It’s not real.
How could it be? She almost laughed out loud at that moment, and a smile crept onto her face, invisible even in the darkness. Just then, the shape moved again, tilting to one side as a single, stunted hand rose to the glass and began to slowly tap.
Chapter Four
Alice was still screaming when her parents flipped on the light. The dream never ended, not really, but it didn’t matter any longer. Her body wasn’t hers to command in that moment. Something had shattered inside her, and control wasn’t in her hands, so like a baby in a crib, she did the only thing she could. Her throat was hurting by the time they burst in, her mother in front and her father close behind in his underwear.
“Honey, honey, calm down!” her mother insisted, gathering Alice up in her arms.
“What is it?” her father asked.
It was ugly, the sort of scene that only ever seemed to happen in the dead of night when everyone is too tired and confused to make sense of it. By the time any of them got a hold on the situation, Dean had finally been roused from his room as well.
“What’s her deal?” he asked as Alice huddled against her mother’s chest.
“Where the hell were you?” Frank demanded.
“What?” Dean answered. “I was sleeping.”
“You slept through that?” Frank asked, pointing at his hysterical daughter.
“I had my headphones in.”
“There…there was someone there,” Alice finally got out.
“Where, honey?”
She pointed at the bare window. Frank shook his head and stomped away, and moments later, the light in the utility room sprang to life. The three of them peered in through the window, searching for something that no one but Alice believed was there. Frank appeared at the window and spoke loud enough for all to hear through the glass.
“Honey, I think it was just a dream. There’s nothing in here. I promise.”
“No,” she said. “It wasn’t. I know something was there.”
Dean rolled his eyes and made for the door. “Hey,” Debra called to him.
“What?”
“Keep your headphones out when you sleep. The damn house could be burning down and you’d never know.”
“Whatever,” he said as he walked away.
Frank was back a few seconds later, his eyes heavy and exhausted.
“So,” he said, staring over the room. “First-night jitters, huh?”
“Go ahead,” Debra said to her husband, her voice hard-edged and without sympathy.
“What?” Alice asked.
“Honey, I’ll sleep in here with you tonight,” Debra said.
For a brief moment, that old, silly pride snuck up in Alice’s mind, but she brushed it easily aside this time. She was long past being stubborn.
“You…don’t have to…”
“I know, baby.”
Frank lingered in the doorway, mostly naked and growing increasingly awkward about it. Alice saw Debra flash him a look, one that she didn’t quite understand. Either way, it got him talking.
“You two need anything?” Frank asked.
“No,” Debra answered curtly. “We all just need some rest. This place has taken a lot out of us today.”
Alice understood. This little moment between her parents was small, but it spoke volumes. Debra, she now realized, had spent the whole day wearing her own happy mask about the new house, and for the first time, it was starting to slip. Frank opened his mouth to reply, then seemed to think better of it. He turned to leave, stopping short once more.
“I’ll get the blinds up tomorrow.”
Soon, the two of them were alone in the darkness, curled around each other. Debra ran her hands through Alice’s hair in long strokes that grew slower on each pass. She would be asleep soon, and even though she wasn’t alone, Alice would feel alone. Eventually, Debra’s hand fell still, and Alice worked up the nerve to peek over her mother’s shoulder at the soft blue window. Everything was the same, except the terrifying visage was gone for good this time.
“It’s okay, baby,” Debra said, her voice barely a whisper.
“I…I know it wasn’t real.”
“It’s fine,” she yawned. “New houses can be a lot to get used to.”
“It was… It just felt real.”
“Dreams always do. Get some sleep, baby.” She patted Alice’s arm. Despite her fear, Alice felt herself growing heavy with sleep. At long last, she was safe, and she drifted away soon after.
* * *
The work on the house began the next day, long before Alice awoke. She never knew what time her mother had left her side, but the pillows and sheets were tucked in around her, the way that only a parent would do. She stumbled out into the hall, not at all surprised to see Dean’s door still shut.
The kitchen had barely enough essentials to make it past the weekend, but she was able to scrounge up some dry cereal and a glass of orange juice. Her dad struggled through the front door, shimmying in with the small, metallic kitchen table.
“Need a place to eat?” he asked.
“No, I’m good.”
He muscled it into place and leaned back with his eyes closed, stretching his lower back. “Second half of the night better than the first?”
“I guess so.” She reached into the cereal box for a dry handful.
“So…you okay?”
“Yeah. I mean, just a nightmare.”
Frank shook his head. “I know that. I mean, you okay with…all this?”
Alice smiled, not quite sure if he would buy it. The truth of the matter was that after last night, she wasn’t sure what to think of the new house. It was, without a doubt, the most realistic dream she’d ever had, so much so that she was struggling to call it a dream at all.
“It’s fine,” she said after a moment.
Frank cocked his eyebrows. “Fine?”
“Good,” she said, her tone suddenly sarcastic. “Great even. Perfect.”
“Easy, killer,” he said, throwing his hands up. “I was just asking.”
