Bellamy Rising Page 15

  Will grazed his knuckles over my thigh. “You haven’t been around much lately.” He shifted and pulled me closer.

  “Been busy.”

  “That’s too bad.”

  His phone buzzed three times in a row from its spot on the wobbly coffee table where I rested my feet. He’d gotten about ten messages since we’d been there.

  “You’re ignoring a lot of texts,” I said, completely stating the obvious.

  “They can wait,” he said and moved his hand up further.

  It might have been the pot or the intense need for a trap door to fall through to rescue me from my life, but when he reached for the button of my jeans, I let him.

  “Do you have something?” I put my hand on his chest.

  He grinned and pulled a condom out of his pocket.

  The show distracted me. So did the footsteps upstairs which belonged to Will’s mom, no doubt. I tried to remember how I felt about him two months ago. I had been really excited to see him at the party. I liked him. He wasn’t a bad guy, just kind of an idiot.

  I didn’t really feel anything that you are supposed to feel, either. I was just numb. After it was over and our clothes were back on, Will grabbed his phone and immediately started texting all the people that had just texted him. Then he sat back against the couch next to me, pulled my legs over his lap, and leaned over to kiss me.

  Five minutes later, there was a knock on the basement door.

  “It’s open!” Trey Foreman and some guy I didn’t recognize burst in and sat down at the other end of the massive old couch.

  “Hey, Bellamy.”

  “Hey.” I wrapped my flannel shirt around me and tried to not feel weird that just minutes ago, I didn’t even have it on, and now Will was orchestrating what appeared to be a drug interaction based on the scale and bag of weed he grabbed out of a basket under the table.

  “When did you start selling?” I asked after they left. No one really stayed that long when picking up drugs.

  “About a month ago, I guess.” He put everything back under the table.

  I didn’t know what to say. I’m not a goody-goody. I just didn’t want him or anyone else to get hurt and I said so.

  He scoffed. “I’m not going to get hurt. I know what I’m doing.”

  “Just be careful.”

  The other problem with selling weed out of your basement is that people keep dropping by.

  I texted Meredith to pick me up.

  Can’t. Had to cover for someone. I’m working a double, she replied.

  I tried Andrew.

  On the bus. Had an away game. Won’t be back till midnight.

  Finally, I asked Will to take me home.

  “Just a minute,” he said. “Kyle is dropping by.”

  I sighed and tried to calculate how cold I would get if I walked home. When Kyle arrived, I stood up.

  Will put his hand on the back of my thigh.

  “Where ya going?” His eyes were totally bloodshot.

  “Gotta run.” I squeezed between him and the coffee table.

  “I was gonna take you home,” he said and moved to stand.

  “No, it’s fine. See ya.”

  It was totally dark outside and had been for a while. It was later than I thought too. I shivered. The night had gotten even colder. I trudged down the sidewalk toward home. I heard a car slowing beside me. I sped up while panic spread in my chest.

  “Bellamy? Is that you?”

  Frozen with cold and fear, I ducked and peered into the dark interior. I realized the voice sounded familiar. “Yeah?”

  Mr. Holland had his ‘most concerned counselor in the entire world’ face on. “Do you need a ride somewhere?”

  Relief flooded through me. “No, I’m good.” I started walking again.

  “Bellamy, get in. I’ll take you home.”

  I hesitated a moment. Mr. Holland’s face was hopeful. Another day another kid saved he was probably thinking. I sighed. Hanging out with teachers outside of school was too weird. A fierce wind whipped through me and changed my mind. I climbed into the warmth of the passenger seat.

  “What are you doing out so late?” Mr. Holland sounded extremely concerned.

  I checked my watch. 10:30. That’s only late if you’re a farmer. I hoped he couldn’t smell pot on me. “I’m just going home from studying with a friend. We have a test tomorrow,” I lied.

  “That’s great!” Mr. Holland seemed to believe me. “I’m glad you are taking some initiative with your grades. If you work hard for the rest of this year and next fall, you could start community college in the fall.”

  “Um, I don’t really know what I want to do yet,” I mumbled.

  “How’s the English project coming?”

  How did he know about that? I guessed he was involved somehow. He always was. “Um, it’s okay.” I hadn’t started.

  “If you need any help, let me know! I’d love to help you reach your goals!” The man spoke in exclamation points.

  Mr. Holland drove super slow, as old people do, and I could see into the houses on Macguffy Street. Families. People watching TV while their kids presumably slept. I sniffed my shoulder to try and discern any lingering marijuana on my jacket. I couldn’t tell. My trusty guidance counselor prattled on about college. What I didn’t say was that I wasn’t all that interested in going to college. There was no money for it, even though I knew my mom had started a college fund for us, I also knew that she had to dip into it all the time. Plus there were three of us. I wasn’t a good enough student to get any scholarships and how would I ever pay back a loan?

  “I would be happy to help you fill out any paperwork or applications if you need help. I have lots of career tests that help you figure out what kind of career you would be well-suited for.”

