What Lies in the Darkness (Shadow Cove Book 1) (4 page)

“What’s happening to you?” I mutter. “Are you really just disappearing to escape Shadow Cove, or is there more to it?”

I wonder the same thing about my dad all the time.

Sighing, I tear my attention off the flyers and continue my walk across the parking lot to the skate park.

It’s sort of intimidating to approach an area where twenty or so guys and zero girls are hanging out, but I’m used to it. I’ve been coming to this place since I was about seven years old when Sawyer first taught me how to skateboard. I caught on quickly and was soon doing more tricks than he could. He was so proud of me and always supported me by coming to every one of my skate competitions. At least, until the few months leading up to his death.

I smash my lips together, recalling the police cars I saw earlier. What if someone else drowned in the lake? Will it be one of those girls on the flyers? Will the truth actually make it to the public this time? The only reason my brother’s death did was because my dad reported on it. There have been many other cases of people drowning in the lake that hardly anyone knows about, according to the few research notes my dad left behind. I know he had a lot more notes about the lake and the deaths that happened there—files of them, actually—but either he took those with him, or they were destroyed. Either way, I was never able to find all of them.

“Well, well, well, look what we have here.”

My lip twitches at the sound of Dixon’s voice—aka, my number one nemesis in the world. Not just because he’s constantly tormented me ever since middle school, but because he picks on anyone he deems unworthy. I’ve seen him lock people in lockers, dump food trays on people’s heads, and once, in middle school, he tripped a girl in the cafeteria, which wouldn’t have been so horrible; except, she was wearing a skirt and ended up flashing everyone. Oh, and did I mention that girl was wearing an oversized pair of underwear with kittens on them? How do I know this? Because I was the girl!

My lip curls in annoyance as Dixon skates toward me. He’s wearing designer jeans, a T-shirt, and shoes that probably cost more than my car, and on his face is a my-shit-don’t-stink smirk.

He grinds to a stop, kick-flipping his board into his hand. “Haven’t seen you around here lately,” he says with a conniving grin. “Thought maybe you finally figured out you’re a girl.”

I grind my teeth. The only reason I haven’t been at the park much is because I’ve been busy taking on odd jobs, like mowing lawns, handing out flyers, waving a sign around in front of the café—anything to bring in extra money to help pay the bills. I’ve tried to find a permanent part-time job, but most store owners seem skittish to hire me because of a rumor going around that I like to shoplift. A rumor I’m pretty sure Dixon started, but I have no proof.

I open my mouth to insult Dixon’s technique and take his ego down a notch, but a voice rises over mine.

“Dixon, leave her alone,” Rylen—Dixon’s kind of, sort of friend and my kind of, sort of other nemesis—intervenes.

He walks up to us with his board tucked under his arm. He’s rocking a grey knitted cap over his chin-length black hair, his jeans have a tiny hole in the knee, and dirt smudges dot his sneakers. He’s not poor by any means. He’s just not as flashy about his wealth as Dixon.

Rylen offers me a sympathetic smile. “Just ignore him. He’s in a bad mood because a girl handed him his ass during last week’s competition.”

Dixon shoots him a nasty look, probably because the girl Rylen is talking about is me.

Okay, so maybe Rylen isn’t really my archenemy. The guy is actually really nice, but he’s also my main competition. He’s so good Shadow Cove’s local skate shop sponsors him, which means he gets free clothes to endorse, and they pay his skate fees.

I’ve tried so hard to get a sponsor, but to no avail. The owner of the local skate shop—a twenty-something-year-old ex-skater, pot lover, hippie dude—did tell me once that, if I ever beat Rylen at one of our local competitions, he’d straight up offer me a sponsorship. The problem is that Rylen has some killer moves, and I always come in second place. If I ever want to beat him, I’m going to need to up my game. I just haven’t figured out a way to do that yet.

I hold up a hand in Rylen’s direction. “It’s cool. I’ve got this.” I give Dixon a sugary sweet smile. “So, are you pissed off at me because I kicked your ass at the last competition and every other competition, for that matter? Or are you just pissed because Kennedy shot your sorry ass down at the party last weekend?”

