Little Creeping Things

by Chelsea Ichaso

  “You must like him if there’s something to mess up.”

  “I guess.” My eyes dart about the wall above my desk, and my gaze lands on a photograph of Gideon and me. We were twelve, at summer camp. One of the girls in my cabin recognized Fire Girl, and soon everyone was talking about me. Gideon said we should probably just do our own thing, so every morning, we snuck out after breakfast in the mess hall, avoiding group activities and splashing in the sparkling green lake.

  The memory sends a pang through me. Really, I should like Peter. He hasn’t gotten to know the real me yet, so maybe he won’t kiss me and run away.

  “But you’re in love with Gideon.”

  I freeze. Hearing this aloud is equal parts terrifying and painful. It brings back the agony from the dance, exposing me, leaving me raw. I shut my eyes, blotting out the photo.

  “I take it you two still haven’t made up.”

  I shake my head. “We’re not going to. He made that extremely clear. I guess I always knew that one day he’d join the rest of the town in seeing me for what I really am.” I swivel in my chair and peek at Asher.

  He scowls. “What are you talking about?”

  “Fire Girl. The girl who can’t keep any friends. The girl who watches people die around her. Me.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “It’s true. He finally sees it, and I’ve come to accept it.”

  Asher’s fingers brush the pink scars on his left hand and his eyes narrow. “What did Gideon say to you?”

  “Just the truth.”

  He stands up, jaw clenched. “I’m going to talk to him. I’m not asking your permission this time.”

  I shrug. “I’m telling you, it’s not going to make a difference. He’s done with me.” A pathetic laugh escapes. “I used to worry that he didn’t want to be with me. But he doesn’t even want to be around me.”

  “Cass, I’m going to fix this for you.”

  “We’re not broken dolls, Asher. It’s too complicated. I just have to sit back and watch him be with someone else.”

  Asher’s blue eyes are pained when he looks at me. I want to let him in, to tell him all the reasons Gideon is right about me. I have no one else to talk to. Gideon is gone, and Emily is off the list of confidants for obvious reasons.

  Instead I sputter, “Things would have been better for everyone if I’d just died in that fire.”

  Asher’s neck stiffens, but I don’t let him speak. “I have to get ready for school, so…” I motion to the door. He pauses, mouth drawn. Then he gets up and walks out of my room, head slumped. My chest is heavy and my eyes sting, but I shut the door, knowing I’m right.

  26

  Weighed down by my thoughts, I plod through the double doors of Maribel High with my gaze on the ground. When I look up, I’m face-to-face with Peter.

  Panic surges through me. He hesitates before me, hurt in his eyes, wavering between greeting me and rushing on by.

  “Peter,” I stammer. “I’m so sorry about yesterday. I didn’t mean what I said. I just…” I sigh, mentally rebuking myself for the poor delivery. “Look, things didn’t end well with Gideon—our friendship I mean. It’s still painful.” Peter’s trademark narrow eyes are barely slivers in their skeptical state. “That’s all I can say. I can’t promise I won’t ever talk to Gideon. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want you in my life.” I reach for his hand to show my sincerity, but think better of it. “If that isn’t good enough for you, I understand. And I’ll stay out of your way.” Peter’s gaze drifts toward the lockers, and I’m certain I’ve lost another friend. “But I hope you can accept things the way they are, because I like spending time with you,” I say, offering the words like a prayer in the dark.

  Peter’s face relaxes a little, its edges still guarded. “I’m not trying to tell you who to be friends with, Cass. I had no right to say what I did. I guess I was jealous.”

  My face grows hot. Emily said as much over the phone, but there’s a difference between a friend’s speculation and hearing someone as gorgeous as Peter McCallum actually say he’s jealous over you. I know a few volleyball players who’d pass out from the shock; I wish I were one of them.

  I lower my gaze and pick at a long thread on my shirt. “It’s fine.”

  “Maybe one day you’ll trust me enough to tell me what happened.”

  Never. I nod. “So, we’re good?”

