She was wearing one of her power suits, Ana noted, dragging her feet up the driveway. The two piece outfit cut her figure like a model for a law firm. The aura of strength, confidence and perseverance pulsed off her in a crescendo. She wore the tight fitting blazer with a string of pearls. Her hair was washed and swept back from her pretty face, twisted and knotted at the back of her head. In one hand, she carried a briefcase while she used the other to smooth down the material of her jacket.
“How was your first day?”
Ana didn’t bother to conceal the slump in her shoulders or the pain on her face. “Horrible.”
Her mother sighed. “Glad to see high school’s the same even here in the middle of nowhere.” She descended the two steps off the porch. “Did you make any friends?”
Ana nodded. “Her name is Jack.”
As expected, her mother’s eyebrows went up. “Jack?”
“It’s short for Jacqueline,” she answered, grinning a little.
Her mother’s mouth formed an O of surprise. “That’s interesting. Anything else?”
Tons! But Ana could see her mother practically counting the seconds in her head. She must have had some important business meeting to run off to, because the moment Ana shook her head, her mother kissed her on the forehead and trotted to the Mercedes.
“I’ll try to be home for supper!” Mom called, throwing herself into the smooth leather seat and slamming the car door behind her.
Ana didn’t watch her pull out, or turn down their street, or disappear from sight. She ambled her way to the front door and stepped through.
“Dad?” she called, dropping her bag down next to the door. “I’m home!” She slammed the door closed behind her. “Hello?” Had her dad left as well? No. He couldn’t have. His truck was still parked outside. “Dad?” she called again, starting up the stairs.
An icy chill passed through her and she shuddered.
“Dad!” she called again, cupping her elbows in her hands. Her palms were hot and clammy against her humidity-kissed skin. She started to wipe them against her skirt as she walked to the stairs, but decided against it as that would mean unhugging herself and she needed the comfort to ward off the sharp fingers of frost raking down her spine. “D—”
Tap, tap, tap … the sound punctured through the stairs beneath her.
Ana froze, but not by choice. Her blood had turned to ice, immobilizing her on the third step. Her heart clapped in her chest, a frightened bird captured in a cage. Beneath the soles of her shoes, the boards vibrated with three more consecutive raps. The pit of her stomach churned. Her gaze dropped to her feet, not sure what she was expecting to happen, but there was an image of a decayed hand bursting through the floor to grab her that played at the back of her mind.
Run! Her mind screamed. Run! But she couldn’t. She could scarcely breathe. Yet a strangled whimper escaped the dry cavern of her throat. Her knees quivered.
Something below scraped, the chilling sound of steel on concrete, like someone dragging a poker across the basement floors. Ana opened her mouth to call for her father, to scream until her throat bled and someone, anyone, came to her rescue. But fear had stolen her voice. It had paralyzed her.
Oh God … oh God, please … please, let it stop! She prayed as the sound drew closer.
Somehow, by some miracle, she found her body swaying towards the railing. The banister was cool beneath her sweaty grip as she leaned over the side to peer down at the basement door.
It was open.
Had it always been open? She wondered, taken by a new sense of terror. Had it been open when she’d walked through the door? Had she walked right by it without noticing?
No. No! She was almost certain it hadn’t been. She would have noticed. She would have!
Wouldn’t she?
Swallowing the tears choking her, she edged away from the railing. Her back came up against the wall, ice cold. It felt too good against her sweaty back for her to mind.
Tap, tap, tap.
A strangled sound escaped her and like a deflating balloon, she sunk down on the step, pressing her hands over her ears.
“Stop…” she gasped, rocking. “Stop … stop!”
She squeezed her eyes closed, mashing the back of her eyelids into her kneecaps. The tapping grew in volume. She felt it beneath her as if someone was knocking against the underside of the stairs. The step vibrated. She squeaked, drew her knees closer and made herself smaller. Tears rained from her eyes, ran hot down her cheeks and splashed down the front of her dress. She wondered if she really was crazy. If maybe she should have stayed in bed.
