Abigail
Cora clings to me in fear as the wind howls against the feeble walls of our home. Cold water drips from the ceiling, slowly soaking everything. I wrap another blanket around us, but Cora’s lips continue to chatter.
I’d managed to find some bread, milk, and a few eggs to get us through the next few days. But if it wasn’t hunger threatening to kill us, it was something else.
“It’s s-so cold,” Cora whimpers.
I rub my hands up and down her arms, trying to generate friction.
“I’m sorry, it’ll be better in the morning,” I say, “just wait until the morning. Give me a minute to warm up and then I’ll look for another blanket.”
She shakes her head and looks at me with her wide eyes.
“No, Abby, I know what we need to do!” she says excitedly, “Your light!”
I shake my head, “We can’t. You remember what happened last time. We just have to figure something else out.”
Cora thinks for a minute. I can tell the conversation isn’t over.
“I can keep watch out the window. When I see him coming back, you’ll put it out.”
“I don’t know if I can,” I whisper.
She looks confused and says, “You did last time.”
“I don’t know how I did it. I really don’t know anything about this. I-I don’t even know if I can do it again,” I said, “I’m sorry Cora I just-”
“Please, Abby,” she begs.
I look down at my sister’s frail, shivering body. Her lips are blue, her skin pale white. The mounds of gray, holey blankets draped over her shoulders are not enough to keep her warm through the night.
Seeing her like this - suffering and helpless - brings me more pain than anything else.
Finally, I nod my head. Her eyes light up ever so slightly.
“Just stay back, okay?” I ask.
She nods and scoots away from me. I shrug the blankets off my shoulders and bring my palms together again - just like last time. I think of the sun. I think of warmth. I think of happiness.
Nothing.
“Keep trying,” Cora urges.
I sigh in frustration. I think of warmth. I think of the sun. I think of my step-father coming home and seeing me like this. Fear courses through me.
“I can’t Cora,” I whisper.
“You can! I know you can!”
I press my hands harder together and think about Cora. I think about my step-father coming home and hearing Cora encourage me to do this. What he would do to her if he saw this.
Anger.
And then it’s there - that familiar, tingling warmth between my palms. I separate them slowly.
“Abby!” Cora exclaims, moving closer to me, “You did it!”
I offer her a smile, watching the ball of light cautiously. Cora brings her hands up to it, her hands turning pink in the reflection.
“It’s so warm,” she breathes.
“Be careful,” I tell her, afraid she’ll get too close and I’ll lose control of it.
“You won’t hurt me, Abby,” she says, as though it were the silliest thought in the world, “I know you won't.”
Quinn
I stared at myself in the mirror the next morning, trying to determine how many years older I looked with the nose ring. Although I was officially 18 and 1 day, I looked exactly the same as I had for the past year. I’m pretty sure you stop growing at 18, meaning I’d be a 5 foot 1 inch shrimp for the rest of my life.
I’d been a regular ginger as a child, but the red had faded into a brownish blond as I got older. It was too long - split ends and all - but I had no desire to cut it. Haircuts were too expensive and the last time I cut my hair by myself had ended in disaster. Elaina made me swear to never touch it again, but unfortunately that meant it was constantly unruly and tangled. I’d long since given up using a brush. Instead, it hung in messy wavy-yet-straight crimps down my back. On very special occasions, I combed my fingers through it.
I smeared mascara over my eyelashes, hoping to add at least another year onto my babyface. It didn’t do much, but it was better than nothing. I knew nothing about makeup and my mom had split before I was old enough to ask for her womanly advice.
My house was empty, and I realized my dad must have surpassed sleeping on the lawn and just moved right into the sleeping at the bar phase of his drunken career. If he didn’t come back, maybe I would have Jamie over tonight.
In all honesty, I wasn’t sure how I felt about Jamie. We’d been friends almost since birth - it was pretty weird for everyone when we started… doing whatever it is we were doing.
