Dream to Me, page 4
Maybe there’s another cemetery somewhere. Or maybe they were all cremated—the entire lot of them—and are kept in urns on a shelf somewhere. I shiver, picturing a display of jars filled with dead people in the rickety house with WITCH painted across the front, like a horror movie.
Stop that, I tell my brain, and keep looking. I shouldn’t stay much longer—Rhonda’s probably getting worried—but now I’m obsessed. They’ve got to be here. Somewhere. At least one or two?
A small cough off in the distance tells me I’m no longer alone.
I step out from behind an obelisk, then duck behind it again—I’m not sure why—when I recognize Cal. After a brief moment, I risk peeking around the edge. I don’t think he saw me. His head is bowed, his shoulders hunched; he’s carrying a small paper bag, the top rolled in his fist like a lunch sack. But I doubt he’s here for a picnic.
He trudges over to the newer section and stops in front of a bare space in the grass left by a flat gravestone. He stays there a moment, his lips moving silently, then tips the bag upside down, dumping its contents out over the grave. Then, without a second glance back, he leaves, crunching the emptied bag into a ball in his fist and tossing it into a trash bin on his way out.
I wait until he’s disappeared through the trees and into the neighborhood beyond before leaving my hiding place. A pair of crows swoop down to the ground and peck at Cal’s offering.
Curiosity gets the better of me. I give up looking for the Sylvans for now and weave my way through gravestones and monuments to where Cal had been. The crows caw and scatter as I approach, abandoning their feast.
Popcorn.
I bend down and pick up a kernel. Freshly popped, too, with a hint of butter according to the greasiness on my fingers and the warm, inviting scent. I let the kernel drop and examine the gravestone.
“Graham David Yeats,” I murmur. Born six months before me. And died—damn, he died when he was only twelve? Could he be Cal’s brother? I don’t know Cal’s exact age or last name, so it’s possible. Whoever he was, they must have been close. My throat feels tight. I shouldn’t have come here. It’s time for me to go.
As I emerge from the trees separating the graveyard from the neighborhood, I look around for Cal but see no sign of him. Then, after about a block, I round the corner and there he is … talking to a police officer about a block away. My chest thumps as I realize it’s the same police officer from the gift shop. His cruiser is parked along the curb a few feet away. I consider doubling back to look for a different route, but it’s too late. I’ve already been spotted.
“Excuse me,” the police officer calls out. “Can I have a word with you?”
I freeze again, like in the gift shop. Turning, Cal shoots me a curious look, then nods to the officer, shoving his hands in his pockets. He remains where he is, waiting, as the officer saunters up the street to where I’m standing. Wrinkling my brow in confusion, I catch Cal’s eye. He shrugs, then feigns interest in a crack in the sidewalk.
The officer hooks his thumbs in his belt loops. “I’m Marcus Burke, chief of police.” He must notice how tense I am, because he then adds, lightening, “You’re not in trouble. I’d just like to ask you a few questions.”
Rather than reassuring me, this makes me tense even more. If I’m not in trouble, why do I feel like I am? Though I have no idea why I would be. I haven’t done anything besides get triggered in a gift shop after being stared at by a bunch of strangers.
When I don’t respond, Chief Burke smiles and gestures at the curb. “Let’s have a seat.”
He eases himself down, sighing as he stretches his legs out, then pats the space next to him for me to come sit, too. As I hesitate, readjusting my assessment of the situation, he waits patiently, pulling his knees back in and casually resting his arms on them until I finally relax—only a little—and settle onto the curb beside him.
“There we go,” he says. “So, may I ask how you’re connected to Rhonda Sylvan?”
Why is he asking about Rhonda? Did something happen? My heart flips at the thought. “She’s my sister. Is she okay?”
“Oh! Yes, she’s fine. As far as I know.”
I let out a sigh of relief.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to give you a heart attack there.” He winces apologetically. “Evangeline, is it?”
“Eva,” I correct. “What’s going on?”
