Temptation: A Novel (19 page)

56. A Different Story Again

It’s not something we plan, but then again, it’s the only way I’ve wanted Lily to walk into Harrington High on her first official day.

I remember just how lonely I felt walking through those doors and into those hallways. Granted, Lily’s the sort of girl who should never, ever feel lonely, simply because so many guys are going to want to talk to her. But after picking her up on my bike and driving her to school, we enter the building holding hands like those lovesick couples who seem attached at the hip. It’s actually Lily’s idea, taking my hand and laughing and then proceeding to walk in with me.

It’s a great feeling. Knowing that there’s someone there beside me to take the blow of having to come back here for a whole other year.

The guys are all looking at us. So are the girls. Basically, everybody is interested in the new girl.

Before reaching my locker, a locker that’s in a new place this year, I spot someone that I’ve somehow managed to forget about.

Kelsey smiles at first, but then sees Lily by my side.

Then Lily says she has to go. And she gives me a nice little peck on my cheek.

Someone bumps into Kelsey, but she doesn’t look around. She just keeps staring at me.

I want to say hello and say something—ask how her summer’s gone—but she’s a bit too far away. And by the time I reach into my locker and put my bag and books away, she’s gone.

That dance at prom with her seems like years ago.

That guy dancing with her seems long gone.

I discover that Harris is in three of my classes, which is great. I’ve seen Brick several times—the first time getting a nice bear hug from him. I’ve even seen Roger and Shawn and said hello.

Tiny steps. Or baby steps, they say.

This year will be endurable.

Right?

But then midway through the day, I find something that seems like—well, that seems like a typical Harrington High experience.

I roll my eyes and sigh.

It’s an envelope

of course

that opens up to a letter

naturally

that’s handwritten and mysterious

would it be anything else

and that’s signed at the bottom by Poe.

I stop and look at the name. Yes, it’s from Poe. I recognize her handwriting.

You can delete emails but you’re going to have to physically throw this sucker away.

My heart is beating faster and I look around to see if Poe is anywhere near. Not because of Lily—no, it’s because—there’s a hope that she’s around because—I don’t know. I’d just like to know she’s around.

I read the letter immediately. No more of this secret, spy-like behavior. I’m done with that.

Chris!!??

Where are you and what are you doing?

I sent this to the only person I could think of who I know has your back and used to have mine. Hint, it’s not a she. And boy does he love his M&Ms.

I’ve tried several times to email you this summer. I tried calling a couple of times but then gave up.

What is happening with you? Are you okay?

I did something stupid this summer. I actually spoke to someone who is affiliated with the FBI. I didn’t tell her everything. Or anything, actually. I just sorta tested the waters. But in the following week, I swear someone started to follow me. I’m paranoid. Dad had something bad happen at work, but maybe it was just coincidence—I don’t know.

I haven’t given up, but I just—I have no idea what’s happening with you. Are you in trouble? Please—just contact me somehow. Just to let me know you’re okay.

Poe

The letter makes me angry. Not because of what Poe said, but because I’ve ignored her for so long.

Some friend you’ve been, huh?

I feel guilty.

You can try to bury the past but it will never go away.

I’m heading to class when I see Kelsey again. She looks more tanned than I remember her being. And where are her glasses?

She spots me and looks away, brushing her hair and quickly moving with the group she’s with. I’m not about to chase her down. I don’t have art this year, and so far she’s not been in any of my classes.

You’re already feeling bad about Poe, don’t go feeling bad for Kelsey too.

I really don’t want to feel bad. I want to be a new person and let things go. I’m older—I’m
seventeen.
A lot has happened that neither of the girls knows about.

Lily spots me and comes by and gives me a hug.

Things are different now. The story has changed.

I really want to believe that.

But somehow, I don’t think I can.

57. Stuck and Hidden Somewhere

“When’d you get in last night?”

I’m trying to come down on Mom. Her coming and going—or more like going and staying gone—is fine by me. She stays out of my business, and I don’t have to be reminded of hers. But I’m just curious on the first Saturday after an uneventful first week at school.

“Why so curious?”

She’s sipping a cup of coffee and isn’t looking hungover, so I figure it’s safe to ask.

