One Hundred Candles [2] (3 page)

“What?” I demanded. “You know where she went, don’t you? Tell me.”

Annalise pushed a lock of wet hair out of her face. Even without makeup and with her long black hair hidden in a towel, my sister was still beautiful. “Mom went to see some friends,” she said finally.

“What kind of friends?” I asked, even though I was pretty sure I knew the answer. Mom didn’t maintain normal friendships. She never attended the potlucks or card games that other mothers participated in, and she claimed she didn’t have time for the kind of female bonding that seemed to form over morning coffee and weekend shopping. If she had made a new group of friends, chances were they were the psychic variety Dad disapproved of.

“They’re nice and normal, don’t worry,” Annalise said. “But they specialize in, you know, things.”

“Right.” I felt a little prick of jealousy that my sister had more knowledge about these people than I did. I knew that she’d recently gone with Mom on various “research trips,” as she’d put it. I wanted to go, too, but Dad was completely against the idea. He knew Annalise was old enough to make her own decisions and he couldn’t stop her, but he put his foot down when it came to me.

“She’s too young and impressionable!” he yelled at Mom late one night. She had told me earlier in the day that we would be going on a research trip, but when Dad found out, he wasn’t happy. I was supposed to be asleep, but they had been fighting in the kitchen for half an hour, their voices rising in small degrees with every sentence.

“She’s almost eighteen! And since when have you considered either one of your daughters to be impressionable? They’re more mature than some people twice their age!” I was pleased that Mom was sticking up for me, but I felt guilty about it, too. My parents wouldn’t be fighting to begin with if it wasn’t for me, which was a depressing thought.

In the end, when it became clear that neither one was going to budge, I solved the situation by declaring that I didn’t really want to go. Dad smiled triumphantly and wrapped an arm around my shoulder while Mom simply pursed her lips together. Later, she came up to my room and sat on my bed.

“Thank you,” she said.

I looked up from my French homework. “For what?”

“For understanding that your dad and I are going through a rough time right now.” She smoothed out my wrinkled pillowcase. “I want you to know that it is not your job to be the peacemaker. Your dad and I need to work on some things, and we will. I don’t want you to feel like you’re caught in the middle.” She smiled sadly. “Even so, I appreciate what you did.” She walked over to where I was sitting at my desk and kissed my forehead. “We’ll do better, I promise. No more yelling.”

I almost broke down and sobbed in her arms. Since the incident in Charleston, things had felt so strained between my parents. They used a stiff courtesy with one another, like they were putting tremendous effort into getting along. Shane noticed it, too, but he said I had nothing to worry about.

“They’ve been married for over twenty years,” he assured me. “And they’ve known each other even longer. Stuff like this happens in a marriage. It’ll all blow over in a few weeks, you’ll see.”

But it didn’t blow over. Something had changed between them, something that was at once so slight that most people wouldn’t have noticed and yet so monumental that it was ripping them apart. And while the yelling did stop, I would often catch fragments of their fights as they whispered hoarsely at each other, as if they were arguing with the volume turned down.

Annalise pulled the towel off her head. Then she went over to her windows and opened the curtains. Something about that simple act made me nervous. It triggered the not-so-distant memory of the growling voice.
You have pushed back the curtain too far.
I shuddered a little. Part of me needed to understand what that unearthly statement meant, but a saner, more rational part of me didn’t want to know. Whatever I’d encountered at the asylum seemed to have stayed in Ohio. I’d had no inkling of anything remotely paranormal since we’d left the building, and that had been five days ago. Maybe the Watcher was a powerless blob of extra-scary residual energy. Then again, residual energy didn’t jump inside a living guy and make him attack an innocent girl, right?

Unless I’m not so innocent.
My previous ghostly encounter in Charleston had left me with the nagging sense that I’d stepped across some invisible line. I’d set foot into another realm and shared a casual conversation with a girl who had died a hundred years earlier. It was the strangest, most intense experience I’d ever had—and one I hadn’t told anyone about.

There was no way to explain it, really. Even if Mom and Annalise believed me, they would always wonder if I wasn’t just a teeny bit mental. After all, I’d never shown any kind of psychic sensitivity in my entire life. And Dad would have flipped out.

No, I decided, it was best to keep it to myself, to dissect the incident on my own terms, in my own time. This meant that I thought about it constantly every night as I tried to fall asleep, turning my memories over and over like a stone in my head. At first, everything seemed so vivid, so real. I
knew
it had happened. But as the weeks passed and the feelings faded, I wondered: had it happened exactly as I remembered? Or had I mixed up reality with my dreams?

