Chapter Two
Elizabeth – Seven Years Earlier
“Elizabeth, come on,” Monica whined. She crossed her arms over her narrow chest and stared at me. “You know we can’t throw a party. Especially not right now.”
I rolled my eyes. “Why not? Your parents aren’t coming back until Monday; they won’t ever know.” We kept walking away from the school, toward home on the main road.
“It’s not that,” Monica said. “You know Jamie and Brian don’t care.” She narrowed her brown eyes. She paused and stood rooted firmly on the side of the road. A car passed, and her blonde hair whirled in the breeze, obscuring her face.
“Then what’s the problem?”
“It’s everything else,” Monica said. “You know – all this shit that’s been going on around here.” She sighed and closed her eyes. For a moment, her pale features were so still that she looked like a corpse. Then she opened her lids and sighed dramatically.
“Like what?” I stared at her. “What are you talking about?”
“My neighbor, Gene, found all six of his dairy cows dead,” Monica said. “Like, last week. Someone had snuck into the field and slit their throats.”
I shivered. “That’s creepy,” I said. “But I don’t think someone who killed a bunch of cows is going to attack us because we have a party.”
“It’s not just that,” Monica insisted. As always, when she was getting worked up about something, her voice rose to a higher pitch. “Whoever did it splashed the blood all over the side of Gene’s house.”
“It was probably a bunch of bored jocks,” I said. I groaned as a truck full of football players drove past, staring at Monica and me with obvious teenage lust in their eyes. “Like those assholes,” I muttered.
“It’s not just Gene’s cows, though,” Monica said. “What about all those people who’ve had robberies and burglaries lately?”
I frowned. “I think my mom mentioned something about that,” I said.
“Yeah,” Monica said. She gestured wildly with her hands. “Like, someone breaks in and makes a mess, but they don’t take anything. Why would anyone do that?”
I shrugged. “My mom said something about how if someone wants drug money, they’re not going to take the time to sell anything. Maybe nobody has cash lying around anymore.”
Monica shrugged. “It seems…worse than that,” she said. A deep crease appeared in her pale forehead. “I don’t know.”
“Come on, wouldn’t it be safer if we had a party? Lots of people around,” I said. I jerked my head in the direction of home. “Let’s go.”
“Yeah but if something bad happened, their parents would sue Jamie and Brian,” Monica said darkly. “Everyone hates my family as it is.”
“You worry too much,” I said firmly. “Nothing is going to happen, Monica. Everything’s fine. It’s just a party.”
“You just want an excuse to call Steven,” Monica teased. She smirked.
I blushed hotly. “That is not true,” I said firmly. “I don’t care about him.”
“Yes, you do,” Monica said.
“He hasn’t called me in weeks,” I said flatly. It was hard to keep from deflating when I thought of Steven D’Amico. A popular junior at our high school, I’d had a crush on him since the first time I saw him. He wasn’t a jerk, either; that was one of the things I liked about him. He was cool, but he wasn’t like the rest of the assholes who played football.
Monica rolled her eyes. “His mother is nuts,” she said. “She probably got jealous.”
In spite of myself, I snickered. “Their family is a little weird.” My stomach twisted, and I tried to shrug off the bad feeling creeping into it.
“A little weird? Are you serious?”
‘Shit,’ I thought. ‘Why did I have to say that?’
“A little weird, honestly, Elizabeth?” Monica asked bossily.
“Just because Andrea is a freak doesn’t mean Steven is,” I said. “Come on, she was scared. She’s like a little kid.”
“She is a little kid,” Monica said sourly. “She’s only fourteen.”
“Just because she skipped kindergarten doesn’t mean she’s smarter than you,” I said carefully.
“Obviously,” Monica replied. “If she were smart, she wouldn’t have acted like such a little kid last year.”
I cringed. The previous year, Monica and Andrea had held a séance in Monica’s attic. Monica and I had been doing that for years. It had been one of our favorite things to do as kids. But since we got into high school, we stopped. Then one day, Andrea came up to Monica and asked if she could help her contact her recently dead grandmother. I still wasn’t sure exactly what had happened – I hadn’t been there – but somehow, the séance had gone badly. Andrea had run out of Monica’s house, sobbing uncontrollably. Mrs. D’Amico had called Monica’s parents, and while they hadn’t punished Monica, they’d warned her not to do that again.
“She couldn’t help it,” I said. “She’s so naïve.”
“She’s a little brat,” Monica said. “She seriously told me that I’m possessed.”
I snorted. “That’s ridiculous,” I said.
