The Demon's Grave (2 page)

I sidestepped, narrowly avoiding a head-on collision with a fellow college student.

There was something familiar about those words, nearly tangible. I’d initially ignored the note, but the words were tacky, adhering to the inside of my skull.

Ahead, a whizzing sound overrode the hallway’s raucous din. I looked up in time to see the greasy-haired skateboarder bearing down on me.

Instead of looking ahead, he was distracted by a bouncy, busty girl in a tank top.

My joints locked and for a split second I forgot to move.

It seemed everyone else had moved to the side of the hallway, except me.

At the last second, I blurted a high pitched warning. He jerked his head up and our eyes locked. Arms wind-milling, he leaned back on the board to stop.

Stumbling sideways, I avoided the collision by a hair. He pushed into my backpack, knocking me into a girl who screamed before hitting the locker.

“Oh crap,” I sputtered, ready to apologize.

Glaring, she started to say something when the skateboarder’s string of curses drew everyone’s attention. Pivoting to face me, his skeletal cheeks scarlet. “Will you watch where you’re going? I had the right of way, goddamn it!”

“What the…‌” I shrugged my backpack farther up my shoulder to stall as my mind reeled at the absurd accusation. “Where
I
was going?” I demanded. “You’re skateboarding in a busy college hallway, jerkface!”

Straightening his oversized red shirt he said. “Yeah, until you jumped out in front of me; right in the
middle
of the fuckin’ hallway.”

If I hadn’t been close to the wall, I would have staggered back into it. The jerk really thought this was all my fault.

Before I could think up a retort the skater boy tucked his board under his arm. “Next time maybe pay attention to shit outside of your preppy little world, bitch.” He brushed the greased hair from his face.

“No…‌” I started and realized my argument would be about as useful as my kid sister saying, ‘no you.’

My face burned and my fists curled the note into my palm.

Over the skater boy’s shoulder, I saw Phoebe Williams’ glossy, honey hair. My friend wiggled through a pair of girls, snapping. “WTF, move will you?!”

She was the familiar face I needed to see.

“Hey,” Phoebe nodded to me and glanced at the greasy guy, then back to me. “What’s going on?”

Two against one and the second being far taller, leaner and scarier, the skater-boy shrugged. “It’s nothin’. I don’t need some PMS breakdown. I’m outta here.” Pivoting, he stalked off like he’d won the argument.

Phoebe shouted after him. “Come back anytime you’re not afraid, Olive Oyl.”

I was too busy turning to apologize to the girl I knocked into to see if he reacted, but she’d already disappeared.

Straightening, I tried to regain some composure despite hearing someone in the crowd say, “Aw man, that would have been a hilarious wipe out.”

“What was that all about?” Phoebe asked again. “I was going to tell you all about a stupid nightmare I had last night and here you are starting scenes again. This cry for attention isn’t healthy, you know.” She smirked.

Squeezing the note in my hand so she wouldn’t see, I said, “I orchestrated the perfect equation leading to a crash. Him on the skateboard plus me daydreaming equals…‌” I made a exploding sound with my lips and knocked my fists together.

“I don’t know if being a reporter is your calling. You might be meant for the movies, Nora. Those visual effects were riveting.”

“Shaadup. What are you doing at this end of the school anyway?”

Phoebe’s classes were often in another building entirely.

“Waiting for Aidan. He said he’d give me a ride home.”

I cringed inwardly, hoping it didn’t show.

“He should be here any minute.”

I shook my head and blurted, “He’s nowhere close now.”

“How would you know?” Phoebe scanned the crowd.

Don’t tell her, it’s stupid and she won’t believe you
. I shrugged.

Phoebe flashed pearly teeth that were almost too big for her mouth. “Almost didn’t recognize you with the new hair.”

“Does it look like toasted coconut to you?” I asked. I twisted the ponytail around my fist to show Phoebe.

“It looks like hair,” Phoebe replied. “You look really weird as a blonde. Just sayin’.”

“I needed a distraction from all this studying. Toasted coconut seemed like a good idea at the time.”

Together we joined the flow of the crowd of college students. It wasn’t hard to notice that people were getting ready to take off. Most classes would have ended or were about to and the hallways were growing thicker with bodies.

Phoebe had one of her sideways smirks. “We need to get you a guy so you’re not prone to toasted coconut on a weekend.”