“Well,” he says. “There was a bit of an incident at the gas station last night that I think you might know about. I ran your sister’s plates—that’s where I got her name—and I’ve been cruising around looking for the two of you—well, mostly you—all morning. Could have kicked myself after I took too long to recognize you in Diane’s shop this morning. But someone said they saw you heading up this way, and, well, imagine my luck to have found the other person I wanted to talk to along the way.”
He indicates Cal, who is now occupying himself—or, I suspect, pretending to occupy himself—with his phone. Chief Burke pauses again as if waiting to see what my reaction’s going to be.
“Okay.” I take a steadying breath. The gas station. Did it get robbed or something after we left?
“According to surveillance footage, both of your vehicles were at the gas station last night. It appeared as if there was some kind of kerfuffle between you and the attendant in the mini-mart. Then you hopped back in your sister’s car and Cal over there hopped back in his truck, and you all drove off at the same time. Not long after, the attendant shut down the mart early and sped off as well. Any idea why?”
That déjà vu feeling from earlier washes over me again as the image of the mini-mart, taken over by shadow, flashes through my mind. I catch a whiff of something burning. Like fireworks. Strange. I shake my head as if to erase it, but the chief seems to interpret that as a no, which is fine by me. I have the right to remain silent, don’t I? I’m not saying anything until I know what he’s getting at. He must also have been able to tell through the security cameras that I did nothing wrong. That Rob guy obviously started it.
“So, you wanna tell me what the altercation between you and the attendant was all about?” Chief Burke asks. “Or if it might have had anything to do with why he closed up shop so early?”
Every muscle in my body has gone rigid. Altercation? I wouldn’t go so far as to call it that. He said I wasn’t in trouble, but it sounds very much like I am. “What’s going on? Did something happen to him?”
“That’s what I’m trying to figure out.” Chief Burke goes silent for a moment, looking off across the street at the houses and front yards.
“Your father…” He pauses, gathering his words. “So, uh, when I ran your New York plates and saw your sister’s last name, it prompted me to do some more looking. I just want to say I’m—”
“That guy at the gas station kicked me out because of our last name,” I blurt out before he can finish.
Rob’s gravelly voice sounds in the back of my head—You’re just like her. That’s why you need to go. But that’s not exactly what he’d said, was it? He’d simply said I needed to go, without any explanation. Just like her … That was from a different time. It was … it was from that dream. Last night. That’s where the déjà vu is coming from. There was a cloud of something … smoke? Curling up the walls, coming for me. Or was it coming for Rob? Has something happened to him?
“Because of your last name?”
“Yeah.” My words sound vague and distant to my own ears as the dream plays itself out in the back of my mind. “It was weird.”
The dream was weird. It didn’t feel like a normal dream. It was too … tangible. I blink and collect myself. “I—I don’t know why he freaked out about it, but he did, so when he told me to go, I left. Nothing else happened. Then Cal showed us how to get to my great-aunt Miriam’s house because Rob wouldn’t tell me. He didn’t have anything to do with it.” Whatever “it” is.
“Rob?” Chief Burke cocks his head. “I don’t believe I told you the station attendant’s name.”
“It was on his shirt.”
Chief Burke’s eyes twinkle approvingly. “You’d make a good detective.”
“Did he die or something? What’s going on?”
“No, no, he’s not dead,” Chief Burke assures me. “I’m just, uh, trying to piece some things together, that’s all.”
Still not an answer. Frustrated, I stand and brush off my shorts. “Can I ask you a question?”
He stands, too. “Shoot.”
“What’s wrong with my last name? Was Miriam, like … an awful person or something?”
His shoulders tense a bit as he tucks one hand in his pocket. “Oh, well, I, uhhhh, I’m probably not the best person to ask.”
“Why not?”
“I just, uh—well…”
I don’t get it. Why is he being so cagey? I glance over again at Cal, who immediately shoots his eyes down to his phone. I’m positive he’s been trying to listen, though I’m not sure how much he could have caught from where he’s standing.
Fine. “So, I’m not in trouble?”
