Silence - eARC (4 page)

She sighed deeply. How was she supposed to get a license without a car?

Maybe the school has driver’s ed?

Or maybe she could make friends with someone who had a car and he—or she—could teach her?

At least he hadn’t outright said “no scooter, ever, no way.” Which he sure
would
have if she’d asked for a motorcycle or a whole car. Though right now…a motorcycle like Dylan’s…that would be way, way cooler than a scooter
or
a car.

I wonder if Dylan would teach me how to drive?
The line of daydreaming that thought took her towards definitely helped to take the sting off of all of the earlier texts.

* * *

She spent the rest of the morning up on the hill until her phone ran out of power. She’d never had that happen before in such a short period of time—but then, she’d never done nonstop texting and emailing before without a phone charger nearby. Her thumbs were sore and she was hungry, so she tucked her phone back in her pocket and moved to the town side of the bluff, staring down at it.

The diner, the pizza joint, or the drive-in?
She could see the roof of the drive-in from where she was standing. It was pretty obvious what it was, since she couldn’t think of any other building that would have six covered walkways radiating from it like spokes on a wheel.

At least the drive-in would be new. And she might run into some of the local kids there, and get some sort of feel for them. Maybe she’d see Beth there? She climbed on the bike and headed back down into town, grateful that going downhill was a whole lot easier than coming up had been, but still dreading the return leg.

About halfway down, it occurred to her that she was going to look unbelievably lame, turning up at a drive-in with a bike. Who did that? Nobody, at least not in any of the movies she had ever seen.

Her fears about looking lame vanished once she got closer to the drive-in. It was certainly
not
like any of the ones she had seen in movies, or anywhere else, for that matter. Staci should have known better; it was exactly like the rest of this town. Worn out, run-down, and old as dirt, and riding up on a bike was probably no different than walking up.

The circular “hub” of the drive-in had inside seating, and a bike rack with two other bikes in it, so she obviously wasn’t the only one who came here on a bike. And—
oh my God!
—it was actually called the “Burger Shack”! Clearly it had not been renamed since it was built. She locked her so-called “ride” into the rack, and went inside.

Once again, it was 1950s throwback time, but it would take someone who was really, really into the ’50s to get excited about this place. There were vinyl-upholstered booths at the windows around the curve of the building, with a no-kidding jukebox at the far end of the dining area, and a curved lunch counter with circular stools along the inner wall. It was done up in turquoise, chrome, and black-and-white checkerboard—but the turquoise was all sun-faded, the vinyl of the seats was cracking and patched with tape, the chrome cloudy with age, the linoleum of the floor faded and worn, and the only things that looked new (or at least, not faded) were the black and white ceramic tiles of the trim. When she sat down at a booth and the carhop, who evidently serviced the inside and the outside, brought her the menu, it too looked to date from the ’50s. It was a single plastic-coated sheet, the paper inside faded with age so that the colors of the food pictures were an unappetizing greenish and bluish, and the prices had been redone with little white stickers that had been stacked on top of each other over the years. It wasn’t hard to choose, since the limited menu was “burgers and fries” with a “fish sandwich” and “grilled cheese” stuck over by themselves, like exiles. So that was the main difference between here and the diner; the diner served “meals” and not burgers, and the Burger Shack served burgers. The diner closed after lunch, the “Burger Shack” was evidently open until the
crazy
hour of 10 P.M.!

And after ten, they roll up the sidewalks and chase everyone home,
she grumbled to herself, after ordering. She looked out the window at the kids in the two cars she could see from her vantage, then glanced at the two groups of four that were in booths and the two that were at the counter. They kind of all looked a lot alike…for a minute she couldn’t put her finger on why, but then it hit her. They were all, every single person save for the drive-in staff, dressed pretty much alike. And not like her. Jeans, and not cool brands, more like the ones you got off the cheap rack at a big box-store. Faded plaid shirts, over T-shirts. Girls
and
guys.

Looks like a retro grunge-band convention.
Did
every
kid in this town dress that way?