“Ha!” I barked. “I have no time for guys. What I need is a nice long weekend away from all this.” It wasn’t like Phoebe had been on date in over six months either. Besides, there was college to think about, summer jobs, next year’s tuition. Guys would just have to come later.

In her best radio DJ impression, Phoebe shoved her fist to her thin lips. “Congratulations! You are one of our lucky finalists for a long weekend getaway. Let’s not forget to include some of your bestest pals and cohorts,” after a pause, she added, “and of course, boys. That would be a penis, one for you and one for me. What do you say to that?” She almost knocked me in the shoulder with her fake microphone.

Leaning into her hand, I said lamely. “Read and Cody aren’t my type.”

Phoebe snorted and dropped her hands. “Cody has his nuts caught in Robin’s nest and Read, well he’s an asshole, not a guy. We can uninvite him.”

“What is with you two?” I blurted, then threw my hands up fast enough to make her jerk back. “Forget I asked.”

“Good idea,” Phoebe said and changed the subject. “We should ask Aidan to come.”

“Uh, no.”

“He’s cute.”

“He’s creepy.”

Phoebe rolled her dark green eyes. “You’re irrational.”

“And you’re pushy.” I looked up at her and flashed teeth in a satisfied grin.

Phoebe sighed. “Touché. So, meet at lunch tomorrow and we’ll figure it out? And, just so you know, Aidan’s coming. Read’s already asked him.”

I faltered in my step. “Read
is
an asshole.”

Phoebe grinned. “Told’ja. And we might not have to look for a place to camp.”

Adjusting my backpack on my shoulder I started to slow as we reached my locker. I noticed Phoebe didn’t carry anything with her. She rarely left the school with more than a few books at a time. “What do you mean? Did Robin get angry about Whitefish Lake again?”

Phoebe snorted. “Yes, but that’s not it. Aidan says he has the perfect place.”

Aidan Birket was coming. Something about that made my stomach drop. I never really liked Aidan and not knowing why was doubly frustrating. He wasn’t mean, cruel, annoying, or any quality I can list that would stretch my dislike beyond instinct. There was something about him that was just off.

“What perfect place?” I asked, hearing the edge. I focused on the locker door instead of Phoebe.

“Wouldn’t say. I guess we find out tomorrow.” Phoebe leaned against the locker next to mine and stretched her arms over her head. Her olive tanned stomach was toned to perfection. I suppose wanting to get into physical education had benefits.

“You do that to make people jealous?” I asked and tugged down her white t-shirt. “You’ll stop traffic.”

Already there was an anonymous whistle from the crowd.

Grinning, Phoebe lowered her arms and jutted her chin at me. “What’s that?”

To my horror, she was looking at my fist. A bit of paper poked out.

So much for a temporary distraction. “Nothing.”

Dismal is the Demon’s Grave
. It didn’t even make sense. Maybe it was someone with really similar handwriting and it somehow got stuck in my book.

Unless it wasn’t my book
. Students scattered their stuff across the library tables like they were prepping a picnic. Marly from my media class had been across from me this afternoon.

Dropping the backpack off my shoulder, it fell with a thud against the linoleum.

“You okay, Fuller?” Phoebe quirked a thin, yellow brow.

“Yeah, yeah,” I muttered and pulled the
Writing for the Media
book free.

“Are you missing something?”

Flipping the book open I saw my name scrawled at the top.

My shoulders slumped and hope whistled by. It must have been a prank. There was no point wasting time thinking about a stupid note with finals in a few weeks.

“Hey look.” Phoebe’s swan-like neck stretched. “It’s your book, imagine that,” she said flatly.

Part of me wanted to tell her what I’d found but if she mentioned any of it to my family I’d be wheeled off to the sanitarium. I wish that were a joke.

Until I could explain the note, I’d have to hide it.

Slipping the note in my jeans pocket I started stuffing the locker with books I didn’t need. Slamming it shut I met Phoebe’s eyes. “It’s nothing,” I said, hearing the darkness in my own voice. “You should go save Robin instead.”

Looking past Phoebe I could see the petite former cheerleader arguing with a handsome, blonde guy from the football team. Phoebe had pointed him out once or twice. If someone was into sports, leave it to Phoebe to know who they were.

