Karma Bites (6 page)

I’m hot. Burning up, but I don’t know why. The figure is still there, in the darkness. A peeping Tom? One of The LP’s minions sent to try to make me feel like I’m going crazy? Now, I squint, finally able to make my body work. I rub my eyes.

And it’s gone.

There’s nothing but dark night, trees, and houses. A shaky breath falls from my mouth. Still, I stand there, half-relieved whatever it was is gone. Who wants someone lurking outside their window, right? Definitely not a sane person and that’s what scares me because the other part of me is hoping, praying, the person will step out of the shadows just so I will know someone’s really there. It’s almost better some psycho killer or pervert be outside my window then the other option.

It doesn’t take being the daughter of a crazy person to know seeing things isn’t a good sign. Fear rears up inside me like a wild horse. Not fear for anything outside my window, but for me. “Please be there, please be there, please be there,” I whisper, not caring that most sane people don’t wish for someone to be outside their window.

I’m more scared of losing my mind. Did I hear something too? I can’t be sure, but don’t know if that would help or hurt. Could prove someone was really there, or hell, I could be both hearing and seeing things.
Please…I don’t want to be like her.

“Abbs?”

Finally my body jumps into action. I twist toward the voice, breathing ragged. “Mom, you scared the crap out of me.” I hold my hand over my chest, fighting the urge for one more look out the window.

“Abigail? What’s wrong?” She steps toward me, her eyes scanning my room. That’s all I need. If she thinks someone is watching me, I can’t imagine what she’ll do. I
know
she won’t think I’m seeing things. She’ll make me quit my job and I’ll lose the freedom so within reach.

“Nothing. Seriously, I was just writing. I didn’t hear you come in.” Luckily, my diary still sits by the window.

“Okay.” She keeps walked to me. “I was just thinking you might want to back some cookies with me? Maybe watch a movie or something.” She brushes her fingers through my curls, and I sigh. “We haven’t really spent much time together lately. Since you’re going to be a working woman soon, I better schedule my time in while I can.”

She tries to laugh, but I see the fear dancing behind her words. I feel guilty, but not enough to change my mind. Plus, I know what she’s doing and after everything, I need it just as much as she does. I need my best friend. I need normal. “Double chocolate chip?”

“Is there any other kind?”

“Deal.”

Mom heads for my door. I follow behind her. As I turn the corner to go into the hallway, I make myself look behind me. Darkness, trees and nothing.

***

“Stop, you goober. I already put the eggs in.”

I roll my eyes at Mom. “Goober? Really?”

“You’re my goober,” she teases. She used to call me that when I was little. I’m not sure why or where it came from, but I had to fight to lose the name when I realized it totally wasn’t cool.

“You’re a dork.” I dip my finger into the batter and lick it clean. “Mmm, I love chocolate.”

“Me too. I like it much better as a cookie, though.” She smacks my hand. I move to the stove and start scooping chunks of cookie dough onto the cookie sheet. Mom loves to bake. It’s not something I’m really into, but it's something we always do together. I like it, spending time with her like this. I imagine all the other girls at school who do stuff like this with their moms and it makes me feel like I’m not so different from them.

“Not so much. You can use almost half the amount you’re using,” Mom says from beside me.

“Not if I want big cookies.”

“You’ll have one big cookie and nothing else if you keep using so much.” She laughs and I do too. Right now, she doesn’t look so worn out. “They’re going to spread so they’re all touching if you’re not careful.”

I take a little bit of dough from each of the piles and start using the second cookie sheet. After I put them both in the oven, I turn to her. It’s so hard not to ask more questions, but I don’t. Right now I just want to forget. Forget the imaginary person outside my window, forget our fights lately and forget everything I’ve learned. “How’s work?”

It’s such a lame question but she knows what I meant to say because she replies with, “I missed you more.”

Before we get too sentimental, I squeeze her hand and ask, “What do you want to watch?”

It takes us a good twenty minutes to agree on a movie. Of course neither of us throw out any horror titles, but she likes those crime flicks and I’m more of a romantic comedy girl, myself. Finally we decide right as the oven timer goes off. I get the movie set up and sit on the couch. A few minutes later Mom comes in with a big plate of warm, double chocolate chip cookies and two glasses of milk.

As she sits beside me, I smile, forgetting all about the person outside my window. I feel normal.

It’s funny how sometimes you expect things to magically get better when you get talked to by a cute boy—I mean, when something really cool happens. It’s embarrassing to admit, but I had this image of walking into school today and suddenly not being the vamp freak. Caleb would ask me to hang-out after school; maybe Stacy would trip and break her nose or something. You know, a cool day.

I know it’s not real nice to wish that, but a girl has to get perks somehow, right?

It doesn’t really matter what I wish because none of it happens. Caleb walks right by me, like we hadn’t had a conversation this weekend. I even smile, maybe inadvertently because who could not smile at Caleb Evans? Still, he walks by me, not even giving me the half broken grin.

Strike one.

Next, The LP doesn’t say a word to me all day. Nothing. No little digs in the hall, no laughs, no dirty looks. In fact, Stacy smiles at me twice during Mr. Henry’s sleep-inducing lecture.