On reflection, she thought probably not. The Goths wouldn’t be caught dead wearing grunge stuff, not even in a backwater place like this, and the rich kids
obviously
wouldn’t be eating at the drive-in. But she was pretty sure she was catching them surreptitiously eyeballing her, and in her capris, henley and hoodie—none of them faded—she was standing out like a sore thumb.

And yet—after those first few glances, no one seemed at all curious about her. They all went back to their own, low-voiced conversations, talk that didn’t seem to include any of the shrieks of laughter, broad gestures, or sudden rises in tone that you’d expect. In fact, there wasn’t any real animation in their talk at all. It was as if they were too worn-out to get excited about anything.
I think I moved into a Stephen King novel.

Then again, what was there to get excited about?
One
television station,
one
radio station, no cable. You had to get to the next town to get anything new, and how would you know about what was new in the first place? Magazines, maybe, but magazines would turn into a torment, showing you all kinds of things that you
couldn’t have.
Maybe in the end it was just easier to give up and settle for what you could get?

It was strange to eat a burger and fries that clearly had never been formed by a machine, or cooked on an assembly line. The burger wasn’t thin, like the ones she was used to; the patty was uneven, and there were charred spots on it, and the cheese wasn’t evenly melted. The cheese didn’t taste like burger cheese, it tasted like the cheese Brenda put out in chunks for parties. The chewy bun didn’t help things. Some of the fries still had skin on them. The whole time she was there, the other kids kept…it was a weird sort of ignoring her. Not like they were snubbing her. More like they didn’t know what to do about her, so they were ignoring her. She finished her food quickly, doing her best not to draw any more non-attention than she already was.

It was clear she was going to need to get some—what did Biology class call it? “Protective coloration.” Maybe if she looked more like them, they’d talk to her.

Well, she was pretty sure there were some thrift stores between here and home. If she couldn’t get grunge-chic there…

She got her bike, and headed back up the street. On the way, a sign caught her eye, and she realized it was the bookstore Beth had told her about, the one where the nerds hung out.
Hey…it might have wifi, if the nerds hang there. Or at least have a net-cafe…
It was worth a shot.

Another of the ubiquitous bells-over-the-door jangled as she pushed it open.

There was a cash register at the front, and a guy sitting on a stool behind it. Finally, here was someone who didn’t look as if he was worn-out and worn-down. He was, she guessed, somewhere in his mid-thirties, maybe early forties. He had slightly long, wavy dark hair and a full beard; both had a few strands of gray in them, but not enough to be too noticeable. He had a sort of stern expression; more like “worried” stern than “I want you kids out of my store” stern. He was wearing a thin leather jacket, black, and a dark blue work shirt under it, with the collar open.

He looked up at her, nodded once, then went back to reading the heavy book he had in his hands. She turned her attention to the rest of the store.

There was a coffee bar at the back with some stools in front of it. The rest of the store was tables and chairs, and a couple of beaten up but comfortable-looking chairs and couches, mixed with bookshelves. More bookshelves lined the walls. It was warm in here, not a stuffy warm, but a comfortable warm. It smelled like paper, and coffee, and a little bit of leather. Right up by the counter with the cash register was a magazine rack, but she couldn’t see what was on it from where she stood. The lighting was muted, but there were little green-shaded banker’s lamps near the chairs for people to turn on if they wanted more light.

Sadly, there wasn’t a computer to be seen. So…not a net-cafe. But there were other kids, kids who weren’t like the ones at the Burger Shack, and who were watching her surreptitiously as they continued low-voiced conversations or read. There were a couple Goths—not tricked out in piercings and white-and-black makeup, but since they were the only people she’d seen so far who were dressed head-to-toe in black and had black-dyed hair and heavy silver jewelry, it was a good bet they were Goths. The rest at least weren’t in the grunge uniform.

“Can I help you?” She started at the sound of a raised voice, and turned; it was the guy behind the counter, who had put down his book. Maybe he’d figured she’d stood there long enough, and he wanted to give her a little prod. But he didn’t look unfriendly…and he didn’t look all fake-friendly, either. “Do you need help finding something?”