“Not a bit.”
“Can I go, then?”
“Yup, that’s all I needed. But before you go…” Chief Burke rests a hand on my shoulder, stooping to look me straight in the eyes. It makes me feel prickly like I’m under a magnifying glass in the sun. I break eye contact, looking down and away.
“Before you go,” he says again, “I need you to know that if you or your sister need anything—anything at all—you can come to me, okay?”
Sure, because you’ve been super forthcoming so far.
“Your dad was a friend,” he continues. “We went to school together … a long time ago. And this town can be, well, just know you can come to me. Got it?”
I risk a glance up at him, then quickly look away again. My eyes are burning, and I don’t want him to see it. I nod, jaw clenched.
He gives my shoulder a reassuring squeeze before letting go. “All right, then. Thanks for your help in clearing things up.”
Cal tucks his phone in his pocket as Chief Burke strolls back to where he’s been waiting—or should I say eavesdropping—patiently. After a brief exchange of words, Cal hurries over to join me as we watch Chief Burke drive away.
CHAPTER 6
Cal and I stand several feet apart, regarding each other.
“Did you, um … did you hear any of that?” I gesture vaguely at the curb where Chief Burke and I were sitting.
“Nope,” he says.
“Cool.” I don’t believe him, but I appreciate the discretion.
“So, were you just in the … coming from the … you know…?”
“The cemetery?” I finish for him.
“I didn’t realize there was anyone else there.”
“Yeah. Sorry.”
He shakes his head. “No worries.”
Again, I don’t believe him. It’s obvious I caught him unaware in what he thought was a private moment. “All right, well, I’d better get back. I guess I’ll see you around?”
“Yeah,” he says. “I guess, probably. Yeah.”
I hesitate, then with an awkward smile, I start walking. And so does he. And it just so happens we’re both heading in the same direction. He returns my awkward smile and shrugs.
As we fall into step, his arm accidentally brushes against mine, ever so slightly. I continue to feel the tickle of it even after he corrects and widens the gap between us, just enough to not bump shoulders, but he’s still close. Normally, this would bother me. Personal bubble and all that. But somehow it doesn’t with Cal. It does feel weird walking together in silence, though. Like back in the graveyard, his demeanor is somber.
“Was he your brother?” I ask, both the silence and my curiosity getting the better of me.
His step falters. “Who?”
I cringe inwardly. Too personal. I should have let it go. “Back at that grave you were visiting. In the cemetery.”
There’s a heavy pause. Then, “No. A friend.”
“He was so young. How’d he die?” Oh my God, Eva, shut up.
“He, uh. He fell.” His voice is quiet, and I know I’ve definitely overstepped.
“Sorry.”
“It’s fine.”
It doesn’t sound fine. And I, of all people, should know better. Time to change the subject. “So, what do you think was up with that police interrogation? Was the station robbed last night or something?” It’s bothering me that Chief Burke asked me so many questions without ever fully answering mine. I should have kept my mouth shut. But then he started talking about Dad, and …
“Rob didn’t show up for work this morning,” Cal says. “They found him in a coma.”
Now my steps falter as the image of that dark cloud flashes across my mind again, lights flickering out, one by one.
“A coma?”
“Yup.”
A cloud made of shadows. And there were kids, too. Or was it just one kid?
“So, the chief wanted to question us because we were the last people to interact with him? Why didn’t he just tell me that?”
Take it outside or I’m calling the cops, I hear in Rob’s voice. I remember now. The shadow came from the kid. The kid was the shadow.
“Don’t know. Maybe because he doesn’t know you.”
“He sure acted like he did,” I snort, pushing the dream to the back of my mind. Because that’s all it was. A dream.
“If it helps, he didn’t tell me much, either. I heard about the coma thing from … Shit,” Cal mutters under his breath. Two boys are messing around on skateboards a few blocks down. One hops onto the curb, flips his board up, and catches it while the other shoves his to start it going without him, then jumps on while it’s already moving.
“Who are they?”