She expected him to dig deeper, to crack a joke, to go out of his way to make her feel okay with everything. That was what he always did. Instead, he turned to leave, in search of more unfinished work, or perhaps just a more agreeable corner of the house.
He stopped, half in and half out of the room, and added, “Sit down and eat. That’s what the table’s there for.”
* * *
The rest of that day was a blur of unpacking and settling as everyone wanted to get the work done as quickly as possible. There were months of actual repair work ahead, but for now, all the family could see was the task in front of them. There was a week left before Alice and Dean had to return to school, and neither of them wanted to spend it puttering around the house. Dean had a stack of new PlayStation 4 games that were still unwrapped, while Alice had twice as many books waiting for her to crack open.
While her mother and father flitted around, worrying themselves over where things went, Dean stuck mostly to his room. Once, around two o’clock, Alice crept to his door, wincing each time the floor creaked underfoot. She was greeted by the familiar sounds of virtual guns firing, along with the death moans of every enemy on the face of the earth.
Slacking off, she thought to herself.
Alice had spent the first half of the day steadily at work, and by noon, her room was enough “hers” to make her feel comfortable again. She didn’t want to put her dad out, but when she glanced up at the still-bare windows, she knew there was no way in hell she would sleep in there again without the blinds. Newly resolved, she ventured out, following his voice, prepared to pour on the guilt if she had to. Her dad was remarkably easy to break, and if he said he was too busy, it wouldn’t take much more than a tilt of the head and a “Please, Daddy.” She was lost in her head,
practicing what she might say to him when she saw it.
“Moooommmm!”
Both of her parents came bounding down the stairs, and Alice suddenly realized that she hadn’t yelled for her dad like she normally did. He was almost always her go-to parent, even if no one would ever admit it. She wondered if anyone else noticed.
“What is it?” Debra asked, out of breath.
Alice winced and pointed at the crude family drawing on the wall behind her. It looked almost the same as it had the day before, but someone had added something new on top of the family dog. It was an irregular, crudely painted black X.
“What?” her mother asked. “Why did you do that?”
“Me?” Alice yelled incredulously. “I didn’t.”
Frank stepped forward, eyeing it carefully. “The paint,” he said to himself, “where’d it come from?”
“Why are you asking me?” Alice asked.
The three of them glanced from one to the other, each person’s face so earnest with confusion that the answer seemed clear.
“Dean!” Debra called down the hallway.
“What?”
“Dean, get your ass out here,” Frank demanded.
Debra and Alice turned to each other, confused at his sudden burst of angry energy. It wasn’t that he never cursed; it was just rarely pointed at anyone other than whatever sort of project or repair he was working on.
“It’s okay, Dad,” Alice said, but her father didn’t seem to hear her.
“Hang on,” Dean said from behind the closed door of his room. It seemed to Alice that he walked as slowly as possible out into the hallway. “What is it…?”
Dean joined them in the hallway – and at the looks on their faces, he stiffened defensively. “What?”
Debra took her hand off her hip long enough to point at the painting. Dean stared at it, then raised his eyebrows.
“Who the hell did that?” he asked.
“That’s what we’re trying to find out,” Debra said.
“Cut the shit,” Frank ordered.
“Honey, calm down,” Debra said.
“No. If he’s trying to scare his sister, he needs to own up to it.”
“What, you seriously think I did this?” Dean asked.
“Are you saying you didn’t?” Frank asked.
Dean looked from his mom to his dad and back again. Alice could see him biting the inside of his lip the same way he used to do when they played cards together and he had a good hand. He glanced over at Alice, but just for a second before looking away.
“Yeah, sure…it was me.”
Debra sighed, but before she could say anything, Frank led off.
“Go to your damn room,” he said.
“Whatever,” he said, adding as he walked away, “This fucking house sucks.”
He punctuated his exit by slamming the heavy wooden door, the sound echoing throughout the house. It was a blatant attempt to get a reaction, and Alice half expected her father, in his abnormally angry state, to take the bait. Instead, he walked away without a word.
“What…was all that about?” Alice whispered when she was alone with her mother.
Debra shook her head, dumbstruck. “I really don’t know. Usually, I’m the one yelling and Dad’s the one calming me down.”
Alice laughed, a bit too hard.
“What are you laughing at?” Debra asked with a smirk.
“Nothing. Nothing at all. What’s his deal, though? He snapped at me earlier too. Yelling isn’t really his style. Sounds kind of weird coming from him, to be honest.”
Debra nodded. “It does, doesn’t it? I don’t know. He didn’t seem to sleep very much before…all the excitement.” She glanced down at Alice but didn’t say anything about last night’s episode, a fact that Alice appreciated. “You been working on your room?” Debra asked.
“Yeah. Pretty much got it, I think. Except for…well…the blinds.”
“Let’s check it out.”
