Souls in Peril (27 page)

“Please, JD. You know there
’
s nothing you can do. This has to run its course. I
’
ll be fine in a day or two. Always am.”

He relented
,
h
a
ng
ing
up after promising to call her when he got back home.

Max decided to walk to Em
’
s so he wouldn
’
t be all sweaty when he got there. He
’
d run home instead. JD didn
’
t
care
much for the plan, but Max was used to his negative feelings about running. He ignored
the
m, grabbed his backpack, and headed for Em
’
s, more excited than he
’
d been in weeks.

Two blocks from her house, Max heard two men arguing loudly. As he drew closer to the corner, he immediately recognized one of the voices. Nate Stackman. The voices grew louder as Max ducked behind a lilac bush, peaking through the branches at the commotion. Nate, and a man who looked to be an older, slightly heavier version of Nate, came stomping down the driveway toward Nate
’
s car parked out on the street.

“You
’
d better start pulling your weight around here, or else,” demanded the older man.

“Or else what, dad? You
’
re gonna punch my face in again?” Nate demanded.

A small,
frail
woman scurried down the driveway. “Stop this fighting,” she said in a harsh whisper.

“I didn
’
t start this one
. Y
our jerk-face husband did.”

“That
’
s it. I
’
ve had enough of your lip.” His father cocked an arm back, but Nate
’
s mom grabbed hold of it, stopping the punch. The force lifted her off the ground a couple inches.

“I will not have the neighbors watch
ing
this circus,”
Nate’s
mother said, smoothing her hair into place.

Nate spit out a cold, hard laugh. “You afraid the neighbors might find out daddy-dearest rules his family with an iron fist? Don
’
t bother.
E
veryone knows Neal St
a
ckman beats his kids.” Nate shook his head. “I
’
m out of here.”

He jumped into his car, the engine roar
ing
to life. The sound made JD sick.

“You come back here. We
’
re not done,” demanded his father. But Nate screeched off down the street. Max pressed himself deeper into the lilacs as Nate drove past. Nate
’
s parents made their way back up the driveway toward the house, arguing in hushed tones.

“That explains a lot,” Max muttered, climbing out of the bushes. He brushed at the leaves and twigs stuck in his shirt and hair, continuing on to Emma
’
s.

Excited now that he was close, Max jogged the last block, stopping at the house next to hers so he could stare at Em
’
s for a moment.

Like his house, it looked the same with its tall white pillars and red brick front. Colonial style, Em told him once. Whatever the style, it didn
’
t matter to
him
, it just looked good. How many times had he played basketball with her little brother, or eaten dinner on the patio? This was his home away from home for almost two years.

Max raced up the stairs, eager to get inside and see everyone again. Emma opened the door as he raised his hand to knock. “Hi, JD. I saw you staring at my house from my bedroom window. You looked a little lost so I was coming to tell you that you had the right house.” She pulled the door open wider and signaled for Max to come in.

“You have something in your hair.” She pulled out a few small twigs. “Come into the kitchen, I want you to meet my family. Oh, one thing, could you not mention you saw me weeding at my friend
’
s house earlier? I don
’
t want my parents to get any ideas about having me weed around here.” Max thought her request odd since he knew she always helped her dad with the weeding. He nodded anyway. “Thanks.”

He followed her into the kitchen, taking the opportunity to
glance
around at the familiar setting. It was like being home again. The smell—her mom
baked
cookies
again
—the ding in the hallway floorboard where her brother carelessly tossed his ice skates last winter, and the broken doorknob leading to the basement. He smiled at each.

“JD, this is my mom,” Em said.

“Please, call me Bev.” Em
’
s mom had pretty sea-green eyes, every bit as pretty as Em
’
s sky-blue ones. He loved her almost as much as he did his own mother. When she offered him a kind smile, Max fought the urge to hug her.

“And I think you know my dad.”

“Yes, sir.” Max held out his hand and her dad shook it firmly.

“You can call me Marty.”

Max remembered having to date Em for three months before being invited to call her dad by his first name. Max guessed he didn
’
t see JD as a threat to his daughter compared to the jock who
’
d stolen her heart.

“Do you remember anything about the accident yet, JD?” he pressed.

“No, sir. I thought the investigation was closed.”

“It is. You have nothing to worry about, JD, I promise. It
’
s just that your injuries were a bit . . . how should I say it?” Marty thought for a minute then said, “Unique, I guess is the best word. I
’
d like to know exactly how you flew out the windshield like you did. You really should have been wearing a seatbelt, young man.” He smiled, but Max knew he was serious. Marty had a passion for seatbelts. He once questioned Max about how often he wore his, which wasn
’
t very often, and he went into an hour
-
long lecture about the gruesome accidents he
’
d seen and the unnecessary deaths that occurred because someone didn
’
t buckle up. Max never forgot to wear his seatbelt again after that. He also had a few mild panic attacks for the next two weeks every time he got behind the wheel.

