Whispers

by Lynn Moon

  As I left, I saw the study door wide open and the curtains closed. I entered and pulled them open. I saw the iron gate from the window. Anyone standing here would easily see me coming and going. Maybe this was why my father chose this room for his study.

  As I considered his motives, a musty odor filled me with dread. Fear ran through me as I contemplated whether to turn around to see who or what was there, or just run out of the room to the safety of the hallway. No matter how I tried, my feet remained glued to the floor. Closing my eyes, I slowly turned my head toward the bookcase. Peeping through tightly squeezed eyelids, everything looked okay. I opened them and sighed. I was alone.

  I have to stop all this stupid stuff. Walking to the door, I had the eeriest feeling of being watched. But that was impossible. Aside from my sleeping mother, the only other person in this house was Katrina, and she was downstairs in the kitchen. No, I had to stop this.

  A breeze caressed my arms. I shivered as I headed to my room.

  After changing and eating a few of Katrina’s freshly baked cookies, I met Quinton in his garage. He was still pumping up his tires when I coasted in.

  “Sorry, I had flats,” he said.

  “Well, if you took better care of your things, this wouldn’t happen.”

  “I guess.” After putting away the bike pump, he bounced up and down on his seat a couple of times. “I hope it holds.”

  “If not, I’ll get my aunt to come get us.”

  As we glided down the valley road, the air on my face felt good. But I couldn’t get rid of the eerie feeling of being watched. The whole way to Charlie’s house, I kept glancing over my shoulders. These feelings were not only disturbing and upsetting, but also disgusting. Charlie waved when she saw us. Hunter rocked back and forth in an old the rocking chair. He reminded me of an old man in a very young body.

  “What took you so long?” she asked as we climbed the stairs to her porch.

  “Quinton had flats,” I said, shaking my head.

  “Well, you’re here now. My cousin sent me a game. It arrived last night. We’re going to play it.” Her excitement and enthusiasm frightened me a little. What am I getting myself into now? A plate of whipped cream in the face or a stupid card plastered to my forehead? “It’s all set up. Everyone take a seat.”

  A card table with four chairs sat in the middle of her living room. The colorful box seemed ominous and scary. No, this doesn’t look good for any of us. I picked up the box and read the title aloud.

  “Intimidation? Never heard of it.”

  “I never had either. My cousin lives in England and she said it’s so much fun.”

  “What do we have to do?” Quinton asked, taking the box from me.

  Charlie grabbed the box and frowned. “Sit down and I’ll explain.” After we all took a seat, me across from her and Quinton across from Hunter, she smiled. “That’s better. Girls against boys.”

  “What do we have to do?” Quinton repeated.

  “Just listen,” she said, opening the box. As she unfolded the playing board, she directed us to pick out a trinket. We’d have to push it down the small trail that wormed around in front of us. As she shuffled the cards, she explained how to play.

  “We’re teams. So we answer as one. If one of us doesn’t want to answer a question, our team member has to answer for us. If they refuse to answer the question, then both players go back to start.”

  “We roll dice?” I asked.

  “Yes,” she said, pulling a red die from the box. “We’ll roll to see which team goes first.”

  Red. A red die. Isn’t red the color of blood and death? My stomached tightened into knots.

  As we each took turns dropping the little red block with white numbers, I held my breath, wondering if the questions would be anything like the ones Dr. Shapirro asked me at our weekly sessions.

  “Quinton goes first,” she said. “He got a six. So roll.”

  Quinton dropped the die on the board and said, “Two.” He picked up his little widget and said, “One . . . two . . .” Then he read what was on the square where he landed. “Pick a card and answer the question.” He glanced over at Charlie and then at me. I shrugged as he picked up a card.

  “So read it,” Charlie said.

  “I am,” he replied.

  “Out loud, so we can hear, too.” I could tell she was losing her patience with us. I’ll bet she knew what some of the cards asked. She was having fun torturing us. This wasn’t looking good.

  “You didn’t say that,” he replied, whining a little.

  “How will we know what the question is if you don’t read it out loud?” she asked.