“Uh, just looking around. Someone—a friend, I guess—told me about this place. Figured that I would check it out.” She glanced around. “It’s nice. First nice place I’ve seen in this entire town, actually.”

“Would you be Paula Kerry’s girl?” he asked. Staci felt her heart drop down into her stomach for a moment, before the man put one of his hands up. “It’s a small town, so word travels fast. We don’t often get many new faces around these parts, you know?”

“Yeah, I’m starting to get that,” she said ruefully.

He extended a hand towards her. “My name’s Tim. Welcome to my store, Miss…?”

“Staci.” She tried not to sigh. He might take it as being bored, which she wasn’t. At least not right now. “You look like the only person who might know; is there any way at all to get high-speed net around here?”

“’Fraid not.” He shrugged, but it wasn’t dismissive. “We’re the land that time forgot. All we have is old copper phone cable, and count your blessings that we aren’t still on party lines.”

“Uh…what?” she asked.

He chuckled softly. “Before your time. Count your blessings, whipper-snapper. Anyway the best you can do is around 24-baud, dialup, from your home phone. Since Paula works at night, at least you’ll have access to it while she’s at work.” He craned his neck a little. “Go on back to the table nearest the coffee bar and ask for Seth. He can help you get set up with a dialup modem and show you how to optimize your computer so you can at least read email.”

For one moment, she had to fight back sudden and unexpected tears. This was the first person—the
only
person—who had pointed her towards
something
like her old life. Connections, at least. “Thank you,” she managed. “I mean—really—thank you—”

He smiled. It did a lot to soften his stern expression. “No problem. Seth’s a good kid and nothing makes him happier than being able to flex his geekdom.” With that, Tim picked up his book again; it was a sturdy-looking hardcover. The artwork on the front caught her eye; it must have been science fiction, since it was a robot eagle, wreathed in golden and orange flames, doing a dive over a burning city. It looked like something that belonged on a thrash metal album cover instead of a book.

Staci made her way to the back, where the coffee bar was. It wasn’t hard to pick out Seth; thick, hard-to-break glasses, shaggy brown hair, and a Firefly T-shirt. What did surprise her was that he was with three other people, and they were all talking and joking together. Not too loud, but it didn’t seem like they were afraid that making any noise would end the world, like the people at the drive-in. They were clearly all friends.

One was one of the two Goth kids in the store; a girl about Staci’s age with shoulder-length, straight black hair, dark red lipstick, and what she recognized as the self-satisfied smirk of someone that was used to being right. Or at least happy with being snarky.

The other two were snuggled up on a loveseat; a boy and girl, definitely an item. The boy had short blond hair; not a crew cut, just a little messy. The blue eyes and a good jawline completed the picture; he was kind of cute, actually. The girl had red hair done up in a French braid; from the amount of hair she had, it was probably down to the middle of her back when it was undone. She had what Dad used to call “classic Irish colleen” looks: pale skin, freckles, green eyes.

As she hovered a moment, hesitant about how she should try to break into the group and introduce herself, Tim solved the problem for her.

“Jedi Seth!” he called from the front, just loud enough for his voice to carry to the rear. “Got young Padawan Staci Kerry that needs your ubergeek Force Knowledge to get her something approximating interwebs.”

The entire group turned to look at her as one, and she felt like she was turning a lovely shade of purple.

Chapter Four

Seth looked up at the sound of his own name, then switched his gaze to Staci. “Oh hey,” he said, with a trace of a smile. “Welcome to the place where the ‘old school’ is the ‘only school.’ I actually had to write physical letters to ‘Captain Crunch’ to get his arcane dialup secrets.”

Staci looked at him, bewildered. “What does cereal have to do with computers?” she asked, feeling as if Seth had just left out the entire first half of a series and launched her straight into the middle.

“Oh, you will learn, young Padawan,” he intoned, making a mystical pass with his left hand. “You will learn.…”

“Don’t mind him,” said the Goth chick, with a shake of her head. “He likes to pretend he’s the reincarnation of Clifford Stoll, even though Clifford Stoll isn’t dead yet.”