If I really had crossed an unseen threshold into the supernatural, shouldn’t something about me be different? I waited to see if my venture to the other side would trigger a new, profound awareness. Would I be able to communicate with spirits? Would I be accosted by creepy corpses? But two months had passed and nothing at all had seemed different about my life until the encounter with Marcus in Ohio.

“I don’t think Dad knows,” Annalise said as she rubbed at her damp hair. “About Mom’s new friends, I mean. I heard her tell him last night that she was going to do some research today.”

“So she’s lying to him?” I began chewing at a fingernail.

“She’s not
technically
lying. It’s just that her research involves talking to psychics.”

“Well, if Dad finds out, he’ll
technically
go ballistic.”

Annalise gave me a sympathetic look. “I know they’ve been fighting lately. I know it’s hard for you because you’re here and I’m at school. But it’s Mom and Dad. They’ll work it out, okay? I know they will.”

She walked down the hall to the bathroom while I stayed in her room. Everyone was telling me that things would be fine. I seemed to be the only person who didn’t feel the same way. And my sister had just clarified the reason why: I was home. Annalise was away at school and Shane always returned to his apartment, but I shared a house with my parents and was with them more than anyone else. I saw the way they were avoiding one another. I heard their tense voices. And I suspected that Dad was sleeping on the sofa downstairs, but he was always up so early that I wasn’t completely sure.

As I pushed myself out of the chair, I accidentally put too much pressure on my arm. I gasped at a sudden surge of pain and sat back down. The doctor had diagnosed me with a severe sprain and a torn ligament. I would have to wear the sling until February. At first, the sling hadn’t bothered me. In fact, I’d thought a little compassionate attention from people might be a good thing. Maybe someone would help carry my books to class, bring me my lunch and that kind of thing. But then I’d caught my parents sneaking glances at me and I’d understood that each of them believed something totally different had caused my injury. The sling provided a constant reminder that they no longer saw eye-to-eye.

I’d thought I was lucky that my arm hadn’t been broken in the attack.

Now I worried that the attack was breaking my family.

three

I wondered how long we had until the police arrived. Avery, Noah and I had been at the New Year’s Eve party for less than fifteen minutes, and I was fairly certain that we had only fifteen more before the cops arrived with their sirens blaring. The music was so loud we heard it when we parked Avery’s car at the end of the cul-de-sac, the thumping bass mixed with the squeals of excited girls and hollers of drunk, stumbling guys.

“Relax,” Avery yelled over her shoulder as she maneuvered through the crowded living room. I held on to the back of her shirt, afraid I would lose her in the crushing mass of people and hoping no one accidentally slammed into my injured arm. Behind me, Noah had one hand placed firmly on the small of my back. I was acutely aware of the warmth of his palm pressed into me. I liked it, but I knew he was only doing it so he wouldn’t lose me in the crowd.

Noah had arrived at my house earlier in the evening with his mom in tow. Trisha was there to see Shane, of course, and Noah was meeting me and Avery so we could drive to the party together. I wanted to run over and give Noah a hug, but held back. I wasn’t sure if we were the kind of friends who did that, and I didn’t want to create any awkwardness between us.

When Noah saw my arm in a sling, he smiled. “Rough Christmas?”

Dad used the opportunity to tell his side of the story once again, emphasizing Zelden’s rudeness and describing Marcus as a thug. His version was much more intense than my recollection, but Trisha and Noah presented an interested audience. When Dad got to the part where Marcus attacked me, I quietly left the room to apply my lipstick. When I returned, Dad was recounting our trip to the emergency room.

“And now Charlotte has to suffer for five more weeks until her arm heals,” he was saying.

I didn’t consider myself to be suffering too terribly, although getting dressed took longer and required cautious attention. I didn’t contradict Dad, though. He was on a roll. While he droned on about meeting with his lawyer, I went over to Noah.

“Ready for tonight?” I asked. “Avery says it’s going to be huge.”

Noah just pursed his lips and nodded in response. I guessed he was as tired of Dad’s lengthy story as I was.

“There should be consequences when a child is assaulted,” Dad proclaimed.

I winced at his referral to me as a child. “Okay, Dad. Can we drop it, please?”

All I wanted was to go to a party with my friends, not relive the attack. And Dad’s attitude that he was somehow embarking on a crusade for justice was getting to me.

“Charlotte.” Dad walked over to me and kissed the top of my head. “I understand that you’re scared, and that’s okay. Let me do the worrying for you. I know how Zelden operates.”

“I told you, it wasn’t Zelden! It wasn’t even Marcus.”

Dad shook his head. “You don’t get it, and that’s fine.” He offered a rueful smile to Shane and Trisha. “Ignorance is bliss, I suppose.”

“You’re saying that I’m ignorant?” My voice rose an octave.