Then, the noise stopped.
It was so sudden and over so quickly. Usually the torment was longer, lasting hours, sometimes all night. Ana didn’t know what to expect when she raised her head, blinking back tears and sniffling back snot. The world around her shifted, murky as if she were breaking the surface on a pool of milk. She blinked to adjust her vision, to normalize the shadows teetering in front of her. It was only then she realized one shadow wasn’t disappearing. It wasn’t shifting. It stood stock-still right in front of her.
Ana opened her mouth and screamed.
“Ana!” The box in her father’s arms dropped, missing his toes by mere inches. He cursed, leaping back as the contents inside spilled out. He reached up and yanked the ear buds out, his face ashen as he whipped around to confront her. “What the hell are you doing?”
Dizzy with relief, almost suffocating in it, Ana sobbed. The stair beneath her creaked like an old rocking chair with every back and forth motion of her huddled body. Her fingers curled in her hair, tugging out strands as she rocked and wept.
“Hey.” Her father abandoned his fallen treasure and hurried around the railing to get to her. His head phones dangled in his hand as he reached out and took her shoulders. “What’s wrong? What happened? Did something happen at school?”
Ana willed herself to calm down. The last thing she needed was for her parents to send her to the nuthouse. But it didn’t seem to want to work like that. Her brewing bursts of emotion churned her insides, claiming her in its icy grip. She had never wanted so much to crawl into her bed and pretend that whole day away.
“Ana!” Her father shook her gently. Hard rock pounded from the ear buds still in his hands. She recognized AC/DC.
“There’s something in the basement,” she said at last, opting for the truth. If there was anyone she could trust, it was her father. “It—”
Her father drew back a notch and peered down into her face. “Yeah, me. I was down there.”
Ana blinked, certain she’d misheard him. “What?”
He sighed, and lowered himself down to the stair just beneath hers. “I was down there checking to see where the mysterious ice puddle had come from, then I started sorting out some of the boxes…” He shrugged. “I lost track of time.”
“You were down there this whole time?” she asked slowly, carefully, willing herself not to get excited.
He nodded, jerking a thumb over his shoulder at the upended box below. “I couldn’t find what started the leak, but I did find some old stuff down there. I think they may have belonged to the previous owners.”
Intrigued, Ana peered through the railings at the carpet of loose documents, old photos and letters. Whoever they belonged to hadn’t owned an HD camera or had access to Photoshop, because the pictures were a rust color and frayed at the corners, but the people in them seemed … happy.
Ana sat back, shoving her fingers back into her hair. “I’m sorry. I thought I heard … something. I guess I kind of spooked myself.”
His long fingers grasped the closest kneecap to him and squeezed. “Rough day at school?”
She exhaled, letting her head drop back against the wall as she squished her face into her hands. “The worst.”
His hand slid away. “Tell me.”
She did. She told him everything from missing the bus that morning, to meeting Jack, to being humiliated by Mr. Voronin. He never interrup
ted, but sat quietly, watching her as she went on to tell him about Rafe and his suddenly odd attitude towards her.
“I think he thinks I’m crazy,” she murmured, grinding the heels of her hands into her eyelids. “Why did it have to be him who found me that day in the rain? Why couldn’t it have been some random stranger?”
“It was a random stranger before Rafe found you,” he said when she trailed off.
Ana dropped her hands away from her face. “I just wish I hadn’t totally lost it like that in front of him. I mean, what was wrong with me?”
Her father’s hand was back, squeezing her knee. “Hey, stop stressing yourself over this. Whatever that was, it’s over.”
“Right,” she muttered with a scoff. “Tell that to Rafe, who has been avoiding me like the plague.”
“Well, maybe he finally came to his senses.”
Ana dropped her gaze to her father’s face, wary of the way he kept avoiding her gaze. “What do you mean?” Her eyes narrowed. “What do you know?”