“Nobody,” Cal says. “Come on.”
He taps my arm and indicates that we should go left, steering me around the corner, rather than crossing the street. I struggle to keep up as he trudges up the hill, the two of us hurrying away from some perceived threat. Clearly, those guys aren’t “nobody.”
The skateboards rumble closer behind us.
“Hey!” one boy calls out. I resist the urge to look over my shoulder as Cal keeps walking.
“I said, hey! Who’s your girlfriend?”
Cal’s face reddens. He quickens his pace. Heat rises to my cheeks, too.
“That’s not his girlfriend.” I hear the other guy laugh. “Gotta be a cousin or somethin’. Hey, Cal, you gonna introduce us?”
The muscle at the back of Cal’s jaw pops. Staring hard ahead, he gives his head a slight shake, advising me not to respond.
“Naw, naw, wait, dude,” the first voice says, a little slower, a little quieter. “I think I know who that is. Remember?” And then, barely audible, “Last night, dude.”
The second voice, not catching on to his change in tone, laughs. “Dude, I was way too wasted last—Ow! What the fuck, dude?”
A stinging chill flushes the heat from my cheeks, down through my chest. My mind flashes back to the sharp, red letters painted across Miriam’s house, cuts etched into its shingled skin. It’s them—the boys who yelled about hexes as, terrified, they stumbled off into the night. These images swirl together with the strange looks people gave me as I walked down Main Street. Small town, tight-knit community—word must travel at lightning speed whenever someone new comes to town. But it feels like there’s more to it than that.
Ding-dong, the WITCH is DEAD.
We’re at the top of the hill now. Cal grabs my hand and pulls me around another corner. But the voices have stopped, and the skateboards, too.
I gently untangle my fingers from his sweaty palm and wipe them on my shorts—discreetly, my heart pounding. His jaw is still clenched as he beckons me across a driveway, past his blue pickup truck. We stop and lean against the far side of it, our shoulders touching, nerves heightened. Hidden and waiting.
“Who are they?” I whisper to him again.
“Assholes,” he whispers back, breath tickling the stray hairs on my forehead. He peers around his truck cab and relaxes, then looks from me to the house, then to me again.
“Uh.” His Adam’s apple bobs up, then plunges down. “Wanna come in? I guess? My sister’s been whining all morning for, um…” He snaps his fingers, trying to get a word off the tip of his tongue. “Baked goods, round—chocolate chip … you know.”
I blink at him. “You mean … cookies?”
“Yeah.” His cheeks flush. “My mom’s probably broken down and made some by now.”
I pause as I process this abrupt turnaround. Laughter bubbles to the surface. I can’t help it. I snort in a futile attempt to hold it in, then it bursts forth in a full roll.
The flush deepens, spreading down to his neck. He steps away. “Sometimes I have trouble getting words out.”
“No! I’m sorry,” I gasp as I work to rein in the laughter. That’s not what I meant at all. “I’m so sorry, it’s not that. But we just ran away from some skaters, and now you’re inviting me in for cookies? What are we, twelve?” I want to take it back as soon as I’ve said it, but the whole situation suddenly feels so absurd.
“You don’t—you don’t like cookies?”
“No, I like cookies,” I’m quick to add, sobering.
“Then come have some cookies.”
“You sure that’s a good idea?” A knot forms in my stomach. He’s inviting me over, is what he’s doing. I’m not sure how I feel about it. I just got here and I barely know him, and I’d need to call Rhonda somehow to check in, which I have a feeling wouldn’t go well after my disappearing act this morning. And besides, is he sure he wants to hang out with me? “Those guys back there left us alone pretty fast once they figured out who I am.”
He stares at me.
“Probably doesn’t look so good to be hanging out with the witch’s niece,” I mumble.