“I know.” Monica’s brown eyes flashed with anger. “Steven’s lucky he’s not crazy like his stupid sister. Have fun dealing with her when you and Steven start dating.”
“We’re not going to start dating,” I said stubbornly. “I told you. He’s been ignoring me for weeks.”
“Poor baby,” Monica said dryly. “So, you really want a stupid party, huh?”
I nodded.
“And you wanna call Steven and ask if he can come?”
I nodded again.
“Fine,” Monica said. “But if my house is a wreck, you’re staying to help me clean it up. And no disappearing upstairs with Steven! Don’t leave me alone.”
I laughed. “Okay.”
“I’m serious, Elizabeth.”
“I said okay!”
“Good.” Monica looked satisfied for the first time since we’d begun our walk home. “I’m going to call David and ask if he can drive down. I haven’t seen him in, like, a month.”
I bit my lip. “Sounds good,” I lied. “I’ll be over around seven.”
Monica and I hugged and then we parted ways. We lived on opposite sides of the small town…granted, that was less than a quarter of mile. Monica’s parents, Jamie and Brian, were old hippies. Before they’d had Monica, they’d actually lived in a nudist colony. They had an old farmhouse on the outskirts of Jaffrey. I lived with my parents and my younger brother, Aidan, in a newer development. Jaffrey was a small place – I’d known most of my classmates since elementary school – but I didn’t mind. I wasn’t one of those people who was dying to get out to a big city. I’d always loved living in New Hampshire because it felt so different than everywhere else. It wasn’t for everyone. That was why I liked it so much.
Monica, on the other hand, was constantly unhappy that her parents had picked such a ‘desert.’ She couldn’t wait to graduate and go to college in the biggest city she could find. Every summer, she went to camp for teen members of Mensa, and that was where she had met David.
When Monica had come home from camp about three months ago, she’d gushed about David until I thought my head was going to explode. I’d never really seen her get like that about anyone before. Monica was the understated to my loud; hearing her talk about a guy for hours on end was a little unnerving. By the time I met David, my expectations were sky-high.
He didn’t exactly meet them, either.
Monica’s parents had told her to invite David up for a weekend. She’d invited me over for dinner, and amongst the Tibetan kitsch that Jamie had strewn around the family home, I tried to get to know my best friend’s new boyfriend.
I still remember it like it was yesterday.
The evening had gone incredibly poorly. Afterwards, Monica had explained that David must have been nervous…he wasn’t normally so arrogant. But I wasn’t sure I believed her. David had a magnetic energy about him, but not necessarily in a good way. He seemed like the kind of person who would either wind up a reclusive genius or a serial killer. He looked the part, too – dressed in black from head to toe, with a perpetual smirk and longish black hair that flopped over his coal-black eyes.
I was hoping he wouldn’t be able to make it tonight.
The house was empty when I got home. My brother, Aidan, had just started playing junior-high football, and he was usually at practice for hours. My mom worked as a nurse at a hospital in Keene, and my dad was traveling for business. I took a long bath, then made myself a tomato and mayonnaise sandwich. As I nibbled the crust, I flipped through the channels, wondering how I would work up the nerve to call Steven.
Finally, I bit my lip and grabbed my phone. It took three times to get enough signal for the call to go out, and I shifted nervously on the couch as I listened to the muted ringing on the other end.
“Hello?”
“Hi, this is Elizabeth Hartsell. I’m calling for Steven. Is he available?”
“Oh, hi Elizabeth.” I recognized Andrea’s high-pitched voice. “How are you?”
“I’m fine.” I swallowed nervously.
“That math test was so bad,” Andrea said. “I studied, but it was like, when I sat down, the answers weren’t in my head.”
“I know,” I complained. “I hate math.”
“What are you doing this weekend?”
“Um, not much. Is Steven around?”
“I think he’s in his room.”
“Can I talk to him?”
“Why?”
I groaned inwardly. Annoyance flashed through my mind, followed almost immediately by guilt.
“I have to ask him something,” I said.
“You can tell me,” Andrea said. “I’ll go ask for you.”
I sighed. “Andrea, sorry, may I please speak to your brother?”
“Fine.” There was a loud click as Andrea set the phone down. I heard her muffled footsteps and her voice calling for Steven. He yelled something back, and a few seconds later, I heard the phone click back on.
“Hey Elizabeth.”
I blushed. “Hi.”
“What’s up?”
“Monica’s parents are out of town this weekend, and she’s having a party later. You wanna come?”
Steven chuckled. His voice was deeper than so many of the other guys at school – on the phone, he sounded like an adult. “Hold on a sec,” Steven said. “I’m taking the phone in my room.”