Anger flashes in Dixon’s eyes before a malicious smile curls at his lips. “Hey, does your dad still come watch you skate? I know mine does. I’m thinking yours is too busy bailing on your family. What’s left of it, anyway.”

Usually, I’m not much for violence, but I just about throw down right there.

“Don’t you ever talk about my father,” I growl, lunging forward to either hit him or shove him. Rylen jumps between us, though, and snakes an arm around my waist, guiding me backward.

“Just calm down,” he says. “It’s not worth it.”

I glare at Dixon from over Rylen’s shoulder, my chest heaving with every angry breath I take. “No, I definitely think it is.”

“Mak, think of the rules. If you get into a fight here, you’ll get banned.” His lips quirk into a smile. “And I can’t lose my best competition. It takes all the fun out of winning.”

I wrestle back a smile. “Fine, whatever. I won’t kick his ass
today
, only so I can kick your ass at next month’s competition.”

“Good.” He removes his arm from around my waist and steps back, a pucker forming at his brow. “Wait, what about the competition in two weeks? Aren’t you entering?”

I shake my head, trying not to sulk. “Nah, I don’t have the thousand bucks to enter.”

Normally, competitions don’t cost so much, but this one is the yearly Shadow Cove’s Skate Charity Event, one of the biggest competitions of the year. The main market is the upper-class community who can afford the thousand bucks entry fee, which is cool and everything—charity rocks. The problem is it gives people like Dixon another reason to rub his wealth in my face and every other poor kid who dreams of competing. What I wouldn’t give to just once have the thousand dollars so I could enter and kick his spoiled brat ass in front of all his family and most of Shadow Cove.

For a few days, I actually thought I might be able to after Kennedy offered to fork out the dough. Then her stepmom convinced her stepdad to cut off her cash flow for a while so she can, as her stepmom puts it, “learn how to take care of herself.” This coming from a woman who married for money, something she admitted once when she had a few too many glasses of wine. Fortunately for her, Mr. Wellingford doesn’t give a shit and is only looking for a trophy wife.

“Are you sure it costs that much to enter? I thought it was less,” Rylen says. “I mean, my mom paid my entry fee, so I’m not positive, but I can double-check.”

“I’m sure it costs that much.” I sidestep around him and head for the half-pipe. “Thanks for stopping me from getting myself banned.”

“Anytime,” he calls after me.

Dixon shoots Rylen a nasty look before sidestepping and blocking my way. “So, you’re not making it to the charity competition. That’s too bad. I’d say maybe you could ask your dad to lend you the thousand bucks, but you’d actually have to be able to talk to him to do that.”

I count underneath my breath, doing my best to ignore his jabs, and brush by him with my chin held high.

“Or maybe I could ask my dad to hire your mom,” he hollers after me. “From what I hear, she’s been selling herself on the corner to make some extra cash.”

That isn’t true at all. My mom works double shifts at the hospital and doesn’t have a single hour to spare. Plus, we’re pretty much as broke as we’ve always been.

I spin around, walking backward to smile haughtily at Dixon. “You don’t have to ask him to do that. He already hired her last week. And from what I hear, the dude’s got a serious case of erectile dysfunction. I hope that’s not hereditary. From the rumors I hear in the locker room, I think it might be.”

He glares at me, his hands curling into fists. “Lia needs to shut her stupid mouth and stop telling fucking lies.”

I tap my finger against my lips. “Who said it was Lia?”

He looks like he wants to throttle me as he opens his mouth to say who knows what. I don’t stick around to listen. I spin on my heels, drop the skateboard, and skate off toward the closest ramp.

I spend the next hour hitting the half-pipes and grinding the rails with my earbuds in and some music cranked up. The longer I skate, the deeper I get in the zone and the more the outside world fades away. I feel like the only person in the world, even with at least twenty other people around. That’s what skating does for me. It gives me a break from the crazy reality that is my life.

Eventually, I start to slow things down and focus on practicing my 540 McTwist, my favorite trick to do in competitions. By the time I’m finished, I’m exhausted, thirsty, sweaty, and completely content.

The second the wheels stop spinning, reality catches up with me as Dixon strides up, looking way too happy. And a happy Dixon is never a good thing.

