Haunted Things (8 page)

Somehow the question blindsides me, and an instant heavy pressure hits on my chest. "We…we were in a car accident and she passed away last year." My skin feels prickly from discomfort.

"Oh," he mutters, tossing his drink into a nearby trash can. "I guess you never mentioned it."

We cross the parking lot. There's a dumpster at the end of the lot, near Oliver's car. The last few cars drive away and the lights of the theater shut down. A group of loud, laughing kids a few years younger than us run past us. Their laughter echos as they disappear into the night, giving me goosebumps. I think about all that blood in the movie.

A bad feeling washes over me. Something isn't right here.

A rustling sound starts up and Carla jumps out from behind the dumpster. Behind her are her boyfriend and another, tough girl I don't recognize with a scowl and a face full of piercings.

I practically swallow my tongue and Oliver's eyes shoot open with fear. Dominic is clutching a thick board between his hands and he slaps it onto his palm.

Oh shit.

"You know, it's nice to see you two," Carla says, strolling in front of us and cracking her knuckles. "I thought you weren't an item."

"We aren't," Oliver says coldly.

"Coulda fooled me," Carla continues. She turns her attention to me. "By the way, because of you, I got expelled. And since my parents are both miserable perfectionist pieces of shit, I got my ass beat. They're not appealing the school's decision, so I'm screwed and I have to take my GED. You completely fucked up my future, so I'm going to fuck up yours."

Her boyfriend steps forward, raising the board to bring it down on me and I shrink back. Oliver reaches into his pocket and pulls something out, pointing it at the others with a trembling grip. It takes my eyes a second to register that it's a gun.

"Whoa man, what are you doing?" Dominic squawks, raising his hands up. He drops the board with a clatter on the pavement.

Oliver's eyes are bloodshot and I can tell he's fighting the urge to cry. His arm shakes as he tries to hold the gun steady, pointed at them. "Get away from us!" he shouts hoarsely.

"Oliver," I whisper from beside him, but he doesn't hear me. His pupils are bullets shooting at Dominic. I take a step away from him and the others cluster together, all holding up their hands.

"Where did you get that, Oliver? We were just playing around," Dominic says. "I wouldn't really hurt her or you."

"Bullshit. You leave us alone or I'm going to shoot every single one of you in the head." He twitches the gun at them. "Go!"

Carla shoots one more angry glare at me and the three of them take off out of the lot.

I'm shaking so much that I can't move. Oliver turns back toward me, breathing heavily, and runs his free hand through his greasy hair. "You okay?"

I can't take my eyes off the gun. "Where did you get that thing?"

He laughs, points it at my face, then pulls the trigger. I jump, but a cold stream of water squirts out and hits me on the cheek.

"It's just a toy, Ash!" He stuffs it into his back pocket. "Looks real, doesn't it? I used a knife and broke the orange cap off."

I can't stop trembling and I feel like I'm going to puke. It's suddenly very cold.

"Hey, Ash, it's okay," he says, wrapping his arm around my shoulder. His touch makes my skin crawl, but I try not to show it. "I just had to show them they can't mess with us anymore."

He pulls his arm off of me and goes to his car, opening the door. He gestures for me to get in the other side. "C'mon, it's getting late."

I hesitate where I am, wrapping my coat sleeves over my freezing hands. Why am I so nervous? After all, this is just Oliver, and it was only a water gun. He's a little weird, but he's my friend, and I'm weird, too. He probably saved me from a hospital visit.

Then why am I still so anxious?

I clench my fists together. I push away my discomfort and get into the car with him, heading toward home.

CHAPTER 18

"I don't even remember what my mom looks like," Oliver tells me as we reach the main street. I glance at him and he's frowning in concentration as he spins the steering wheel. "She's a junkie and she just dropped me off with my two bitchy, spinster aunts and rode off into the sunset. She hasn't once come to visit me, not since I was seven or eight years old. My memory of her face is just this blob on blurry shoulders now. For all I know, she's dead, too."

I frown, shifting a little closer to the door. There's something in his tone, he's still as keyed up as he was in the parking lot.

"That sucks," I mumble artlessly.

He gives a choked laugh and presses his foot to the gas. I watch as the speedometer starts to rise.

