by Molly Snow
…Back to Shoreline. There was no real running away from his problems, really. His usual friends would be there, on him about not answering one call or text. The usual girls would be there, panting for their turn for a date.
When he glanced over to the beach he was leaving behind, he could have sworn he saw Stella, her long black hair ruffling in the wind sadly. It didn’t matter. It was best for her that he go. Even though he told himself so, it didn’t make it feel any better. A horn blared long. He forced his eyes back on the road. A car was headed right for him. He jerked the steering wheel to the right, surprised he was over the double-yellow line, in the first place.
The phone in his cup holder vibrated, lighting up, catching his attention. Uncle Leo. He turned down the music, and answered. “Yeah, hello…! Sure… You know me—always having a blast… I’m just hangin’ out with-uh Tyler… Yeah, it’s been cool… Wait. For real, Uncle? Tonight…? He’s says he’s coming…?” He rubbed his brow, and tried to keep his eyes focused on the road, learning from his last mistake. As soon as a turn-out would appear, he’d take it.
Moments later, Damien pulled into a diner’s gravelly parking lot. His uncle was still on the line, when he turned off the ignition and took a massive breath in and then out. “This is crazy. This is really happening…? I’m not dreaming, then…?” His face turned sober and he dipped his head into a hand. “Uncle, I-uh can’t make it tonight… No, of course I want to see him. It’s just I lied to ya, Uncle. I’m not with Tyler. I’m not even in Oregon. I’m in California… Yeah.”
SIXTEEN
“There she is!” Caleb called out, far in the distance. He waved his arms up and down to catch her attention he’d already got. “Stella!” Then the rest of the group appeared.
She didn’t wave back. As indication enough that she heard all their yelling, her legs still moved one in front of the other in their direction.
Kit instantly hugged her when she was within arm’s reach. “We were so worried. After last night, we were debating whether or not Mrs. Partridge hunted you down and dragged you away into her cheery little lair to feed off your brains!”
Stella groaned. “Last night really happened, then. I was hoping I was having a psychotic episode or something.” She pulled out of the hug and said to them, “I was just taking a walk is all. No one dragged me into their lair.” My heart was just dragged out of my chest.
“Well, we’re glad you’re okay,” Maggie said.
“…Says the pseudo-English-American,” Stella said out loud, and arched an eyebrow at her.
“Well, it’s not really my fault is it? I have a disease. A lying disease. PAA isn’t the only addicts’ club I go to, you know.”
Gordon looked up at Maggie through his thick glasses, and said, “Really? What do you all do at Compulsive Liars Anonymous? Go to the stand and tell outrageous stories, pat each other on the back, and come back for more tall-tales the next week? Maybe form a new political party? Run for president?”
“Okay, so I lied about the meeting, too. There are no meetings for liars. I’m just chit-chatting, so you can lay off me, space-monkey boy.”
“Hey, I saved your life last night,” he said. “Remember that.”
“I’ll give you that,” she said. And looking humbled, she asked, “What shall we do today? First things first—I’m hungry.”
“So am I,” Caleb agreed, then Kit.
Stella nodded, but not out of agreement. Her stomach would feel empty no matter what, she was certain, whether or not she stuffed it with breakfast. “We’re not going back to the bed and breakfast, so…”
Maggie knew just where to go. “There is a diner a couple miles down the road. I remember seeing it on the way in. It has a huge chicken sculpture outside. Can’t miss it.”
“I remember.” Caleb laughed in agreement. “Yeah, let’s go!” He was a little too excited. Stella could only imagine he was excited to take pictures with the chicken, maybe even climb it and ride its back.
Kit said, “Guys, I don’t have much money left. Just like five bucks. What am I supposed to do? I haven’t even thought about gas for the trip home.”
Stella realized she probably owed her friend anyway some gas money and settled things right then, by saying her wallet would be in her suitcase. Just as soon as the words left her mouth, though, everyone stared at each other like metaphorical light bulbs just went off above each of their heads. “Our stuff!”