  “Have you ever kissed a dog on the mouth?” he read the card with a frown.

  “Well, have you?” Charlie asked.

  “Now that’s hard to say,” he replied.

  “How is it hard to say?” Charlie glared at him. “You either did or you didn’t.”

  “Well, does it count if a dog kisses you?” he asked.

  “I don’t think that’s the same thing,” I answered.

  “Well then, if that’s the case, the answer is no,” Quinton replied. “I’ve never kissed a dog.”

  “This is a stupid game,” Hunter said, laughing.

  “Give it a chance.” I picked up the die and dropped it. “A four.” I moved my little character four spaces. “Pick up three cards and answer the question of your choice. Hey, I like this game.” I picked up three cards and read each one to myself. The first card asked if I ever had sexual relations with the opposite sex. Nope, not gonna answer that one. The second card asked if I was afraid of the dark—I could possibly handle that one. The last card asked if anyone had ever put their tongue in my mouth. Don’t like that one either.

  Right away, I knew that this game could become embarrassing and dangerous. I read off the middle card and said, “No, I am not afraid of the dark.”

  “Then why do you keep your bathroom light on at night?” Quinton asked.

  Does that mean that he spies on me? I stared at him as if he’d just violated an unspoken and sacred trust.

  “Our bedrooms are both at the front of the house. When I climb into bed, your room is the last thing I see. I’ve just noticed that lately your bathroom light never goes out.”

  “I don’t want to trip going to the bathroom,” I said. Then I wondered if he ever saw my dad in my room. Suddenly, I felt vulnerable. Will this game slowly expose my family secrets?

  “Makes sense,” Hunter said, picking up the die and rolling a number three. Moving his little thing, he picked up a card. “Have you ever deliberately eaten an insect? If yes, was it dead or alive?” He laughed then answered the question. “I accidently swallowed a fly once.”

  We all snickered.

  “Yuck,” Charlie said. “What did it taste like?”

  “I didn’t chew it.” He shook his head. “I swallowed it. I was in the back of my uncle’s truck. I didn’t want to sit inside with him and my dad, so I jumped into the back. I yelled out something and a fly flew into my mouth.”

  We all laughed. After several trips around the board, Charlie pulled out a card and read it aloud.

  “Are you a virgin?” She turned a bright pink and shook her head. “I don’t want to answer this question,” she said, staring over at me.

  I glared at her. What do I do now? Do I lie to my friends? A strict rule in my house was never to lie. Or do I tell the truth and reveal what I can’t? My hands shook. I felt sick to my stomach. As the room spun around me, I held onto the table. My knuckles turned white from the pressure. I almost fell out of the chair.

  “Musetta?” Quinton grabbed my arm. “Are you okay?”

  “No, she isn’t,” Charlie said, jumping up. “Oh my goodness, Musetta. I’m so sorry. I honestly thought you could answer that question.”

  Not wanting to get sick all over the table, I collapsed to the floor. My neck barely supported my head, so I dropped it to rest on my arm. I took in several deep breath
s as the room continued spinning. My forehead sweat so much that the water dripped onto my hand. With each gasp of fresh air, I felt a little better. When my stomach finally settled and the room stopped moving, I tried to sit up. Wiping away the drool, I stared into my shaking hands.

  Charlie placed a wet cloth against my forehead. It felt wonderful and cool. Rubbing it all over my face and neck, I started to feel more like myself. After several more deep breaths, Charlie’s mother entered the room.

  “What in the world’s going on in here?” She glanced at the table, placing her hands on her hips. “Are you honestly making your friends answer those ridiculous questions?”

  “I didn’t know they’d make her pass out.” Charlie’s face, I was sure, looked whiter than mine. I could tell she was upset.

  “I’m fine,” I said, trying to stand up. As I wobbled a little on my rubbery legs, Charlie’s mother made me sit on the couch.

  “Maybe I should call your mother,” she said.

  “Wouldn’t do any good,” I replied. “She never talks to anyone these days.”

  “Still mourning your father,” she said. “How sad is that. Well, just rest a few minutes. I’ll get some water.”