Alice led her in, and Debra nodded in approval. Alice’s trophies, pictures, and favorite toys were all laid out in place. On her shelf, next to a picture of her school camping trip with her friends flanking her on both sides, was her small collection of Funko Pop figures, which included Hermione, Frankenstein’s Monster, and Max from Where the Wild Things Are.
“Nothing left but empty boxes,” Debra said. “Very nice. It’s pretty cozy in here with all the stuff put up. What do you think?”
Despite all the unpleasantness of the last twenty-four hours, Alice had to agree.
“I think it will work,” she said, trying not to look at the window.
“Look, about your dad and Dean,” Debra said, closing the door softly behind her. “I don’t know how much you’ve picked up on, but it’s pretty tense between them. Your dad is putting everything into this house. So much so that if it doesn’t work, it won’t just be a little thing. He’ll feel like a failure. And on the flip side, your brother really didn’t want to move.”
“He said that?”
“No,” Debra answered. “He never says anything. But I know. I can tell, even if your dad can’t. I still don’t know why the hell Dean did…that, with the paint. But I’ll find out. Either way, I’m pretty sure it doesn’t have anything to do with you, if that makes sense.”
“Soooo, don’t take it personal if Dean acts like a dick?”
Debra closed her eyes, no doubt remembering the dozens of times she had cursed in front of her daughter over the past few days. If there was a lecture in there, it shriveled up and died before she got it out.
“Yeah. That’s one way to say it.”
Debra turned to leave, and Alice followed her out. She wanted to look at the painting one more time, in all of its creepy glory. She couldn’t quite explain the urge, but she wanted to study it closer, to stand there in front of it, alone.
“Ugh,” Debra said as they walked past it. “I need to get some paint before next weekend. I can’t stand looking at that thing.”
Alice waited for her mother to leave, and then she leaned closer. The brush stroke and black paint of the X did seem to match the original, which was an odd coincidence. She imagined the lengths her brother must have gone to for…what exactly? To get her back because she was more into the idea of this place than he was? To try to force the family to move? None of it made much sense.
There is no sense to it, a voice whispered. Because he’s lying.
Alice gave it a few minutes before she approached Dean’s bedroom. Everyone needed time to cool down, and any attempt to move in too soon would have ended with her on the receiving end of her brother’s wrath. When she finally worked up the nerve, she tapped so softly that she was certain that he hadn’t actually heard her.
“What?” he yelled, so loudly that she was sure her parents were about to come stomping down the hall.
“It’s me,” she said as she eased open the door a crack and peeped in. She waited a moment for him to invite her in, and when he didn’t she rolled her eyes and added, “Please.”
Dean stomped across the room and flung open the door; he silently stared at her, eyebrows up, as if to say, Can I help you?
“Why?” Alice asked.
“Why what?”
She pushed him into the room and pulled the door closed behind him. Already, it had the teenage boy smell to it, the smell of sweat and feet, and not a single box was completely unpacked.
“Why did you lie?”
“Just go,” he said. “I don’t want to get in trouble for being mean to the golden girl.”
“Let’s see the paint,” Alice demanded.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“If you did it, show me the paint. I want to see it.”
“I threw it out. Jesus, what do you want from me?”
Alice sat do
wn in his recliner, better known as his gaming chair, and crossed her legs.
“Are you telling me you studied that picture, went to the store, bought paint, snuck out of your bedroom…” She reached over into a box and fished out a pair of – hopefully clean – underwear. “…and you did all of this before you even unpacked your clothes?”
Dean rolled his eyes. “Fine. No. It wasn’t me.”
A wave of fear and excitement washed over Alice in a flash.
“Why did you say it was?” she said, her voice rising.
“Because Dad’s been all over my ass about moving. I don’t know what his deal is, but have you ever seen him act like that? Mr. Sweetness was going off on me like I fucking stole a pack of cigarettes at a gas station.”
Alice barely heard him ranting. She could only sit there, shaking her head in disbelief at what her brother’s admission actually meant.
“What, are you going to give me a guilt trip too?”
“What?” She looked up. “No. I don’t care about you lying. I just want to know who did it.… I mean, if you didn’t do it, who did?”
“You mean it wasn’t you?” Dean asked.
“No!” Alice said, leaping from the chair. “I was terrified last night. You honestly think I’d do something like that?”
By then, Dean had his phone out, and he was flipping through pictures on Instagram. If he was even remotely interested in the conversation, he was doing a wonderful job of hiding it.
“I dunno,” he said. “Figured you were trying to get me into trouble or something. Seems like something you’d do.”
“What makes you say that?” she asked. “I never get you in trouble.”
“Whatever.”
Alice leaned over Dean’s phone, pretending to look at it. Before he could pull it back, she snatched it out of his hands and hid it behind her back.
“Heeeyyyy,” he said.
“You know, you really need to learn something new to say. ‘Whatever’ is getting pretty old.”
“All right, give me my phone back now.”
“Stop it,” Alice said, holding a hand out in front of her and pushing her brother back a half step. “For one second, just stop.”
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