Temptation: A Novel (22 page)

65. Lies

I’m walking into the main entrance of the hospital in Asheville to take Mom back home. I drove her car, figuring she wouldn’t mind. She just tried killing herself during a drunken blackout, so I don’t think she’s gonna come down on me and my lack of a license.

Before I can head down the hallway, I feel a hand clamp against my arm. I jerk around to see Pastor Marsh.

“Wait just a minute, Chris.”

Normally I might ask him what he’s doing here, but I don’t. I’m sure he knows, just like all the others who are supposed to know.

And strangely, I’m used to this now.

“Can we talk?”

I nod, and he leads me over to a sitting area.

“I spoke with your mother today.”

Again, this should surprise me but doesn’t.

I mean—hey—he
is
a pastor, right?

“She has agreed to enter a rehabilitation program that I told her about.”

That can’t be good.

“It’s a place here in Asheville. I told her that the church can pay for it, too. I know there’s the issue of not having health insurance.”

“Yeah, well—”

“It’s taken care of.”

I don’t know how or why, but I just shake my head.

“Now, Chris—listen to me.” The pastor looks around, and then moves in his seat to get closer to me so he can whisper. “Do not tell your father about what happened. Understand?”

“Yes.”

“Your mother is going to think that she needs to tell your father. Because—since she has to go away for a while—who are you going to stay with? But listen to me—I know—I can see it on your face. You don’t need your father. So convince your mother you’ve talked to him and set up all the details. Make sure that your mother doesn’t talk to him in person.”

“But how—”

“She is very ashamed of what has happened,” Marsh says. “She doesn’t want to talk to your father if she doesn’t have to. But convince her. Understand?”

I nod. He looks around again, which is strange because he’s usually not like this.

We’re not in Solitary. That’s why.

Marsh adjusts his glasses and returns his gaze toward me. “How are you doing?”

“Fine.”

“Have you been experiencing anything strange lately?”

I think of the body in the alley and the little girl in the closet at the party. I just shake my head, only to get a chuckle from Marsh.

“Chris—you really are a bad liar.”

“Shouldn’t that be a good thing, at least in your world?”

“The things you’re starting to see—don’t let them frighten you.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You know what you’re seeing. The thing is—why are you seeing them? Right?”

“Seeing what?” I ask him.

I want to know how he knows. Or if he knows what I’m seeing.

“Horrific visions. Stuff from nightmares. Nightmares blending into reality. Am I right?”

I’m too tired to even try and lie. “Yes.”

“It’s all part of the process. Just—try not to freak out.”

“Oh, okay, sure,” I say.

“In time you will understand, Chris. I grew to understand myself. But I’m not like you. Not even a bit.”

There he goes again. I want to say something like
I left my Superman cape at home
or
The Batmobile is underground,
but Marsh still freaks me out a bit. I don’t like the guy. But the fact that he knows what I want to know—that makes me bite my tongue and not say anything.

“There are big plans in the works—huge plans. The countdown is already underway. And in time, before next summer, you will know everything. But for now—convince your mother. Try your very best to make up a story. Okay?”

We’ve been home for an hour when I take Marsh’s advice.

“I called Dad and told him.”

It’s not just a little lie. It’s a doozy. But considering everything—I don’t feel bad. I’m doing it as much for Mom as for myself. I’m saving her embarrassment (is that why they call it saving face?) and I’m saving me the misery of having to deal with my father. I don’t know what is going on with him, but I do know that he’d come down to pray over Mom’s wretched soul and then go about trying to save mine.

“You told him what?”

“Everything.”

Mom moves on the couch she’s been resting on. It’s the most movement and expression I’ve seen from her since this all happened.

“Did you tell him about Mike?”

“No.”

Go ahead and tell him I tried to kill myself, but don’t dare tell him I’m into another man!

“You said you weren’t going to call him.”

“I know.”

“Chris …”

“Mom,” I say, trying to shut this conversation down so she believes it and moves on.

“What did he say?”

“That’s he’s coming immediately.”

“But how—how is he able to do that?”

Watch yourself here. She knows more than you do.

“He just said he could. Not
right
away, but as soon as possible. I called him from my cell.”

“Chris—”

“What did you expect? Would you rather have called him yourself?”

“I need to talk to him.”

“And you will. He just—he’s in shock.”

She looks eager to know how Dad is feeling about everything. I understand that expression because I’d love to know too.

“Did he say anything—about—about the last time we spoke?” Mom asks.

“What do you mean?”

“I was—I wasn’t very nice.”

“Yeah, he said something like that.”

Liar.

“I told him that if he came down here to see you it would be over my dead body.”

He wanted to see me?

“Well, it almost was,” I say.

Mom looks at me and tears up again.

“Mom—I’m not trying to make you sad again.”

“I know.”

“Dad said it would be better that you get help and worry about that,” I say. “Don’t worry about anything else. Including him.”