“Who?” Staci asked, now completely lost.

Seth smacked the back of his hand into his forehead, theatrically. “There, now, you see? That is how completely the rest of the world has passed us by!”

The Goth girl snorted. “Like going to Crossroads Mall doesn’t tell us that. Come sit down. We aren’t all completely crazy. I’m Wanda. I’m only slightly insane.”

The blond kid unwound himself from the girl he was sitting with, standing up with his arms wide. “Don’t mind them; they’ll be at this for hours if we let them.” He held out his hand. “My name’s Jake.”

Staci shook it, gingerly. “I guess you guys already know who I am…” she said tentatively. It felt…weird. But then everything about this town felt weird.

“Like Tim said, you’re Staci, right?” He let go of her hand, turning partially towards the rest of the group. “The odd couple is Seth and Wanda. Red over there is my girlfriend, Riley.” Riley waved from the loveseat, smiling warmly. “If you want, you can sit with us, grab some coffee. You might need it once Seth builds up some steam talking about modems. Or
Star Trek
. Or
Star Wars
. Or
Doctor Who
, or—”

“Oh, like I’m the only one that carries on!” Seth was blushing slightly. Staci smiled sheepishly, moving towards the coffee bar while the group continued talking with each other. Once she had her cup of joe, she noticed that they had pulled another of the comfy chairs up, making space in their circle. She sat down, folding her legs under her in the chair, while she blew on her coffee to cool it.

“So, you’re new to town, from New York right?” That was Riley; she was holding a truly gigantic cup in her lap; it looked like some sort of tea to Staci. “I’m guessing you didn’t move here for the scenic ocean view.”

“It’s kind of a long, depressing story.” Staci stared into her coffee, feeling her face flush. The others seemed to get the hint; Seth was the first to speak, breaking the silence before it could get uncomfortable.

“Tim said that you need some help getting hooked up to the net, right?” He cocked his head to one side. “In that cable doesn’t exist, there’s no possibility of cell-net, dialup is all you get. Are you on a laptop or a desktop?”

“Laptop,” she said, a little more certain of her ground. There wasn’t any accusation or hostility when any of them asked her questions. They actually seemed genuinely interested.

He nodded. “Good, pretty much all of them have a phone jack in them. So all we need to do is hook you up to a dialup service. Fortunately there actually
is
one that isn’t a long-distance number from here; it’s over in the next town. You got access to a credit or debit card?”

“Yes—”

Seth didn’t wait for any explanations. “Awesome, that’s usually the big stumbling block. Twelve-fifty a month, I’ll come over whenever you want, set you up.” He sighed theatrically…and to catch his breath. “Obviously, nobody ever has to worry about exceeding their download limit on dialup, so it’ll never be more than that.”

Since one of the first things she was going to do would be to email Dad that she was getting Stone Age net, well, this was a whole lot less than her cell per month, so she doubted he’d blink twice. She nodded.

“Don’t start giving her the scenic tour of gimp-net until you’re sitting down at the lappie, Seth,” Wanda said, before Seth could start up again. “I don’t suppose you’re into RPGs?”

“Or console games?” Jake said hopefully. “Or better yet, both?”

“Uh—” She knew what console games were, though she’d never done anything but play Facebook games herself. But…RPGs? “I don’t really have much experience with any of that. But, I’m willing to learn?”

“Good attitude,” Wanda said approvingly. “Look, here’s the deal. There’s not a hell of a lot to do around here. You can get together and watch DVDs. The movie theater is a joke; by the time it gets anything, it’s already out on DVD. If you’re a skater, there’s a parking lot…and whatever you can sneak to before the cops run you off. Have you seen the Burger Shack?” As Staci made a little grimace, Wanda nodded. “Yeah, you get it. So unless you happen to get touched by the Gilded Hand of Fate and the Blackthornes decide you get to be a hanger-on with the Elite crowd, there is not much left. Too cold to swim. Not enough wave to surf. Fishing around here is a job, not a sport. Nobody much who’s our age can afford a car, and since most people work here in town, a lot of adults don’t bother either. The school does nada for the kids,
nothing
in the summer because all the teachers have summer jobs at the cannery, and even in the school year they never have dances because there’s no money for them, and we lose every football or basketball game we play.”