“That’s weird,” Phoebe said slowly, eyes narrowing.

I took advantage of Phoebe’s distraction and slammed my locker shut. “I’ll see you tomorrow!” Before she could speak, I bolted into the streaming crowd.

As much as I adored Phoebe, she’d never understand the note or my family.

During supper Read texted an apology about inviting Aidan.

Crap. That meant Phoebe got to him. I hated it when she did that.

Seeing me shake my head, Mom sighed. When I looked up it was as if she’d read my mind.

“I remember when the yearly weekends were just outside the patio doors. You kids were so cute putting up those tents.” The smile slipped and she met my eyes, lowering her voice. “You guys will be safe this year, right?”

I, of course, agreed and smiled feeling the strain.

It was just supposed to be the usual bunch and maybe Robin because she was Cody’s girlfriend. Why Aidan though? Whenever we were close to each other my stomach would clench and my spine felt taut.

I guess there was always the option of not going. I could fake an illness or pretend to have other plans. On second thought, it would be more believable to fake an illness. Oh, the sad, sad life I lead.

I realized I was twirling the new blonde hair around my fingers and immediately stopped. Instead, I texted a lie to Read:
It’s all good. I hope Aidan comes!
I made sure to add that exclamation mark. Maybe it would cloak the lie, and he wouldn’t see through it. It was always easier to lie in a text message. If he’d seen me, I’d have never gotten away with it.

After supper there was studying. I managed to dedicate twenty, lousy minutes before my attention started wandering. I could read the words and not retain a lick of it.

Resting my forehead on the cool, open textbook, I hoped I could pass Professor Chase’s essay. Every essay to date, she’d given me a solid, red C-.

In the living room I could hear my little sister, Mona arguing with our mom about going to the park with Dad on the weekend. He’d been distracted these last…‌oh, ten years or so and didn’t have much time for us.

When one-year-old Caitlin’s high pitched wails sought attention I knew homework was a bust.

Standing, I realized sandbags had invaded every limb. I shuffled to the stairs and forced myself to take the steps two at a time, hoping to increase blood flow.

After finals, I was going to have to treat myself.

At the top of the stairs, my eyes caught the open bathroom door and every muscle ached.
Oh yes, a shower
, I thought. A hot, steamy, forget-your-cares-shower would be perfect.

I did a zombie shuffle to my bedroom for clothes. The idea of the shower still sent tingles down my arms. Gathering up the essentials I thought about the weekend.

This year, I’d planned for a camping trip, one I’d hoped to share with my friends but with Aidan butting in with some great idea…‌I sighed.

Whatever he had planned, it was probably something like camping. We’d play drinking games and roast marshmallows. Maybe after a few shots I could get Phoebe to tell me what was going on with her and Read. Or maybe I’d get Read to, if he was drunk enough.

I smirked, recalling the trip two years ago when Phoebe was dared to run through the campground naked. She was so fast most folks didn’t know what to make of it. Then there was the year where a simple game of “chubby bunny” ended with Read’s chipmunk-cheeked victory dance to Michael Jackson’s
Thriller
. Needless to say, we were asked to leave but not a single soul was sober enough to drive and we had to wait until morning.

Locking the bathroom door behind me, I tested the door handle to be sure. With Mona’s affinity for pranks one could never have too many locks.

Starting the shower, I went through the monotonous routine of undressing and brushing my hair. My reflection left much to be desired. Weeks‌—‌no months‌—‌of my hair trapped in a ponytail, made me look strange when it fell past my shoulders. The new color was foreign and I found myself staring for several seconds.

“I don’t care what Phoebe says” I told the girl in the mirror, “I think blonde looks good on you.”

Large blue eyes blinked back at me, the bags beneath them seemed a little heavier today than yesterday. Sleep deprivation does that, I suppose. My grown out bangs framed my childish, round face, almost reaching my chin. I set down the brush, as steam clouded the girl in the mirror. My muscles ached to feel the warm water.

I flung open the glass shower door and I sealed myself in. Warm water beat down my hair and back, swirling my troubled thoughts down the drain. Well, at least until tomorrow, when I’d worry about the weekend, the note, and whatever else I could. With this much overanalyzed stress, I’m certain that, by thirty, I’ll have to take up drinking just to make the voices go away.