Maggie twisted her mouth. “Can we get a bite to eat first?”
Gordon and Maggie of course drove down separately. The three cars pulled in one after another at the diner. Besides the giant yellow chicken, Stella couldn’t miss the fact that Damien was there. His red jeep parked right next to them as evidence.
“Hey, isn’t that Damien’s?” Kit asked. Caleb already slammed the door shut on his way to his photo op, and Stella dropped her head back against her seat.
Kit went on. “What’s the matter? I thought you wanted to get to know him better or something. Shouldn’t you be happy he’s here?”
“I don’t care about him anymore. I don’t want to see him.”
“That’s really strange. What happened? Oh my goodness, did something happen in the kitchen between you two yesterday? Did you see what I saw? Did he look like a monster? You did see.” She squeezed Kit’s arm in excitement. “That’s why you were acting weird at dinner, and had locked yourself in the bathroom! You saw too!”
“No, I have no idea what you are talking about. The only monster I saw last night was the hag. Could you release your fingers from their death grip? My forearm’s tingling.” An image of Damien green and huge like the Incredible Hulk flashed through her mind, and she shuddered. Kit’s excitement was a little creepy, Stella had to admit; she seemed completely sincere and sure of herself, of what she saw.
This was ridiculous. Stella grabbed her sunglasses off the dash, covered her eyes, and concluded she wasn’t going to go inside the restaurant, anyway, so it didn’t matter who Damien was. If he does have anger issues, then whatever. Have him blow up on some other girl than her. And if while angry he looks like the Incredible Hulk, then again he is that girl’s problem. She leaned her seat back, and flipped down a visor to block the sun further, satisfied with her conclusion. Sort of.
A few minutes later, she could see her group mingling with Damien at his table. Even though they knew nothing about the almost-kiss or the rejection, she couldn’t help but feel angry over their socializing. And she could hardly keep from watching the situation, so much so that when he glanced out the window, they locked eyes.
Time ticked slowly, and Stella finally turned the car on enough to be able to listen to the radio. She shut her eyes, waiting for the moment Kit and Caleb would return. Maybe they wouldn’t even need to sneak back in Lady Shoemaker’s, if she could help it. Then she remembered not only was her wallet left behind, but her diary, too. She could always call to replace her debit card, but there’s no way to replace a couple year’s worth of diary entries.
*
“What you’re saying really happened?” Damien leaned forward in his booth. After his own situation as a werewolf, how could he deny the possibility that Mrs. Partridge had her own issues? He guessed he couldn’t. Besides, Caleb and Gordon were nodding their heads with bugged-out eyes, and Maggie was mimicking the same wild expression. Kit even rattled on about what she saw, seemingly forgetting yesterday’s drama.
A new text popped up on his cell phone. He ignored the message and instead focused on the time—11:30. What Stella’s crew was asking of him would cut into his need to rush out of town by maybe a half-hour, at the most. He waited his whole life to meet his father. This was so unexpected. He was going to meet his father. It made him so nervous, he had to just sit at a booth at the diner and force some food down his throat to shake some of the initial shock off. And now Gordon, Caleb, Maggie and Kit were all talking about some sort of zombie or something that attacked them in the night?
“Alright
,” Damien finally said, “I’ll be glad to help, but I gotta head out of town right after. So we have to be quick.”
As they drove back to the little old house, Damien realized the group actually wished he was there with them last night. They hadn’t been partying on the beach without him. He wasn’t uninvited. What happened was, they were freaked out of their minds and just drove off far enough to feel safe before crashing. They were scared to death and could have used his help.
Less than ten minutes later, they were to their destination, making great timing. Damien figured he would hurry in, grab their things, help toss them in their cars, and speed off. He wasn’t wanting any detours. The front door was open and creaking a little back and forth from a breeze. Everyone, including Stella, stood behind him waiting to ascend the porch steps and enter.