“No!” He recoils slightly, then swallows again. “I mean yes. I mean … I thought you seem, um, kind of cool, I guess, and we’re here … and there might be cookies. You—you don’t have to … um, you don’t—”
“Sorry,” I cut him off, cringing. Now, who’s the asshole? I berate myself while simultaneously latching onto the fact that he thinks I’m kind of cool. “Cookies sound great. But—”
Stop that, I tell my brain, and keep looking. I shouldn’t stay much longer—Rhonda’s probably getting worried—but now I’m obsessed. They’ve got to be here. Somewhere. At least one or two?
A small cough off in the distance tells me I’m no longer alone.
I step out from behind an obelisk, then duck behind it again—I’m not sure why—when I recognize Cal. After a brief moment, I risk peeking around the edge. I don’t think he saw me. His head is bowed, his shoulders hunched; he’s carrying a small paper bag, the top rolled in his fist like a lunch sack. But I doubt he’s here for a picnic.
He trudges over to the newer section and stops in front of a bare space in the grass left by a flat gravestone. He stays there a moment, his lips moving silently, then tips the bag upside down, dumping its contents out over the grave. Then, without a second glance back, he leaves, crunching the emptied bag into a ball in his fist and tossing it into a trash bin on his way out.
I wait until he’s disappeared through the trees and into the neighborhood beyond before leaving my hiding place. A pair of crows swoop down to the ground and peck at Cal’s offering.
Curiosity gets the better of me. I give up looking for the Sylvans for now and weave my way through gravestones and monuments to where Cal had been. The crows caw and scatter as I approach, abandoning their feast.
Popcorn.
I bend down and pick up a kernel. Freshly popped, too, with a hint of butter according to the greasiness on my fingers and the warm, inviting scent. I let the kernel drop and examine the gravestone.
“Graham David Yeats,” I murmur. Born six months before me. And died—damn, he died when he was only twelve? Could he be Cal’s brother? I don’t know Cal’s exact age or last name, so it’s possible. Whoever he was, they must have been close. My throat feels tight. I shouldn’t have come here. It’s time for me to go.
As I emerge from the trees separating the graveyard from the neighborhood, I look around for Cal but see no sign of him. Then, after about a block, I round the corner and there he is … talking to a police officer about a block away. My chest thumps as I realize it’s the same police officer from the gift shop. His cruiser is parked along the curb a few feet away. I consider doubling back to look for a different route, but it’s too late. I’ve already been spotted.
“Excuse me,” the police officer calls out. “Can I have a word with you?”
I freeze again, like in the gift shop. Turning, Cal shoots me a curious look, then nods to the officer, shoving his hands in his pockets. He remains where he is, waiting, as the officer saunters up the street to where I’m standing. Wrinkling my brow in confusion, I catch Cal’s eye. He shrugs, then feigns interest in a crack in the sidewalk.
The officer hooks his thumbs in his belt loops. “I’m Marcus Burke, chief of police.” He must notice how tense I am, because he then adds, lightening, “You’re not in trouble. I’d just like to ask you a few questions.”
Rather than reassuring me, this makes me tense even more. If I’m not in trouble, why do I feel like I am? Though I have no idea why I would be. I haven’t done anything besides get triggered in a gift shop after being stared at by a bunch of strangers.
When I don’t respond, Chief Burke smiles and gestures at the curb. “Let’s have a seat.”
He eases himself down, sighing as he stretches his legs out, then pats the space next to him for me to come sit, too. As I hesitate, readjusting my assessment of the situation, he waits patiently, pulling his knees back in and casually resting his arms on them until I finally relax—only a little—and settle onto the curb beside him.
“There we go,” he says. “So, may I ask how you’re connected to Rhonda Sylvan?”
Why is he asking about Rhonda? Did something happen? My heart flips at the thought. “She’s my sister. Is she okay?”
“Oh! Yes, she’s fine. As far as I know.”
I let out a sigh of relief.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to give you a heart attack there.” He winces apologetically. “Evangeline, is it?”
“Eva,” I correct. “What’s going on?”