  “Great. Thanks.” I pointed to the only road sign ahead. “Um, take a left up there.” I was sort of glad that I wasn’t walking this stretch of highway alone at night. It wasn’t the same area where Jenna was found, or Riley, but a country road with forest on either side? At the very least, I’d probably get hit by a car on such a dark night.

  Mr. Holland slowed to a complete stop before making the turn even though no one was around. He also used his blinker. He probably had one of those safety hammers that you use to break your windshield in case you drive into a lake accidentally. I imagined the contents of his trunk: orange cones, flares, a first aid kid, and probably one of those silver sheets you use to wrap up people in shock.

  It seemed like my entire junior year should have been over before we reached the driveway. No one was home and only light on was the porch light. Mom always left it on.

  Mr. Holland inched toward the house at a snail’s pace. I could walk faster than he drove. I gripped the door handle and waited for him to stop. When he did, I jumped out of the car. “Thanks for the ride.”

  His face was full of concern. “Goodnight, Bellamy. Do your homework and I look forward to seeing you tomorrow.”

  With an awkward wave, I shut the car door and jogged to the porch and up the stairs. I had to get inside as fast as possible to escape the deranged madman running rampant through the streets. I just didn’t think my guidance counselor would have been able to help me if the lunatic were actually lurking in the woods.

  Mr. Holland waited outside until I was safely inside with the door locked. But being on the inside of the house wasn’t much better. It was totally dark. I reached around next to me to flip the light on illuminating the living room. Mom’s pile of magazines lay on the end table with her glasses folded on top. Andy’s duffel bag and shoes sat right in the middle of the floor as per usual.

  I dashed from room to room turning lights on and breathed a sigh of relief when the first floor was completely lit and everything looked nor
mal.

  My stomach grumbled. “Shh,” I told it. Will hadn’t exactly taken me out to dinner and the last thing I ate was sugary coffee for breakfast.

  The fridge—nearly empty—contained almost enough milk for cereal. Off-brand Cheerios and milk would have to do. I leaned against the sink spooning them into my mouth. A sudden gust of wind rushed through the kitchen. Chill bumps covered my arms when I noticed that the back door was standing open. My chewing slowed and I choked down my mouthful before putting the bowl down on the counter. How had I not seen that before?

  “Maybe the wind blew it open.” My voice trembled and my hand shook as I reached out to shut the door and lock it. Fear overpowered me and I heard my heartbeat thumping in my ears.

  Getting out of the kitchen was my primary goal. I had to be in a room with a door that locked. Like a lock would stop a psychopath.

  I flipped on all the lights as I climbed the stairs slowly, my ears perked. I was exhausted and stoned.

  “You’re just being paranoid. Get it together,” I scolded myself.

  I reached the second floor safely and hugged the wall. The door to the attic stood open. I frowned. But Meredith was always taking my stuff. I never left my door open and she always did. I started up the stairs but stopped. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up and my spine tingled. Something was not right.

  I took a deep breath and tried to talk myself out of being terrified. After all, there was no real reason to be terrified. I flipped the light on and waited at the bottom of the stairs. No sound, nothing. I tiptoed up the stairs and tried to remember to breathe because fainting and tumbling down the stairs would really only be a hindrance in a possible intruder type situation.

  Once I reached the top, I whirled around fully expecting someone else to be there. No one. My bed was still unmade and my clothes were still all over the place so at least no one had broken in to clean my room.

  I breathed a sigh of relief after I made sure that my computer was on the desk, my boot collection was intact, and no one was hiding under the bed. Confident that I was the only one in my room, I rushed down the attic stairs to lock my bedroom door.

  “You are fine, Bellamy. Everything is fine. All you have to do is stay right where you are until someone comes home which will be soon. Just anytime now.” I dug my phone out of my pocket and considered texting Meredith and begging her to come home. “Don’t be such a baby.” I dropped the phone onto the bed.

  Minutes passed and I finally started to calm down. I stretched out on the bed, still hyper-alert but a little more comfortable. Even though my room appeared secure, my heart continued thumping as every little gust of wind filled me with fresh terror. I resisted the urge to crawl under my bed with one of Andrew’s baseball bats. But I would have to get one of his baseball bats and I kind of wanted to stay in my room forever.

  “Get it together, Bellamy.”

  I glanced at the clock. 11:30 and no sign of my family. I checked my phone. Nothing. There would be no sleeping while I was alone in the house so I decided to work on my homework for once. The syllabus Mrs. Nelson had given me lay on my desk.

  “I guess now is as good a time as any.” I moved to my desk and cracked open my English book. I read through a few of the poems, finding it very hard to concentrate.

  “I have no idea what any of these even mean,” I complained. “I guess I’ll Google you guys and see which one sucks the least,” I told the list of poets.

  I picked one at random and found him in my English book. “Porphyria’s Lover by Robert Browning.” Skimming through it, I decided maybe Robert Browning wasn’t for me. Though something about the words seemed familiar, I wondered if there was a poem a little easier to understand and moved on to the next one. It didn’t take long for my attention to wander again. Noticing my copy of The Scarlet Letter lying across the room on the floor. One page was all I’d managed before throwing the classic masterpiece across the room. “This sucks,” I sighed.