“We went through the bedroom window, not the front door,” Maggie said.
“Yeah,” others said in agreement. Damien couldn’t help but notice how the others gripped onto each other in fear.
“It’s okay. I’ll go first,” Damien offered. He stepped up and the door suddenly creaked and slammed shut. There was no denying it—he was now afraid too. He turned the knob and thrust the door open, more powerfully than anticipated. It snapped back shut, and cracked against the doorframe.
The girls screamed. Damien looked back, realizing a shriek also came from Caleb. “It’s okay,” he said. All the lights were out, and there were dark shadows in every corner, especially beyond the formal room into the dining room. He stepped across the threshold, into the old home anyway.
The others slowly followed behind, still huddled together. Damien asked, “Where is the body?”
Gordon said, “Down the hall, between our bedrooms.”
“You all can just stay in here if you want.” He’d rather have it that way anyway. Although they had bragged about Gordon’s nun chuck skills or whatnot, he couldn’t fathom the runt as his hero.
Not more than a second later, a grotesque smell assaulted his nostrils. One of the many cons to being a werewolf. A hypersensitive sense of smell could make him feel like throwing up over something as simple as some old dishes in a sink. And this stench was definitely like something rotting.
When he turned the corner to the hall, he flipped a switch, turning on a single light bulb in the ceiling. There was no body crumpled to the ground as described in the diner. There was no body at all. Some black streaked across the dark wood floor from where they said she would be. And that trail went along, under Damien, and down to the other end of the house. “There’s nothing here but some slime or something.”
“She’s not there?” Maggie asked.
“No.” He looked at the trail again, before opening the bedrooms. He saw the guys’ stuff in a mess on the floor, and a dented lamp without its shade on a dresser. The girls’ room was basically perfect except for some wrinkles on the bedspread and a carton of ice cream melted on the floor by some bowls.
“Is it safe?” Kit called.
Damien looked back and forth, inside each room again, before answering. “Yes.”
“Ew, what is this?” Damien turned to see Maggie lifting a sneaker off the ground, and looking at the goop make a string of slime.
“Where’s the body?” others asked.
Damien didn’t answer. How was he to know? It was more of a rhetorical question anyway, even though he was curious too. He tossed the suitcases onto the bed, and not caring what was Gordon’s and what was Caleb’s, he flung the used socks, shirts and tighty-whities wherever. When he flung a pair of pants off the ground, it revealed something like a large remote control. It made a sudden loud beeping sound, which at first when covered by clothes, was so faint he thought it to be a watch’s alarm going off. He picked the thing up and turned it all around, analyzing it. It blinked and beeped rapidly. Feeling eyes on him, he looked up to see Gordon and Maggie staring at him with mouths open. “What is this?” he asked.
“It’s-it’s-it’s—” Gordon sputtered, and pulled at his collar, like he had a bow tie or something to loosen.
“It’s mine,” Maggie burst, and snatched it away. By that time, Kit was behind them, looking equally surprised.
“Well, what’s the matter? What is it?”
“I said it’s mine. And… it’s none of your business. Okay, it’s for my pacemaker, if you must know.” She pressed it against her chest, and it continued to beep wildly.
“Pacemaker?” Did she see him a fool?
“Yes, a pacemaker.” Her chin warbled, but she didn’t cry. “If you must know, I have a bad heart. So bad in fact, that I had a triple bypass surgery. Well, when the doctors found that didn’t solve all my problems, that the years of fast food and pizzas had a greater toll on me than expected, I was sliced open on an operating table, my life flashed before my eyes. I saw an angel under a halo of shining cheese pizza—or was it Weird Al? Anyway, he told me to hold on. That I had more to live for, and then my pacemaker kicked in! Without it I would have surely died.”
Damien shifted his eyes from her to the others. They were blinking and looking stunned still. “I may be a jock,” he said, “but give me some credit. I’m not stupid. You’re hiding something from me.”