Staci looked at her in disbelief. “That doesn’t sound possible—it can’t be that bad!”

“We’re that bad,” Riley assured her. “We get our own kicks, enough to make this place survivable. If you like fantasy or horror or sci-fi, you might like RPGs. They’re kind of like improv plays.”

“With dice-rolling,” said Jake.

“And heck, if you don’t like those, there’s mystery RPGs, and historical RPGs, and steampunk RPGs, and military RPGs,” Seth added, with enthusiasm. It was pretty clear now who was the “RPG expert” in this group. “Even superhero RPGs and an anime RPG. I’m pretty sure the rest of us would be open to trying those if that’s what you like.”

Well…she did like anime. “Maybe the last?” she said hesitantly.

“Great, I already have a copy of BESM still in the plastic,” said Seth. “I’ll scan and print up copies for everyone.”

She sipped coffee and occasionally added something as the others talked. They seemed like a fairly close-knit group. Usually whenever Staci had encountered anyone like them in NYC, it had been hard to be accepted as one of them. Every group had its own initiations. But not this one. They had taken her in as one of their own almost immediately. Maybe they were all kindred; they were outcasts in their own town, and she was an outcast from out of town. Her initial nervousness eventually wore off the more she talked with them, until—and this was the biggest surprise of all for her—she felt good, for the first time since she had arrived in Silence.

Staci had actually lost track of time when Tim rang a bell that was at the cash register. The others looked up with a groan, but Tim shook his head. “You know the rules, folks. This is your half-hour warning. We don’t need the cops hassling us again for you being out after curfew.”

“Curfew?” Staci said, aghast. “There’s a
curfew
?”

Jake shrugged his shoulders, grimacing. “Got enacted a few years ago. The cops have been pretty strict about it since it was actually a thing; bugging kids about being out too late is something for them to do besides sitting around bored, I guess.”

“On game nights, depending on whose house it is, sometimes the ’rents let us all stay overnight,” Riley added. “So there’s that.”

They all started to file out of the store after they had gathered up their belongings, each saying their goodbyes to Tim and each other.

“You going to get some sleep, Tim?” Seth was shrugging a heavy backpack onto his shoulder; Staci had seen earlier that it was packed with rulebooks for RPGs and board games.

“I only sleep every other leap year. Keeps me regular. Now git; I’ll see all of you when I see you.”

Staci was the last to leave the store, giving her thanks to Tim again for helping her out and just being nice in general. She was about to walk after Jake, Riley and Seth, heading for her bike, when she felt someone grabbing her elbow; Wanda, staying back behind the rest.

Jake turned around, looking for them. “You two coming?”

“We’ll be a minute,” said Wanda, answering for Staci. Jake shrugged, and continued on with the others. Wanda waited until he was out of earshot before she spoke again. “Look…” She scrunched up her face. “I don’t know how much to say without making you think I’m crazier than you already do…but there’s a lot that is
not right
about this town, and it’s not just the Magical Cell Phone Hole we’re living in. So…I’ll just say this. Keep your eyes and mind open, and your mouth shut, and if things start adding up in a funky way for you, come talk to me, because it can’t be any worse than the shit I’m already thinking. And watch your back. Seriously, watch your back, and don’t let on that you’re anything other than a drone or an airhead.”

Before Staci could reply, Wanda started walking quickly, catching up to the group. Staci followed her; once she was back with the rest of them, Wanda was chatting normally again. She had seen something in the girl’s face: real fear. Staci felt a very strong chill go up her spine. The rest of the walk was much like hanging out in the store; Staci said her goodbyes and traded contact information with everyone when it came time for her to split off for home. The rest of the way, she couldn’t stop thinking about what Wanda had said.
Watch your back. Things aren’t what they seem.
Somehow, as crappy as the house was (she couldn’t think of it as “home” yet, if ever), she was glad to get inside those four walls.