“Looking good out there, Mak.” He stops in front of me, practically bouncing with happiness. “Too bad your mom doesn’t seem to think so.”

My comeback dies on my tongue. “What?”

His grin broadens as he gives a chin nod in the direction of the picnic tables where my mom is standing with her hands on her hips and her lips pursed. She has her scrubs on, her brown hair is pulled into a messy bun, and she looks super irritated.

Dixon laughs at the sight of my scared expression. “Maybe I should go ask her what she charges an hour. I mean, she’s a little on the old side, but she does have that whole naughty nurse thing going on.”

Gritting my teeth, I skate by him, purposefully slamming my shoulder into his. When he trips sideways from the impact, I get a morbidly sick sense of gratification. But the feeling dissipates the closer I get to my mom and her death glare.

I rewind through everything I’ve done today, trying to figure out what has her looking like her panties are all wadded in a bunch. The only reason I can come up with is because I’m here, skating. She’s never been a fan but didn’t verbalize her dislike very much until after my dad disappeared. It was like she was holding back for his sake then decided, since he is gone, she doesn’t give a shit anymore.

“Hey, what’re you doing here?” I ask, grinding to a stop. “I thought you were working until midnight.”

“I got off early.” Her gaze skims the ramps behind me, and then her eyes land on me. Up close, I can see the red rimming her eyes, evidence that she’s been crying. “I don’t know how you can stand this place. It’s so noisy and rowdy.”

“It’s not that bad.” I pop the skateboard up, tuck it under my arm, and offer her a joking smile, trying to lighten her mood. “It doesn’t feel as rowdy when you’re part of the rowdiness.”

She rolls her eyes. “There’s so much better stuff to do with your time. You’re a smart girl; why can’t you start focusing on school more?”

“I’m not that smart.” I glance around for my friends and spot them lounging on the hood of my car, slurping on sodas and laughing about something. “Ev’s the smart one.”

“You could be as smart as Ev if you tried harder, but you don’t try at all. That’s your problem.”

Over the last year or so, my mom has gotten more and more testy toward me. Sometimes, she gets angry for no evident reason. I have a feeling it has to do with losing her husband and son over the course of a year. Whatever the reason, I’ve learned that remaining silent is always the best choice whenever she gets like this.

“Whatever. Just stand there and don’t say anything like you always do,” she snaps. “It doesn’t really matter. I didn’t come here to argue with you about your B average.”

“Then why did you come here?” I ask cautiously.

She scowls at me. “Because you need to come home right now. I’ve been trying to call you for the last hour, but your phone keeps sending me to voicemail.”

“I think the battery’s dead,” I tell her calmly. Inside, though, my thoughts soar. She seems so upset, more than usual. Did she find something out about my dad? “Is something wrong?”

“Is
something
wrong?” She gapes at me with her arms folded. “No, Mak.
Something
isn’t wrong.
Everything
is.”

Her loud voice is starting to draw attention, and Dixon is laughing his ass off. Great. Now he’s got all the ammunition he needs to make my life a living hell.

“Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been for the last couple of hours?” she yells. “And all that worry could’ve been cleared up if you’d just answered your damn phone.”

“I-I’m sorry,” I stammer. “I didn’t mean to let the battery go dead. I just forget to charge it sometimes.”

“Well, maybe if you weren’t so distracted with this shit”—she flings her arm in the direction of the skate park—“then you’d remember to do half the stuff you forget about.”

“I’m sorry,” I repeat. I don’t know what else to say since I really don’t think this is about my phone battery dying. “I’ll make sure it stays charged from now on.”

“You better.” She points at her old, beat-up truck in the parking lot. “Now get in the car. You’re coming home with me, and then you and I are going to have a nice, long talk about something.”

I point over at my car. “But I drove my friends here.”

She scowls at my friends. “Fine. Take them home then drive your ass straight to the house. Do not make any extra stops.”

Nodding, I hurry toward my car. With each step, worry laces my thoughts. After all, the last time my mom told me we had to talk about something was the day she told me my father left us. And I can’t help wondering if maybe my dad is the reason the police were hauling ass up to the lake this afternoon.

LOCATION: MAK’S CAR

TIME: 9:33 PM

DATE: SATURDAY, MARCH 20
^TH