“No. Is there one?”
He runs his fingers through the back of my hair. “No,” he whispers with a little laugh. “Actually I don’t have any idea. What was so spectacular?”
“Time travel!” I beam up at him.
The coach whistles over at Logan.
“I gotta go. Don’t ever joke like that. If you come in contact with someone, it could change things.” He presses in a quick kiss. “You could hasten someone’s death if you’re not careful.”
I watch as he runs back to the field.
I don’t know if I killed her, but I’m sure I took the fight out of her.
***
I wait until Mom and Tad go to bed. I place the dresser back over my door and turn on the shower. I climb into the butterfly room and arrange the four pillows I’ve dragged up here. Clutching at Chloe’s diary, I try my hardest to fall asleep. It’s funny how sleep doesn’t come when you want it—how it wants to hang out far too long when you no longer need it.
I can feel the passage of time. My lids flutter as I struggle to open them. I take in a deep breath of stifling air and sit up. The cover is back over the opening! I’m back.
I open the door to the passage extra careful not to scare her into having a heart attack or inspire her to throw a ninja star at me or something equally stupid, but deadly.
I can’t make out any noise, so I take a second to convince myself that I can hear. My ears fill with the sound of rushing water, then stabilize. I hop down and move to the edge of the closet. I see her out there with her ear-buds in, threading a pencil through her fingers.
Same day. I think.
She picks up her cell and plucks out an ear-bud.
The diary in my hand starts to shiver. It warms beneath my fingers then evaporates into nothing.
I did it. Chloe will never know I was here, and she can fight for her life. But what if she survives? I’ll be somewhere else. I might even still be on Paragon. Surely there’s another cursed house that no one wants to touch with a ten-foot pole that Tad can get at cost, right? But what if there’s not, and I never see Logan again?
“You think I care what kind of car you drive? You could ride a bike and I wouldn’t care.” She purrs into the phone. “Get white.”
Logan’s right there on the other line. Maybe while she’s in the bathroom I can call him back and give him my number?
I express my disappointment in one quick breath.
“Tell him to get black, silver is way too close.”
Get on with it.
“I can’t. I have practice. But I’ll take a rain check. If I make tryouts I’ll let you buy me something nice.” She laughs again. “And if you make varsity, I’ll buy you something nice.” She laughs “Me? I’m partial to jewels. Family jewels.”
Yes we know.
She walks passed me and heads into the bathroom. I speed over and start dragging the chair back. The pendant catches my eye again. It’s so pretty. Unique.
I look over my shoulder at the open mouth of the closet. People misplace things all the time. And Logan will thank me for it, plus no more Michelle.
I snake it off the dresser and stuff it into my jeans.
The toilet flushes.
I make a beeline to the butterfly room. I believe if I don’t fall asleep Chloe will come in and beat me. I can sleep. I can…
42
Yours
It worked! I hug all four of my pillows at once then hop back down to my bedroom. I pluck the pendant out of my pocket and kiss it with squeal of delight.
This time I didn’t speak to Chloe, so she’ll have no clue what her future holds. A thick feeling of guilt coats me from the inside. I should have warned her. I should find out where this horrible thing happens and help her circumvent it.
I should also go back to my old life in L.A. and tell my old self all about this cool guy named Logan and how I have to force my mother to buy a house on Paragon…except one tiny detail, I don’t know how to get anywhere. And the simple fact I’m back in my own bedroom means that returning the diary and staying out of Chloe’s life, still yielded the same deadly results.
The pendant warms in my hand. At least I can give it back to Logan, and it’s good-bye Michelle.
I pick my cell up off my desk and flop on my bed.
I have something you want ~S
Less than ten seconds later.
Are you in the mood to give it away?
What? No! But yes!!! ~S
He’ll never guess in a million years I have the pendant. I’ll just tell him I found it in the secret compartment in the butterfly room.
Can you come over? ~S
Sorry.
Why not ~S
It takes a little longer than I like for him to get back to me.
I’m with M. @ the movies. She’s in the bathroom and I SWEAR this ends tonight.
I don’t text him back.
***
Later, in my angry dreams, I think I see Michelle. She laughs at me while waving Logan’s sweater like a flag.
Something soft and wet trails my neck and I struggle to wake up, trying to shoo the dog away. Then I remember with perfect clarity we don’t have a dog and I shoot out of bed like a pistol.
It’s Logan holding his hands up in the surrender position. He’s got a remorseful grin on his face and something rectangular tucked under his arm. He plucks it out and holds up the diary victoriously.
“You got it!” I say far too loud. I slap my hand over my mouth and motion for Logan to help me move the dresser against my door.
Once we finish, he passes me the diary.
“You read it?” I whisper.
“Not yet.”
It’s still bound with glue. Each page is petrified together, you can’t read it or add another entry—that means Michelle didn’t read it either.
I exhale hard. A lump forms in my throat. I know she’s been gone almost a year, but I saw her. I was just with her, twice this week.
I pluck the pendent out of my pocket and go to hide it in the palm of my hand, but the rough corner of it pricks me.
