April Fools (11 page)

"She doesn't." Hildy shook her head. "And she'd love to go with you, wouldn't you, Belinda?"

Noel looked like he was really strugghng now not to laugh. He cocked his head at Belinda and said, "After all the trouble they went to, the least you could do is say yes."

"I . . . yes . . . but you --"

"You can give me the details tomorrow." Noel said as Hildy stepped away from the door. "Now can I go?"

"Of course," Hildy grinned.

Noel turned back to Belinda, a hint of worry beneath his smile. "I hope . . . everything's okay."

"Yes." Belinda stared after him, aching to tell him, knowing she couldn't. "Thanks."

The door closed and she sank numbly back onto the couch. Frank took the pizza into the kitchen. Hildy leaned against the door with a smile and played with the tips of her braids. Making sure Frank was out of earshot, she hissed, "So thaVs Noel. God, is he cute! You are so luckyT

"I'm lucky?" Belinda squeezed her eyes shut and put one arm across her face.

Hildy stood there uncertainly, waiting for Belinda to look up. When she didn't, Hildy took a hesitant step toward the couch.

"I did it for your own good. You'd never have done it on your own."

Belinda didn't answer.

"I didn't beg, you know. He asked you all by himself."

Belinda pressed one hand to her swollen cheek. She felt too exhausted to argue. "Adam thinks someone tried to run him off the road."

*What?" Hildy's smile locked strangely on her lips.

"Everyone else thinks the car just missed the curve -- but Adam says the accident wasn't his fault. And Adam imagines things, so no one believes him."

Hildy's breath came out in a rush. "Then what are you worried about? And anyway -- you still can't be sure it's the same --"

"I'm going to bed." Belinda got up and started down the hall, leaving Hildy staring openmouthed.

"But, Belinda -- I thought we were going to talk!"

"Talk to Frank."

Hildy only looked crushed for a moment. As she heard Belinda's bedroom door close, she yelled, "You're really crazy, you know that?" And then, as her mind flashed back to Noel and the picnic, she looked smug and very pleased with herself. "Okay," she called to the bedroom door, "but someday, Belinda Swanson, you'll thank me for this!"

". . . so obvious he just missed the curve^' . . . **thinks things happen that really don't ..."

Sighing, Belinda pillowed her head on folded arms and stared out her window into the night. She couldn't remember ever feeling so utterly alone ... so deeply afraid. She didn't know what to do. She didn't know what was happening. She just lay there, eyes fixed on her window, on the shadows framed and hung against the sky.

She thought of Adam. Adam choking on hate and anger -- hiding in his dark room in a dark, cruel world where nobody cared. Belinda felt sick and hopeless inside. Is this how Adam feels? Like nothing will ever get any better? Like no one will ever --

Her breath caught in her throat.

Across from the foot of her bed, the open window suddenly darkened and filled.

In some remote part of her terrified brain, she tried to beheve that a cloud had simply swept over the moon, swathing the room in darkness.

But deep inside ... in the deepest part of her . . . Belinda knew better.

She knew that the hulking shape in the window was real.

As real as the soft, slow scraping of human hands across the screen . . .

In slow motion BeUnda sat up, her eyes glued in horrible fascination on the person framed there in her window.

She couldn't see his face.

But she felt his eyes.

And she heard his voice.

Low and harsh and full of the worst dangers -- "Murderer," he hissed. "Murderer." And then the soft flow of moonlight spread over the bed once more . . .

And the window was empty.

"You were dreaming," Hildy said again.

"No." Belinda looked terrible, deep circles around her sleepless eyes ... a listlessness that made her seem frail. "I wasn't."

"We both looked last night, didn't we? No footprints. Nothing." Hildy pulled her close in a quick hug. "Hey, come on, don't go back there to see Adam. You're killing yourself."

"I have to go back -- I have to know the truth -- " Belinda shook her head, not trusting herself to speak, and let her gaze wander up the street.

"You're getting a ride, I hope," Hildy admonished. "You're not going on the bus, right?"

"Cobbs is supposed to pick me up any minute -- but, Hildy --"

'What now?"

**What time did Frank leave last night?"

"Oh, I don't know, about -- " Hildy broke off, her look suspicious. "Okay, Belinda, I see your mind working -- you think Frank was prowling around

the house, peeping in windows, just 'cause he left before I did --"

"I didn't say that."

