Wicked Games

by S. Massery

  “What do you want to do?”

  I inhale. “My old house brought back memories last time.”

  She makes a quick turn. “Roger that.”

  I left Caleb eating breakfast with Eli. There’s no way—hopefully—he’ll pack up his stuff and go to his house. Why would he?

  Besides, I don’t think he’d mind us breaking and entering…

  All too soon, she pulls in the driveway and shuts off the car. “Now what?”

  “Now we hope the place doesn’t have an alarm.”

  Her jaw drops. “You want to go in.”

  “You didn’t have a problem with it when it was Caleb’s uncle’s house…” I get out of the car. Either she’ll come or she won’t.

  But Riley is faithful, and a second later her car door creaks open, too.

  “This way.” I lead her down the driveway, to the door in the gate. I’ve done this too many times recently for it to be shocking, but I still get flickers of a younger me running past us. It’s chilling.

  Riley’s head swings around, trying to take everything in. It’s a bit overgrown, but winter is upon us. No one cares about landscaping in November.

  I point to the guest house. “I grew up there.”

  “Literally in Caleb’s backyard,” she says.

  I nod.

  “Okay, so where do you want to go? In there?”

  “Yeah…” I scan the yard and pause on the pillar by the sliding glass doors. My feet automatically carry me in that direction, an old dream rearing its ugly head.

  I crouch and stare through the window.

  “What are you doing?” Riley whispers.

  “I had a dream that I hid here while my mom and his dad argued in the kitchen.” I shake my head, hunkering lower. I duck my head and close my eyes. “I couldn’t hear what they were saying.”

  The image comes back, but it’s still without sound. My mom throws the glass against the wall. Caleb’s dad stormed away.

  I grimace and open my eyes. Riley’s watching me strangely, but she doesn’t comment.

  “I wonder…” I go to the sliding glass door. They used to keep a key on the top of the frame, which didn’t help Caleb or me on the off chance we got locked out—we had to make a big production of dragging a chair over, teetering on it precariously—but now… now I’m taller.

  I run my fingers along the top of the frame, pausing when they trip over something cold. Metal. My chest erupts with butterflies. The key fits in the lock, audibly turning the deadbolt, and then… we’re in.

  I spare a single glance at the kitchen counter and go to the stairs.

  “Caleb lived here?” Riley whispers. “What happened?”

  I shrug. “I don’t know.”

  He moved away. In with Eli. He doesn’t talk about his parents, just his uncle. Something happened here.

  At the top of the stairs, I have a choice. Go left to Caleb’s room and bathroom, or go right, down the hall to the master and guest bedrooms. I go left.

  His room is virtually untouched, the same as mine. It’s neater, no clothes lying on the floor or in the hamper. I guess he had more time to pack than I did. Still, it’s a ten-year-old’s room. Blue walls. A train set in the corner. Toys stacked on top of his dresser.

  We used to play with this stuff.

  Riley follows me in. “It feels eerie to be here,” she admits. “Do you remember anything?”

  “Just stuff I already knew.”

  I drag my finger through the dust on top of his dresser. Every other room in the house has been swept clean, covered in white sheets.

  Why is Caleb’s room different?

  I grab the door, intending to close it, and am gripped with a sudden sense of déjà vu. Grabbing the door to hide.

  More than once.

  Past

  “Run,” Caleb muttered, hauling me by my shoulders and shoving me toward the stairs.

  His dad was on a rampage. His yelling echoed through the kitchen and dining room, to the living room where Caleb and I had been trying to learn chess. It came out of nowhere—peace one second, then an earth-shattering roar.

  I listened to him. I bolted for the stairs, flying up and to the left. I made it to the safety of his room and grabbed the door, ready to slam it closed behind us… but Caleb hadn’t followed me.

  I shuddered and crept out. His dad was still hollering about something, the sound of breaking glass and wood haunting my ears.

  If Caleb got caught…

  He appeared on the staircase, frowning at me.

  “Caleb!” his dad screamed. “What the fuck is this mess?”