But it was comforting to me. Jamie was just a warm body, somebody to play with. I’d often imagined what it would be like for my dad to come home while he was over. I imagined him opening my bedroom door to check on me sleeping and finding me instead tangled up with a teenage boy. He would grab his shotgun and chase Jamie out of the house, telling him to leave his innocent daughter alone. Then, he would come back to lecture me about respect, or safe sex, or waiting until marriage, or something. I laughed at myself in the mirror. A teenage girl hoping her father would yell at her - pathetic.
Outside, Elaina and Kylee were at our usual meeting spot, both looking sullen and exhausted.
“Can’t handle your liquor?” I asked brightly.
“I’ll never know how such a small person can pound so much alcohol and be fine the next day,” Kylee muttered grumpily.
“It’s a gift,” I teased.
We began the short walk to school, trudging lazily through our sad little town. Each day was colder than the one before it, and I watched a single orange leaf fall off a tree and onto the sidewalk ahead of me. I made sure to step directly on that leaf as I walked by just to hear the satisfying crunch.
The three of us, all dazed and in our own little early-morning worlds, jumped at the sounds of sirens from behind. We whirled around to see three cop cars and an ambulance racing down the street towards our high school.
“Maybe Mr. Valez finally croaked,” I said.
“Let’s find out!” Kylee shouted, apparently forgetting her hangover. She ran up the street after the cop cars, Elaina and I in her wake. But instead of turning for the high school, the ambulance sped straight through the now open gates of The Kingdom. I turned to my friends, my shock matching that which was showing on their faces. Drama on the east side? This was unheard of, and we had to know more.
The gates remained wide open, and the booth for the first time in my life was completely empty of a security guard. We dashed through the gates, following the sounds of the sirens and then slowing down when we realized where they’d stopped.
The Ellroy mansion - the same place we’d trespassed the previous night - was alive. Cops stood on the front lawn, talking to who I could only assume to be Mrs. Ellroy and taking notes. A pair of EMT’s entered the house carrying medical bags. A few photographers snapped pictures of the backyard.
I turned to my friends in horror. The looks on their faces told me we’d all made the same realization. We had just stumbled upon a crime scene.
****
I sat on the bathroom sink, bouncing my knee and inhaling deeply from my cigarette.
“Fuck fuck fuck this is so fucking bad,” Kylee muttered, pacing in front of the line of stalls.
I stuck my head out the small bathroom window to exhale before taking another puff.
“What do you think happened?” Elaina asked, lighting a cigarette of her own.
“Thought you were quitting,” I said, trying to give her a small smile.
“I was trying until we became suspects in a crime,” she said frantically, inhaling her cig deeply.
“We don’t know it was a crime,” I told her, but I was trying to convince myself of this as well. “Maybe someone just had a heart attack and had to go to the hospital. Or maybe… maybe…”
“Maybe what?” Kylee asked roughly.
“I don’t know! I’m trying to be helpful,” I shot back.
“Be realistic bitch! We left DNA evidence at a crime scene!”
“DNA evide- you mean the airplane bottles?”
Kylee nodded, eyes wide.
“People sneak in that tomb all the time! They could have been from weeks ago. They have no proof that we actually did anything!” I said, trying to be the voice of reason. I knew Kylee was at least partially right, but I couldn’t admit it to myself or them. One of us had to be the strong one.
“It’s enough to be questioned by the cops! And I am shit under pressure! I’ll end up admitting to a robbery or a murder,” Kylee cried.
“Yo, chill!” I yelled at her, stubbing my cig off on the window sill, “Just keep quiet and try not to freak out. You’re just gonna draw more attention to us.”
The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.
I jumped off the sink, preparing to go back to class. Kylee grabbed my shoulder and spun me around to face her. I shook her off, annoyed at being touched like that.
“I. Can’t. Chill,” she said through gritted teeth, “Your dad might not give a fuck about what happens to you, but mine will pummel me if I get in trouble with the cops.”
