Haunted (17 page)

“I want… would you want…” Marcus let out a frustrated sigh. “I thought maybe we could try getting back together.

Whenever I see you at school…” He let his words fade away again.

“I don’t know. I don’t know if that could even be possible,” Rae said in a rush. But God, it would feel so incredible
to be part of Rae and Marcus again. So good. So safe. Unless Marcus is just like Jeff Brunner. What if Dori isn’t
going as far as Marcus wants? What if Marcus thinks a girl like me – like I am now – would be so grateful to have him
that I’d do anything he wants?

Or what if he was serious? What if he really wanted to be with her again? What if he really did miss her? Would he
be able to take the stares?

Because people would definitely stare if they got back together. Yeah, they’d be more subtle about it.

And yeah, Marcus’s friends would be cool because whatever Marcus did was okay with them.

But he still might not be able to handle going out with the school freak. He might just bolt again, and that… she
might not recover from that.

“Rae?” Marcus finally said.

“I don’t… this isn’t something I can say yes or no to right now,” Rae answered. “I have to go.”

“Wait. Wait. I just want to play you this one song first,” Marcus said. Rae heard a button click, and the song that
was on the radio the first time Marcus kissed her began to play. It took her right back to that moment. They were
sitting in his car, parked outside her house. She’d known he was going to kiss her, and as each minute ticked by
that he didn’t, it was like the air got more and more charged with electricity. When his lips finally touched hers, the
kiss swept through her entire body.

I can’t listen to this, Rae thought. The song wasn’t even half over, and she was going to burst into tears any
second. I can’t deal with this right now. Not with everything else that’s going on in my life. After we get Jesse back,
then I’ll think about Marcus.

Anthony felt someone poke his arm. He slitted open his eyes. There was no light outside his window. The sky
hadn’t even lightened to gray yet. He rolled onto his side. “Way too early,” he mumbled.

He got another poke on the arm. Reluctantly he opened his eyes all the way and sat up. Anna stood next to him.

“I wet the bed,” she said, staring down at the floor.

“Why are you telling me about it?” Anthony asked, still half asleep. “You have a mother.”

Anna backed up a couple of steps. “Tom might wake up, too.”

“All right, all right,” Anthony muttered. He climbed out of bed. It wasn’t that Tom was some kind of wicked
stepfather. But the guy did have a mouth on him sometimes, and he knew exactly what to say to make any of them
feel about an inch and a half tall.

And as he got a good look at Anna’s face, he realized that she was already feeling like a total loser. She kept biting
her lip, probably to avoid bawling, and her eyes were darting around like she was scared somebody was going to
see her.

Anthony grabbed a pair of sweatpants off the floor and pulled them on over his boxers. “Okay, this is no big deal.

I’m going to show you what to do, and next time you won’t have to wake anybody up,” he said as he led her back to
the room she shared with Carl.

He crossed over to her dresser and fished out a new pair of pajamas. “First, get cleaned up and put these on,” he
told her. He checked on Carl while Anna ran to the bathroom. The kid probably wouldn’t wake up if someone set off
an air horn next to his head. Anthony reached out and ran one finger down Carl’s cheek. It was so soft, it was hard
to believe it was skin. Wonder what it feels like to be three? he thought.

“Okay, I’m done,” Anna whispered as she slipped back into the room.

“Right. Next step, take the sheets off your bed, and put on new ones.” Anthony grabbed a pair of worn sheets off
the shelf inside her closet. He and Anna each took one side of the bed and got the new sheets on-about twice as
slowly as it would have taken him to do it himself. But he knew if Anna was going to stop feeling like a screwup, she
needed to learn how to deal with the wet bed situation on her own.

“Now what?” Anna asked. Anthony noticed she’d stopped biting her lip.

“Now we put the old sheets and pajamas in the washer. Come on. I’ll show you.” He took her little hand in his and
led her down to the kitchen. “You turn this knob to small,” he explained. “Then you put this one on hot/hot, open the
lid, and stick the stuff in.”

He waited while Anna followed his instructions, wondering what his sister would think if she knew how long it had
taken him to memorize the stupid words for each setting on the machine. “Now put in the detergent. One capful.”

Anna measured the soap out like it was some kind of explosive.

“Good job,” Anthony said. “Now shut the lid.

Then move this big knob to regular”-he pointed to the spot on the dial-“and pull it out.” He nodded as Anna got the
load started. “Now first thing in the morning, you take the stuff out and put it in the dryer.

All you have to do is move the knob to the thirty or forty mark, then close the dryer.”

“But what if somebody gets up before me?

They’ll know,” Anna said. Her voice had a little quiver in it.

“Look, I’m pretty wide awake, so tonight I’ll stay up and put the stuff in the dryer. When it’s done, I’ll stick it back in
your closet,” Anthony told her. What else was he supposed to say? “Next time-’cause you know, it happens
sometimes, which is no biggie-you can stay awake if you want. But you know how it is here in the morning. It’s not
like anyone’s going to be checking out the dryer to see if someone was doing wash in the middle of the night.”

Anna hurled herself at him, wrapping her arms tight around his waist. “Thanks.” Before he could answer, she was
out of the kitchen. Anthony sat down at the kitchen table. Already his eyes felt droopy. But he couldn’t fall asleep.

He’d told Anna the sheets and pj’s would be in her room in the morning, and that was going to happen.

He glanced at the kitchen clock-one of those cat ones with the swinging tail and the eyes that rolled back and
forth. Not even midnight.

By now the Dodge guy has to know his tracking device has been flushed, Anthony thought. Crap. He should have
put it in another car. That would have kept the guy off their tail for-for what? Another few hours? Another day? It
wouldn’t take a genius to realize that he and Rae weren’t in whatever car Anthony would have stuck the bug in.