  He takes a step closer. Then another. His breath is warm and smells like the minty toothpaste he used this morning. “Of course.” He grasps my hand in his, rubbing my palm gently with his thumb. “After all, it’s not every girl who asks to be your own personal mermaid.”

  I laugh, shaking my head. “That’s not quite how it happened. Want to walk me to English?”

  Maybe I never addressed his concern—the one about whether or not I see Gideon as a friend or something else. But none of that matters anymore, since Gideon doesn’t see me as either.

  * * *

  At lunch, Emily and I are discussing weekend plans when Laura stops in front of me. “Cassidy, can I speak to you?” She looks at Emily. “It’s a volleyball thing. I’ll be quick.”

  I want to tell Laura to get lost, but I’m a little curious. She’s captain. Maybe Coach mentioned I’m back in the starting lineup.

  Or maybe I’ve been cut from the team. I shrug at Emily apologetically and follow Laura through the hall.

  “What’s up?” I ask, sounding bored.

  “I need you to cover for me if I don’t make it to practice.”

  Irritation spikes in my chest. “Why can’t Stephanie or Tina cover for you?”

  “Because they’ll ask too many questions. No one can know where I’m headed right now.” She shifts her weight and drops her voice. “Except you.”

  “Me?”

  “You spoke to the cops about Melody, right?”

  “Yeah,” I say, drawing the word out.

  “I have to talk to them too.” She starts digging around in her backpack. “And if something happens to me—”

  “Why would something happen to you?” I cut in. “Why would you need to talk to the cops?”

  “Because they have the wrong guy.”

  My head jerks back. “No, Laura. It was Seth. They have proof.”

  “Yeah, well, so do I.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  She chews on her bottom lip before letting out a resolute breath. “I was with Seth the day of the murder.” She meets my doubtful look and continues. “I left right after you and Gideon did, when Coach ended practice early. Seth was at his house all day. That’s where I met him. That’s where we hung out until Emily was due to come home. Then we snuck off to Rosedale together until after dark.”

  “Wait, why were you with Seth all afternoon?”

  She shoots me an impatient look. “We’re together.”

  I shake my head. “No, but—you’re his secret girlfriend?”

  She nods, teeth clamped down on her lip.

  “And no one knew? How?”

  “I don’t know, because there’s something”—her words catch—“wrong with me. I didn’t want anyone to know about Seth and me. Especially not Melody. I didn’t want her to find out and scare him away like she did Brandon.”

  The scene from outside Gina’s Diner the day Melody died flickers in my memory: Melody’s raised finger, her scowl, Seth’s back pressed into the wall. “But she did find out, didn’t she?”

  Laura nods, wiping her nose. That explains their argument that morning. Melody found out about their relationship and tried telling Seth to scram. I guess that also explains why Seth trashed Melody’s yearbook photo. And the page could’ve been bookmarked for Laura’s photo at the bottom.

  “At the diner, was Seth—”

  “He was there to meet me. It was supposed to be our fi
rst time together in public.” She frowns. “But then Melody started in with the intimidation tactics, and I chickened out.”

  “He could go to jail for the rest of his life,” I whisper, peeking over my shoulder. “Why didn’t you tell the cops?”

  “I couldn’t.” Her eyes dart around the hall. “The morning before they brought Seth in for questioning, someone left this for us.” She pulls a flowery card halfway from her backpack, allowing me to peek. “It was on the hood of my car.” The card is from the one set of stationery Carver’s always has in stock, which means every household in town has a pack. There’s a typewritten message in the center:

  Keep your mouth shut about Seth or you’re next.

  “The killer left one for Seth, too, threatening to kill me if he said anything about us. I don’t know how this person knew about our relationship. He keeps leaving me these cards every couple days.”

  I stare, dumbfounded, as she tucks the card back inside her backpack.

  “You don’t have to say it,” she continues. “I know, I’m a huge coward. Seth deserves better. He isn’t like everyone thinks. He’s sweet and funny. He didn’t do any of this, and I’m not going to keep quiet about it anymore.”

