Fury (8 page)

Shaking, she loosened her hands from the steering wheel, punched the radio dial to turn it off, and unbuckled her seat belt. She didn’t think she was actually hurt, but her heart was pounding, and there was a faint trail of smoke rising from the hood of her car. She fumbled with her purse, got out her phone, and dialed Zach’s number. She was still only a few miles from his house—he would come pick her up. No answer. She tried again, and it rang and rang. After one last attempt, she called JD.

“Em?”

As soon as she heard JD’s voice, Em started crying.

“JD. I went off the road. On Rolling Hill, down by the stone wall? I don’t know what to do.” Her wailing filled the emptiness of the car, the stifling silence.

“Don’t move. I’ll come get you,” JD said. “I’ll be there in a few, okay? Just stay in the car and keep warm.”

“Okay . . . okay,” she sniveled and hung up, putting her head in her hands. Then she suddenly remembered: The figure. The girl. The one she’d seen in the dark, the vision that had made her swerve. Was there someone out there? Em opened the car door and called out into the darkness: “Hello?”

Carefully, she stepped out onto the road. Snow was starting to fall again, and unlike the flakes the other night, this snow meant business. It
would
be a white Christmas. She looked around, trying to remember just where she’d seen the woman, the figure, whatever it was. Then she saw something—
something dark, crumpled on the other side of the road.
Oh my god.
Her eyes started to water again, and she pulled her hood over her forehead, as though another layer would quiet her racing mind.

“Hello? Are you okay?” She moved closer; her breath caught in her chest. And then all the tension rushed out of her at once. It was a coat, lying there on the asphalt.

“Hello?” she called again as she walked over to pick it up. She looked around, terrified that she might stumble on the girl who owned the coat, lying prone somewhere in the snow. The girl couldn’t have just disappeared.

But as she bent down to grab the coat, a curious feeling of dread spread through her. In her hands, the coat felt heavy. Then the hot-pink lining glinted up at her. And there, pinned to the breast of the BCBG coat, was a heart-shaped rhinestone pin.

“What the . . . ?” She breathed out.

She had found Gabby’s coat after all.

Em spun in a full circle, as though she might find some explanation in the dark trees, the swirling mist, and the empty road. The coincidence was too much.

She walked back over to her car, holding the coat gingerly in front of her as though it were alive. When she got to the open door, she tossed the coat in first, over toward the passenger side, not caring that it landed on the floor. The last thing she wanted to be staring at was Gabby’s favorite coat. And then,
as she sat down to wait for JD, she felt something beneath her, stabbing her leg. She pulled back.

Resting on the black leather was a beautiful red orchid, more intricate than any flower she’d seen. Certainly nothing that was in season in Maine right now. Its petals looked like pieces of sugared icing. Its color was the deep, dark red of fresh blood.

Em plucked it from the seat between her thumb and pointer finger, twirling it in her hand. Zach must have left it for her—maybe when he went missing for those few minutes? But why didn’t she notice it when she got in the car before?

Em shook the doubts from her mind. Zach had left it for her, as part of her present. He must have. And yet, looking at this . . . thing, she couldn’t shake the sensation of being creeped out, and she was careful to zip up her bag tightly when she’d tucked the flower into its depths, as though it might reach out and swallow her.

Chase knew he had to find Ty, but he had no idea where to look. He’d never seen her or her cousins before, and they’d given no indication of where they’d come from or where they were going. Still, Ty had said she was sure they would run into each other again soon, so she had to be around somewhere. Chase wasn’t going to wait for fate to intervene again—he was taking matters into his own hands.

On Saturday, he scoured the old mall, dodging last-minute Christmas shoppers and exploring stores he’d otherwise avoid like the plague, hoping to catch a glimpse of Ty’s wild red hair or to hear her tinkling laugh. Later that night, he drove by Fitzroy’s and down Ascension’s strip of chain restaurants, scanning the parking lots for the maroon Lincoln.

He couldn’t let her slip away. He needed to see her. It
was an ache in his muscles, an itch in his skin, a desperate, drumming feeling in his blood. For the first time in years, he thought of one of the last times he’d seen his dad. It was after a two-week-long binge. He was carted home by the cops. Chase watched his father slink inside: skinny, stinking, half dead. When he woke up, the first thing he’d demanded was a drink.