"But you were thinking it." Hildy looked annoyed. "Aren't you getting kinda tired of blaming Frank for everything?"

"Me? What about you? You're the one who's always saying it's Frank playing all these stupid jokes --"

*Well, maybe it was your friend Cobbs --"

"Cobbs wouldn't go around spying in windows --"

"Right. Just hiding in bushes. I don't suppose it's ever occurred to you that maybe you could have imagined --"

"There's my ride." Relieved, BeUnda saw Noel's red car pull to the curb, Sasha hanging out the window, all wags and kisses.

"And don't forget the picnic!" Hildy called. "If you don't have a nervous breakdown before then!"

As BeUnda climbed into the front, Noel gave her a concerned smile.

"Hi there -- you recovered?"

"Sure. Down below all these cuts and bruises, I actually have a face." She tried to laugh.

"And that face is actually perfect." Noel's eyes twinkled. "And what was that deliberate reminder about the picnic I just heard?"

"Look . . . Noel ..." Belinda shifted to face him. "Hildy loves to interfere, and I'm really sorry --"

"Sorry for what? If it hadn't been for her, I'd have never known about the picnic, and I'd still be

working up my nerve to ask you out."

Belinda lowered her head, smiling. "Thank you. I really do appreciate it, but --"

"But nothing -- we have a date. And I hope you won't break it, because I'll probably be inconsolable if you do. So please don't hurt my feelings."

In spite of herself, Belinda laughed. "Okay. I won't hurt your feelings."

"Hear that, Sasha?" Noel spoke into the rearview mirror, and the dog gave a loud bark. "That's why Sasha's my best girl," Noel confided, "because she never rejects me."

"I understand." Belinda laughed again, and this time it felt surprisingly good.

Noel dropped her off at the house, explaining he had errands to run, but promised to be back to take her home again. Cobbs looked up from his dusting as she lingered in the entryway.

"Ready for battle, miss?"

"Not really." Her eyes went slowly around the living room, over the glass boxes. The cloths were off today, and she could see coiled bodies everywhere . . . exploring their see-through walls . . . probing the glass with their quick tongues ... as if they sensed a new presence in the room.

"Cobbs?"

"Yes, miss."

"The weirdest thing happened last night -- I thought I saw you."

For just a spht second, his rigid back seemed to go straighter. As BeHnda stared, the dust rag went round and round in neat concentric circles, but the

white head remained bowed, concentrated on his work.

"I, miss?"

"Yes, in front of my house. I know it couldn't have been you, but it was so strange -- it really looked like you."

"Forgive me, miss, but it couldn't have been I. ..." Cobbs's eyes shifted upward in a sidelong glance. "Now, could it?"

"No ... no, I guess not." Belinda glanced again at the snakes in their boxes and gave a shudder. "Why aren't they covered today?"

"They're due for an airing out."

^^Ugh. How can you even stand to be around them?"

Cobbs raised an eyebrow. "Why do you think I carry a cleaver?"

It made BeUnda smile, and she felt a little more reassured as she let herself into Adam's room. He was standing in his usual spot in the comer, and Belinda went resolutely to the window and raised the shade. Two can play this game, Adam. . . .

"We don't need it dark in here anymore," she said.

Adam glowered but made no move to stop her as she turned on the lamp and looked at him. His body was tall and lean in jeans and a sweatshirt. His soft, thick hair curled slightly over his collar, and his eyes were watchful... as watchful as those that had stared back at her from their cages downstairs.

"Why do you keep coming back here, Belinda

Swanson?" Adam asked coolly. "I must be so fascinating to you."

Deliberately, Belinda turned her back on him, trying not to tremble as she took off her jacket and started sorting through a stack of books.

"Curiosity killed the cat, you know," Adam sounded amused. "How's your face?"

Belinda glanced at him sharply, but he was gazing out the window. "It's fine," she said, choosing a book and turning the pages. "How're your legs today?"

"You can quit playing soulmate. We're nothing alike."

*Well," Belinda replied, "thank God for that."

The glance Adam threw her was almost surprised. She sat down and thrust the book out at him.