I heard Andrea’s loud protest in the background, and I couldn’t keep myself from silently cursing at her.
A few seconds later, Steven said, “What time?”
“I think around eight.”
“Yeah, I’ll drop by for a little bit.” Steven yawned. “I’m getting pizza with some of the guys later. You care if they come, too?”
“No,” I said. Disappointment seeped through my veins. If Steven showed up with a bunch of jocks, I knew he wouldn’t pay any attention to me.
“Cool. Well, I’ll see you, Elizabeth.”
“See you.”
We hung up, but I sat on my couch for a long time, clutching my phone in my hand.
--
Two hours later, I bounded up the steps to Monica’s parents’ house. The Boers had done little to modernize the farmhouse. There was heat and running water, but little else. They didn’t even have a full kitchen. Monica’s mother, Jamie, went shopping every day and kept the food in a little miniature refrigerator, like the kind of thing you’d see in a dorm room. Her father, Brian, had a garden out back, and he hunted and shot most of the meat the family ate. There was a huge freezer in the basement stocked full of venison and bear.
I’d always been intrigued by the way Monica lived with her parents. For one thing, they trusted her absolutely. It wasn’t unusual for them to leave her alone for three or four days at a time. For another, they never really worried about her. They told her that they were proud of her no matter what she did, as long as she wanted to do it well. That made me jealous. When I’d been younger, my parents had been tough on me. My brother, Aidan, was thirteen, but my mom and dad still treated him like the baby of the family. He got everything he wanted, and I was the one who had to do most of the chores around the house.
Monica opened the front door before I had the chance to knock. She’d changed into a slim-fitting black dress, but her feet were bare and her fine, blonde hair was knotted messily at the top of her head.
“I fell asleep as soon as I got home,” Monica said. She frowned, scratching her chin. “I was so tired all of a sudden. It was crazy. I felt almost like someone had drugged me.”
“You okay?”
“Yeah,” Monica said. “I feel better. You want some pasta?”
I shook my head. Now that I knew Steven was coming, I was a jangle of nerves.
“Steven’s coming. He’s going out for dinner with some friends, and then they’re all dropping by.”
Monica nodded. “I still haven’t called David,” she said. “Give me a minute, will you?”
I wandered through the Boer’s living room as Monica flopped on the couch and dialed her boyfriend. Jamie had collected trinkets from almost every country in the world, and I opened a glass-paneled bookshelf to reveal a selection of Tibetan books about the dead.
“Don’t read those,” Monica called over. “You won’t be able to sleep.”
Intrigued, I pulled one of the books free and started flipping through. I tried to tune out Monica’s voice as I gazed down at the intricate illustrations and ancient designs. They were both cool and terrifying; a picture of a tortured-looking soul flying out of its body made me shudder.
Monica’s voice cut loudly through the room. “Fine,” she said. “Bye.”
“What’s wrong?” I hastily replaced the Tibetan book and closed the shelf.
“He can’t come because he’s going to a party at the University of Burlington,” Monica said sourly. She frowned. “I can’t believe him.”
Privately, I was glad even if I hated seeing my friend upset.
“That sucks,” I said. “Maybe he already had plans.”
“He doesn’t even want to go there when he graduates,” Monica grumbled. “I don’t know why he wants to go tonight.”
I shrugged. “Maybe he wants to make older friends?”
Monica glared at me. “Like older girls?”
“I didn’t mean it like that,” I said quickly. “Come on, let’s move this stuff.” I gestured toward some of the fragile glass art that Jamie and Brian had collected. “Your parents would be so pissed if anything is broken.”
Monica sighed. “They’d probably just tell me it was meant to happen,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Mom is really on this big, serendipity kick lately.”
Still, she helped me move some of the bigger pieces into her father’s study.
“Hey, reach up to the doorframe,” Monica said. “There’s a key there. We should lock this stuff up so no one goes in.”
“That’s awfully paranoid of you.”
“Elizabeth, please,” Monica said bossily. “You’re taller. I can’t reach.”
I stretched and felt around the top of the doorframe. Sure enough, my fingers closed around a heavy brass key. After locking the door, I returned the key to its home on the dusty frame.
A knock sounded at the door, and Monica looked at me in panic. “Go answer that,” she said quickly. “I need to finish getting dressed.”
I nodded and darted through the sunny, dusty rooms. I yanked open the door and gasped when I saw Steven standing there, surrounded by six other guys. I knew them all – small town, after all – but they were all juniors and seniors, and we weren’t close.
“Hey,” Steven said. He grinned. “You live here now?”
I laughed harder than necessary. “Monica’s upstairs,” I said. “She’ll be down soon.”