  Sweat beads up on my forehead. “So you’re going to the cops now?”

  She glances toward the back doors at the end of the hall and then nods, determined.

  “If this freak follows through on his threat, get Seth out of there for me.” She squeezes my wrist. It’s almost a thank-you, like I’ve agreed to help her.

  But I want to call her back. I want to tell her to do anything but go to the cops. Instead, I stand here, immobile, as she strides off down the hall. Deep down, I know it doesn’t matter what happens at the police station. It doesn’t matter if the police believe Laura, or if they have too much evidence stacked against Seth.

  Every muscle in my body freezes as the truth burrows into my mind.

  If Seth and Laura were at the Greer’s house during seventh period the day Melody died, he wasn’t the voice from the woods.

  “Laura, wait!” I call suddenly, dashing after her. When I get close enough, I whisper, “Don’t say anything just yet. We’ll go after practice, together. You shouldn’t do it alone.”

  I don’t know why I say it. Laura certainly hasn’t earned any favors from me. But maybe it isn’t some selfless whim. Maybe I want to protect Laura because the entire school knows we despise each other.

  Laura hesitates, but finally, her shoulders lower. “Okay, but right after practice.”

  “Yes.”

  The words It’s okay now turn in my mind, making me dizzy as I stare after her. One thing still doesn’t make sense. If Laura was Seth’s girlfriend, why did he have a photo of Melody in his desk drawer?

  There’s a tap on my shoulder, and I jump. “Emily, you scared me.”

  “Sorry. Is everything all right? What did Laura want?” Her eyes look like they might pop.

  I try to breathe evenly, but it doesn’t help the sick feeling in my stomach. “I have to tell you something.” I pick at my fingernails. “You’re not going to like it. But it’s important.”

  She squints at me. “Ooookay.”

  “That day we worked on the decade project at your house, I snuck into Seth’s room.”

  Emily’s shoulders sink. A red ringlet has come loose from her ponytail to hang in front of her face. I see Peter off by the lockers, keeping an eye on me. But I can’t muster a smile to show him I’m fine.

  “And I found some things. Scary things. I found a photo of Melody Davenport that was taken when she wasn’t looking. At the drugstore. And”—I swallow—“Melody’s yearbook photo. It had the eyes cut out.” I look at Emily, but whatever I was expecting never manifests on her face.

  “Did you look at the rest of the yearbook?” She stares at the floor.

  “N-no,” I stammer. “The page with Melody was bookmarked. I looked quickly. What was in the rest of the yearbook?”

  Emily remains slouched. “My brother had a lot of tormentors. People did mean things to him. Every day. Seth never retaliated—at least, not in real life. The yearbook was where he got his revenge. He trashed all of their photos.”

  “What?”

  “Melody’s photo was nothing special. Sometimes he did worse than cutting out the eyes. It doesn’t mean he killed any of those people.”

  I could hardly fault him there. It wasn’t much different than scrawling my angry, irrational thoughts in that notebook. “But what about the photo from the drugstore?”

  She sighs. “Melody started following Seth around the last few weeks before she died. Harassing him at work. In town. Even at the house once. I don’t know why, but I saw her do it myself.” She shrugs. “Ironic, isn’t it? Melody loved calling my brother a stalker. Turns out she was the one stalking him. I guess he got tired of it, and took the photo to try and build a case against her. For a restraining order. I tried to tell the cops, but Seth never actually filed anything. They couldn’t fathom that a beautiful girl like Melody could be anything but a victim.”

  I can barely hold myself up now. The hall zooms in and out of focus.

  “Look, I’m not denying Seth’s weirdness. He’s a loner.” Emily’s voice is strained. “But he didn’t do anything.” More ringlets have sprung loose, creating a halo of curls about her head. “Melody, the rest of this school, people like you”—she jabs a finger—“made my brother what he is. Maybe he’s creepy. But does it make him a murderer? I guess we both know your answer.” She’s trembling. “You’re trying to tell me you turned my brother in to the cops.”