“Well,” he says. “There was a bit of an incident at the gas station last night that I think you might know about. I ran your sister’s plates—that’s where I got her name—and I’ve been cruising around looking for the two of you—well, mostly you—all morning. Could have kicked myself after I took too long to recognize you in Diane’s shop this morning. But someone said they saw you heading up this way, and, well, imagine my luck to have found the other person I wanted to talk to along the way.”
He indicates Cal, who is now occupying himself—or, I suspect, pretending to occupy himself—with his phone. Chief Burke pauses again as if waiting to see what my reaction’s going to be.
“Okay.” I take a steadying breath. The gas station. Did it get robbed or something after we left?
“According to surveillance footage, both of your vehicles were at the gas station last night. It appeared as if there was some kind of kerfuffle between you and the attendant in the mini-mart. Then you hopped back in your sister’s car and Cal over there hopped back in his truck, and you all drove off at the same time. Not long after, the attendant shut down the mart early and sped off as well. Any idea why?”
That déjà vu feeling from earlier washes over me again as the image of the mini-mart, taken over by shadow, flashes through my mind. I catch a whiff of something burning. Like fireworks. Strange. I shake my head as if to erase it, but the chief seems to interpret that as a no, which is fine by me. I have the right to remain silent, don’t I? I’m not saying anything until I know what he’s getting at. He must also have been able to tell through the security cameras that I did nothing wrong. That Rob guy obviously started it.
“So, you wanna tell me what the altercation between you and the attendant was all about?” Chief Burke asks. “Or if it might have had anything to do with why he closed up shop so early?”
Every muscle in my body has gone rigid. Altercation? I wouldn’t go so far as to call it that. He said I wasn’t in trouble, but it sounds very much like I am. “What’s going on? Did something happen to him?”
“That’s what I’m trying to figure out.” Chief Burke goes silent for a moment, looking off across the street at the houses and front yards.
“Your father…” He pauses, gathering his words. “So, uh, when I ran your New York plates and saw your sister’s last name, it prompted me to do some more looking. I just want to say I’m—”
“That guy at the gas station kicked me out because of our last name,” I blurt out before he can finish.
Rob’s gravelly voice sounds in the back of my head—You’re just like her. That’s why you need to go. But that’s not exactly what he’d said, was it? He’d simply said I needed to go, without any explanation. Just like her … That was from a different time. It was … it was from that dream. Last night. That’s where the déjà vu is coming from. There was a cloud of something … smoke? Curling up the walls, coming for me. Or was it coming for Rob? Has something happened to him?
“Because of your last name?”
“Yeah.” My words sound vague and distant to my own ears as the dream plays itself out in the back of my mind. “It was weird.”
The dream was weird. It didn’t feel like a normal dream. It was too … tangible. I blink and collect myself. “I—I don’t know why he freaked out about it, but he did, so when he told me to go, I left. Nothing else happened. Then Cal showed us how to get to my great-aunt Miriam’s house because Rob wouldn’t tell me. He didn’t have anything to do with it.” Whatever “it” is.
“Rob?” Chief Burke cocks his head. “I don’t believe I told you the station attendant’s name.”
“It was on his shirt.”
Chief Burke’s eyes twinkle approvingly. “You’d make a good detective.”
“Did he die or something? What’s going on?”
“No, no, he’s not dead,” Chief Burke assures me. “I’m just, uh, trying to piece some things together, that’s all.”
Still not an answer. Frustrated, I stand and brush off my shorts. “Can I ask you a question?”
He stands, too. “Shoot.”
“What’s wrong with my last name? Was Miriam, like … an awful person or something?”
His shoulders tense a bit as he tucks one hand in his pocket. “Oh, well, I, uhhhh, I’m probably not the best person to ask.”
“Why not?”
“I just, uh—well…”
I don’t get it. Why is he being so cagey? I glance over again at Cal, who immediately shoots his eyes down to his phone. I’m positive he’s been trying to listen, though I’m not sure how much he could have caught from where he’s standing.
Fine. “So, I’m not in trouble?”
“Not a bit.”
“Can I go, then?”