Mom hurried over. “That’s not what your father is saying.” She gave Dad a disapproving glare. He shrugged and went to the kitchen. As far as he was concerned, the conversation was over, but my anger at being treated like a child was only beginning to boil.

“You okay?” Noah stood in front of me with his hands shoved into his pockets. I took a deep breath and tried to calm myself.

“My dad acts like he was the one who was hurt. He didn’t see it happen. He doesn’t know.” A car honked in the driveway. “Avery’s here,” I said, walking to the front door. “I need to get out of this house.”

Noah said good-bye to his mom while I bounded down the front steps and flung open the passenger door.

“Ready to welcome the new year?” Avery asked.

“More like ready to say good-bye to the old one.”

More than half the school appeared to have shown up for the party, which was being held at Harris Abbott’s massive, Tudor-style house that overlooked the ninth hole of a golf course. His parents were away, Avery explained, and as long as we volunteered to help clean up the following afternoon, it was ours.

Avery made her way to the kitchen, where a group of guys wearing blue football sweatshirts circled a shiny keg. She greeted each one of them by name, then stepped slightly to the side. “This is Noah, and you guys know Charlotte, of course.”

Thanks to my parents’ documentaries airing throughout the month of October, everyone in town knew who I was. Meanwhile, I was still struggling to remember the first names of all the people who sat at my lunch table.

The football players handed us oversized plastic cups filled with warm, foamy beer. Avery started talking to a few of the guys while I tried to have a conversation with Noah, but I had to practically scream in his ear and then I couldn’t make out his response. I spotted Callie across the room and waved, but she didn’t see me. I also caught a glimpse of Jared, who was looking in our direction. He nodded at me before disappearing in the crowd.

I tried to capture Avery’s attention. I thought maybe we could find another place to go, a room that wasn’t quite so tightly packed with people, but she had moved a little farther away. When I turned back around, Noah was gone, too, squeezed out by the crowd trying to maneuver closer to the keg.

The music grew louder. I tried to inch my way out of the kitchen, which felt too stuffy and reeked of sweat and beer. My shoes kept sticking to something on the floor, and I desperately wanted to escape into the cold night air, but I was wedged in between one of the football players and the oven.

“You want to get out of here?” I could barely turn my head to see the guy who was talking in my ear, but I nodded, and a second later was being nudged out of the kitchen and through a set of French doors that opened onto a wide deck. Once outside, I took a deep breath.

“You looked like you needed a little fresh air. You okay?”

“I’m good.” I finally got a chance to look at my rescuer. “Thanks for getting me out of there. I’m not a big fan of crowds.”

The guy standing across from me was wearing a blue football sweatshirt, just like the others standing around the keg. He wore his brown hair buzzed close to his scalp, giving him an almost military look, but his wry smile made him seem much more approachable.

“I know what you mean. I’m okay with lots of people as long as they’re sitting in the bleachers. I don’t know why I let the guys talk me into hosting this thing.”

“Maybe because this is the only house big enough to hold the entire school?”

He chuckled. “Maybe. By the way, I’m Harris.” He motioned toward my sling. “I’d try to shake your hand, but it looks like that might be a bad idea.”

I laughed. “It might be.”

“What happened?”

I panicked for half a second before I remembered the story Avery and I had come up with. “Skiing accident.”

Harris whistled. “That’s rough.”

I could tell that he wanted to ask me more about it, so I tried to steer him off course. “So this is your house?”

“Yeah.” He glanced behind him, where someone was flicking the lights on and off. The windows hummed along with the bass of the stereo inside. “My folks are in Atlanta for two more days, though, so I’m not worried.”

“What about your neighbors? Aren’t you afraid they might call the cops?” I hoped I didn’t sound too paranoid, but I’d never been to a party this huge, and the stereo had now reached deafening levels.

Harris waved his hand. “There’s not that many houses on this street, really,” he said. “And most everyone is away for New Year’s. That’s why I’m at home, actually. I’ve been dog-sitting for half my neighbors all week.”

He led me to a built-in bench nestled into one corner of the cedar deck and I sat down, grateful to relax. A few people were standing outside, mainly couples absorbed in conversation. Bright light poured from the French doors and I looked over, hoping to catch a glimpse of Avery or Noah.

“You’re good friends with Avery, aren’t you?” Harris asked.

“I am, yeah.” When I’d moved to town in August, Avery and I had immediately become friends.

“She seems to be doing really well lately.” Harris ran a finger around the rim of his plastic cup. “Better than she was last year, I mean.”

I knew he was referring to Adam’s death. “You played on the team with Adam, right?”

Harris nodded. “He was a great guy.”

I wasn’t sure what to say. We were quiet, which was a little awkward, but not too much. It was cold, so I squeezed my good arm against me. Harris noticed.