* * *

With the phone charged up again, Staci decided that for the foreseeable future, she actually had a schedule of sorts. Breakfast at the diner, because the food was edible and Beth was nice, and sooner or later they could probably figure out when and where they could hang out. Then up to Makeout Hill for as long as her phone charge would last. Then lunch either at the Burger Shack or the diner, and then to the bookstore. But today, she had one detour: combing the thrift stores for something that would make her stand out less. Maybe Wanda was crazy…but she still wanted to get some of that protective camouflage.

Beth’s advice about the thrift stores was useful, but the pickings were pretty thin. She was either going to have to do laundry loads every few days, or find another source for clothing. After going back to the house briefly to change—and getting a sleepy greeting from Mom, who was drinking coffee at the kitchen table—she headed back out to the Hill.

There was an addition she thought was kind of odd, since she had been pretty sure the thing hadn’t been there the last time. Lodged in among some rocks near that big tree was one of the creepiest lawn gnomes she had ever seen. Seriously, seriously creepy—if she ever saw a person with
that
expression on his face, she would just know it was a serial killer…and the thing even had a nasty-looking knife stuck in its belt. How could she not have noticed the thing yesterday? Her first reaction was to try and pitch it over the cliff, but it was wedged in there so hard it might just as well have been cemented in there, and she couldn’t even wiggle it. Finally she left it alone…but she had to go to the other side of the tree to sit, because it felt like the damn thing was staring at her.

Her phone was fully charged at least, and when she powered it on, it actually got three bars today.

But the results of getting a phone signal were…not what she had hoped for.

Okay, she hadn’t expected to get a flood of her friends going “Oh wow, that sucks so hard, move in with meeee!” but she also hadn’t expected fully half of them to unfriend her on Facebook either.

That…had been kind of a shock, actually, to look at her Friend List and realize it had gotten cut in half. She had actually sat there for a while, staring at the phone in her hand, feeling like someone had punched her right in the stomach.

The response from the rest had been pretty underwhelming. When they acknowledged her post at all, it had been on the other side of “I guess that must suck for you, now about
me.…”
And then they would rattle on about shopping, or a movie, or a date. It made her feel all hollow inside. Like…they’d already written her out of their lives.

And no emails from anyone but Dad. It was a delivery notice for the new mattress and sheets and things.

The phone seemed to drain down even faster than before. It was dead right after she read that email, and with that creepy lawn gnome on the other side of the tree, waiting for her, she didn’t even want to linger for a minute. On the way to the Burger Shack, she saw a couple more thrift stores and scored a couple more things.

When she got to the bookstore, Seth was there alone. “Hey!” he said brightly, as she walked in and said hello to Tim.

“Hey yourself…” She hesitated a moment. “Do you think there’ll be time to get me—”

“Net?” he finished for her. “Sure, I have everything I need on my lappie. Let’s go!”

Since he didn’t have a bike, they walked back to the house. Mom was, thankfully, already gone for the day. “Are you hungry?” she asked, as he got his laptop out and plugged the phone jack into the back of it, then set himself up on the sofa.

“I’m always hungry!” he said cheerfully, as the laptop began to make some weird noises she’d never heard out of a laptop before.

“I’ll fix you a sammich, and then I’ll get my machine,” she told him. She knew there was ham and cheese because she’d bought them and hidden them behind the pizza box. She brought him a soda and the sandwich; he thanked her absently, as he was doing…something…leaning over the keyboard and staring intently. She ran up, got her laptop, and came back down again.

“Okay!” he said, around a mouthful of sandwich, gesturing at the sofa. “Sit down, and get yourself signed up for the Stone Age.” She sat, and he put the laptop in her lap. The screen was…curiously barren.
Really
basic information and fonts, and next to no graphics…but there was a form to fill out, including her debit card information, and she followed it, picking a username and a password. Seth inhaled the soda and sandwich while she typed, and when she was done, she passed the laptop over to him.