Liar, liar, pants on fire.

“I don’t know how long I’ll be gone.”

“You just call home and let us know.”

Us? Yeah right.

Mom sighs and drinks her water. She’s staring out the window into the sky in the distance.

I wait for her to say something, anything. I still half expect her to want me to prove I spoke with Dad.

“But you didn’t say anything about Mike?”

“No. But he wanted to know details. He really kept asking. I told him I didn’t know. But if he talks to you …”

She shakes her head and sighs again.

Ooh, that was a good one, Chris.

I don’t like lying to her, I really don’t. But I have to.

Not because Marsh told me so. No.

I’m not about to do what Marsh tells me to do.

I want a breather from Mom and from everybody else. Dad coming down would just make everything worse. If Mom gets help, then maybe things will be okay.

You know why you don’t want Dad coming down here.

I check my phone and see the text. From Lily.

IS EVERYTHING OKAY? HOW’S YOUR MOTHER?

And that’s why.

EVERYTHING IS FINE.

I think about the situation and look around the little cabin.

Suddenly, it doesn’t seem so cramped in anymore. It actually feels kinda cozy.

I send Lily another text.

ACTUALLY EVERYTHING IS PERFECT.

I look at the phone on the counter and wonder how I can make sure that Mom doesn’t get any random calls from Dad.

But she’s not about to. Their last conversation was awful.

I get another text.

WHY IS EVERYTHING PERFECT?

I think of Lily coming in and staying here in this cabin. For however long she wants. Doing whatever she’d like to do. Just locking the doors and trying to leave the rest of the world behind.

My whole body tingles with excitement.

I’LL TELL YOU SOON ENOUGH
I text back.

Soon enough.

66. When the Creepies Come Calling

That night I hear scratching coming from somewhere.

Normally I might get up or get freaked out. But then again, normally I’d be asleep.

I can’t go to sleep because I keep thinking of my current situation with Mom leaving in another week or two and being gone for who knows how long. I keep imagining inviting Lily over here and then … Well, I’m imagining stuff any teen might imagine. Or any guy who is into a girl like Lily. Or really any guy into any girl. Period.

With thoughts like this, my mind wanders and floats and goes back and forth. I think of crazy things like when Mom and Dad were young, did they feel the way I’m feeling? I guess they must have, but that seems like the Dark Ages or something because I never knew them to be anything close.

I’m thinking of what Lily might say after I tell her the news when the scratching sound starts.

It first sounds like it’s downstairs. But then I realize that it almost sounds like it’s coming from …

From under my bed?

No. That’s crazy.

But I feel Midnight shift on the bed and then hear her slowly growling. A muffled, weak little growl that wouldn’t scare an insect. It’s more cute than courageous.

“Come on, Midnight,” I say as I reach over and scoop her up.

The scraping sound seems louder. As if someone is under my mattress trying to get out. I peer over and look down but know that there’s no way to look
under
my mattress. The mattress and box springs are in a rectangular wooden frame that suddenly makes me think of a coffin.

That’s great.

Nothing big could get in. Not even an animal like a squirrel or a chipmunk.

I’m trying to not get spooked out. I’d rather keep thinking of Lily. But the scratching continues.

It keeps going until I finally feel something sharp and rough rubbing against my back, like Freddy Krueger giving me a backrub.

I jump out of bed, flailing like a crazy person and reaching for the lights. I half expect a snake or something on my bed.

But all I see is my tangled sheet and light blanket. Midnight is just sitting there giving me a look that says
Can we sleep now?

I look around the three sides of my bed, trying to see if anything is off. But nothing looks abnormal. The bed is against the wall as always, right below the windows that are slightly opened. Nothing slipped in either, because the screens are still on each window.

When my heart slows down a little, I go and check my phone for any messages. I see that it’s almost three in the morning.

Maybe I’ll buy a camera and videotape myself à la
Paranormal Activity
style. Then I’ll be able to watch myself sleepwalking and getting up to make pancakes and then standing over Midnight dangling a piece of bacon.

Get some sleep.

I shut off the light and try to fall asleep.

I think of Lily again and dream of her being here.

Not so I can live out some crazy teenaged fantasies with her. Just so I can have another person to hold close late at night when the creepies come calling.

67. Living in the Moment

One thing you can’t avoid no matter what high school you go to, whether it’s a huge suburban one or a smaller country one that happens to be haunted:

Cheerleaders.

I see a pack of them coming my way as I’m getting some books out of my locker. It reminds me that there’s a big football game coming up on Friday night. I guess the cheerleaders are trying to get some good old Harrington High spirit.

A split-second glance does it.

I’m getting my books and look up and then see an image in my mind that doesn’t compute.

I look again toward the pack of six or seven girls and I see her.

No, that can’t be.

Kelsey is walking with the girls, dressed just like they are.

I’m staring probably with my mouth wide open in shock when Kelsey’s smile beams my way.