Ouch. Kylee was really good at making you feel awful when she was mad. I didn’t let the hurt show on my face, but Kylee’s face fell when she realized what she just said.
“I-I’m sorry Quinn I-”
“Just forget it,” I growled, turning on my heel and stalking out of the bathroom.
Tears are my weakness, and I fucking hate it when people see me cry. I put my sweatshirt hood over my head and shoved my hands in my pocket, keeping my face tilted towards the floor. I willed my tears to go away, but of course that made it worse.
“Nice of you to join us,” Mr. Valez sneered as I walked into his classroom and took my seat in the back.
Usually I would have responded with something sarcastic, but I knew my voice would crack if I said anything. Instead, I put my head down and tried to stop panicking. The truth was that we hadn’t done anything wrong. We just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time! But would the cops believe that? Would the cops believe three teenage girls from the hood? The odds weren’t looking too good for us…
The bell rang and I got up quickly, making a beeline for the exit. Mr. Valez, however, stepped in my path before I could escape. I took a loud deep breath, letting my annoyance be known. He ignored it as usual.
“Quinn,” he said, “Hang back for a minute.”
I looked up at him, “Oh umm… Mrs. Jefferson really doesn’t like when I’m late. And I really don’t want to miss anything in gym class.”
“I’ll write you a pass,” he said flatly, seeing through my bullshit. I sighed again in response.
Mr. Valez took a seat at his desk. He was the most “teachery” looking teacher at this school. He had bright white hair and round, thin framed glasses - the kind that had recently come back in style. But Mr. Valez had been wearing them since before they were cool. Argyle sweater vests were clearly all he owned. And all of his tweed jackets had patches sewn on the elbows. I couldn’t stand him.
Mr. Valez looked up at me with quizzical eyes.
“How are you doing, Quinn?” he asked, “I mean… how is everything at home?”
“Fine,” I said quickly, “Can I go now?”
“Quinn,” he paused and seemed to think carefully, “Quinn you are a very… smart girl. Incredibly smart if I’m being honest. But recently you have been falling behind on work and I’m nervous about how this will affect your transcripts for college.”
“I’ll make it up, whatever,” I muttered, desperate to get out of the conversation.
It was Mr. Valez’s turn to sigh in annoyance.
“Quinn, I can’t force you to care about your grades. But I know you can do better than this,” he said. He pulled out my most recent essay, a D letter grade sprawled in red ink across my writing. “Your essays last year were insightful and… and beautiful. But this looks like it was copied directly from wikipedia.”
I hid my smirk because it was copied directly from wikipedia.
“I’m sorry Mr. Valez,” I sighed, “I’ll do better next time.”
“Don’t do it for me, Quinn,” he said softly, “do it for yourself. You have a really good chance of getting into a good university. Don’t blow it your senior year!”
I gave him a thumbs up, “Got it… don’t blow it.” I slowly began backing out of the room.
“Wait one second,” he said quickly, holding up a finger. I froze as he pulled out a pink late slip and signed it. “You don’t want detention with Mrs. Jefferson. She makes you run laps.”
I would have appreciated the sympathetic gesture if I liked this man. Unfortunately, I was destined to hate him as he was one of the few from The Kingdom to dare cross over into the wild, wild west. Why someone with that much money would choose to work at a shitty school like ours, I will never know. All I knew was that his wife was “very successful” - the polite way of saying filthy stinking rich. And yet he still came to teach this boring English class every day without fail. What an asshole.
When I was safely in the hallway, I crumpled the pass and threw it in a trash can. I hated gym class anyway. Instead, I grabbed my backpack from my locker and started for the nearest exit. I wanted to get out of here before Kylee and Elaina were out of their last class. Maybe it was petty, but I wasn’t ready to accept Kylee’s apology. She could feel bad about her comments for a little while longer.
On my way down the steps of the school, my phone buzzed. I pulled it out of my pocket and opened the text from Jamie. Come over tonight - parents are gone. Brother got us booze. Bring whoever.