“Just wondering.”

“Late.”

I see her give me a courtesy smile that makes me know that something is up. The way she’s been gone more often, and getting dressed up more than usual, and trying to look young and pretty—

Bet there’s some guy.

I’m not about to ask, however. I’ll save that question for when I want her to stop asking me questions.

Such a nice young son, Chris.

I check my phone for texts or emails but don’t have anything. As my thumb’s getting a workout, I spot my mom watching me.

“Where’d you get the phone?”

Oops.

“I’ve had it for a while,” I say without having to lie.

“But where’d you get it? How’d you have money to buy that?”

“I had some money leftover from my job at the Crag’s Inn. And they were having a great deal through school.”

Yeah, that one was a lie.

“I haven’t seen any bills coming in for you.”

I shrug. “I get a trial run. There are a lot of restrictions on it.”

“I’m not paying a hundred bucks every month for you to have an iPhone.”

You don’t have to, Mommy Dearest.

“Don’t worry.”

She brings up the subject of work, and I try and get out of that one. I do want a job, but so far I’ve managed to get by without one. Lily pays for a lot, which I don’t mind. She keeps reminding me that they just got a huge inheritance after her grandmother passed away, and she
wants
to spend money. How can I say no?

I’m going to take a shower, but before I head upstairs Mom asks a question that surprises me.

“By the way, Chris—you didn’t happen to talk to your father anytime recently, did you?”

Where’s that coming from?

“Yeah—we had dinner last night. He took me to a ball game afterward. Oh, and later we’re going to throw a football outside.”

“Stop it,” she says.

“I haven’t talked to him in ages.”

“You’re sure?”

“Why? Have you?” I ask her.

“No. It’s just—I want to make sure you’d tell me if he called.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

She has a look of heavy, deep thought, and I don’t want to get into it, especially
if it has something to do with Dad.

“Just make sure you let me know if he ever calls you.”

“Yeah, sure,” I say.

There are many mysteries even in this tiny, cramped cabin of ours.

It’s no wonder that I want to get out of it every chance I get.

I’m resting on my bike and cursing, looking at a dead end.

There are many things I’ve given up on, or more like tried to forget about. But this is not one of them. I can tell Mom or the rest of the world including Lily that I’m just riding around, but I’ve actually been looking for the way to the small inn on the top of the mountain. The place where I met Iris and the place where I learned about the history of Crag’s Inn.

I’ve seen a lot of weird things happen around here. I’ve been a part of some of them, stuff I can’t even explain. Like getting shot and then suddenly feeling fine. Or stabbing Marsh and then seeing him walking around fine and dandy. But a missing
road
? That’s even harder to accept. It has to be that I’ve just gotten turned around.

This place is a light in the darkness, Chris.

Iris’s words seem to drift through the air out of the woods and the cut-off road I’m on.

A space in between. That’s what the Crag’s Inn is, Chris. It’s always been in one of the spaces in between.

I think of those words and believe them more than ever. Whatever she meant, the inn certainly seems stuck and hidden somewhere. It’s definitely a space in between.

No—it’s
in
a space in between.

Ever since stabbing Marsh and then deciding that I can’t go on searching and wondering and trying to figure things out, everything has been different.

There have been no strange animal sightings.

I haven’t been able to locate the Crag’s Inn.

And there haven’t been any conversations with Jocelyn in an airport or a plane.

Are these things related?

I recall Iris saying something else, something about a passage in the Bible. Daniel something.

The tenth chapter of Daniel.

I never did take her advice. Why should I?

But Iris told me once to read it and think about her place and the spaces in between.

I decide to check it out. But first I have to find a Bible. I know we don’t have one in our house.

Last one we had got chucked over the falls.

58. The Boy Who Cried Wells

I’m in the library and have read Daniel chapter 10 several times through (after taking just as long to look it up) and I still don’t understand anything. Something about Daniel having visions and a man looking like dazzling light with eyes like torches. Daniel’s terrified, seeing the guy, and I guess I would be too. For some weird reason I picture one of those guys from Blue Man Group, which I saw once with Mom and Dad. Instead of blue, he’s gold, but still looking weird like that.