“I need it,” he’d said, looking up at Chase with eyes full of desperation. Chase had backed away, revolted.

Weirdly, Chase now understood what his dad meant. What that need felt like.

After driving by the grocery store for the second time, he stopped at Dunkin’ Donuts for a coffee and to collect his thoughts. Where would a mysterious, beautiful woman spend the day before Christmas? He drove to the downtown plaza that held a nail salon, a hairdresser, a Reel Time movie theater, and Pete’s Pizza. He took a deep breath and walked into the nail salon, craning his neck to see who was sitting at each station. No luck.

A surly woman at the counter sized him up and asked, “You need a manicure, handsome?”

“No, I was just looking for someone,” Chase said, turning and walking out of the store. This was ridiculous. There was no way he was going to find Ty. But still the need was there, stronger than ever. A need he couldn’t explain. It was stronger
than any crush he’d ever had. She was unlike any other girl, and he couldn’t shake her from his mind. She haunted him.

“Hey, Singer—getting your nails done for Christmas?” Chase turned to see Andy Barton, Sean Wagner, and Nick Toll, fellow juniors on the football team, walking toward him. Chase noticed the place was called Princess Nails. Perfect.

“No, assholes. Just looking for . . . my mom,” Chase said.

“She got a job here now? Upgrade!” Andy laughed. Chase did not.

“Too bad you never upgraded from sitting on the bench, Barton,” he said, thrusting out his chest ever so slightly. The others snickered. “I gotta go. See you guys later,” Chase said, already walking toward the station wagon.

He could hear the boys still laughing as he got into his car, but just before he closed the door, he heard Sean call out, “Merry Christmas, princess!” He rolled his eyes and gave them the finger as he drove away.

Chase woke late the next day and read a note on the counter from his mom.

Merry Christmas, sweetie! Sorry I had to work today, but you know I can’t resist the overtime! Don’t touch your presents until tomorrow, like we agreed, okay? We’ll have a special Day-After-Christmas celebration. Xoxo, Mom. PS—here’s some cash for Chinese food.

Chase stared at the thirty dollars and felt guilty. For as long
as he could remember, his mom had worked shitty hours at shitty jobs. He knew it was all for him—so that he could go to school and play football and not worry about getting a part-time job. But thirty dollars was too much for Chinese food—it was like she was trying to prove something to him. It was just depressing.

The afternoon moved slowly. There was nothing on the three channels that came in on the trailer’s tiny TV, and Chase didn’t want to go out and risk being seen alone on Christmas Day. He avoided the computer.

It was hot in the trailer, so he wore just sweats. He stared at his chest in the mirror for a minute, to see if all the working out he’d been doing this fall was getting him anywhere. Then he did a hundred push-ups on the cluttered living room floor. Finally, he was so desperate for entertainment that he flopped onto his bed with
Macbeth
, which had been assigned as winter break reading.

When shall we three meet again?

Good question,
Chase thought.

In thunder, lightning, or in rain?

And then, out of nowhere, there was a knock on the door. Chase jumped a bit, surprised that anyone would be visiting on Christmas. He bet it was their neighbor Mrs. Simpson, who asked for Chase’s help every time her pilot light went out.

“Coming,” Chase called out, tossing
Macbeth
to the ground.

When he opened the door, Ty was standing on the trailer’s sagging stoop, smiling and holding a steaming Styrofoam cup. She was wearing a dress the color of the snow, which made her brilliant hair stand out like blood against the landscape.

“Merry Christmas,” she said. “Look! I come bearing gifts. Like one of the wise men.” She held out the cup.

Chase was so surprised, he couldn’t move or speak. Ty giggled. “Go ahead, take it. It’s hot chocolate.” She winked at him. “Promise I didn’t even spike it.”

“Um, hi. I mean, thanks,” Chase managed finally. Their fingers touched as he took the cup, and a small electric shock went through him.

“Can I come in?” She didn’t wait for him to answer. She breezed past him, into the tiny living room. Chase cringed, seeing it all through her eyes: the lumpy presents underneath the fake tree, the peeling linoleum floor, the tacky “family portrait” of him and his mom hanging over the secondhand couch.