“Ouch!” The pendent ejects out of my hand and dances across the floor.
“You found it.” There’s a note of exceptional wonder in his voice. He picks it up off the floor and holds it out like an exotic specimen. “Where’d you find it?” He doesn’t take his eyes off it.
“I didn’t.” I meant to say, the butterfly room. I bring my fingers up over my lips.
“You took it?” He looks puzzled. “You went back to return the diary, but kept the pendant?” His face drains of color.
It becomes quickly apparent that I’ve somehow botched things again.
“People lose things all the time,” I say.
“Not things they need to eat, and breathe, and see.”
“What are you talking about?”
“It’s a protective hedge.” He flips it in the air like a coin. A great look of sadness comes over him. “I wondered why she took it off. Why she put it in her diary of all places.”
I swallow hard. Chloe must have remembered something from my first visit. Clearly I have no clue about time travel.
“Here.” He opens my hand and places it gently down, stone side up. “Wear this. Don’t ever take this off. No Sector, or Fem, or Count can kill you. You’ll be impervious.” He gives a very careful kiss just above my left eyebrow.
Then leaves.
I head back to my bed staring—glaring at the pendant. So I’m the one who took her protective hedge away. I’m the one who turned her loose to an entire hoard of waiting evil. It was me all along.
Logan didn’t take her diary. Why were the pages still glued if I undid the first visit? Unless all I did was return the diary. And I’m starting to think I should return the pendant too.
I go over it six ways to Sunday, how I could possibly change things—help Chloe live—find my father and do the same.
I think of the woman hanging from the backdoor, the Fem and its horrid
putrefied stench, the men in the wrong way lane, the fire. If I keep the pendant I can avoid an entire lifetime of grief. I could live without having to fear my death—captivity, which is worse than death, and then Gage would be right. I could glide into old age skydiving without a parachute every single day. Or I could do the right thing and give it back.
Tears fill under my lids. I watch the world distort at their command—wobble to and fro—quiver as though it were afraid for its life.
I know what I need to do.
43
Family
Tad and Mom decide since its Melissa’s birthday we should all go out to dinner. Melissa votes for the bowling alley, which Tad quickly rejects, and for that I’m thankful. The last thing I want is Tad and my mother near Logan. No thank you.
The Mexican restaurant in downtown Paragon is your traditional villa knockoff with sombreros and colorful paper doilies strewn about on a laundry line. It’s dark inside and immediately I like it. It’s the exact romantic, exotic environment I imagine Logan and I frequenting. Especially once school starts, since we’ll hardly see each other due to our nonexistent classes together. While I’m busy daydreaming about how handsome Logan would be illuminated by one of those small red candles, a pair of hands land flat on my shoulders.
“Hey.” It comes in a quick hot whisper.
I pivot around on my heels to find Logan nodding into me with a little more distance than I’m used to.
Gage appears, then his aunt and uncle.
“What are you doing here?” It takes everything in me not to lunge into a hug.
“Hopefully we’ll be eating.” He tweaks his brows.
“Skyla!” Logan’s aunt offers me her hand.
Glancing over I see Mom and Tad bearing down on me with loaded interest. So I introduce them.
My mother is enthralled with Logan’s Aunt Emma.
They jab on about textiles and textures, the rustic touch and other irrelevant things until the waitress calls out Melissa’s name.
“Why don’t you join us?” My mother asks. It sounds so genuine, not obligatory like you would expect it to be.
“Yes!” Emma beams back. “We would love to, right Barron?” He’s decidedly less enthused, but agrees. I can see Tad sweating financial bullets already at the thought of paying for an additional four meals.
Logan pulls me back by the elbow as everyone clears the waiting area.
“Where’s your pendant?”
“I…” I don’t really want to get into it.
“You don’t have a chain, do you?” He gives a sly smile and produces a long silver strand from his pocket.
“Excellent.” I take it from him nervously. “Wouldn’t it be funny if I secretly returned the pendant last night?” I force a giggle.
“It would be very not funny. It couldn’t help her now. But you, you’ll be safe.”
“You mean she’d still die?”
“Of course. It doesn’t change. Besides, the odds of going back to the exact same place and time are phenomenal. I don’t think it could happen.”
“So if I had…when I put on the pendant, I’m free of all things scary?” I hold up my hair while he attaches the clasp.
“And nobody will be able to kill you. Ever.”
I shut my eyes hard and cry a little over my stupid, stupid mistake.
***
If I hadn’t embarrassed myself before, I was working really hard at it now. You’d think I was at Chloe’s funeral the way I pushed my food around my plate and said two words the entire meal. Gage sits on one side of me, and Logan on the other. I feel slightly disoriented and dizzy from all the information Logan just pumped into my brain. If only he would have spelled everything out for me right from the beginning, I would have never gone back on my own volition.
Melissa can’t take her eyes off Gage. Its kind of adorable watching an unexpected bit of puppy love bloom, even if it is one sided. We sing to her and she blows out the candle sticking crooked out of the complimentary slice of flan. I’m sure Tad expects us to split it ten ways, so I’m not too stunned when he asks the waitress for extra spoons.