Smiles and fake niceties are no
bueno
in the mean girl department. Believe me. I have experience where this is concerned.

Ring!

I jump a little when the bell rings. The scared or maybe smart girl inside me itches to run, but I don’t. I pick up my backpack and slowly make my way to the door with the kids who live normal lives. Inside, I’m wondering when it will come. When they’ll strike. As much as I don’t want to deal with it, I’m feeling a little inspired (or crazed) by my good weekend. Caleb’s advice plays again in my head, but this time I’m not taking it in regards to Mom, but my life in general. If I want things to change, if I want to make this last year a little less hellish, I have to make it happen.

This all sounds fine and dandy, but my heart is shaking like a leaf.

I slip out the door and hang a right. A slow right and not the frantic-run-for-my-life kind.

Nothing.

I walk. Hear The LP talk; see the crowd part while their highnesses walk through.

Nothing.

I make it all the way to the tree line before turning around. Still, nada. The optimist inside me starts to glow. Maybe things really
are
changing for me. Boys, jobs, and no attack of the killer mean girls. Of course, this is ignoring the fact that I’m invisible to Caleb at school, but still.

I let my hands brush against the bark of a tree as I stroll by. Caleb’s cabin comes into view. Closer and closer I walk toward it. Anticipation bubbles inside me. Will he come out to talk to me? Do the peak-out-the-window thing as I nonchalantly walk by when really I’m embarrassingly giddy?

Or, maybe I’ll blow him off this time. Hell, earlier today, I smiled at him and he completely ignored me. He deserves it.

His house looks dark. The windows and blinds are closed up. My eyes are glued there anyway, wondering if he’ll make an appearance.

“Hey, bitch. Took you long enough.”

My head snaps toward the voice. Parked in the middle of Caleb’s rough road is The LP.

Yep, my life still sucks.

What the hell am I going to do out here? Nerves are attacking me. Stacy has that evil glint in her eye and I’m aware they could definitely pull one of those perfect murders and bury my body out here. I’m sure they’d get away with it too. Silently, I hope my voice is steady. “What do you want?” I stop, leaving space between us.

Stacy huffs. “As if you have to ask? You see, I’m not trash like you, but girls like us, we’d never stoop to your level. Hence the whole woods thing. No one can see it here.” She pops her gum. “I’m done playing nice.”

“Playing nice?” I blurt. I would hate to see her mean side.

“Yeah.” Stacy moves in toward me and her clones follow. My feet practically lift from the ground to run, but I fight it. If I run today, I’ll have to keep running. Maybe I’ll have to keep running away, but not today. I’m pretty sure getting your butt kicked is some kind of teenage rite of passage anyway. Maybe if they see I’m done running from them, they’ll find some other misfit to torture.

Not likely, but still.

I stamp down the fear surging inside me at high tide.

“Aw, isn’t it cute? She’s got her fists balled up and she’s not running.” Stacy laughs and Heather joins in.

“I bet she thinks she’s a vampire too. Are you going to use your super strength on us?”

My anger multiplies like a disease. The vampire thing is getting old. “Screw you. You’re even sadder than I am. Do you sit and play dead when Stacy commands, too?”

If it’s possible for a person to actually combust, I’m sure Heather would right now. Her face is bright red like the blueberry girl from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.

“You’re such a bitch!” Heather comes at me first, Stacy hanging behind, not even willing to get her hands dirty. Tiffany is right behind Heather.

My heart slam-dances. I’m pretty sure it might explode along with Heather’s head. I try not to, but flinch when Heather’s fist flies at me.
Oh, God. I
’
m about to get beat up for the first time.
But I dodge it. Some hidden strength that has lain dormant inside me for most of my life surges forward. I swing at her, but then Tiffany is grabbing my arms.

In case you didn’t know, three on one sucks. Tiffany holds me while the other two come at me looking like really bad cartoon characters. Then, I’m flinching. Not from a punch, but from a piercing, nails on chalkboard sound.

The LP turn and I look forward.

Caleb!

He holds a key against Stacy’s Mercedes, a long scratch now marring the side. “It’s pretty impossible to tell you how good that felt.” He’s in all black: pants, hoodie, hair. Everything but his smooth skin and green eyes. Caleb leans against the car, casual as can be. “Don’t think I won’t do it again.”

“You
jerk
. I’ll turn you in!”

Caleb shrugs. “And?”

He’s been in trouble before. I remember hearing about it and everyone in town knows about his dad. He’s been behind bars a couple times, mostly for drinking and driving.

“Want another scratch to match this one?” He smirks. It’s not the same as his broken smile, but I find myself returning it anyway.

Stacy frantically scrambles for her phone. “I’m calling the cops.”

“Go for it.” Caleb pushes off the car and crosses his arms. “There’s one thing you should know, though. My dad is a real paranoid-kind-of-guy. He’s always scared someone might try and sneak up on us out here. He even installed cameras. I’m sure I have a few nice shots of you guys trying to kick Abby’s ass. I’m pretty sure
I’m
out of the camera angle though.”