"Here. You might as well show me where you left off, so I can get to work. We've wasted enough time already."

If her manner really did surprise him, he was careful not to show it. Belinda sat in silence, watching him flip slowly through the text, watching his slender fingers brush lightly . . . methodically . . . over the pages.

"So Noel's taking you to your picnic," Adam mumbled.

Behnda paused, forcing her voice calm. "Did Noel tell you that?"

"Noel doesn't have to tell me. I just know." The fingers stopped. The room was quiet. "Noel doesn't tell me anything. Noel and I don't talk at all."

Belinda didn't know what to say. She shifted nervously and hoped Adam wouldn't notice.

"I had a girlfriend once," Adam said slowly. He turned one page . . . hesitated . . . turned another. "She cheated on me. Behind my back."

Belinda gripped the edge of her seat, and kept her face impassive.

"She had ... an accident. Freaky thing, really." He shrugged. "Oh, well. . . nobody goes out with her now."

"So is that supposed to scare me?" BeUnda gazed back at him, deliberately meeting those black, black eyes. "Your book," she said tightly. "How far have you gotten?"

"Aren't you sorry about my girlfriend, Belinda?" Adam gave her a slow smile.

"Yes."

"You didn't say so."

"I'm sorry about your girlfriend."

"And my face . . . all these scars --"

"I'm sorry about your face."

"Strange . . . you don't seem sorry."

She grabbed for the book in his hand but he snatched it back, and as she fell against him, his arm locked around her neck.

"Funny thing about accidents." Adam's lips moved against her ear. "You never know when they might happen."

Belinda jerked free, her heart racing. "If you have something to say to me, just say it, Adam." She whirled away from him, slammed her books together, and whipped her jacket from the desk.

**What's that?" Adam's voice stopped her. She spun back around, bewildered. He was pointing at something on the floor by her feet, and she followed his look, choking down a cry.

It was the bloodstained handkerchief.

Somehow it had fallen out of her pocket and landed, splayed out on the floor, its torn A showing on top.

Belinda gazed down at it, feeling deathly ill.

"It's mine." Quickly she snatched it up and jammed it back in her pocket, her hands shaking so violently she knew he couldn't miss it.

Adam was staring at her.

"It's mine," she said again. "I keep it. . . 'cause I get nosebleeds."

With deliberate slowness his eyes raised to her face, and she fought to keep it expressionless.

"I'm not coming here again," she was backing toward the door, dropping her purse, fumbling to pick it up. "If your stepmother wants a tutor, she'll have to get somebody else."

**Where'd you get it?" Adam asked calmly.

^What? This? I told you, it's mine!" Behind her, Belinda found the doorknob. The door was stuck, and she yanked on it. "I found it, and it belongs to me." Ohy God, no, I really didn't say that, did I?

She slammed his door and hurried down the stairs. She could hear his cane ... his foot dragging across the floor --

"Cobbs! Cobbs, are you here?" She came breathlessly into the kitchen as Cobbs glanced up from the sink. His sleeves were rolled neatly past his

elbows, and he was soaping off dirt and grease from his hands. Belinda made a split second effort to compose herself. "Cobbs -- please can you take me home now?"

"Normally I'd jump at the chance," Cobbs frowned. "Unfortunately, the car seems to be temporarily indisposed."

"But I can't wait. Isn't Noel back yet?"

Cobbs's look swept the empty kitchen. "Yes. He's invisible."

Belinda tried to hold her impatience in check. "I'll just call a cab, if that's okay. You wouldn't happen to know the number, would you?"

"In the exhilaration of the moment, it escapes

me."

Belinda went over to the phone and lifted the receiver, then jumped as she heard a voice on the other end.

"I'm sorry, but there's no change."

The voice sounded brusque, businesslike, someone Belinda didn't recognize. Embarrassed, she started to replace the receiver when Adam's deep voice spoke out on the Hne.

"No change at all? Nothing?"

"No, sir --"

"And he hasn't regained consciousness -- he hasn't said anything --^"

"No sir, not a word, we're just --"

*Well, can't you do something?"

*We're doing all we can, we --^"

"To hurry it along, I mean. To put him out of his misery -- how long does he have to linger like that?

How long do the rest of us have to suffer through this --"