  “The chessboard,” he whispered. His shoulders slumped. “I’ll be right back. Margo. Stay here.” He pushed me back into the room.

  I latched on to the door, and I couldn’t pry my fingers off of it. Not until Caleb was back. Fear wormed its way up my throat, choking me. My dad never got angry like that. Never screamed. Mom did, but Dad said it was the chef in her. She learned how to use her voice in a kitchen, surrounded by men.

  I didn’t know what that meant, but I always nodded.

  At any minute, Caleb was going to appear in front of his dad and take the blame for the chessboard and pieces spread across the floor in the living room. But before it had even begun, everything screeched to a halt. Something had distracted Caleb’s dad.

  “I’m coming to get my daughter,” Dad said, right on time. “Jesus, Ben. I could hear you from my house.”

  “Your house,” Caleb’s dad sneered. “It isn’t your house. It’s mine. And who do you think you are, coming in here like you’re welcome?”

  “I came for my daughter,” Dad answered. Even. Maybe annoyed, but definitely not showing it.

  The fear loosened its grip on my airways.

  “She’s not here,” Caleb’s dad snapped.

  “Margo!” Dad called. “It’s okay, honey. Come on out.”

  I ran out of Caleb’s room, down the stairs, and launched myself into Dad’s arms. Caleb was on the floor at his dad’s feet, scrambling to pick up the chess pieces. I tried to help, but Dad held me fast to his side.

  “Caleb was going to teach me how to play,” I whispered into his shirt.

  Dad looked from me to Caleb, then Caleb’s dad. “Well.”

  “What did she say?” Caleb’s dad snapped.

  “Caleb and Margo wanted to learn how to play chess,” Dad said. He released me and bent down. He picked up the box, sliding the board inside. One by one, he took the pieces out of Caleb’s hand and put them away, his hands steady. “I think we can do it in our living room. Margo’s mom was a chess champion back in her day. Maybe she can give us some pointers.”

  He straightened and put the box under his arm.

  Caleb’s dad stared at mine. “Well.”

  “Amberly will be over soon, I’m sure,” Dad said. “I’ll send Caleb back with her.”

  “Well,” Caleb’s dad said again. The wind had been taken out of his sails.

  Dad took my hand. I took Caleb’s.

  My first hero marched us out of the house, and we didn’t look back. It didn’t make it okay—it didn’t erase the pops and flashes of terror the sight of Caleb’s dad incited. But knowing Dad was just a minute away sure did help.

  Present

  “Riley,” I choke out, sinking to my knees.

  A tsunami wave of sadness hits me square in the chest. I didn’t realize how much I missed my dad until I recalled that fear of Caleb’s dad.

  I dig my fingernails into the wood.

  “Tell me,” she says.

  I lay out what I remembered. It wasn’t necessarily a new memory, or a previously blocked one, but it was one I had shuffled to the very back of my mind. Caleb’s dad had a temper. It matches what I dreamed about—my mom and him in an argument.

  “What does it mean?”

  A laugh bursts out of me. “I have no idea. But… let’s check my old house. I have a feeling about it.”

  She nods and holds out her ha
nds, pulling me to my feet. We slip out of the house the same way we came in, and I lock the sliding door behind us. I replace the key, then we make the short trip to the guest house.

  I kept that key, and I use it now to unlock the door.

  “Caleb invited me to the championship game,” I say.

  Riley glances at me. “Yeah?”

  “Did Eli ask you?”

  “No. He’ll probably just show up at my house and demand I go with him.”

  I snort. “Sounds familiar. You never mentioned why he hated you.”

  “I told you, it was a misunderstanding in our past.” She shrugs and gestures to the door. It’s unlocked, but I haven’t opened it yet. “Let’s do this thing.”

  “It’s weird in here,” I warn her. “Like stepping back in time.”

  “Okay.”

  I shove the door open, ready to be assailed by memories.

  But I’m not. It’s empty.

  I walk into the living room and spin in a slow circle.

  Nothing.