Probably not a good sign, when reading the Bible makes me think of Blue Man Group.

I put the book back in the reference section where I found it and leave the library. For a moment I think of stopping in and seeing Mom, and maybe getting a free lunch, but I decide against it. I think of dropping in on Lily as well, but remember how great that went last time I tried it. I’m supposed to pick her up later for a party (which she was, no surprise, invited to).

I’m about to get on my bike when I hear it. A muffled sound, like a strange groaning. Like someone in pain.

I look toward the street but don’t see anybody.

Hey, look, it’s the mountain man with his big dog!

But nope, thankfully I don’t see him.

The groaning is coming from the alley between the library and the building beside it. It’s narrow, and light shows that you can get through the buildings to the other side by walking through.

In the middle of the pavement is a figure writhing in pain.

I rush to the person, a dark-haired guy clutching his hands to his face and making a loud, droning “ohhhhhhh” sound.

I stop a few feet away from him. Just to be safe. Just to be careful.

“Hey—are you okay? Hello?”

I see stubble on the man’s face as he peels his hands away.

I suddenly back up and almost trip over my own feet.

The man in the alley is missing his nose and a nice portion of his upper face. I let out a gasp and swallow and look to make sure I’m seeing the right thing.

The nose—where the nose used to be—is a bloody mess, and the upper part of his face—his cheek and his ear—looks like a bomb ripped it off. It’s dark red and bloody and pulsating.

Run get out of here get away.

The man opens his mouth wider, and I see blood dripping down its side.

Yeah, I run.

I bolt out of that alley and run down the sidewalk toward the police station.

This time they’re gonna do their job.

This time they’re gonna get off their butts and do something to help someone out.

I open the door and
so
hope that Sheriff Wells is there and yes.

Thankfully he’s there, standing by a desk and holding some kind of file.

I blurt out something that probably doesn’t make much sense, and he slows me down. I see Kevin Ross sitting at a desk, but I ignore him.

“Chris, what’s wrong—calm down.”

“You have to come—now—right now—someone’s dying in the middle of the alley.”

I go back outside and the sheriff follows me, along with Ross.

It’s only been a couple minutes. That’s all. That’s not long enough for someone to come and help the bleeding, dying man out of the alleyway.

And yet …

The alley is empty.

I go toward where I had seen him

and I did see him

to try and see if there are blood spots or anything.

But no.

“Chris?”

I shake my head, looking at the walls on either side, walking to the end of the alley and then back.

“What did you see?”

I close my eyes.

Here we go again.

I open them again and try to say something, but I can’t. I don’t know what to say.

“If this kid thinks he can keep wastin’ our time with these—”

“Ross, shut it,” Wells says. “Go on back to the station.”

Ross says a few nice curse words in my direction, and Wells tells him again to go. This time he obeys.

“What did you see?”

I shake my head. “I don’t know.”

“Yeah, you do.”

“I thought—I thought I saw a man—older—your age—lying in the alley bleeding to death.”

“Bleeding how?”

“His—he was moaning, and I heard him.” I shake my head again and look at the sheriff. “I know—I don’t blame you for not believing me.”

“I’m not sayin’ I don’t believe you.”

“Yeah, well there’s nothing here.”

“I’ve made that mistake before,” he says. “I don’t like repeating it.”

For a few minutes he checks out the alley and the surrounding buildings. Then he walks me back to my motorcycle. I already know the question is going to come before he utters it.

“Is everything okay, Chris?”

“Yeah—yes.”

“Are you sure?”

I wonder if this man ever sits around a table laughing and playing board games and telling jokes with his family or friends. Maybe he does, but I’ve only ever seen him looking stern and grim. His hair and goatee look more thick and gray than usual.

“I saw something.”

“Tell me, Chris—did this man look like he got beaten up?”

“No.”

“No?”

“He looked—it was worse than that. A lot worse.”

Sheriff Wells nods. “Listen—I’ll check around the town for anything strange. You go on home.”

“Okay.”

“And Chris—don’t tell anybody else what you saw. Just—keep it between us.”

I nod.

Not that anybody would believe me anyway.