He put his hands up, shaking his head. “I know nothing. I’m just saying. A boy like that, he wouldn’t have been interested for very long anyway.”
She knew her father meant well, that he was trying to cheer her up, but his words stung like salt on an open wound. “So you’re saying that I couldn’t have kept him interested? That I’m not interesting enough?”
Her father blinked his big, green eyes. “What? No! That’s not what I’m saying at all!”
But it was too late to take it back now, too late to take back the slap in the face. “You’re right. I probably couldn’t have. I’m not nearly as pretty as half the girls I see him with and apparently I’m crazy. So, why would anyone want me?”
“Now wait just a minute—!”
Ana was on her feet and hurrying up the stairs before her father could finish. She ran into her room and closed the door on her father’s shouts.
Chapter Eleven
Ana
She was at her desk pretending to do her homework when the knock sounded at her bedroom door. Ana sighed as she stared down at her blank notebook.
“Yeah?”
The doorknob rattled and her dad stuck his head in through the door. “Hey, you got a minute?”
Already knowing what he wanted to talk to her about, Ana nodded, turning away from her desk. Dad stepped into the room and quietly shut the door behind him. He walked to her bed and perched on the corner facing her.
He pushed his hands along his thighs. “So I, uh…”
“I know, Dad,” she said, saving him from fumbling through a badly rehearsed speech he’d given her since she was nine. It had been awkward then, too.
Resting his elbows on his knees, he leaned forward and rubbed his hands together. “You do?”
Ana nodded. “What I said … it was stupid. I didn’t really mean it.”
He nodded slowly. “You didn’t?”
She sighed, tucking one leg beneath her. “I shouldn’t compare myself to other girls and I shouldn’t like someone who only wants me for my looks. I am myself and I can’t be anyone else.” It was the French family mantra; one Ana could recite on command in her sleep.
Although her father was nodding, there was a solemn deliberation darkening his face. “Yes,” he said slowly. “But do you believe it?”
Ana had to think about that. She certainly didn’t believe she was better looking than any other girl or smarter, but she didn’t consider herself hideous or stupid either. She knew her best features and her worst features and she knew she couldn’t change the flaws so she didn’t bother focusing on them. But it did bother her sometimes, especially when she came across girls like Rafe’s friend, Tina in her fuzzy bathrobe and pajamas. Would she go out of her way to change herself in order to catch the eye of a boy? Unlikely. Maybe she was too lazy to do it, or maybe she just didn’t see the point in making so much effort on a guy who couldn’t see past her looks. She probably had her parents to thank for that brand of thought. Did it make her somehow stronger? Maybe. Did she believe it?
“I think so,” she answered honestly.
He didn’t look disappointed in her answer. He bobbed his head, his eyes never leaving her face. “I know I wasn’t fair when I told you to stay away from that boy—”
“Rafe,” she supplied.
He waved his hand dismissively. “Right. Well, I knew boys like him when I was in school. I still know boys like him who are now men. I know what’s going on in his head and I know you know I’m right.”
Ana shrugged. “Maybe, but you didn’t even give me the benefit of the doubt. It wasn’t as if I was going to run off and elope with him. I think you could have at least trusted my judgment and let me make my own mistakes.”
A frown pulled together on her father’s face. “I understand and agree, to a point!” he added quickly when her eyebrows shot up. “I do trust you, but that’s just one mistake I’m not willing to let you make.” He expelled a puff of air, running a hand back into his wavy brown hair. “Now, I’m sure he’s a great boy and I have no problem with you guys talking, but I don’t want you giving him more than he deserves. I don’t think that’s too much to ask.”
Mimicking his posture, Ana rested her elbows on her knees and leaned forward. “Dad, you really don’t have to worry about it. Nothing will ever happen between me and Rafe.”