  “I’m guessing this isn’t what you expected,” Riley says.

  “This place hasn’t been touched in seven years! And now everything is cleared out?”

  There are still marks in the carpet where our furniture sat. The ring left behind by the cup that used to sit next to the sink. I open drawers in the kitchen, but they’re empty.

  It’s all empty.

  I run to my bedroom, shoving the door open.

  Every piece of my childhood has been removed except the dresser—maybe it was too heavy? I go to it, yanking open drawers. Caleb did this. He had to. Who else would want to get rid of this stuff?

  I find something in the bottom drawer. A note.

  Cheers to the good times and the bad. May the hits just keep on coming. – a friend

  “I’m going to be sick.” I drop the note and rush to the bathroom, falling to my knees in front of the toilet. I realize with vague detachment that the bathroom has been scrubbed clean, too. I heave, but nothing comes up. After a solid minute of my stomach rolling, I fall back and lean against the wall.

  “You okay?”

  I glance up. “Did you see the note?”

  She holds it up. “A friend. Who is that?”

  I shrug. “You’re my only friend. Was it you?”

  “Not funny.”

  “Humor is a good escape.” I pick myself up. “Did you check the other room?”

  “No, figured I’d wait.”

  I sigh and cross the hallway. My parents’ bedroom door is still closed, and I’m not sure I even want to look. The last time I saw it, it was a wreck. But Caleb didn’t give me a chance to really… explore. That, and I was on the verge of a panic attack last time.

  Now, I’m much steadier.

  “Ready?” I ask Riley.

  She takes my hand. “Yep.”

  I push open the door, immediately sucking in a breath.

  It’s untouched.

  Like a tornado went through their things, there’s clothes everywhere. Broken glass from picture frames and a shattered lamp. The dresser is broken, leaning to one side.

  A hole in the wall.

  “What happened here?”

  I pick my way through the room and squat next to the fallen frames. I carefully brush away the glass, sliding the photo out. I was maybe four years old in it, running on the beach. Mom is behind me, blurred out, but I can tell her arms are outstretched.

  —Hands reaching for me, shaking my shoulders—

  No.

  My hands tremble on the photo. White spots flash in front of my eyes.

  “Margo—”

  The darkness creeps from the corners of my vision. I manage to scoot away from the glass, grabbing the edge of the bed. “I’m gonna pass out.”

  It swoops in, and down I go.

  30

  Margo

  Past

  Dad rushed into the room, his gaze flying around until it landed on me in the corner of the room. “Oh, Margo,” he said. He was sad.

  I was sad.

  Tears streaked down my face. My fingers hurt. My chest hurt. My head ached.

  “You’re okay.” He scooped me up and sat on my bed, cradling me to his chest. “Let me see.”

  I sucked in a shaky breath, on the verge of tears again. My fingernails were torn, bloody. Every single one.

  “We’re going to clean you up and go to the park, okay?”

  I nodded, closing my eyes. He left me on the bed and returned a moment later with a warm, damp cloth. He gently cleaned off each finger, then straightened my shirt.

  “Come on, Margo. Time to be strong.”

  He took my hand, and we walked out the house. Straight down the driveway and into his car, which was the only one there. He buckled me into the seat, and then we were off.

  “Where’s Mom?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “She lost her marbles,” he muttered.

  I wasn’t supposed to hear. Or understand.

  Mom went crazy?

  We got to the park. Once we were free of the car, he took a deep breath. “Things are going to change now, Margo.”

  I shook my head. “Why?”

  “Because you told me a secret, and I didn’t keep it.”

  I had to keep the secret. Caleb begged me not to tell, but I did. I told my dad, because he was trustworthy.

  “Is Caleb going to be mad?”

  He glanced down at me, but then we were at our bench, and he looked away. Finally, he said, “He might be.”

  I sniffled. I ran my finger across the bracelet. I had told Dad we were married, but all he did was chuckle and kiss the top of my head. What was I supposed to do when Caleb was mad at me?

