by Jeyn Roberts
“I think it’s time for you to leave,” Parker says. He turns around and steps in front of Graham. A threatening move. But neither of the two boys moves.
Graham smirks at Tatum. “Whoever these freaks are, they can’t fight your battles forever. Kinda pathetic.”
“Like you fight Claudette’s battle?” Tatum asks. “Get out of here, Graham. Sucking up to her isn’t going to get you laid.”
Claudette. When I hear the name, my memory brings up a pretty girl with long curly hair. She’s from my vision too. She stands over Tatum, enjoying her pain. Laughing as her foot crunches down on Tatum’s fingers.
Graham steps forward, and Parker is there in a flash to meet him. Graham’s hands shoot up, and he shoves Parker backward and right into me. Parker stumbles, his foot catching on the cloth of my skirt. I hear fabric tear. I look down, and I can see a rip in the bottom. Parker touches my arm in apology. I get out of their way before round two can begin.
Both boys glare at each other again. Graham finally backs down. I don’t blame him. Parker is bigger than him by about twenty pounds. Taller, too. But it’s not just that. There’s something about Parker’s attitude that’s a little threatening. Otherworldly. Graham can’t quite place it, but he can sense it. He knows better than to try and go after Parker. And I doubt his spineless friend, Levi, would help. He’s too busy staying on the sideline.
“You’re a mouthy little bitch,” Graham says. “You’d better watch it. Mouthy bitches get shut up real quick.”
Then Graham turns and walks away, Levi trailing behind as if nothing had happened. We watch them fade into the darkness. When they reach the corner, Graham turns and blows a kiss.
“What a jerk,” Tatum says. She’s holding her car keys in one hand and the photo album in the other. What’s scary is that she doesn’t seem to be bothered by the incident in the slightest. She looks annoyed, not worried. “Come on. If we’re quiet, we can talk in my bedroom. I think my parents have gone to bed.”
This isn’t the first time Graham and his friend have verbally assaulted her. Obviously it’s happened enough for her to build up some sort of immunity. But Graham. His eyes said it all. He meant every word that came out of his mouth.
Tatum really is in trouble. And I just met two of the people who are going to kill her.
“What was that about?” I ask.
“It’s nothing.”
“It didn’t look like nothing.”
“Let it go,” Tatum snaps. “They’re just a bunch of jerks who think it’s funny to harass me. But they’re harmless. They’re all talk.”
Tatum begins walking up the sidewalk toward the closest house. Parker reaches out and touches my arm, pressing his shoulder against mine. He’s tense. I can feel the muscles in his arm.
“We’re safer inside,” he whispers.
Right. Remnants might be out and about. Or maybe he’s thinking the boys might come back with more of their friends.
“Come on,” Tatum calls back to us.
Growing up with these people has made Tatum blind. There are none more vulnerable than those who cannot see. If anyone should know that, it’s me. Because we can never fully know someone, no matter how much they share. And the worst of mankind often wears the best masks.
I sigh. This is going to be a long night.
TATUM
She can barely control her excitement as she steps up to the front porch. Molly is here. In the proverbial flesh. And Tatum is about to sneak her into her house so they can have a talk. As she pushes against the door, she hesitates, hoping that her texts to Mom were enough to send her parents to bed without worry. She sent one off just after she left the coffee shop.
I’ll be right home. Sorry, got really caught up in my homework.
Half an hour. I promise.
Mom replied, telling her she’d better be home as soon as possible or there would be hell to pay. But Tatum knows that once Mom gets an arrival time, she’s less likely to worry. She’s probably upstairs, tucked in with Dad (who is most definitely snoring), reading a book until she hears the key in the lock. And if Tatum goes straight to her room, there isn’t going to be a confrontation.
“Okay,” Tatum whispers. “Follow me. We have to be quiet.”