“Do you want my sweatshirt?” Before I could protest, he was peeling it off and wrapping it around my shoulders. It was soft and smelled faintly woodsy. His cologne, I thought. Or maybe an aftershave.

“Thanks,” I murmured. It was the first time a guy had ever done something for me that was so…chivalrous. I couldn’t help but smile.

“Ready to go back in?” He was dressed only in a thin white T-shirt, which allowed me a good look at his sculpted arms and broad chest. Obviously, all those football practices had paid off.

“Do we have to?” I wanted a few more moments of sitting outside, next to Harris, without having to scream in order to be heard.

He leaned back and stretched his legs out. “Nah. We can stay out here for a while.” He looked up at the black sky. “On one condition, though.”

“What’s that?”

“You have to stare at the stars with me.”

I smiled. “I think I can do that.”

We spent the next half hour gazing upward. Harris pointed out different constellations to me. I only knew the Big Dipper, but he knew many more.

“How do I know you’re telling me the truth?” I asked at one point. “I mean, you could be making these up.”

“I could.” He looked at me. “Guess you’ll just have to trust me.”

I tried to wrap his sweatshirt around me more tightly, but it was difficult to do with only one usable hand. “Here,” Harris said. “Let me help you.” He moved forward, putting his arm around me, and began to pull me toward him. As he wrapped the shirt around my shoulders, I breathed in the scent of his neck. He definitely wore cologne, but it was light. I immediately loved it. Harris didn’t sit back after he had secured his shirt around me. Instead, he moved a little closer. Now I didn’t need the sweatshirt—I was growing warmer by the second just sitting with him, wondering if he would try to kiss me. When I looked at him, our faces were almost touching.

“Harris!” The French doors swung open and one of the football players stepped onto the deck. “We’re out of ice!” he hollered.

Harris sighed. “I guess hosting-duty calls.” He stood up. “There’s more in the basement freezer,” he told the guy. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

He turned back to me. “Sorry about that. You ready to go inside?”

“I guess.” I wasn’t really ready to endure the onslaught of people and noise. I just wasn’t used to it. My life had consisted mainly of traveling with my family and Shane and exploring empty buildings at night. Silence was a familiar friend.

“You know, there’s another party across the street,” Harris said as we walked across the deck. “It’s not nearly as crowded.”

I was surprised. “Really?”

“Yeah. Well, the thing is, it’s kind of, um…weird?”

I paused. “What kind of weird?”

Harris opened the French doors and I was hit by a blast of warm air, intense lights and raucous music. “Actually, I think you might like it.”

While Harris searched for ice I caught up with Noah and Avery, who were back in the kitchen. The stereo was not quite as loud as it had been earlier, and the crowd was not so densely packed.

“Nice shirt,” Noah muttered when he saw me.

Avery grinned. “I saw you go outside with Harris. You’ve been gone awhile.”

I knew I was blushing. “We weren’t gone that long. He was just being nice.”

“Right,” Avery teased. “Nice.”

It felt strange to talk about it with Noah standing right there, but I wasn’t sure why. I definitely wanted to tell Avery everything, but later, when we were alone. I told her and Noah about the party across the street. “What do you think? You want to check it out?”

Avery shrugged. “I guess. But I thought everyone from school was here. I haven’t heard anyone mention another party.”

“I’m in,” Noah said, but he didn’t sound enthusiastic about it.

After Harris returned, Avery, Noah and I followed him through the living room and out the front door. As we crossed the street, which was still packed with cars, Harris gave us only a few details. “It’s Gwyn’s house,” he explained. “Her family is away, too.”

I knew the name—Gwyn was also a senior—but couldn’t quite picture her face. I wasn’t sure how I felt about entering someone’s house when they weren’t there, but Avery didn’t say anything, so neither did I. Still, I felt edgy. I had no idea what we were walking into.

From the outside, the brick colonial house was completely dark. Not even the porch light glowed. Harris knocked on the front door twice before slowly turning the handle.

“Follow me,” he whispered.

It was difficult to see inside the pitch-black entryway, but my eyes quickly adjusted and I could make out a fuzzy, flickering light at the end of the hallway. Harris walked confidently toward the light while the rest of us followed more slowly. The light became brighter and I could hear a girl’s voice. It was low and steady, like she was telling a story. Finally, Harris stepped through a rounded archway into a den.

“I thought you might need some more,” he said to the group of people sitting on the floor. I realized that the light was coming from dozens of white votive candles arranged in a circle.

A girl I knew vaguely from my history class smiled. “Thank you, Harris.” She looked at Avery, Noah and myself. “You’re right. We could use some fresh victims.”