Steven held up a case of beer. One of his friends whooped and held up a brown paper bag with a big bottleneck sticking out.
“We brought stuff,” Steven said modestly. “Can we come in?”
I nodded. Just being around Steven made my palms sweat and my heart race. He looked really hot in a black t-shirt and dark jeans. His blond hair was pushed back from his forehead, and his skin was remarkably still tanned from the summer. As he walked into the kitchen, he brushed against my side. Shivers raced down my spine.
I followed, watching as he set the case of beer on the counter.
“They got a fridge?”
“Not a big one.” I pointed to the small fridge in the corner of the room.
Steven laughed. His eyes crinkled up and he looked adorable and goofy. “Monica’s parents are real hippies, wow,” he muttered as he looked around.
“Yeah.”
“My parents think they’re like, devil-worshippers,” Steven said. He raised an eyebrow. “Andrea still has nightmares about that stupid séance.”
“Oh, god, do not mention that to Monica,” I said. “She hates thinking about it.”
“So do I,” Steven said. “My parents made us go to church every day for a month after that happened.” He cleared his throat, then pulled open the cardboard case. “You want a drink?”
After a moment’s hesitation, I nodded. Steven tossed me a lukewarm can, and I opened it. The sour, yeasty smell of the beer made me want to gag, but I opened my lips and poured about half of the drink down my throat at once.
“Damn,” Steven said. He gave me an appreciative glance. “You’re a badass, Hartsell.”
I blushed hotly. Just as I was about to reply, Steven’s friends rushed into the room. They grabbed beer from the case, toasted, then popped open the cans and drank loudly. One of them burped, and I bit my lip, so I wouldn’t groan.
“Hey, Elizabeth, come outside for a second,” Steven said. He jerked his head toward the door.
One of his friends made a moaning noise, and Steven punched him gently on the shoulder. I rolled my eyes and tried not to blush as I followed Steven through the crowd of guys.
Steven opened the kitchen door and walked out into Monica’s backyard. The trees were hung with copper and steel ‘art’ that Jamie had made. There was a nice fall breeze, but I could tell the night was going to be one of the first cold ones this year.
“Hey,” Steven said softly, “I hope I didn’t say anything weird, you know, about Andrea and Monica.”
I shook my head. “No,” I replied. I wasn’t about to tell him Monica’s true feelings about his sister, even if I did share them at times.
“Andrea’s a little different,” Steven said. He took a long swig of beer, then walked over to a large oak tree and leaned against the trunk.
“She’s just young,” I said. “She’ll grow up. I changed a lot in the past year.”
Steven let his gaze slide down my body, and I blushed hotly.
“I’ve noticed,” he said coolly. “But you were never like Andrea.”
I frowned, “How?”
He sighed. “She’s just…she’s so naïve,” Steven said. “She thinks that the world revolves around her, and if she’s not getting attention, she acts out. Our mom is so happy right now because Andrea’s been going to church every day. She thinks she’s really serious about God.”
“And you don’t?”
Steven shrugged. “Honestly, I think she does it for attention,” he said slowly. “I think she’s unhappy about growing up and not being the baby of the family anymore.”
I nodded and scowled. “My little brother is in eighth grade, and my parents still treat him like a five-year-old,” I said. “They don’t realize he’s starting to grow up.”
“Andrea wishes Mom and Dad would do that,” Steven said dryly. He laughed.
There was a pause, and I bit my lip. A horn honked from the street over and I jumped, almost spilling my beer over my feet.
“Hey,” I said suddenly. “Why did you stop calling me?”
Steven’s cheeks showed the faintest hint of pink, but he cleared his throat and took a drink. “It’s stupid,” he said. “You’d laugh.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Why? What happened?”
Steven sighed. “My mom wasn’t really happy about the idea of me…I don’t know, dating or whatever.” He swallowed, and his Adam’s apple bobbed in his lean throat. “She told me you were too young.”
I snorted. “I’m only a year younger than you.”
“Yeah, but Andrea’s in your grade.”
“She’s a year younger than me,” I said. “Come on – even you said I’m nothing like her.”
Steven shrugged. “It’s more than that,” he said. “It’s like…my mom doesn’t really approve of teenagers…” He trailed off nervously. “Like, she wouldn’t want me to have a girlfriend. I think she’s worried I’d get someone pregnant.”
My cheeks burned flame red at the idea of Steven and me having sex.
“Not that I plan on doing that,” Steven said quickly. “I mean, with anyone.” He coughed again.
The silence came back, only this time it felt more awkward. “Sorry,” I mumbled. “I hope I didn’t say anything.”