“And that
’
s my little brother
,
Noah,” she said, pointing out the patio door at her thirteen year old brother playing basketball with a couple of his friends. Noah. Man, he missed him
too
.

“The computer
’
s in the family room. If you want to head in there I
’
ll get us some cookies.” Em showed him the family room, returning with a plate of chocolate chip cookies before he
’
d pulled up the report. She set the plate on the desk next to him.

“You need a new
one
. Cavemen had faster computers,” he said as they waited for it to boot up. He used to love giving her dad a hard time about the outdated machine.

“I tell my dad all the time about it.” She reached over his shoulder and took a cookie. Her silky blond hair brushed his cheek. Max pinched his eyes shut to keep from thinking about it.

“Okay. What exactly do you need help with?” he asked as she pulled a chair up next to him.

“I
’
m afraid I
’
m computer illiterate. Max always laid out all my stories for me. He was a genius on the computer.” She took a deep breath. Max wondered if she was remembering some of the times he
’
d helped her. The laughs when she
’
d turn the article into a mass of confusion by a simple click of the mouse, or the tears when she accidently deleted the entire thing. And of course the stolen kisses whenever her dad wasn
’
t around.

“I
’
ll teach you what I
’
m doing so you can do it yourself.” He never taught her before because he enjoyed helping her and it was a good excuse to be near her. They did, however, plan for him to teach her the basics this summer before they headed off to college.
So much for that plan.

Max helped her understand the basics, impressed at how quickly she caught on. He wondered if maybe she
’
d been holding out on him a little so he
’
d have to keep helping her. The thought made him smile.

When they
’
d finished the first half of the paper, Bev brought them a plate of leftovers. Lasagna. Max loved her mother
’
s
l
asagna. She used Italian sausage and it always gave him heartburn, but it was so worth it.

After they ate, her little brother came in and challenged him to a game of basketball. “We can play pig, it
’
s shorter than horse.”

“I
’
d like to but I really am a terrible player, though I am pretty good at
Werewolf Island
.”  Noah and Max played the video game countless times over the past two years. Noah was better than him and he loved to beat Max.

He watched as the kid
’
s eyes lit up. “Yeah! Oh man, I haven
’
t played
Werewolf Island
in weeks. Not since Max and . . .” He froze mid-sentence and looked at Em. “Sorry, Em. I didn
’
t mean to say his name.”

“I told you, you can talk about Max. It doesn
’
t bother me.” She shook her head, frustrated.

Noah nodded. “Okay. So, do you really want to play?”

“Sure. If Em doesn
’
t mind. We haven
’
t finished laying out
her
story yet.”

“I
’
m finished. My brain
’
s saturated. Go ahead,” she said.

Max and Noah sat on the green couch, the
new
green couch. They had a brown couch in the family room the entire time Max knew them.

“You got a new couch. I like it.” Max said, stroking the soft microfiber cushions.

“Yeah, my parents . . . how did you know we got a new couch?” Em asked.

Oh, no. Think fast
,
Max
.

“Duh, sis. The thing still stinks like a new couch,” Noah said, loading up the game and handing Max a controller.

“Yeah, it still stinks like a new couch.” Max laughed while silently thanking Noah for his astute observation.

As usual, Noah creamed him at
Werewolf Island
, but it was worth it to watch Em laugh every time the witch-demons killed him.

“Don
’
t take this wrong, but you
’
re worse than Max,” Noah said, turning the game off. “I
’
ll let you redeem yourself. Em and you against me.” Noah picked up the basketball and spun it on his finger, a trick Max
’
d taught him.

“I
’
m worse at basketball then I am at
Werewolf Island
.”

“Sorry, dude, but no one is
that
bad at basketball,” he teased. “Come on, Em.”

Her brother
held
back
as they played.
No doubt Noah hoped
that somehow he and Em would
win at Pig. Kind, like his sister, Max knew Noah wouldn
’
t want to beat JD twice in one day.
Max lost track of how many shots Noah
’
d missed. Em made the final shot, winning the game for them.

“Good game,” Noah raised his hand for a high-five. Max, dripping in sweat and breathless, high-fived the
un-sweaty
Noah back.

“Hate to break up the party,” Marty said, coming out the sliding door, “but I do believe everyone has school in the morning. It
’
s ten-thirty.”

Thanks to all the lights outside on the patio, it didn
’
t seem that late. Noah headed upstairs, as Em and Max got a long, cool drink of water. “I
’
ll take you home. Grab your
stuff
.” Em dug through her purse for her keys while Max slipped his backpack onto his shoulder. “Be right back, Dad.”

As they turned on JD
’
s street
several minutes later
, Max said, “Thanks for the ride.”