“Yup, that’s all I needed. But before you go…” Chief Burke rests a hand on my shoulder, stooping to look me straight in the eyes. It makes me feel prickly like I’m under a magnifying glass in the sun. I break eye contact, looking down and away.
“Before you go,” he says again, “I need you to know that if you or your sister need anything—anything at all—you can come to me, okay?”
Sure, because you’ve been super forthcoming so far.
“Your dad was a friend,” he continues. “We went to school together … a long time ago. And this town can be, well, just know you can come to me. Got it?”
I risk a glance up at him, then quickly look away again. My eyes are burning, and I don’t want him to see it. I nod, jaw clenched.
He gives my shoulder a reassuring squeeze before letting go. “All right, then. Thanks for your help in clearing things up.”
Cal tucks his phone in his pocket as Chief Burke strolls back to where he’s been waiting—or should I say eavesdropping—patiently. After a brief exchange of words, Cal hurries over to join me as we watch Chief Burke drive away.
CHAPTER 6
Cal and I stand several feet apart, regarding each other.
“Did you, um … did you hear any of that?” I gesture vaguely at the curb where Chief Burke and I were sitting.
“Nope,” he says.
“Cool.” I don’t believe him, but I appreciate the discretion.
“So, were you just in the … coming from the … you know…?”
“The cemetery?” I finish for him.
“I didn’t realize there was anyone else there.”
“Yeah. Sorry.”
He shakes his head. “No worries.”
Again, I don’t believe him. It’s obvious I caught him unaware in what he thought was a private moment. “All right, well, I’d better get back. I guess I’ll see you around?”
“Yeah,” he says. “I guess, probably. Yeah.”
I hesitate, then with an awkward smile, I start walking. And so does he. And it just so happens we’re both heading in the same direction. He returns my awkward smile and shrugs.
As we fall into step, his arm accidentally brushes against mine, ever so slightly. I continue to feel the tickle of it even after he corrects and widens the gap between us, just enough to not bump shoulders, but he’s still close. Normally, this would bother me. Personal bubble and all that. But somehow it doesn’t with Cal. It does feel weird walking together in silence, though. Like back in the graveyard, his demeanor is somber.
“Was he your brother?” I ask, both the silence and my curiosity getting the better of me.
His step falters. “Who?”
I cringe inwardly. Too personal. I should have let it go. “Back at that grave you were visiting. In the cemetery.”
There’s a heavy pause. Then, “No. A friend.”
“He was so young. How’d he die?” Oh my God, Eva, shut up.
“He, uh. He fell.” His voice is quiet, and I know I’ve definitely overstepped.
“Sorry.”
“It’s fine.”
It doesn’t sound fine. And I, of all people, should know better. Time to change the subject. “So, what do you think was up with that police interrogation? Was the station robbed last night or something?” It’s bothering me that Chief Burke asked me so many questions without ever fully answering mine. I should have kept my mouth shut. But then he started talking about Dad, and …
“Rob didn’t show up for work this morning,” Cal says. “They found him in a coma.”
Now my steps falter as the image of that dark cloud flashes across my mind again, lights flickering out, one by one.
“A coma?”
“Yup.”
A cloud made of shadows. And there were kids, too. Or was it just one kid?
“So, the chief wanted to question us because we were the last people to interact with him? Why didn’t he just tell me that?”
Take it outside or I’m calling the cops, I hear in Rob’s voice. I remember now. The shadow came from the kid. The kid was the shadow.
“Don’t know. Maybe because he doesn’t know you.”
“He sure acted like he did,” I snort, pushing the dream to the back of my mind. Because that’s all it was. A dream.
“If it helps, he didn’t tell me much, either. I heard about the coma thing from … Shit,” Cal mutters under his breath. Two boys are messing around on skateboards a few blocks down. One hops onto the curb, flips his board up, and catches it while the other shoves his to start it going without him, then jumps on while it’s already moving.
“Who are they?”
“Nobody,” Cal says. “Come on.”