I smiled to myself and quickly texted back I’ll be there. Don’t invite Elaine or Kylee. I need a break from girl drama.
******
I’d started drinking long before I even got to Jamie’s party. The bottle of wine I’d stolen from the corner store remained firmly in my hand as I entered the bass bumping house, stumbling over my feet.
The vibes were immaculate. The music boomed, the black light lit up the living room, and kids from our town filled the space, all toting red solo cups of who knows what they stole from their parents mixed with Mountain Dew. I pushed my way through the crowd until I found Jamie shotgunning a beer with one of his stupid friends.
“Jamie!” I yelled over the music. He finished the beer and turned towards me, smiling sloppily. He slung his arm around my waist and leaned in for a very wet kiss.
“Ew,” I yelled, pulling my face away.
“Aw poor Quinn,” he mocked loudly enough so I could hear, “Still throwing yourself a pity party?”
“Shut up,” I rolled my eyes, taking a long sip of the light pink wine from the bottle.
“Sugar water,” Jamie said, eyeing my wine.
“Goes down easy,” I shrugged.
“Listen, uh, don’t be mad but I kind of told Elaina and Kylee about the party before I saw your text not to,” he admitted sheepishly. “So they’re, uh, here.”
“Great,” I muttered, taking another long swig of wine. And then another. Alcohol flooded my veins, fueling my annoyance at just about everyone. I wiggled away from Jamie and stormed away, but he didn’t notice. He was shotgunning another beer.
In the kitchen, I saw Elaina and Kylee standing closely together, whispering to each other and looking around awkwardly. Elaina saw me first and beckoned me over. Kylee offered a sheepish smile. And I know that I should have gone over to them and accepted Kylee’s apology. It would have made her and I feel better. It probably would have turned into a fun night. But I am a petty bitch. So, staring Kylee directly in the eye, I finished the last quarter of my bottle of wine and turned my back on her.
I was on the prowl for more alcohol - something stronger than beer. Shots maybe. But the house was packed and muggy from sweaty teenage bodies. I opened the nearest door, desperate for the solitude of a bathroom and walked right in on Jamie and Hannah Kelly making out, one of her hands shoved down his pants. Typical. He looked up just in time to see me close the door.
“Whoooore,” I slurred.
Like I said before, Jamie and I weren’t dating or even exclusive, but it wasn’t fun to see him straddling Hannah Kelly. Hannah Kelly otherwise known as dry handjob Hannah. I hoped his night was as fun as her nickname sounded.
Using the walls to support myself, I inched my way out of the house. I made it as far as the second step from the porch before I had to sit down and put my head between my knees.
It was at this moment that I realized what a piece of trash I was. And how badly I wanted another drink.
“Tough night?” a voice asked from a few feet away. My head shot up and suddenly I was looking into the bright blue eyes of someone I’d definitely seen before.
“Heyyyy, I know you,” I said, my words coming out long and messy, “You’re um… sorry I’m uh..”
“Drunk?” the man asked, finishing my sentence for me. The familiar stranger leaned against a black car, arms crossed, and examined me intently. I must be a hot mess to warrant this sort of attention.
“Hmm… don’t think so,” I said, putting my head back on my knees and praying he would leave me alone. The world continued to spin around me. I held onto the metal railing for support.
“I think you need a ride home,” he said. He hadn’t moved from his spot by the car.
“No thanks Ted Bundy,” I murmured.
“Who?”
“Serial killer. Hot serial killer. I’m not falling for it.”
The stranger laughed lightly. I quickly stood up, not wanting to vomit all over Jamie’s lawn. Although he kind of deserved it. Walking would help. And then sleep.
“Where are you going?” the stranger asked as I made a right turn for the sidewalk. I’d never been so grateful that Jamie lived less than a block and a half away.
“Home,” I answered, too tired to come up with something whittier.
“Let me take you. You don’t look good,” he said with worry filled eyes. I laughed at his sincerity. He definitely wasn’t from around here.