Steven shrugged. Suddenly, there was a loud sound in the woods – like a loud, piercing screech. I jumped in the air, dropping my beer and spilling it all over my shoes. My heart was pounding in my chest, and I knew that it wasn’t just from being around Steven.
“What was that?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know. Maybe some kind of animal?”
Steven frowned. “It didn’t sound like anything that would be back there,” he said slowly.
I glanced up and stared at a helicopter flying low across the sky. It flew over Monica’s house and toward the woods, the blades loudly chopping through the air.
“Holy shit,” Steven said. “Something’s really going on.”
I nodded. I knew it was irrational, but a weird feeling of dread had come over me, almost like I was afraid of something. The problem was that I had no idea why I was feeling that way.
“I’m being so weird,” I said, kicking a clod of grass. “I’m not usually this jumpy.”
Steven smirked. He licked his lips and stepped closer. “I didn’t think so,” he said in a low voice. “You seem nervous.”
I bit my lip. “I’m not,” I protested weakly.
Steven stepped even closer, bridging the gap between our bodies. He reached for my hand and laced his fingers with mine, squeezing my palm. Then he pulled me against his body and put his other arm around my waist.
“I really like you, Elizabeth,” Steven said. He swallowed. There was no smugness or mocking in his blue eyes.
“I like you, too.” I licked my lips.
Steven bent down and kissed me. At first, it was awkward, but then Steven shifted his head to the side and angled his lips against mine. A hot thrill shot through my body, and I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him close.
The sound of a door banging made us leap apart. When I spun around, Monica was standing at the back door with an incredulous look on her face. I blushed.
“Steven, your friends are trashing my kitchen,” Monica called. She smirked. “You think you can get them to stop?”
“Uh, yeah.” Steven jogged into the house. “Sorry!”
Monica walked over and raised her eyebrow. “So much for not leaving me alone.”
“You were getting dressed.” I flushed. “You didn’t have to interrupt.”
Monica rolled her eyes. “Come on,” she said. “We should get back inside before those assholes break everything in the house.”
With a groan, I turned and followed her.
I couldn’t believe it, but in the short time I’d been outside with Steven, a ton of kids had shown up. Half of the school was there – the rooms were so crowded I could barely weave my way through. Someone had turned on the Boers’ stereo, and loud music was thumping. The wooden floors of the house were shaking, and for a moment, I seriously believed the upper story would collapse onto the lower.
Inside my chest, my heart was pounding and thumping like crazy. I couldn’t believe that Steven had actually kissed me. My head was suddenly filled with thoughts: ‘Was he going to ask me out?’, ‘Would he just start ignoring me again?’
One of Steven’s friends bumped into me and spilled his beer. My legs were drenched with cold, sour-smelling foam, and I cried out and jumped into the air.
The guy glanced down. His scarred, acne-inflamed cheeks pinked, and he shrugged. “Sorry,” he muttered. “That was an accident.”
I pushed past him and ran up the stairs before locking myself in the upstairs bathroom. The sink was old, and it took the water ages to turn warm. I pulled off my jeans and shoved them under the tap, scrubbing them with the strong lavender soap Monica’s mother used for cleaning everything. By the time I found an ancient hair dryer under the sink, I was freezing. I blow-dried my jeans until they were only a little damp, then washed my hands and face and went back downstairs.
To my surprise, Monica was sitting in the living room alone. “I made everyone leave,” she said. “I don’t feel well.”
I frowned. “Some asshole spilled beer on me,” I said. I flopped down next to her on the couch. “You okay?”
Monica groaned. “We have so much cleaning to do tomorrow.” She gestured around the room, and I winced at the display of plastic cups and beer cans. “This blows.”
“I know.” I felt guilty. I was the one who had prodded her into having people over. “I’ll help.” The slight buzz I’d felt earlier from drinking in the backyard with Steven was already beginning to fade, and I suddenly wished that I was home, in bed. My wet jeans were uncomfortable and cold, and Monica was in the most peevish mood I’d seen her in recently.
“Just put on a movie or something,” I said. “I’m going to take these jeans off.”
Monica tossed me a knitted afghan from the corner of the couch, and I snuggled underneath, yawning and flopping around until I was comfortable.
“You got what you wanted, at least,” Monica said smugly.
I blushed. “I don’t know what he’s going to do,” I said. “He told me his mom didn’t want him to have a girlfriend.”
Monica raised her eyebrow. “And then he made out with you,” she said. “So there.”
I bit my lip. “I guess you’re right,” I said softly.
Monica grinned. “I know,” she said. “I always am.”