?”
“No, dear,” Beth confirms, appearing uneasy about my mental well-being.
“But that means . . .” Oh, my poor, sweet Ben. If he’s my old Ben, if he remembers me and everything that’s happened over the last year, I honestly don’t know how he’ll handle the news. I can’t imagine what it must be like to lose a sibling. He thought we’d return to our previous lives—we both did—yet everything’s changed. And if Ethan never existed, who else is left out of the equation? Jana? Blake? Maggie, Sean, and Layla have already been removed.
I guess Georgina was correct when she informed us that our previous existence, and all that we had known, may not be as we remember it.
“I’m not gonna lie, kiddo,” Randy says, “you’re freaking me out.”
Speechless, I scoot my chair away from the table and exit the room without looking at anyone. I’m absolutely terrified about this new revelation. This means my family members really aren’t werewolves anymore, Ethan never took a breath in this world, and Ben’s memories may not be the same as mine. Every kiss, every hug, every soft touch and tender moment shared between us might be lost forever.
Although, there may still be hope . . .
Some of the items and people in this life mimic those of the past. Even now, as I glance around the guestroom, it’s exactly as I remember—the paint, the bed, the chest of drawers. All identical. Randy and Beth, and my parents, appear to be unchanged, as well.
I casually stroll to the window and peer out. Recalling the first time I stood here and saw the golden eyes of a werewolf, how terrified I was . . . now it seems trivial. For the briefest of moments, I silently wish they’ll reappear. Just once, so I can feel like a part of me isn’t losing my mind. The longer I stare at the forest, however, the more I realize they aren’t going to materialize.
To say I miss seeing yellow eyes, which were a major part of my old life, is an understatement, but it’s something I must face head-on. I, Candra Lowell, am no longer a werewolf with magical powers. My family is no longer in a centuries-old feud with the Conway’s. All of my prior accomplishments as a mythological creature, all of my efforts to end the war between my family and Ben’s have vaporized into nothingness. I should be overjoyed at the thought of not having to fight in battles against my arch enemy, but instead, I’m overflowing with profound misery. Part of me is gone for all eternity, and I will never get her back. It’s a heavy feeling. Difficult to comprehend, even. It’s as if someone reached into my chest and snatched my heart, crushing it between their fingers and laughing all the while.
A soft knock comes from the doorway to my new room. I swivel around as Mom and Beth cautiously enter. They seem guarded, like I have land mines planted underneath the floorboards and they’re speculating whether or not they should move one more step.
Observing their wary expressions, I blurt, “I haven’t lost my mind, you know. And if I told you the full story, you wouldn’t believe me. Just know I’m going through some . . . adjustments right now, and I need you guys to be there for me, even if you don’t understand what’s going on.”
“Oh, honey,” Mom coos, “I’ll always be here for you.” She crosses the room and enfolds me in her arms, lovingly, so my cheek is smushed against her shoulder. “Whenever you’re ready to talk, you let us know.”
See, the thing is: I don’t know if I can tell them. The real story might get me sent off to a mental institution with a diagnosis of “dissociation.” They’ll visit every now and then, they’ll throw pity parties on a daily basis,
and I’ll forever be known as the girl who believed she was a werewolf in another lifetime. It’ll be a charade.
I pull away from my mom’s embrace and glimpse at Beth. “Is there a way I could meet the Conway’s before Monday?” Having not thought of a legitimate excuse as to why I want to meet a family I’ve never met, I hastily add, “It’d be nice to meet Ben, since he’s my age. At least I’ll know somebody.” Because nobody else will remember me.
Beth claps her hands together once, with enthusiasm. “Of course, dear. I’ll call Sylvia and ask her and the boys to join us for dinner tomorrow night.”
Tomorrow it is, then. Tomorrow I’ll learn whether Ben remembers me as much as I remember him. Tomorrow I’ll discover if I have to start over from the beginning.
“Awesome, thanks,” I say, with a smile.
Beth leaves us alone, closing the door on her way out. Mom and I plunk down on the edge of the bed. I finger the thick fabric of the quilt as a distraction. Honestly, I don’t know what to say to Mom, or how to say it.
Luckily, she starts the conversation.
“There’s something I want you to have. I was going to wait and give it to you before we left tomorrow afternoon.” Reaching into her front pocket, she pulls out a folded envelope. If this is what I think it is, the contents contain a silver heart locket and a letter. “Go ahead,” Mom says, handing it over. “Open it.”
Obediently, I tear the envelope. Inside, however, there’s only a letter. No necklace. I even run my fingers from side to side, double-checking I didn’t miss anything. Then I realize that’s because it never existed in this world. There are no magical powers, so therefore I don’t need a piece of jewelry to hold them. Though I doubt it to be possible, my heart shrivels even more. I guess I need to get used to the idea that nothing will be as it was.
As I slide the letter out, Mom bites her lip, anticipating my reading of whatever emotions this piece of paper expresses.
“You sure you don’t want me to wait until after you guys leave?” I ask.
She replies, “Only if that’s what you want. I’m not forcing you to read this letter now. I just wanted you to know, in light of the most recent events, that your father and I will always stand by your side, through the good and the bad. Forever.”
Blood Moon (Silver Moon, #3) Page 14