“No dude, I’m really fine,” I waved him off, “Thanks though.”
I picked up the pace, not wanting to deal with him anymore. When I was halfway down the sidewalk, I turned to make sure he was gone. But he wasn’t gone - he was just following me at a slow pace.
“I’m gonna call the cops!” I yelled back to him.
“Please do! They’ll get you home safely,” he replied.
“Fuck off,” I yelled. I stumbled a few more feet before tripping over my own shoes and landing on my knees. I knew they were skinned and would kill in the morning. At this moment, however, I felt nothing but sour nausea.
I leaned over to vomit rose on my undeserving neighbor’s grass. Maybe I’d bake them cookies in the morning or something as an apology. Everything was still for a moment as I waited to be sick, and then I felt warm hands wrap around my hair - pulling it back from my face. The surprise stopped the vomit and I looked up at the stranger.
“I’m fine,” I growled, wishing he would leave me to vomit in peace.
“You don’t look fine.”
“Just leave me here to die,” I moaned dramatically. I waited for the vomit to start rising in my throat again, but it didn’t. I took a few deep breaths, willing myself to feel better.
“Can you walk?” he asked.
I shook my head, closing my eyes. A few more deep breaths.
“Okay, I think I’m good,” I sighed. He let go of my hair and took a step back, offering only a hand to help me stand. I ignored it and picked myself up, brushing my shirt off and pretending not to notice the blood trickling from both of my knees.
“I think you need medical attention,” he said, grimacing at the blood.
“I think you need to mind your own business,” I said, continuing down the sidewalk. He froze for a moment, surprised by my rudeness. Welcome to Fairview dude.
“You know,” he said, walking quickly to catch up with me, “You’re rather ungrateful considering I just saved your life.”
I stopped in my tracks, “Excuse me? I was minding my own business and you decided to stalk me home!”
He thought for a moment, “No, I’m pretty sure I was minding my own business when you decided to fall over. And leave yourself very vulnerable to any potential serial killers - I might add.”
“Is that how you see it?” I asked, walking again.
“That’s exactly how I see it.”
We walked next to each other for a bit. I kept my arms crossed and put as much space between us as possible. I stopped walking when we reached the front of my house. I turned to him, trying to come up with a snarky way to say goodbye.
“What’s your name?” he asked, cutting off whatever I was about to say.
“Er - don’t worry about it,” I told him, “Listen, I live here. Don’t follow me inside because my dad’s home” - I really hoped that was the truth - “and he’s a big scary dude. Like can knock you out with a punch scary dude.”
The stranger put his hands up in defense, “Got it. And I’m not going to follow you inside. I was just trying to help.”
“Where did you come from?” I asked, eyeing him up and down.
“What do you mean?”
“Well you’re clearly not from around here,” I said.
“I guess I’m not… exactly,” he said, sounding uncertain.
“And you’re in Fairview because…” I waited for his answer.
He was quiet for a moment, and then “I have family that lives here. And maybe I’m looking for a change of scenery.”
I nodded, “Well, I recommend you go back to wherever you came from. For your sake. This town is a leech, and it’ll suck everything out of you until you can never leave. Get out while you can.”
He stared at me incredulously. After a moment he replied, “Duly noted.”
“Well… thanks for not killing me,” I muttered, and then turned on my foot and began walking towards the front door.
“Your name?” he called one more time as I was unlocking the front door. I waited until I was safely inside and about to close the door.
“Quinn,” I yelled, before shutting the door and locking it behind me. I turned to see my dad once again passed out on the couch and a bit of relief washed over me. At least I wouldn’t have to go looking for him tomorrow.
I peaked out the front window before getting ready for bed. The stranger still stood on the sidewalk, staring at my house. I debated calling the cops, but by the time I got to my bedroom, he’d left.
As I fell into bed, I made one last attempt at remembering where I had seen the stranger before. But my mind was hazy from the wine, and then I was asleep.