And by now whoever was following them knew the basics. They had to know where Anthony lived.

Where Rae lived. Where the group therapy was held.

Where he went to school. Where Rae went to school.

He had a bad feeling that Jesse wasn’t the only one in danger. And there was nothing he could do to keep any of
them safe.

Rae sat cross-legged in the center of her bed.

There was no way she could sleep now. Not after Marcus’s call, and especially not after Anthony’s news about the
bug. Plus fear for Jesse. Fear for herself. God. She might never sleep again.

Rae leaned over and grabbed her sketch pad and a piece of charcoal off her nightstand. The charcoal instantly
started moving across the paper. She was in the zone, that place where her hand felt like it had a will of its own. Her
art teacher, Ms. O’Banyon, always said that Rae’s best work came when she trusted the hand.

Rae agreed, but it was still kind of a freaky sensation.

Figures quickly began to appear on the paper.

Marcus smiling. Anthony, ready to fight. Jesse curled up in the bottom corner, half off the page. And over all of
them, taking up most of the top half of the sketch, a face. Almost featureless. Except for the eyes. The eyes that
seemed to see everything.

She ripped the page off the pad and crumpled it up. This was not helping. She turned off her light and crawled
back under the covers, deciding to at least attempt sleep. Then she realized she’d left the curtains open.

Great. She couldn’t sleep like this. Never could.

She felt way too exposed. With a sigh she climbed back out of bed and started toward the window. Her heart
turned to stone in her chest. Somebody was out there.

She could make out a dark figure right across the street from her house. Staring at her window. They probably
couldn’t see her now that her light was off. But how long had they been there? What had they seen?

Rae jammed on her sneakers and pulled on a jacket. Then, without giving herself a chance to change her mind,
she darted out of her room and through the house. She crept out the front door, opening it just enough to squeeze
through. The person-she couldn’t tell if it was a man or woman-was still there. Now what was she supposed to do?

You’re supposed to find out who they are, she answered herself as she crossed the damp lawn, keeping her body
low. She moved up to a parked car and crouched behind it, leaning out just enough to spy on the person who’d
been spying on her. They were glancing around as if they had a feeling they were being watched. Don’t leave, Rae
silently begged. Not until I get a good look at you.

But the person was already starting down the street away from Rae’s house, first walking, then jogging. Rae did
the only thing she could think to do, she started after them. When the person broke into a sprint, Rae did, too. She
ran until her chest burned and she had to gasp for every breath. God, why hadn’t she ever actually tried in gym?

The person ahead of her was almost out of sight.

They stumbled, fell, but quickly regained their footing and kept running until they were lost in the darkness.

Rae couldn’t make herself take one more step. If she did, her lungs would explode. She sank down on the cold
sidewalk, feeling her frantically pounding heart slow down. This might have been her only chance to find out who
was following her, and she’d blown it.

Rae pushed herself to her feet. Something white halfway down the block caught her eye. Had the person following
her dropped it? Still breathing hard, Rae walked down the sidewalk. As she got closer to it, she realized the white
thing was a large envelope. She picked it up, moved under the closest streetlight, and opened it.

“Oh God,” she whispered. The envelope was full of pictures-pictures of Rae. In her bedroom. In her kitchen. In her
living room. At school. At the institute. In Little Five Points with Anthony. All the nightmares she’d been having were
more real than she could have imagined. Someone really had been watching her-everywhere.

Okay, everyone, that’s it for today’s session,” Ms. Abramson announced. Today’s group session at least, Rae
thought. She still had to have a private chat with Ms. Abramson.

Rae was a newbie in the group, and she hadn’t been out of the hospital all that long, so she was still on the list of
people needing some-gag-special attention.

“I’ll meet you out in the parking lot,” she told Anthony. “Abramson said it wouldn’t take that long.”

Anthony leaned close, a section of his brown hair brushing against her cheek. “The faster you give it up, the faster
you get done,” he advised.

“Ready, Rae?” Ms. Abramson asked.

Rae nodded, and Ms. Abramson led the way down to her office. Anthony’s right, she thought as she took a seat in
front of Ms. Abramson’s desk. Rae was going to have to dredge up some of the ugly stuff, some of the feelings she
didn’t want to feel. No way was Ms. Abramson going to let her get away with saying everything was fine, fine, all fine.

“So how’s life been treating you?” Ms. Abramson asked as she sat down. She reached for a cold cup of coffee,
and Rae noticed there was a long, raw-looking strip that ran almost from her wrist to her elbow.

“I fell playing tennis,” Ms. Abramson said, noticing the direction of Rae’s gaze. “I admit it. I’m a klutz. But we’re not
here to talk about me.”

“Stuff with my dad is going pretty well,” Rae began, wanting to get this over with as quickly as possible. Every
second that she and Anthony weren’t out there searching for Jesse was longer that he was in danger. That they all
were. “I don’t think he’s as worried about me,” she continued, twisting her hands together in her lap. “So that makes
it less tense.

Before, I was always kind of stressing about him stressing about me, you know?”

Ms. Abramson nodded. “I think a lot of times parents forget that their kids worry about them almost as much as
they worry about their kids,” she answered. She took a sip of the coffee, grimaced, and put the cup back down.

“How about school? How does it feel to be back there? I know you’ve talked about it some in group, but I’d like to
hear more.”

“Classes are good. Especially art. My teachers are still watching me pretty closely. It’s like there are eyes on me
everywhere,” Rae said. She definitely wasn’t going to tell Ms. Abramson that she was being followed. Talk about a
one-way ticket to the hospital.

“School is more than classes. What about friends?

Do you feel like they’re watching you, too?” Ms. Abramson asked.