“Melissa, did you make a wish?” Emma asks politely.
“Yes,” she’s quick to answer. “I wish, when I grow up I marry Gage.”
A round of laughter circles the table.
I shake my head, still fogged up in a daze. “Actually, Gage is going to marry me.” I say matter of fact.
“Skyla!” My mother looks both surprised and miffed. “I thought you were seeing Logan?”
“I am. It’s twisted.”
When the check comes, Logan’s Uncle Barron insists on treating the birthday girl and covers the entire bill.
Everyone rises to their feet simultaneously. Logan shakes Tad’s hand then my mother’s.
“You mind if I treat Skyla to dessert? I’ll bring her home right after.” Logan asks still holding her hand in both of his.
“Not at all,” she says. “Take your time.” She leans into me on the way out. “I like him. Don’t blow it.”
Typical of my mother, not to have faith in me. What does she think I’m going to do? Burn down his kitchen? Cause a riff between him and his cousin? Return the one gift he gave me that could save my life? All of the above?
The waitress seats us at a table for two, nearby. Logan and I peruse the menu and end up ordering the deep-fried ice cream.
“I can tell my mother loved your parents.” My mouth drops as I realize what I’ve just said. Sure, remind him he’s got dead parents. Add it to the list.
“I know what you meant. I consider them my parents. To tell the truth I don’t really remember the original set.” He pulls a bleak smile.
“I’m sorry. That’s terrible.” The romantic vision I had is completely destroyed. “She was on the phone with you.” I add in a lowered tone. Why not go out with a big bang and upset him over his dead girlfriend, too? “When I saw her, you were picking out a color for your truck.”
“Oh,” his voice rises as though it were all coming back to him, “and she suggested Gage go with black. He never forgave her for that. It’s too hard to keep clean.”
It’s quiet again. The waitress brings our dessert and two spoons. We start in slow with the task at hand.
“This is really good,” I say without emotion.
“I know.” He’s not eating. He’s looking through me with those rare glowing eyes. It’s the secret I’m keeping that has him perplexed. He may not know, but he suspects everything.
44
Mystery
At breakfast, Tad announces he’s decided to take my mother to the mainland for the day. I’m so thrilled I do a little happy dance underneath the table.
“And I hope all of you behave.” He says the last word aimed sarcastically at me.
“I’m not leaving the house. In fact, I’m not even leaving my bedroom.” Logan’s coming over today. I texted him and asked for a do-over after I fantastically ruined every aspect of last night.
“Great.” Tad produces a piece of paper from behind his back. “So you won’t have a problem signing this.” He lays it flat on the table before me and plops a pen down besides it.
“What’s this?” I ask picking it up.
It reads, I, Skyla Laurel Messenger, pledge not to have wild and out of control parties, or gatherings with two or more people without my parent’s full and final consent. I will not have boys over under any circumstance unless both parents approve and at least one parent is present in the company of said boy. I will not drink alcohol, nor will I allow my friends to consume alcohol on my family’s property. I will not do illegal drugs, nor smoke cigarettes, cigars, or Salvia. And lastly, I shall not have intimate relations without the bond of marriage while under my parent’s roof. If I should choose to become sexually active, I will honor my parent’s request and give proof of my selected choice of birth control…
I jump up from the table. And wave the paper in my mother’s face.
“Do you
know about this?” I shriek. I knew Tad was sick and twisted, but now he’s exposed himself to my mother.
“I do.” Her lashes lower and her voice drops to her shoes.
“You do?”
“Yes. I went with him to have it notarized,” she adds, a little miffed at my questioning.
“You had this notarized? I can’t believe you. You’re both sick!” I throw the paper between the two of them.
“You’re out of control, Skyla.” Tad’s calm voice only sets me off even more.
“I’m not out of control. You’re out of control. You’re…you’re a freak! A cheap freak! Why do you have a stack of hundred dollar bills locked upstairs in your bedroom?” I clasp my hands on my hips. I’m going to let all the bombs drop and fall where they may. I’m sick of living with this uptight asshole, and when my mother hears what a nutcase he is, she will be, too.
“What are you talking about?” His head rotates in a half circle.
“And what about all those news clippings about this house being haunted, and the dead girl who used to live here?” Both Mia and Melissa let out a shriek. I step into my mother’s face. “I bet you didn’t know he has a news clipping of Daddy’s accident. If that’s not grounds for divorce, I don’t know what is,” I roar.
My mother’s head drops down into her chest and hangs there while she tries to absorb it all.
“Lizbeth, what in the hell is your daughter talking about, now?” His face turns purple when he says it, and a vein on his forehead pops from the effort.
“It’s mine, Skyla,” she groans. “The clippings and the money. They’re mine.” She lifts her shoulders to her ears.
“Are you hiding money from me? I thought we weren’t going to have separate accounts? What happened to what’s mine is yours, and what’s yours is mine?” He sounds like a child when he says it.
“It is. I swear it is. I like to have a little cash on the side in the event of an emergency. Everybody should have cash at the ready.”