He taps my arm and indicates that we should go left, steering me around the corner, rather than crossing the street. I struggle to keep up as he trudges up the hill, the two of us hurrying away from some perceived threat. Clearly, those guys aren’t “nobody.”
The skateboards rumble closer behind us.
“Hey!” one boy calls out. I resist the urge to look over my shoulder as Cal keeps walking.
“I said, hey! Who’s your girlfriend?”
Cal’s face reddens. He quickens his pace. Heat rises to my cheeks, too.
“That’s not his girlfriend.” I hear the other guy laugh. “Gotta be a cousin or somethin’. Hey, Cal, you gonna introduce us?”
The muscle at the back of Cal’s jaw pops. Staring hard ahead, he gives his head a slight shake, advising me not to respond.
“Naw, naw, wait, dude,” the first voice says, a little slower, a little quieter. “I think I know who that is. Remember?” And then, barely audible, “Last night, dude.”
The second voice, not catching on to his change in tone, laughs. “Dude, I was way too wasted last—Ow! What the fuck, dude?”
A stinging chill flushes the heat from my cheeks, down through my chest. My mind flashes back to the sharp, red letters painted across Miriam’s house, cuts etched into its shingled skin. It’s them—the boys who yelled about hexes as, terrified, they stumbled off into the night. These images swirl together with the strange looks people gave me as I walked down Main Street. Small town, tight-knit community—word must travel at lightning speed whenever someone new comes to town. But it feels like there’s more to it than that.
Ding-dong, the WITCH is DEAD.
We’re at the top of the hill now. Cal grabs my hand and pulls me around another corner. But the voices have stopped, and the skateboards, too.
I gently untangle my fingers from his sweaty palm and wipe them on my shorts—discreetly, my heart pounding. His jaw is still clenched as he beckons me across a driveway, past his blue pickup truck. We stop and lean against the far side of it, our shoulders touching, nerves heightened. Hidden and waiting.
“Who are they?” I whisper to him again.
“Assholes,” he whispers back, breath tickling the stray hairs on my forehead. He peers around his truck cab and relaxes, then looks from me to the house, then to me again.
“Uh.” His Adam’s apple bobs up, then plunges down. “Wanna come in? I guess? My sister’s been whining all morning for, um…” He snaps his fingers, trying to get a word off the tip of his tongue. “Baked goods, round—chocolate chip … you know.”
I blink at him. “You mean … cookies?”
“Yeah.” His cheeks flush. “My mom’s probably broken down and made some by now.”
I pause as I process this abrupt turnaround. Laughter bubbles to the surface. I can’t help it. I snort in a futile attempt to hold it in, then it bursts forth in a full roll.
The flush deepens, spreading down to his neck. He steps away. “Sometimes I have trouble getting words out.”
“No! I’m sorry,” I gasp as I work to rein in the laughter. That’s not what I meant at all. “I’m so sorry, it’s not that. But we just ran away from some skaters, and now you’re inviting me in for cookies? What are we, twelve?” I want to take it back as soon as I’ve said it, but the whole situation suddenly feels so absurd.
“You don’t—you don’t like cookies?”
“No, I like cookies,” I’m quick to add, sobering.
“Then come have some cookies.”
“You sure that’s a good idea?” A knot forms in my stomach. He’s inviting me over, is what he’s doing. I’m not sure how I feel about it. I just got here and I barely know him, and I’d need to call Rhonda somehow to check in, which I have a feeling wouldn’t go well after my disappearing act this morning. And besides, is he sure he wants to hang out with me? “Those guys back there left us alone pretty fast once they figured out who I am.”
He stares at me.
“Probably doesn’t look so good to be hanging out with the witch’s niece,” I mumble.
“No!” He recoils slightly, then swallows again. “I mean yes. I mean … I thought you seem, um, kind of cool, I guess, and we’re here … and there might be cookies. You—you don’t have to … um, you don’t—”
“Sorry,” I cut him off, cringing. Now, who’s the asshole? I berate myself while simultaneously latching onto the fact that he thinks I’m kind of cool. “Cookies sound great. But—”