Chapter Twelve
Ana
Her promise to her father was one she had every intention of keeping the next morning while she prepared for school. She had been up half the night reminding herself she didn’t care if Rafe gave her the cold shoulder, if he thought she was crazy, or if he was with every girl in Chipawaha Creek. At least, she shouldn’t. She couldn’t even stand the guy. So as long as he kept his crazy theory to himself and didn’t go sharing it with the rest of the student body, she could probably live with him staying at arm’s length.
She dressed quickly and jogged downstairs, confident that today would be nothing like yesterday.
“Morning!” her mother said from the island, coffee mug poised against her bottom lip.
Ana dumped her bag next to the kitchen door and entered the room. “Morning!”
“You were up late last night,” Dad said from the kitchen sink where he was elbow-deep in suds and scrubbing the previous night’s dinner dishes. “I got up for some water and your lights were on.”
Ana threw open the fridge door and peered inside. “Couldn’t sleep.” She shut the door, a yogurt cup in one hand and the carton of orange juice in the other.
“Maybe you should see a doctor.” Concern darkened her mother’s brow.
“I’m okay,” Ana set her things down on the island and went to grab a spoon from the drawer. “I’m just … I had homework.” What a lie. But it was better than telling her parents she’d been kept awake by the relentless tapping inside her walls.
Her father stopped and glanced back over his shoulder, eyes wide. “Homework? It was only the first day of school!”
Ana scoffed and returned to the island, spoon in hand. “Tell that to the sadists running that place.”
For several minutes, only the scrape of steel wool on cast iron pans filled the kitchen. Occasionally, it was broken by the ticking of the clock above the door. Ana watched the long hands sweep around the white face, counting the minutes before she had to rush out the door. She finished her yogurt and downed her juice as quickly as was possible without choking. She dropped her spoon and glass into the soapy water, kissed her father on the cheek, then her mother, and hurried to grab her backpack.
“Hey! Do you have money for lunch?” her father called after her before she could make it out the door.
“Yes!” she called back, swinging her bag over her shoulder. “Love you! I’ll see you after school!”
A burst of mist slapped Ana in the face when she rushed onto the porch. The world was a morbid gray that made phantoms of the trees and rivers out of the ground. It wasn’t really raining though. It was a spray of
moisture that seemed to gush out at random intervals like a spray bottle in the hands of a child. Ana frowned as another burst broke apart across her face, dampening her clothes and hair. Damn it! She thought, torn between running back inside for a jacket and the possibility of missing her bus … again.
She opted for the bus. What were the odds of Rafe coming along a second time to save her? If she missed that bus then she’d have to go inside and ask one of her parents to take her and that was worse than walking.
Head ducked, she ran, careful to avoid the puddles strategically placed across the driveway and main road. Her backpack bounced against her spine. Strands of hair clung to her cheeks and neck, making the skin itchy, but she kept running. Not that it did any good.
Rounding her driveway, she was five seconds too late. The bus rumbled past without so much as slowing down.
“No!” She ran after it, waving her arms, hoping against all odds that the driver would check his mirror just once and see her.
No such luck. It ambled on, disappearing down the road and out of sight. Ana slowed her run to a jog, then gradually to a walk. There was no point hurrying now or going back. She might as well continue and pray it didn’t start to really come down before she reached the school.
Her prayer paid off and it didn’t. The mist became drops, a light drizzle that chilled her skin. Her teeth chattered. Several times, she considered phoning her dad and asking him to come get her. But he would only scold her for getting as far as she did in the first place. That she should have just came home as soon as she missed the bus. Better yet, since this was her second time missing it in two days, she should have gotten ready sooner. There were just too many scenarios in her head, all winding up with her getting reprimanded and her day already sucked. She didn’t need any more grief on her shoulders.
Behind her, the grind of wheels on gravel broke through the rain. Instinctively, Ana stepped off the road giving the driver a wide berth, but it didn’t speed up or pass her. Instead, it rolled up alongside her and the passenger’s side window rolled down.
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