Bellamy Rising

by A. E. Snow

  “Ha,” Andrew said, smirking.

  Mom wandered in the kitchen. There were purple bags under her eyes indicating she had gotten about the same amount of sleep as me.

  “All right, people,” she said. “I heard that. Andrew, stop being mean to your sister. What are you, nine years old? Bellamy, don’t call your brother a dickhead. I really have to work tonight. I’ve already missed a bunch of work this week. Power bill is about to be due and I don’t want to have to dip into our non-existent savings.”

  I hated when Mom talked about money. Andrew’s face clouded when Mom said that. Hating money-talk was about the only thing we agreed on.

  Mom popped bread into the toaster. On her left hand, the gold of her wedding ring flashed in the morning light. I couldn’t see her taking the ring off anytime soon. My heart threatened to shatter more when I thought of my dad. He would have believed me. It made my chest ache that Mom didn’t.

  She pointed at me. “I want you home before dark.”

  I nodded and left my breakfast, uneaten, on the table while I went upstairs to get ready for school. How did she think getting home before dark was going to help me?

  According to the adults in this town, nothing bad happened during daylight hours. If someone wanted to kidnap and/or kill me, I didn’t think the dark was what I needed to be afraid of.

  ~ ~ ~

  I slid into my seat in homeroom and ducked my head hoping no one would notice me.

  Instead, Cam turned around, his face red with anger. “You bitch.”

  I cleared my throat. “I didn’t do anything.”

  “You gave my name to the cops. They came to my house last night at dinnertime and questioned me in front of my parents,” he hissed. “They are already watching me because of Ethan. Hell, they are watching the whole damn football team. The cops are making Ethan’s life a living hell.”

  I shifted in my seat, not making eye contact. “I’m sorry. I was scared. I don’t know what else to say.”

  “I sure as shit didn’t leave a stupid note on your car. I wouldn’t touch that old piece of shit.”

  He left me alone then, but I felt the eyes of the entire class on me. I put my head down on my desk and tried to block out the rest of the world.

  After homeroom, the morning dragged. The message in the note repeated itself over and over again in my head. Maybe you’re next. When the lunch bell rang, I sighed with relief and headed upstairs to the library.

  We were only supposed to use the library if we had work to do so I spread my books out in front of me and stared at page 312 of my History book. The only other person in the library was a girl, Riley. She spent her lunch periods in the library as well. Though I suspected she actually spent the period doing homework.

  “Hi.” Mason sat down across from me, startling me out of my daze. I jumped about twenty feet in the air. “You okay?”

  “Fine,” I said but my hands shook.

  “There’s going to be a press conference today,” he said. “In about an hour.”

  “Did something happen?”

  “I don’t know. That’s not what the press conference is about.”

  “It’s not?”

  His chin wobbled while his eyes filled with tears. “It is now considered a recovery mission. My stepdad is catatonic.”

  I reached across the table and grabbed his hand. “I’m so sorry, Mason.”

  “I feel really bad. We didn’t have much in common. I guess I never tried to get to know her . . .”

  He cleared his throat and changed the subject. “I heard something about you this morning.” He stared at my pile of unopened books.

  “Was it about a note?” I asked.

  “Yes.”

  “It was nothing. Just . . . someone trying to scare the shit out of me. It worked.”

  “Are you sure?”

  I tried to smile. “Yeah.”

  Silence overtook our corner of the library. I pulled my hands back across the table and stared at them.

  The lunch bell rang. “Bye. Be careful.”

  “Okay. See ya.”

  Chapter 12

  I skipped History. School, never easy for me, had gotten much harder. In every class, people whispered. I heard my name constantly. The rumor mill had turned half the school against me for no reason at all. The only people still speaking to me were Mason and Iris.

  Ducking into a little-used janitor’s closet on the second floor, I dropped my bag and sat down in the floor. I’d stolen a book out of the library. How to Reach the Other Side. It had the honor of being the only book that even got near the topic of psychics in the library. Published in 1972, it smelled musty when I opened it. The dust made me cough.

  Exhaustion crept up on me before I’d gotten very far. I leaned my head back against the wall next to the mop bucket and closed my eyes.

  Out of the darkness, a scene came into focus. A face hidden by blond hair. Nervous laughter echoes in my ears and then images in rapid succession, like flipping through loose photos. A book. A cell phone. A card with writing inside. A girl’s delicate neck. A man’s fingers tangled in the long, blond shiny locks. And then, a scream that could shatter glass.

  I snapped my eyes open and scrambled to stand up. Dizziness made standing hard. I propped myself up against the wall and focused on calming my ragged breathing. I surveyed the closet in a panic. Nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing strange except the terrible feelings spreading over me.

  As soon as my legs stopped shaking, I picked up my bag and ran to class.

  “Thank you for joining us,” my History teacher said, her voice full of sarcasm.

  After school, I waited for Iris by my locker, watching everyone rush through the halls to get out of there because even though someone was missing and probably dead, it was still Friday after all!

  Will came up to me after barely speaking to me for two weeks and wrapped me up in his arms, nuzzling my neck. “Hi,” he said.