"Yeah, I'm used to it. She didn't even know who my sperm donor was. My aunts are my only family. They remind me that I'm a burden every damn day. One of these days, though, they're going to get what's coming to them."

Every speeding beat of my heart asks me why I didn't find another way home. He weaves in and out of the spotty traffic, not slowing down.

"Can you stop going so fast? Please?" I ask. He glances over at me and his face softens.

He lets up on the gas and the car finally slows a little. I let out a deep breath and relax my death grip on the seat. But he still won't stop twitching beside me.

"Your room is Seth's old room, right?" he asks randomly.

"Yeah, sure." I stare out of the window, relieved that we're not far from home. "There were some old boxes and things of his upstairs."

I glance at him, and curiosity flashes across his face. "What kind of things?"

"Just odds and ends." He narrowly stops at a red light and I grit my teeth. "Nothing important."

By the time he rolls up in my driveway, I'm ready to bolt from the car. He shuts the ignition off, reaches across me, and I shrink back against the seat as he pops open the glove compartment. He retrieves a small, plastic tube with white powder inside.

"You want some?" he asks, nudging it toward me.

I shake my head. "I'm not interested in a role in an after school special. I don't do that shit."

"Whatever." He spills a little into the crook of his hand and plugs one nostril as he snorts dramatically. He rubs his nose furiously and when he looks at me again his pupils are cartoonishly blown. As he shuts the glove compartment, I catch a glimpse of something metallic in the back, but I can't see what it is.

I undo the seatbelt and crack open the door as he picks up his phone.

"Ash, hold up." But I'm already jiggling my keys apart and speeding to the porch. I glance over at him as he falls into step with me. It's late now and cold air nips at my cheeks.

"My phone is dead, can I come inside and charge it?" he asks. "It'll only take me a minute."

"I don't know," I hedge as anxious seconds tick by. I feel a drop of rain on my nose, and then it begins to spray down in earnest. We run to the cover of the porch, but I don't unlock the door.

"What are you waiting for?" he asks impatiently.

"My dad didn't want any visitors," I say. In truth, he didn't care. But a little voice is telling me not to let Oliver inside. Toy or no toy.

The rain rolls down the porch's roof and falls in a curtain off the edges.

"Oh, c'mon, Ash," Oliver says, rubbing his arms like he's cold despite his coat. "My aunts always lock the door and they won't let me have a key. What am I going to do, stand out in the rain all night?" He moves back and forth from foot to foot, working his jaw.

For a moment, I think I see a human shape standing out in the rain. Seth? But my eyes focus and I see it's only the trunk of a nearby tree. I wish he was here right now, as irrational as it may be.

I turn and with trembling hands, twist the key in the lock. My heart has picked up speed from my nervousness, and thumps in my chest. I push the door open, my hands sweating, but I step inside and block the doorway. "You know what, I can just bring the charger out here. There's an outlet—"

"What is going on with you?" Oliver explodes. I shrink back in hesitation. He squeezes his eyes shut and waves his arms dramatically. "Why are you treating me like a freak? I know tonight ended shitty, but I told you, I had to stop them! I'm the only person here who was nice to you! I thought you were different."

I'm speechless and all I can do is stare at him, open-mouthed.

He runs his hand across his forehead, his voice dropping the hysterical note. "If you don't want to be my friend anymore, that's fine. But at least let me call my damn aunts so I don't have to drown outside tonight."

I hesitate, then step inside. My heart is a little bird in my chest, fluttering its wings. He moves past me and into the living room, plugging his charger into the outlet and his phone. He cradles the phone as he waits for it to turn on.

I relax, wiping my hands over my face and shutting my eyes. I'm getting way too paranoid. Maybe it was the movie, all that blood and gore.

Suddenly his footsteps cross the room. I drop my hands, but it's too late. He raises his arm, aiming his elbow for my face.

"Stupid bitch," he mutters, then clocks me in the forehead hard with his elbow. Pain spreads through my skull as everything goes dark.

CHAPTER 19

When I come to, I'm lying on the floor. I look up and see bright pink walls and the side of my old brass bed frame. I push myself up to sitting and pain stabs through my head, causing my stomach to lurch. Blood is trickling out of my right nostril and I wipe it with the back of my hand.