  “Emily, I’m so sorry. Still, there’s Melody’s hair in his car. I had nothing to do with that.”

  “No, but you and the rest of the jerks at this school made him a big, fat target, didn’t you? You led the real killer straight to him.” A sob escapes and she spins around.

  “Emily, wait.” I try to reach for her arm, but she runs off. The bell rings, and Emily disappears into the masses.

  Peter emerges as students siphon off into classrooms. “Cass, what happened?”

  I’m not sure I can speak. Shock and guilt combine in my throat. I cough. “I was the one who gave Seth to the cops.” Peter looks surprised, but his arm wraps around me. “And now it turns out it probably wasn’t him after all.” My voice cracks as I push out, “Also, Emily hates me because I told her what I did.”

  Peter exhales against my collarbone. “Why do you think it wasn’t Seth?”

  “Laura says she was Seth’s alibi. She’s going to the cops later, so I guess everything will sort itself out. But Emily’s never going to forgive me.” I lean on his shoulder as my mind plays back Emily’s figure racing down Hathaway Hall to get away from me.

  My fears are coming true. Soon I’ll have no one. And now Seth’s alibi just resurrected that outrageous idea I keep trying to retire—the possibility that Melody’s necklace is still missing because Brandon has it. The killer has the notebook; he has proof I wanted Melody dead. Who in the world would frame Seth when I was the obvious target?

  Brandon. He knows if I go down, he goes down.

  Peter places a hand on my cheek. “Cass, you can’t blame yourself for Seth. That guy needs to be in prison.” He tilts my chin toward his. “The cops found Melody’s DNA in his car. You can’t listen to Laura. You said yourself she’s an evil hag demon from hell. She’s probably lying.”

  “Why would she lie about being Seth’s girlfriend? It’s not exactly a coveted role.”

  “She wants to be the center of attention, like always. Or maybe she was in on it with Seth. Just stop worrying. You did the right thing.”

  Maybe she was in on it with Seth. And now she’s inventing an alibi to get him released. She must’ve been beyond fed up with Melody always getting in the way of her relationships.

  “But if I was
wrong, a killer is still out there,” I whisper, my mind flashing again to the flowery card Laura hid in her backpack. Peter pulls me into the crook of his arm, and together, we walk to fifth period.

  27

  I spend the last two classes of the day trying to make sense of everything. Laura must have left out some detail. Could Seth have slipped out for an hour? After school, I loiter in Hathaway Hall, like the answer might spill from someone’s congested locker. I’m supposed to be on my way to practice, but a blond head of hair flutters by.

  Change of plans. Gracie Davenport is headed to the parking lot. I follow her.

  I expect her to stop in front of a car, but her willowy steps continue through the lot, to the path behind it. Of course. Gracie doesn’t drive. Melody used to drop her off and pick her up. She probably has no choice but to walk now. I speed up, kicking dirt into the air as I take a shortcut across the bare patch that borders the lot. “Hey Gracie, wait up!”

  Gracie spins around, a shadow crossing her face when she sees who flagged her down. “Cassidy?”

  “Sorry, this is going to sound strange. I should start by saying how sorry I am about Melody.”

  “Thanks,” she mumbles with uncertainty.

  “But I-I need to ask you something. It’s about the investigation.”

  Gracie shifts her book bag on her shoulder. “I’m not really the one you should be talking to.”

  “I know. I’ve already spoken to the detectives. I need to ask you. Was Melody seeing someone? Did she have a boyfriend?”

  Gracie’s soft features take on a sharpness. “Why do you want to know?”

  “There’s just a possibility that the cops got it wrong. Please, you don’t know me well, but—”

  “I know enough,” she says bitingly.

  What does that mean? Did Gideon tell her? Sound vanishes from the world, like the chirping birds and the whistling wind have been strangled.

  “I know you hurt Gideon. He won’t tell me how, though.”

  I exhale, relieved. “You’re right. But this isn’t about Gideon. This is about your sister and about making sure no one else gets hurt. Please, just tell me. Was she seeing someone?”