Molly nods. She steps across the entrance with that guy trailing behind her. Tatum’s a bit more worried about him. She can easily explain a girl in her bedroom. All she has to say is that Molly is from school and Tatum is giving her a book for class. But a boy? That’s the number one house rule being broken. Let’s also not forget that it’s after eleven on a school night. Tatum could get grounded until graduation if she gets caught. She thinks about asking Parker to wait outside, but doesn’t. He’s got a very guarded look on his face. The way he’s monitoring Molly’s every move suggests he’s not going to let her out of his sight.
Thankfully, Tatum’s bedroom is on the other side of the house. If they keep their voices down, there’s no reason why her mom or dad should hear them. Tatum will turn on some music.
They climb the stairs quietly. When they reach the top, Tatum sees that the light is on beneath her parents’ door.
“Tatum?”
She freezes. Points to Molly and Parker.
“Down to the end,” she whispers. “On the left.”
Molly nods and they move along. Once they’re out of range, Tatum pushes open her parents’ bedroom door. Sure enough, just as she guessed, Mom’s got a book in her hands and Dad is snoring away.
“You’re late.”
“Sorry,” Tatum says.
“Is everything all right? Nothing happened?”
No, everything is wrong. Don’t pretend to care.
“I’m fine.”
“Okay. Have a good sleep.”
Mom places her book on the nightstand and turns out the light. Just like that. Nothing else. She’s not even going to scold Tatum for being an hour past curfew. Like everyone else, even Tatum’s parents don’t care anymore. They’ll be relieved when school ends and she leaves town. Their embarrassing daughter. Can’t wait to get rid of her.
She’s on her own.
Tatum closes the door quietly, ignoring the desire to slam it several times. When she reaches her room, she finds Molly sitting on her mattress while Parker browses the books on her shelf. The bedside reading lamp is turned on, leaving most of the walls covered in dark shadows.
“How much trouble are you going to get into if your parents find out we’re here?” Molly asks.
“I won’t if they don’t come check,” Tatum says. She turns on the clock radio by the bed, and music starts to play at low volume. “And trust me, they won’t. They don’t care enough.”
“I’m sure that’s not true,” Molly says. “All parents care about their children.”
“Not mine,” Tatum says. “Mine think I’m a nasty little liar and a sociopath. They probably lock their door in fear of me killing them in their sleep.” She sighs, knowing she’s exaggerating, but the anger is there.
“Why’s that?” Molly asks.
“I don’t want to talk about it. Just forget I said anything.” Tatum tosses the photo album on the bed. “You want to see the clippings? It’s your life story. Well, some of it. It talks about your killer, Walter. And about you. Did you really travel the country with a bunch of people?”
Molly looks down at the album. “My life is an open book, is it? Just a story for everyone to read. What a strange thought. Did they make me out to be some drug-crazed girl who deserved it?”
“No, not at all,” Tatum says, hoping Molly doesn’t see the editorial that pretty much blamed her for everything.
“I’m sure they were out there,” Molly says with a sigh. “A girl living with a bunch of nomads? Sometimes people used to yell at me on the street. Once there was a preacher. Told me I was going to hell for holding hands with Julian.”
“I’m sorry,” Tatum says. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“You’re not,” Molly says. “It’s
not as if my death was like the Manson murders. I wasn’t famous or part of some psychotic cult. I just find it surprising that strangers would even care. And for the record, I didn’t do drugs. Never was into them.”
Tatum plops down on the bed beside her. “How can you think that? I’ll bet tons of people cared. There was a huge trial. I saw the pictures. Lots of people in the courtroom.” Tatum reaches out and touches Molly’s arm again. She can’t get over how real she feels. If she hadn’t already seen Molly disappear twice in front of her, Tatum might start questioning it. But no, Molly is the girl in the pictures. She’s even wearing the same ring on her finger. She grabs a few of the loose articles from the album and shakes them for emphasis. “Your life is amazing.”
Molly smiles. “Are you sure it’s not the ghost part that makes you say that?”
From beside them, Parker laughs.
“Are you a ghost too?” Tatum finally fully notices Parker. He looks to be a few years older than Molly, but it’s hard to tell. The odd clothing he wears makes him look a lot older. An old-fashioned shirt with the sleeves rolled up. A pair of wool trousers. Definitely not the things the local boys wear. He looks like he’s fallen straight out of a Jane Austen novel.