  Charlie sat down beside me. “I’m so sorry, Musetta.”

  “I know.” I rubbed her hand as it rested on my leg.

  “I have a question.” Hunter’s big brown eyes glared down. His frown frightened me. I stared up at him. “Who did something to you?” Taking a step back, he added, “That question hit a raw nerve, didn’t it? And don’t tell me it didn’t. Who did something to you that you don’t want anyone to know about?”

  I shook my head and sighed. “I can’t say.”

  “You have to say, Musetta!” he yelled. “My mom’s a judge, so I know. You have to tell us!”

  As Charlie’s mother walked back into the room, silence hovered. “Here’s some ice water,” she said handing me a glass. “Now take small sips. Are you sure you’re okay, Musetta? Is there anyone I should call?”

  “I’ll be fine,” I said, allowing a little of the cool liquid to run down my dry throat. “Thank you.”

  After Charlie’s mother left, Hunter knelt next to me. Looking me directly in the eyes, he seemed so sincere. I wanted to tell him everything, but my fear kept it all locked up where even I couldn’t get to it.

  “I need to tell you something. I have seven little brothers and sisters. The youngest is only a few months old. Every time, my mother knew when she was pregnant because she’d pass out for no reason. Just like what you did a few minutes ago. If someone is doing something terrible to you . . .”

  I could be pregnant? The thought sent chills through my body. The ice hitting the glass echoed through the room.

  “Let me hold this for you,” Charlie said, taking the water from me.

  “Are you hearing what I’m saying?” Hunter asked.

  I nodded.

  “I’m not saying that you are,” he added, “just that it’s a possibility.”

  “But we’re only twelve years old,” Charlie said as tears ran down her face.

  “Don’t try to tell me you don’t have your private moments each month. My sister started hers at about nine or ten. So, if you’re twelve, then I’d bet you’re already there.”

  “Already where?” Quinton asked, darting his gaze between us. The blank look on his face said it all. I had to hold back a giggle. “What are you talking about?”

  “Quinton is an only child,” I said, snickering.

  As the joke hit them, Charlie and Hunter laughed, which made me laugh. Quinton stood frowning with his hands glued to his hips. The more he gawked, the more we laughed.

  Hunter shook his head. “Come outside with me,” he said to Quinton, pulling him by the arm. “I need to tell you a few things.”

  When the front door closed, Charlie stared at me. “You have to talk to me, Musetta. If what Hunter is saying is true, then we have a problem.”

  “We?” I asked.

  “Yes, we,” she said. “You’ve been my best friend since kindergarten, and no matter what happens I’ll always be right here by your side.”

  With her last statement, I couldn’t hold back my tears. Crying on her shoulder felt good, but it also seemed like a betrayal to my family. As I wiped my eyes, the boys came back. I prayed Charlie’s mother would stay in the kitchen.

  “Tell me who it is and I’ll kill them,” Quinton said, his eyes wide and a frown plastered across his face. “You’ve been in my life for as long as I can remember. To me, you’re my sister . . . my only sister. You’re a part of my family. I’ll kill ‘em.”

  Taking in a deep breath, I let it out slowly, then whispered, “Someone already beat you to it.” I blew my nose on the napkin Charlie’s mother had given me with the water. I stared at it, wishing it were the white linen lining my casket.

  “Ah, man,” Charlie said, falling back onto the couch. “I didn’t realize.”

  “Well, it was,” I said as more tears fell. “But now it’s his ghost.”

  CHAPTER 6

  AFTER OUR REVEALING CONVERSATION, I wanted to go home. Hunter asked his mother to drive me, but I preferred riding my bike. The wind in my face helped clear out the nastiness and anxiety. Following Quinton, I thought about his reaction. And that look on his face. I guess he just couldn’t come to grips that a father could do something like that to his only daughter. Even though I didn’t come right out and say it, they all knew. Before we reached his driveway, Quinton stopped peddling. Rolling up beside him, I braked.

  “I live just across the street, Musetta. If anything happens with that ghost of yours, you call me. I’ll come right over with my dad.”

  “Thanks,” I said, glancing at my house.