But Ty didn’t seem to mind. She wasn’t looking around, judging it—she was watching him, waiting for him to say something. She seemed to be radiating light, light that made the cramped space seem bigger, cleaner, and less embarrassing.

“I, uh, wasn’t expecting anyone,” Chase said, motioning to his sweats and bare chest. He’d been sweating all morning, and now this. . . . Well, at least Ty got to see his pecs. Although, unlike other girls, she didn’t seem to notice or care.

“Oh, that’s fine,” Ty said. “I know it’s weird for me to come by on Christmas, but . . . I don’t really celebrate it. Doesn’t look like you’re celebrating too much either.” It might have sounded like an insult from someone else; but in that moment, Chase just felt Ty understood him.

“Anyway,” she breezed on, “I’ve been tracking you down ever since you helped me and my cousins with our car. I wanted to properly thank you.”

Chase must have been staring at her like a gaping idiot because she added, “I want to take you out.”

He couldn’t believe it. Ty was doing all the work for him. It was the best Christmas present he could have asked for. All he had to say was
yes
. And he did—practically falling over himself in the process. “Um, sure. I think I’m probably free,” he stuttered, looking around the trailer. “I mean, yeah, I’m totally free. So, yeah.”

Any game that he’d ever had was gone. In a strange way, he kind of liked it.

Chase darted into his bedroom and changed as quickly as he could, flustered as he struggled with his inside-out jeans, smacking a fist against the wall when he realized he had no freshly steamed shirts. He tried to brainstorm conversational topics that would interest Ty; his gaze fell on
Macbeth
, and he wished he’d read more of it.

As they left the trailer, Chase looked around for Ty’s car.

“I walked here, actually,” she said as if it was no big deal. No big deal that she’d trekked through the freezing air and six-inch snow to the trailer park on the outskirts of Ascension.

She looked at him sideways. “I hope you don’t think I’m stalking you or something.”

Chase had to stop himself from saying he wouldn’t mind it. “How did you find my house?” he asked.

“I have my ways,” she replied coyly, winking at him. His stomach was filled with warmth. “I know my way around here.”

“Oh, really? How?”

“My family used to live here . . .” She trailed off vaguely.

“In Ascension? That’s cool. What brings you back to the area?”

“I’m taking a year off before I start college,” she said, turning to him and offering a wide smile. Her lips were so perfect. “I wanted to come back and see how the place had changed. It’s kind of like . . . an extended road trip, for me and my cousins.”

“That sounds awesome.” Chase tried to play it cool. So she
was
older. “Your cousins—what are they up to tonight?”

“They’re coming with us,” Ty said with a girlish clap, like it should be obvious. “They’re at the Wash-N-Fold down by the drive-in movie theater,” Ty told him. “I was hoping we could take your car and pick them up?”

Chase was momentarily disappointed that he wouldn’t have Ty all to himself, but two more hot companions wouldn’t be too hard to deal with.

When they pulled up at the dingy laundry center a few minutes later, the other girls were sitting on a bench outside: Meg with her wavy, wheat-colored hair, tiny features, and signature scarlet ribbon tied oddly around her neck; Ali with her striking blond hair and Scarlett Johansson body. They were both in tiny dresses, as though they were having an impromptu summer picnic. Maybe they were from Alaska or something, and the Maine winter seemed warm. They slid into the station wagon, greeting Chase as if they were old friends. Chase hoped that meant Ty had been talking about him.

In the backseat, Ali shoved aside a pile of Chase’s school books and papers to make room for her giant purse. An English paper fell out of the stack, and Ali picked it up.

“Ooooh, e. e. cummings . . . he’s one of your favorites, right, Ty?”

Ty turned halfway around, so that Chase and Ali could both see her face. She seemed electrified by the mention of the poet, who, truth be told, Chase had thought was kind of lame. Why didn’t he have to use correct grammar and punctuation like everyone else? If Chase turned in an English paper with no capital letters, he’d get a failing grade.

“I love him. ‘Nobody, not even the rain, has such small
hands,’” she recited. “I would die to have a poem written about me.”

“That guy from
Bowdoin
gave you a book of his poetry, right?” Meg said in a teasing voice. Chase grimaced. Some other dude was giving Ty poetry.