Maggie suddenly shoved the machine into Gordon’s hands and pulled her shirt down. A jagged silver scar went down the center of her chest. “See this here. It’s evidence of my surgery. This machine beeps when my heart is going wild.” She flipped the switch to shut it off. “All it is is a warning for me to settle down. It’s the latest thing in heart surgery science, and I am lucky to have one. It’s a bit big and clunky right now, but so were cell phones and other technology when they were new. It’s just a prototype. Now if you don’t mind, I need to calm down, get my heart back to its regular rate, and get out of here. This place still gives me the creeps.”
Damien cocked an eyebrow at her and everyone else, but wouldn’t argue it any further. Maggie actually had some sort of story and proof to go along with the remote, no matter how desperate and strange it all seemed.
And Stella suddenly appeared in the hall with the others. She was still wearing her sunglasses and her expression was solid like a statue. He hated the fact that she must hate him more than ever, especially after they made a one-hundred-eighty-degree complete turnaround. She had opened her heart to him, and he intentionally crushed it.
Oh well, he told himself. Oh well to it all. There was no time to argue with Maggie, and there was no time to dwell over hurting Stella—a girl he had to hurt for her own sake. He just had to get away from them all. He just had to leave to meet the man who could hold the answers to his cursed existence, his long lost father. With a heavy sigh, he said, “Let’s hurry then.”
When the last suitcase was thrown into the back of a car, Damien was once again fired up to get out of there, and move onto the next phase of his life and his questions. He did his last good deed there, and owed them nothing else.
Caleb, however, had a different idea. “You guys,” he said excitedly, “the stain on the floor led to her bedroom. I say we go back inside and check it out. I mean, with Damien leading the way again, of course.”
“What are you talking about?” Kit looked at him like that was the stupidest idea ever. “We need to just get out of here. I don’t want to see her again. I don’t want to look at her shriveled up corpse. That’s disgusting, and I want no part in it. No, sir!”
“But don’t you have more questions?” Caleb asked. “Like who dragged her across the hall in the first place? Did someone do that? Or did she come back to life, like the first time? She could be waiting in there to terrorize her next victims. And don’t you think it strange how protective she was of her bedroom? I think it’s our duty to check it out, maybe even take some pictures, and document the whole thing.”
“Why?” Stella spoke around Damien for the first time since he left her at the beach. Even though her disapproval centered on someone else, he couldn’t help but think the heat in her voice was
stoked by his own behavior toward her. “Why is it our duty? We’re just a group of teenagers. We’re not police officers. We’re nobody! We don’t owe anything to anyone. Life dumps on you, and sometimes you just have to surrender. Just give up.”
Those words fired up Damien. He didn’t like the tone or the message Stella implied. There was a double meaning to it all, he was certain. And reading between the lines was something he was good at. So narrowing his eyes, he walked right over to her and said eye-to-eye, “No, that is not what you are supposed to do. When life pushes you, you push back. You hear me? You do not give up. You do what you can with what you got. Try and deal with things and make them better. Take control, even if it means hurting others you care so much about. You have to remember the bigger picture, own up and take the consequences like a man.”
Everything became quiet. Even the breeze seemed to stop, and the trees withheld dropping their needles. Stella was speechless, and crossed her arms over her chest in response. Damien wiped his eyes, even though he knew there were no tears. But it was all he could think to do. He was exasperated. Exasperated with himself, with how those words were meant to rationalize what he did to Stella.
Caleb cut in, “…Does this mean we are going back inside?” Damien looked at him and then back to Stella. She averted her eyes away. If only he could tell her all that was on his mind. If only she knew what predicament he faced. In reality, though, telling her, or anyone for that matter, was not an option.
SEVENTEEN
Damien creaked open the master bedroom’s door. It reeked more than anywhere else in the home, and a trail of the goo went right up to the bed. A quilt covered a bodily lump. “Hello,” Damien spoke, just in case. He stood there a moment longer and knocked on the door now behind them to see if she would rise. “Hello? Good morning?”