“Ghost is such an injudicious term,” Parker says, and Tatum can tell he’s clearly offended.
“Oh, stop it,” Molly says. “You call yourself a ghost all the time.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Yes, you do.” Molly turns to Tatum. “And yes, he is. Parker haunts a hospital in London, England. We share the same afterlife. I guess that’s what you’d call it.”
“Wow, England. So you’re looking for something too?”
Parker snorts in disgust. “This is useless, Molly. We shouldn’t be here. She’s too deaf to listen.” He goes over to the window and peeks through the blinds.
“Just a few more minutes,” Molly says. She turns to Tatum. “Parker’s right. We don’t have much time. What we did to get here, apparently we can’t stay long. So we need to get down to business.”
“Right,” Tatum says. “Then you need to tell me everything about you. We have to figure out what you need to do to cross to the other side.”
“No,” Molly says. She reaches out and picks up a stuffed animal from where it fell off the bed. A teddy bear Tatum has had forever. Molly turns it over in her hands, admiring the toy. “I’m not here because of me. I want to hear your story. You need help, Tatum.”
“I’m fine,” Tatum says. She wants to grab that bear and throw it across the room. Why can’t Molly let this go? Tatum’s life is dull as dishwater compared to Molly’s. Can’t she see this? If Tatum can help her, she’ll get to be a part of something bigger. She’ll accomplish more than getting Claudette to leave her alone.
“Those boys tonight,” Molly says. “I’ve seen them before. When I first touched you in the car. I saw something. I saw them attacking you. They’re going to hurt you.”
“That’s not possible,” Tatum says. “I’ve known them my whole life. Like I said, Graham’s all talk. He’s just a jerk.”
“Not this time,” Molly says. She puts a hand on Tatum’s arm. “I’ve seen it. And as you know, my predictions come true.”
“How do you know that? Have you gone back to everyone you’ve talked to and asked them?”
“I know I’m right on this.”
Tatum wants to argue, but hesitates. The fear in Molly’s eyes is very much real. But she can’t be right. Graham Douglas might do childish crap like piss on her tires, but he’s not evil. He wouldn’t actually hurt her. He’s a football player who gets his aggression satisfied on the field. Aside from tonight, she’s never seen him get into a fistfight. He may talk tough, but he’s a softy. She knows Levi would never hurt her either. Levi might hide behind Graham, but he once brought Tatum flowers. Even though she only went out with him a couple of times, Levi has never shown the slightest hint of a grudge that she didn’t want to date him seriously. He’s more of a computer nerd. The only reason he and Graham hang out together is because they live next door to each other and both love to play video games all day long.
The more she thinks about it, the more Tatum convinces herself that this whole idea is ridiculous.
That leaves her former best friend.
Claudette may think it’s perfectly fine to ruin Tatum’s life to protect her own, but Tatum knows she’d never physically hurt her. They’ve been best friends since kindergarten. Tatum knows Claudette better than she knows herself.
No, that’s not true. She was completely blindsided by Claudette. She’d underestimated how far her friend would go to keep her secret safe. The way Claudette managed to get the entire town of Hannah to think that Tatum is a monster.
But kill her? No. Molly’s vision is wrong. Tatum looks down at her hands, surprised to see that she’s been clenching them into fists. So tightly that her knuckles have turned white. If she’s so positive Molly is wrong, then why is her body tensed up like she’s about to ride a roller coaster with no safety bar?
“Tell me your story,” Molly says softly. “I want to hear what happened. Tell me, and I’ll tell you mine. All of it. My life. My death. Then you’ll see: I’m not the one you need to be worrying about.”
Tatum nods. “Okay,” she says. “I’ll tell you. And then you’ll see. There’s nothing to worry about.”
She begins to talk.
* * *
After Claudette’s pregnancy scare, Tatum found herself unable to fall asleep. She tossed and turned the entire night. It wasn’t just the words that had come out of Claudette’s mouth that scared her, but the tone.