“Hey, Chris,” she says.

I say hi, then one of them says something in a hushed tone that only girls know and the pack laughs. I don’t think it’s mean, because I don’t think Kelsey has suddenly turned into a mean girl, but who knows.

What have YOU turned into, huh?

I’m still looking their way when I see her head turn around. She sees me watching her and seems amused.

I don’t think she ever told me she was a cheerleader. Did she? I met her in art class and she was a quiet little mouse with her glasses and her braces.

Somehow, the glasses and braces have been replaced by long legs and a sparkling smile.

You’re girl crazy, Chris.

Maybe I am. I don’t know.

I just know that something’s changed with Kelsey since last year.

Maybe we’ve both changed now that we’re seniors.

Maybe that’s just what happens to people.

Today is a strange day. First Lily texted me that she wasn’t coming to school. I asked if she was sick, and she texted back a simple
YES
. That’s all. And the rest of my texts today have gone ignored.

Then I see Kelsey dressed up as a cheerleader. That’s what I keep thinking—that she’s dressed up as one, not that she
is
one. But as I’m leaving the cafeteria early, since Lily isn’t around, the cheerleader comes up to me as if to prove the point.

“Hey, Chris.”

“Hi.”

She smiles in an awkward way, and it comes as a relief. There’s the Kelsey I remember. So not everything has totally changed in a short span of time.

“Where are your pom-poms?” I joke.

She laughs. “It still feels weird wearing this.”

“Probably would feel more weird if I was wearing it.”

This gets an even better laugh.

“You didn’t tell me you were a
cheerleader,
” I say, stressing the word. “I mean—if only I’d known.”

I see her blushing and know I’m overdoing it.

“Then what?” she says in a way that seems to reflect this new Kelsey Page I’m seeing.

“Well, then, I would have had to go out for football.”

“You ran track, so you’re fast.”

“Yeah, but I play soccer. Maybe I could have been their kicker.”

Kelsey looks older. She really does. And not just because the glasses and braces are gone. It seems like summer vacation really agreed with her.

“Do you have a minute?” she asks, looking around as though she’s nervous that people are watching us.

I nod. It’s funny. I no longer notice the people watching me. It’s not like it was when I first started. People seem to have gotten used to me. Which is great.

“I was wondering—well, it’s a big favor. And I just thought maybe to, you know—to ask you.”

“Wait a minute,” I say. “You want me to be one of those guys on the bottom of the cheerleaders who throw you up in the air and then catch you?”

Her face is lit up, and I know that whatever was there at the end of last year—especially during that dance at prom—hasn’t gone away.

But you’ve gone away, haven’t you?

“You’re going to laugh, but it’s kinda like that.”

“Have you seen my arms?” I ask. “I think I’d probably drop you.”

“No—it’s nothing like that. But for homecoming—you know they have a big game and a dance the following night?”

“I didn’t. I don’t think I had moved here yet last year.”

I’m trying to think of someone being a homecoming king of Harrington High. Then I realize I knew him—the wonderful Ray Spencer.

“Well—they always do something big, and this year, during halftime, the cheerleaders—we’re going to do a special routine.”

I nod, but suddenly I have an idea where this is going.

“And it’s—it’s going to be fun. I’m still not quite sure about all of this, but Georgia wanted me to go out for it my senior year. I mean—I never thought I’d make it.”

“Come on. You’re a natural.”

“That’s not nice,” she says.

“What?”

“Well, I just—I need a partner, and I don’t know any of the football players. So I was thinking—would you want to do the routine? With me?”

This is beyond surprising. And normally—if it were anybody else—I’d be shaking my head and saying, “Yeah, right.”

But I’m standing here—today of all days on my own—and Kelsey is giving me that sad puppy dog look that Midnight has mastered. And I’m feeling bad for ignoring her ever since that last dance we had.

It’s the least you can do.

“Sure,” I say with a casual shrug. “Why not?”

But this isn’t just because of pity or mercy or me being nice.

No.

Standing there—it comes back.

Stop, Chris, come on.

It comes back in a weird, strange way.

“And look—I know—the new girl and you—this isn’t a big deal. I just wasn’t sure who else to ask, so you know …”

“It’s cool,” I say.

“Are you sure? You don’t have to. You can think about it.”

“No, it’s fine.”

“There will be practices after school. Can you make them? Just—if not, it’s okay.”

I want to say
Kelsey, please, it’s fine,
but I don’t.

I just smile and nod.

“Okay, great. I’ll let you know when the first practice is. Okay?”

“As long as I don’t have to wear a skirt, I’ll be fine.”

She laughs and then gives an awkward “See you later” before leaving.

I see a group of football guys walking past and wonder what I’m doing. Then again, I haven’t really been thinking of the choices I’ve been making lately. I’ve been sort of just living in the moment. And saying yes.

All while trying to forget.