  When the computer finally woke up, I turned toward it to open Internet Explorer.

  Instead of my desktop, a word doc was open. I was confused for one second and then I read what was typed in the document.

  Stay away from Larkin Lane or you might find yourself dead.

  The cursor blinked at me and I screamed.

  Chapter 28

  I grabbed my phone and flew down the stairs and into Meredith’s room because it was the closest room to my door and I could see the driveway from there. I was shaking so hard I almost couldn’t lock the door. I threw open her closet door and rifled through it. No one hid inside. I checked under her bed. Nothing. Her lamp was the only thing I could find that resembled a weapon. I yanked the plug and held it like a baseball bat. The safest place seemed to be the narrow space between her bed and the wall. Sobbing, I dialed Mason. Iris was out of the question since her mom had her phone and wouldn’t let her out of the house. Meredith would take too long and my mom would call the police.

  After an eternity had passed, he answered the phone. “Hello?” He sounded sleepy and annoyed.

  “Mason, someone was in my house, in my room,” I said, sounding a little hysterical.

  “What?” He sounded more alert.

  “Someone was in my room and they left me a message. Can you come over?”

  “Yeah. Of course.” I heard shuffling. “I just gotta get dressed and I’m on the way.” For a split second, I thought about what he hadn’t been wearing and then I was horrified about thinking of Mason like that at a time like this. “Where are you?” he asked.

  “I’m locked in my sister’s room.”

  “Should you call the police?” he asked.

  “No! They wouldn’t believe me. Just come over.”

  “Okay, I’m coming.”

  My voice shook when I spoke. “Just hurry.”

  “Call the police first and me second if anything else happens.”

  “I will.”

  I sat in Meredith’s room huddled in the corner with the light on and both lamps. I was a silent and breathing as quietly as I could, or barely breathing at all. I listened. The house was quiet.

  Creak. The old house never really stopped creaking but each new creak or thump or groan left me seized with panic, clutching my lamp.

  The back door had been standing open. If I weren’t such an idiot, I would have run back out the front door and down the street after Mr. Holland. He drove so slow I probably could have caught him and he could have taken me to Iris’s or the bar where Mom worked.

  Meredith’s old-fashioned alarm clock ticked next to my head. Surely the seconds were slowing down. I could have counted a whole minute between each tick if I tried. Never had time moved so slow as it did while I waited.

  Finally, after three eternities and three tidal waves of nervous breakdowns, I heard a car. I crawled over to the window still gripping my lamp, and almost died with relief when I saw Mason’s headlights.

  I counted to five and then threw open Meredith’s door brandishing my trusty lamp. Its cord dangled as I got ready to strike. The hallway was completely empty. I ran down the hall and down the stairs and peeked outside.

  Mason was standing there with his hand up ready to knock.

  I let him in and before I could stop or think, I threw myself into his arms. He stumbled back a bit but held on.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, muffled by my hair.

  I didn’t speak. I just stood there breathing in his smell. He wrapped his arms around me and ran one hand up through my hair.

  “I’m fine. Thanks for coming. I need help with a perimeter check.”

  He nodded, grim. We checked every room, every window, and under every bed with a quiet determination.

  “There’s no one here,” he said after we finished Andrew’s room which, for the record, sme
lled just like the boys’ locker room.

  “I guess not,” I said. “Thanks.”

  Mason turned to me, his eyes serious. “I want to see this thing on your computer.”

  “Right this way.” I heading to the attic still carrying my lamp.

  The color drained from Mason’s face when he read it. “Bellamy, what is going on?”

  I sat down heavily on my bed. “I don’t know. I really don’t.” My shoulders drooped. I was freaking exhausted.

  He chewed on his fingernails. “Do you have the others?”

  “The other whats?”

  “Notes.”

  “Oh yeah.” I pointed to my desk drawer. “In there.”

  He pulled the drawer open and I watched his hands tremble as he read it. His face went ashen. “Bellamy . . .” His voice cracked. “You didn’t tell me just how creepy these were.”

  “They’re pretty creepy.”

  He sighed then came over and sat down next to me. “I don’t like this.”

  “I don’t really either.”

  I opened my mouth to speak but nothing came out. The air was thick and it was hard to breathe. He stood up and paced the room.

  “So were you seeing Ethan too?”

  Anger rose up and choked me. I couldn’t speak I was so mad. I breathed red-hot fire out of my nostrils. “No, I wasn’t.”

  “Everyone else was.”

  It sounded so ridiculous I almost laughed. I rubbed my temples with my fingers. “Of course I wasn’t seeing him.”

  Mason switched gears. “It’s only a matter of time before they get enough proof to convict Ethan,” he said, his voice low and quiet.

  “I know you want it to be him. But what if it isn’t?” My tone was sharp. I was so annoyed by his earlier assumption.

  He got up and stared out the small attic window. “Where were you today? I came by The Beans.”