  “Hi.” I pushed him off.

  “You coming to the party tonight?” He completely ignored my greeting. His eyes were bloodshot and only half-open. He’d obviously spent some time in the bathroom near the auditorium, the designated reefer bathroom. Everyone knew about it, but why no one got busted there by teachers or Mr. J, I had no idea.

  “I don’t know if I can.”

  He put his hand on my hip and slid it up under my shirt. “Come on, you should really come.”

  Maybe a make-out session with Will could take my mind off things. “Maybe.”

  “I hope you do.” He grinned. “Bye, Belly.”

  I scowled and watched him walk away.

  “Hey, girl,” Iris said and grabbed my elbow. “How you doin’?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “What did he want?” she asked, one eyebrow raised.

  “He invited me to a party.”

  She groaned. “I don’t know why you waste your time on him.”

  “Habit, I guess,” I said.

  “You need a new habit.”

  I didn’t answer and she changed the subject. “Did you watch the press conference?” she asked as we made our way down the hall.

  “Nope,” I said. “Mr. Hall wouldn’t let us.”

  “Of course he wouldn’t,” she said.

  “Did I miss much? Anything new?”

  “They basically said that they are no longer treating this as a missing person’s case, offered yet another reward, and mentioned that they were probably looking for a man, which is very specific.”

  “So no one thinks she just ran away with some guy anymore?”

  Iris shook her head. “I guess not.”

  “But isn’t it possible?” I asked, grasping at straws.

  “She’d got
ten into Penn State on early admission with a scholarship,” Iris said. “I guess the police think she wouldn’t have left all that behind.”

  Iris and I walked arm in arm out to the parking lot where Meredith waited for us. During the entire drive to Iris’s house, no one spoke about anything more serious than the weather, which was cold. As we drove, I noticed a dirt road blocked by a gate. The thought occurred to me that maybe I could find the road from my dream.

  We arrived at Iris’s and Meredith dropped us off and spun gravel as she sped back out of the driveway, late for work.

  “Bellamy, hello,” Iris’s mother, Mrs. Johnson greeted me without a smile.

  “Hello, Mrs. Johnson.” I stared down at my scuffed shoes and I could feel her judging my hair and outfit.

  “Iris. Homework. Dinner will be ready at six.”

  “Okay, Mom.”

  “Bellamy, you are invited to dinner.”

  I looked up at her, surprised. “Thank you.”

  She pursed her lips and went back to her office. Iris and I set up in the kitchen where the crock pot simmered and the smell of a roast filled the room. Iris’s home life was the exact opposite of mine.

  Cracking open her laptop, Iris got to work. I sat next to her at the kitchen table, books open just in case Mrs. Johnson came to check on us.

  “You working?” Iris asked, nodding toward my books.

  “Nope.” I stared over her head at the refrigerator door. Birth announcements and candid family pictures of Iris, her mother, father, and little brother smiling at places like Disney World.

  I got up and grabbed a banana from an actual fruit bowl situated on the granite countertop. My thoughts drifted toward the dirt road. I knew I would recognize that bit of gravel and trees anywhere. God knows I’d seen it in my head enough times. “Do you know of any roads like the one from my vision?”

  “I don’t know really,” she said. “I mean, there are dirt roads everywhere. I don’t really know where to start.”

  “I guess it doesn’t make sense to just drive all over the county or the state searching for dirt roads.”

  “Maybe we need more information.” Her gaze stayed on her laptop. The silence soon became peppered with the sound of typing. Iris only stopped working for a second when her hair got in the way and she swept it up into a messy ponytail. “Did you mention it to the police?”

  “No. How could I?” I shuddered. But Iris had a point. What was the use of having visions if they were going to be so vague? “They would for sure think I was lying.”

  “Maybe you could ask someone about dirt roads in the area?”

  “Who?” I asked.

  “I have no idea.” She shook her head.

  “Me either.” I sighed.

  Iris’s mother let her take me home after dinner on the condition that she return straight away. No one was around when I got home except the dark.

  “I’m not leaving you.” Iris stared at the empty house.

  I texted my mom. Are you coming home soon?

  My phone chimed. Mom: Andrew is on his way home. I showed Iris. “See? Andrew will be here any minute.”

  “Okay,” she said, her voice wary. “But I’m waiting until you are inside. Turn on all the lights downstairs.”

  “Yes, Mom,” I teased. But my hands shook a little as I let myself out of the car.

  I tried to be super cool and not run as I walked through the darkness and climbed the stairs to the front porch. I let myself into the house, turned on the living room and porch lights, then locked the door behind me.

  Iris’s headlights beamed across the living room wall and she honked twice before pulling out of the driveway.

  Chapter 13

  When Iris was gone, I dashed from room to room flipping lights on: living room, dining room, kitchen, and back porch. I stared out over the backyard and into the darkness beyond.

  Then I headed up to the attic and tried to shake off the creepy feeling that someone was behind me. I’d barely gotten to my attic bedroom when I heard the doorbell. Figuring Andrew had forgotten his key, I ran down the stairs to let him in. He never had a key when it wasn’t his turn with the car.