"Sleeping Beauty arises," Oliver says from nearby. His voice startles the drowsiness away. I glance up and see him blocking the doorway, rubbing the side of a gun with his coat.

"I thought…I thought it was a toy…"

"The one you saw was a toy. This one is the real deal. Too bad I didn't have it on me in the parking lot. I almost let it slip out when I did that bump, but luckily you're not too perceptive."

The shiny thing in the glove compartment. I scowl up at him, getting to my feet. "Why are you doing this?"

His expression smooths out. "It's not anything personal, Ash. I really liked you, you were nice to me. Until tonight, that is." He takes a step into the room and I cringe, trying to stop my body from shaking.

"Put your hands up," he orders, and I do as he says.

I try to think of something, anything I can use to stop him as he paces back and forth in front of me.

"You know, before you acted so mean to me earlier, I was having second thoughts," he admits. "But then you had to act like such a self-righteous bitch. Too good to let me in your house."

"You planned all this?"

"Yeah. Not from the first moment I met you or anything. But ever since that time in the hallway, when you pulled the others off of me. When Carla hit you. You're weak, but you trusted me. It's perfect."

"Why, Oliver?"

I see a flicker of emotion in his eyes—and hopefully, a seed of doubt. I reach out behind me for the bed, but he gestures for me to stop.

"I want to know what it was like for him," he explains softly. "I want to know what it's like to hold life—your life—in my hands, and choose to destroy it." He smashes his fist into the wall. My heart responds to the threat and pounds hard in my chest as my mouth runs dry. "I've always wanted to know. All these years, reading about the others doing it. Watching, and waiting. Now it's my turn."

He takes another step into the room and I match it with a step back. He points the gun at me as he continues to chat. "You're so perfect—whiny, stereotypical, suicidal teen girl." He gestures to the scars on my arm. "All alone in a house where dark things happened. Destroyed by her mom's death, she feels like she can't go on, and ends it all. I didn't even know that part until tonight, but it's just—it's like everything fell into place better than I could have imagined."

My horror morphs into anger. He thinks he knows me so completely. "You're fucked in the head."

"And you're going to have a big hole in your head when I get done with you. So we're even."

"Nobody will believe you. They'll know I didn't kill myself."

"Bullshit," he hisses. He tips the gun barrel back to point at himself and I wince at how carelessly he's moving it around. "No one will even think of me. You don't even talk to your dad. He only met me once. If the cops come sniffing around, I'll say I felt bad for you. They'll chalk you up as one more tragic statistic."

From over Oliver's shoulder, Seth steps into view in the hall. He puts a finger to his lips to silence me. I struggle not to look at him, but listen to him as Oliver continues to rant.

"He can't see or hear me, Ash. But I will do anything I can to stop him. I'll see what I can do. Keep him talking." He steps back and disappears and that makes my rising panic flood up. I can't stop my eyes from bugging out.

"What are you looking at?" Oliver snaps, twisting his head around and scanning the hallway.

"Nothing." My brain scrambles for something to say. "I-I heard Seth used a rifle, what, you couldn't even get the same kind of gun?"

Oliver chuckles, a twisted, humorless sound that hurts my ears, but I can see beads of sweat breaking out on his pimply forehead. "Yeah, well, time was an issue and I couldn't find one. It doesn't matter what kind of gun it is, anyway. Nobody even knows where he got that gun. This one I bought at a swap meet, the serial numbers were filed off and it's untraceable."

"I think Seth would disagree with you. He'd say that it does matter, and you're doing a shitty job of imitating him." My stomach rolls in protest, telling me I'm pushing him too hard.

"Is that so?" he erupts, clenching his fists. "You don't know a fucking thing about Seth Moss! I've studied his life for years. He wanted destruction, he wanted to bring the world down with his bare hands. Even his family, they only stood in his way."

A loud bang resounds from across the hall. Oliver freezes, his face going pale. "Shit. What was that?" I expect him to pull me with him. Instead, he just points the gun at me and I wince, my knees knocking together. "Don't fucking move from this spot or I'll put a bullet in your face," he warns, then rushes across the hall alone.