  Dad glanced over his shoulder, then back to me. “Listen to me, Margo.”

  I met his gaze.

  “Don’t believe what they say about you and me. Okay? You’re a Wolfe. You’re strong. Your—” He broke off and squeezed my hand. “Your grandmother would be proud of you.”

  I shook my head. I’d never met my grandma, although Dad talked about her a lot. She lived far away.

  He showed me a small bag of breadcrumbs. “How about you go feed the ducks?”

  I grabbed the bag and hopped up. The ducks swarmed to the edge of the pond, crowding me without getting too close. They weren’t that brave.

  There was a commotion, and I spun around. A police officer was taking Dad away!

  I dropped the breadcrumbs and rushed back. “Daddy!” I screamed.

  A woman caught me by the shoulders. “Shh, Margo,” she said. “It’s okay. Can we sit? We need to talk.”

  Things are about to change.

  Instant. One minute we’re gasoline, the next we’re aflame.

  And I haven’t stopped burning.

  31

  Caleb

  Liam and Theo pick me up. Well, Theo picks me up. Liam’s car is still out of commission—or he caved and gave it to his brother, he refused to tell us which one—and I’m not allowed to drive. Doctor’s orders.

  Yep. The Blacks called their concierge doctor to check out my head.

  The doctor ruled it a concussion and warned me about dangerous symptoms. For the next month, I’m not allowed to drive. I’m tempted to rebel, but Mrs. Black begged me to follow the rules. For once. She even said that.

  Please, Caleb, just follow the rules for once.

  So here I am, letting my best friends chauffeur me around.

  They’re both wearing their football jerseys, and Liam passes me a to-go cup of coffee after I climb in.

  “Ready for the game?” I ask. It’s going to be very Friday Night Lights-esque, I’m predicting. Does Emery-Rose have the skills necessary to take down Lion’s Head on their home turf, for the state championship game? Maybe.

  But they also have the ability to fall apart under Lion’s Head’s defensive pressure.

  “Ready as we’ll ever be,” Liam answers. “You and Margo coming?”

  “Along with half the sc
hool.” I chuckle. “She didn’t sound too keen, but then again, the last time we went to a game I made a spectacle of Amelie.”

  “You’re not planning on making a fool of yourself again, right?” Theo asks.

  “Depends.” I take a sip of coffee.

  “On?”

  “If you make a fool of yourself.” I smirk. “You know she’s going to be there.”

  The tips of his ears get red. It’s slight, but it’s one of his tells. That, and sometimes his jaw tics. Little movements he’s incapable of masking.

  Liam sighs. “Fucking hell, Alistair. Do not get thrown out of the game because of some stupid girl—”

  “Don’t.” Theo glowers at him.

  Once we get to school, the three of us make our way inside. Margo is already there with Riley, telling some story using too many hand motions. She’s eager. Happy.

  And then she sees me, and her face falls the slightest bit.

  Why?

  I grind my teeth. We’ve come this far, I won’t have her backing out. Running away because she’s afraid of feelings. If only she knew how deep into her skin I’m willing to engrave myself.

  I leave my friends and go to her. We have a connection. An awareness. I always know where she is, and I’d bet money that she can sense me in a room, too.

  The frown still sits on her pretty mouth. I snag her chin in my fingers and tip her head up. She inhales through her nose when I slam my lips to hers, pushing her against the lockers with the force of it.

  You’re mine, I tell her with my body. Just in case you forgot.

  She resists for half a second, then melts. Her hands slide up my arms, around my neck. Her fingers stop just shy of my hair, which is hiding the stitched-up gash from my uncle.

  Her mouth parts, allowing my tongue to slide in. I kiss her until she gives, the tiniest whimper in her throat. First to give in loses.

  She doesn’t realize I was the first to give in to her.

  I pull away, but her grip tightens on my neck. Her teeth catch my lower lip, and she tugs.

  My dick twitches in my pants. Any more of that, and I’d be hard in the middle of the fucking hallway. Her eyes go to my lip, and she smirks.