  “We really should put a spare somewhere.” I shook my head. I peeked out the window expecting to see my dumb brother. The porch light illuminated the rocking chairs, railings, and the steps leading to the sidewalk but no one was on the porch.

  The familiar rush of adrenaline washed over me. Determined to prove my fears wrong, I peeped out the door. No one was anywhere. The woods around the house and across the street appeared still and normal. No cars went down the road beyond our driveway. I started to shut the door when color caught my eye.

  “Oh.” I picked up the vase of flowers sitting by my feet. A brightly colored bouquet with tulips in yellow, red, pink, and white bloomed out of a blue glass vase. They were probably for Meredith. She and Mike had been fighting non-stop. I picked the peace offering up, shut and locked the door, and started toward the kitchen.

  I noticed an envelope tucked into one of those little plastic card holders that florists use. My name, and not Meredith’s, was written in familiar loopy handwriting. Heart pounding, I pulled the envelope out of the holder and tucked the vase under my arm. I opened the seal and took out the little card.

  In one long yellow string I wound, Three times her little throat around, And strangled her. No pain felt she; I am quite sure she felt no pain. As a shut bud that holds a bee, I warily oped her lids: again

  Laughed the blue eyes without a stain.

  Xoxo RB

  P.S. Don’t go to the police or you’ll be sorry. You might even lose someone you love.

  I screamed and let go of the vase. As soon as it left my hands, I dropped to the floor as glass shattered around me.

  A chair sits facing an old fireplace in a dilapidated house. Moonlight streams through a hole in the roof. A voice, deep and quiet, murmurs something from another room.

  Somewhere outside of the abandoned living room, I heard the vase hit the floor and shatter but it seemed very far away.

  The front door burst open and brought me back. Andrew stomped in and slammed the door against the cold. Gasping, I put my hand down on the ground so I could get up, but I hit a shard of glass. “Ouch!”

  Andrew rushed into the kitchen. “What’s wrong?”

  I couldn’t speak for a moment, though I could feel my mouth moving. I cleared my throat. “Nothing.” I shook my head.

  “Bullshit.”

  “I just dropped a vase and there’s glass everywhere.”

  “Did you fall?” he asked. In an out-of-character move, he came over and helped me up. He stared at me with his eyes narrowed. “You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”

  “The crash of the vase just scared me.” I shrugged and stood up on weak legs. Averting my eyes, I tucked the note in my pocket and got busy picking up the big pieces of glass.

  “Stop. You’ve already cut yourself. I’ll get it.” Andrew moved me out of the way. “Rinse that off before you get blood everywhere,” he ordered.

  I’m not great with blood but I managed to get to the sink without getting too much on the floor or on myself.

  “You okay?” he asked, laying the flowers down on the counter.

  “Yeah.” I wrapped my hand in a clean dishtowel and leaned up against the kitchen sink, trying to will the room to stop spinning.

  “Stay there,” he said. “I’m going to sweep up the glass.”

  I was comforted by the brushing sound of the broom against the battered wood floor. It was reassuring and normal sounding, like nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

  Andrew came back in the kitchen and dumped the glass into the trash can.

  “How’s your finger?”

 
“Fine,” I said. “Thanks.”

  “Sure,” Andrew said. It was probably the first civil conversation we’d had in months. “Were those your flowers?”

  “Uh, no,” I said quickly. “They’re Meredith’s, I think. No note.”

  “Well, don’t go barefoot until someone vacuums.” Andrew grabbed an unopened bag of chips on his way out of the kitchen. His noisy footsteps on the stairs were followed by the slamming of his bedroom door.

  I sighed loudly after he was gone and went to the bathroom to grab some Band-Aids. It took a few of them. The cut was deep and bled freely into the sink. I fought the nausea long enough to rinse off the blood and wrap a bandage around my finger. I hoped I didn’t need stitches.

  Terrified, I went back upstairs and climbed into my bed. The warmth of the blankets did little to stop the uncontrollable shaking. When I did fall asleep, hours later, I slept fitfully. Sometime in the night, my dreams shifted to a vision. One I’d seen before.

  The gravel road is the same. The bare trees stretch up on either side and the branches, gnarled like fingers, reach into the black. The only light beams out from the headlights. But they only shine so far. Beyond that? Nothing.

  Slowly, the dirt road fades and is replaced by a faded and dilapidated house. The picture is wavy and blurred as if I’m staring at it from underwater. Moonlight casts an eerie glow over the eaves and the windows which seem to be alive. Suddenly, everything goes dark. An ear-splitting scream splits the silence.

  I sat up in bed sweating, unsure if I’d been dreaming or awake. I flipped on the beside lamp. I dared not think about the house until my heart rate slowed down to a reasonable beat.

  I grabbed the note out of my desk, where I’d stashed it the night before. I read the flowery language again. “What is this? A poem?” I asked the note, as if it might just answer.

  Chapter 14

  Days passed. I had more visions. But they were all the same. I kept my head down in school and tried to stay out of Cam’s way. The whispering didn’t stop, but the fear, which lapped like waves at my feet all the time, distracted me from the rumors. I could function but only barely.