If he leaves me, I’ll kill myself.
That wasn’t the Claudette she knew.
Claudette was confident. She knew exactly what she wanted and how to get it. She always knew the exact perfect things to say to keep a boy’s attention. She never had trouble getting guys to chase after her by the dozen. She was also a great friend. As far back as Tatum could remember, Claudette had been there for her. Whether it meant driving her home every day for a month when Tatum broke her foot, or hanging out all night when Tatum’s old cat, Puffy Snuggleface, finally died, Claudette had always been her friend.
For Claudette to suggest suicide over a man, in Tatum’s mind, only meant she’d finally gone in over her head. She’d gotten into a situation that she couldn’t handle. Claudette needed help.
Tatum didn’t know what to do.
She spent the next days in panic mode. Several times she almost spilled the secret to Mom. But every time she felt on the verge of opening her mouth, she’d think of Claudette and stop. What if she told an adult and no one believed her? Although Tatum was positive her own mother would, it wouldn’t mean anything if the school refused to get involved. What if Mr. Paracini pretended the whole thing hadn’t happened? It would be his word against Tatum’s. And Claudette would be so upset about losing him, she might not tell the truth either.
This wasn’t fair. The more Tatum thought about it, the more enraged she became toward Mr. Paracini. He was an adult; he should have known better than to mess up Claudette like that. He needed to be stopped.
Claudette would hate her. But once the whole thing blew over, she’d understand that Tatum was only looking out for her best interests.
She made it all the way through to the first Monday morning after break. When Tatum got to school, she found Claudette waiting for her at her locker. Her friend’s face was puffy under several layers of makeup. They ducked into the girls’ bathroom, where they could talk. Claudette opened all the stalls to make sure they were empty before she started.
“About that other night,” Claudette said. “I’m really sorry. I totally overreacted. I blame hormones. Forget about it, okay? Everything’s good. Thank God! I totally promise to be übercareful from now on.”
“Do you think that’s a good idea?” Tatum whispered. “Don’t you think this is getting a little out of hand?”
“Excuse me?”
Claudette snapped. “So you’re giving me love advice now? You?”
“No. But I think maybe you should stop dating him. You’re getting too involved. You told me that night that you’d kill yourself. That’s not right.”
“I was being overdramatic,” Claudette says. “You didn’t really take that crap seriously, did you? Please.”
“He’s hurting you, Claudette. I think you should talk to an adult.”
“I’m not talking to anyone, and Barry hasn’t done a damn thing to hurt me,” she said. “We’re fine.”
“He’s taking advantage of you. What he’s doing is illegal. He could go to jail.”
There. The words were out. The temperature in the bathroom seemed to drop ten degrees. Claudette’s eyes narrowed before she suddenly shoved Tatum back against the wall.
Tatum yelped as her head hit the mirror. Before she could regain her composure, Claudette pressed herself against Tatum, pinning her between the wall and the sink.
“Listen to me, you little bitch,” Claudette hissed. “You better keep your big mouth shut. This is none of your fucking business. If you do anything to try and ruin us, I swear to God I’ll make you wish you were never born.”
“I haven’t said anything,” Tatum gasped.
“And if you’re smart, you won’t.” Claudette relaxed her grip, leaving Tatum to grab hold of the sink in order to keep from falling. Her legs had turned to rubber.
“This isn’t you,” Tatum said. She waved her arm at her friend. “You acting this way. What happened to you? Can’t you see you’re not the same person anymore?”
Claudette laughed. “I’ve outgrown you. You can’t handle that, can you? The fact that I can get a man like Barry to want me, while you can’t even get someone like Levi to ask you out. You’re nothing but a jealous, pathetic little girl.”
The words stung. Tatum’s eyes began to water. This wasn’t her friend anymore. The Claudette she knew never would have said such vile things. Letting go of the sink, Tatum turned to head for the door. There was nothing more to say. But Claudette wasn’t finished. Before Tatum could escape, fingers closed around her arm.