  The sun had just set behind the hills, so the streetlights would flicker on any minute. My parents never worried about me being out after dark. We lived miles from the big city and our little town hardly ever had crime. Don’t get me wrong. The normal family feud broke out from time to time. But heavy criminals stayed away from us. With no major highways running through our small valley, only those wanting to be here ever showed up.

  “You call if you need anything,” he said.

  “I’ll keep my cell phone on my pillow.”

  “Call me tonight before you go to sleep. And lock your bedroom door,” he added.

  Pushing off, I secretly wished I could take Quinton home with me. Just having someone else in my room would make me feel a lot safer.

  I entered through the kitchen and Katrina smiled. “Hungry?”

  “Had pizza at Charlie’s. Just want to go to bed.”

  “Well, if you’re all set, then I’m gone. Your mom’s asleep. I got a little dinner down her. Even had her in the shower. She smells a lot better. Just wish she’d stay awake longer. I don’t like all those pills she’s taking.”

  “Maybe we can get her off ‘em,” I said as she grabbed her purse and keys.

  “Maybe,” Katrina replied, opening the door. “I’ll see you in the morning. Have a good sleep.”

  I watched her car leave the driveway. My heart longed to have her here with me. But she had her own life, away from ours. Before my dad died, Katrina left as soon as dinner was on the table. Now, she’d stay until eight or nine at night. I wondered what her husband thought about all of this.

  After making sure the downstairs doors were locked, I headed to the second floor. Halfway up, a man’s laughter echoed down the stairs and straight into my soul.

  I strained to listen. Stepping up, I heard it again. With my ear next to the wall, it almost sounded as if a man were talking right in the next room. But I couldn’t make out what he was saying.

  “Hello!” I yelled.

  I listened again. Quiet. In fact, too quiet.

  Remembering what Hunter said about the walls being all wrong, things started to pile up inside me. Stepping back into the kitchen, I glanced around the room. This was my home. A place I’d lived in my whole life. But now it
seemed foreign and unknown. I walked through the house, studying the floor plan. As I counted my steps, I decided to draw it out. These rooms should be about the same size as the rooms above. But Hunter said they were not.

  My book bag was still on the bench where Katrina had set it. Pulling out paper and a pencil, I sketched out the kitchen, laundry room, and pantry. Then I added in the number of steps across, from wall-to-wall. Well, that wasn’t too difficult. And I did promise to help Hunter sketch out this house. I turned on the bathroom light in my mother’s room. Her snoring filled the air.

  As quietly as possible, I measured out her bedroom with my footsteps, and then moved up to the second floor and measured the rest. I laughed when I realized I’d left on all the lights. Not wanting to anger Katrina, I again visited each room to turn them off. On the way up the grand stairs to the third floor, I slapped my leg. The stupid stairs take up space too. I’d have to count them out as well.

  Hopping back down to the living room, my heart almost burst through my chest. A dark shadow passed the outside library doors. Someone was on our front porch.

  With the lights off, I would be harder to see. However, I still had to remain as quiet as possible. Why these kinds of things only happened after Katrina left for the day was beyond me. With my cell phone on my nightstand upstairs, I was stuck. If I moved, whoever was outside would see me. Then they could easily brake a window and I’d be helpless. Did Katrina set the alarm? She may have, but then again, she may have left it for me to do.

  Wanting to slap myself for being so careless, I remained petrified on the bottom step. The shadow passed around the corner of my house, pausing for only a moment to look into the large front window. Are they trying to see if I’m inside? When the shadow moved toward the front doors, I crouched down. My heart pounded as I scooted over to the railing. If I could blend into the stairs, I’d be harder to spot. My body shook as I watched the eerie shadow slowly inch its way along the porch.

  The urge to run and hide consumed me. It took every ounce of restraint not to move. The door handles jingled—whoever was out there was trying to open the front door. Knowing this was my only chance, I darted for the front window. Staying close to the wall, I crept under the windows on my hands and knees. After reaching the fireplace, and using the curtains as a shield, I lifted my head just far enough to peer out the window. Tears blurred my vision as I watched a man push on the front doors.