Krysta's Curse (14 page)

My stomach did a little flip at the sight,
compelled by a strange mixture of nausea and pride.

Thank God he didn’t paint his face, too.
That would have been creepy overload.

Mindy Mays gawked at Bryon and then turned
back to me. For an eternal second, she was speechless.

Looking into the camera lens, she wore a
grim expression. “Well you heard it here first on TV Seven at Five.
Local girl puts morals before the mall.”

A deafening roar erupted from behind the
camera man.

Mindy yelped.

I shuddered at the sight of Bryon’s dad
charging toward us like an enraged bull.

“Wait!” Mindy waved at the camera man to
turn to Bryon’s dad. “I think that’s Cliff Thomas coming this way.
Mr. Thomas just announced his candidacy for mayor and is also the
leading developer for The Crossover.”

Stomping up to Bryon, he grabbed him by the
arm and jerked him off the tractor.

Bryon shoved his dad, but Mr. Thomas held
his ground, then leaned over and grumbled something into Bryon’s
ear.

Even though I couldn’t hear what he was
saying, I got the feeling it wasn’t good.

Pulling Bryon by the elbow, Mr. Thomas
marched him down the slope, making a wide circle around the camera
crew.

Mindy chased after them; like an idiot, I
chased after her.

Waving her arms, Mindy’s heeled feet bent
awkwardly as she tried to maneuver the grassy terrain. She looked
like a deranged chicken.

“Mr. Thomas, may we have a word with
you?”

“No,” he barked. “Not today.”

She was undaunted. “Will this protest effect
construction of The Crossover?”

“This is not a protest!” He screamed, his
pale face taking on the color of an overripe apple. “It’s just a
kid’s prank gone too far.” His angry gaze shot straight to me, his
cold eyes narrowing before he turned back to the reporter. “If you
will excuse me, I have a personal matter to attend.”

The anger in his eyes shocked and scared me.
I looked at Bryon for some reassurance.

He only stared at his feet, mouth turned in
a pout as he allowed his dad to lead him away by the elbow.

Mindy Mays chased them again as they headed
toward the parking lot. “Mr. Thomas, is this protester your
son?”

“Turn the camera off!” Anyone within a ten
mile radius could have heard Mr. Thomas yelling at the reporter as
he shoved Bryon into the passenger seat of his car.

Bryon slouched in his seat, covering his
face with his hands.

I just wanted to sink into the dirt and
disappear. This protest was a total disaster and now I’d caused an
even bigger rift between Bryon and his dad.

Mindy Mays straightened her shoulders and
looked at the camera, her eyes animated with excitement. “Well, you
saw it first on Seven. A very angry Cliff Thomas, mayoral candidate
and mall developer, has just hauled a young man, who is protesting
the mall development, into his car. I’m assuming the boy is a
relation, possibly even his son. Tune in while we keep you posted
on this developing story.”

I groaned as I wondered just how this story
would develop.

****

“Home.” I breathed the word while propping
my knee on the paint peeled doorframe, fumbling in my purse for the
key.

Even if it was a dingy apartment, it was
my
apartment
and was far away from cemeteries, television crews and irate dads.
All I wanted to do was sink into my lumpy mattress and pretend this
day never happened.

Flinging open the door, I was startled by
the site of my dad’s latest flavor of the month, April, sprawled
out on the living room floor. The small gray sofa with rips in the
cushions and Dad’s recliner with the broken handle, which made the
chair permanently recline, were pushed against the side wall. Our
coffee table with the super-glued leg was weighing down the
cushions of the sofa, looking ready to crash to the floor. April
had completely rearranged the furniture in our living room, all so
she could watch my Yoga DVD and use
my
Yoga mat.

This new girlfriend was probably no older
than twenty-five. I’d asked my dad her age more than once, but he
claimed not to know. I had a feeling he didn’t care how old she
was, as long as she was legal.

I tried to push back the rising tide of
irritation that twisted a knot in my gut. I shouldn’t have been
annoyed by her presence. So far, this flavor of the month had been
nice to me. Besides, she wasn’t hurting my mat. Although, she might
sweat all over it.

Gross
.

Then I noticed her over-bleached, dried out
hair was pulled back with one of my headbands.

I suppressed a growl.

“Hi, Krysta,” she half-squealed in that
high- pitched whine of hers.

I cringed. Her voice affected my nerves like
nails on a chalkboard.

“Aren’t you going to say ‘hi’?” Mouth
twisted in a pout, she looked at me from between her legs in a very
awkward ‘down dog’ position.

I didn’t want to be the one to tell her that
her butt was sticking up way too far. “Hi.” I shrugged my purse to
the floor, looking around the room. “Where’s my dad?”

“He’s in the bedroom getting ready for
work.” She moved to a meditative pose, grinding her butt into my
mat.

I only hoped her sweats were clean.

My eyes bulged at the top she was wearing
with the sweatpants. The shirt was way too stylish for Yoga and the
whole ensemble looked weird.

Judging by the fine trim on the sleeves and
collar, I knew the shirt was expensive.

“Nice shirt.” The words froze mid-air as
they slipped off my tongue. A little pulse in my neck jumped as I
glared at the square cut bottom with a tapered waist.

“Thanks.” She shrugged with a flick of the
wrist. As if the shirt was nothing special.

As
if.

Folding my arms across my chest, I narrowed
my gaze. “I have one just like it.”

She matched my glare with one of her own, a
smug smile plastered across her face. “I know.”

“Is
that my shirt?” Pressure built at the back of my
eyeballs and I felt ready to explode.

Her smile widened and she batted painted
eyelids. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“I saved up for a month to buy it,” I
growled, feeling steaming jets of rage pummeling my brain.

Laughing, she rolled her eyes. “I won’t ruin
it.”

“You could have asked,” I hissed through
clenched teeth. I wasn’t buying her act. She was pretending that
stealing my stuff was no big deal, but it was to me.

“And you could be nicer.” She jumped to her
feet, rolling her head like she had some major attitude. “I’m the
one who is stuck babysitting you at nights.”

“What?” I nearly choked. “I don’t need you
to babysit me!”

My mind raced, my heart plummeted. Had my
dad gone demented? Fourteen years of neglect, and now he turns me
over to some brainless trailer trash?

April gave me the head-to-toe once over,
twisted her lips into a scowl and then hollered over her shoulder.
“Andy! The kid’s starting with me already!”

Just then, my dad came out of his bedroom
door, adjusting the collar on his security guard uniform.

“What’s going on here?” he grumbled.

Without looking at my dad, April pointed at
me with an obnoxious smile. “She walked in the house with a chip on
her shoulder.”

Gawd, was she my babysitter or my new big
sister? She couldn’t have acted any more immature. What was my dad
thinking? I was so angry. I felt like crying, but I didn’t want to
give April that satisfaction. “I don’t need a babysitter. I’m
fourteen!”

“Krysta.” Dad nodded to April while he
straightened his tie. “You need someone to look after you.” His
tone sounded way too stern, like he was suddenly a father in
control.

My jaw dropped, my vision tunneling on this
guy who was wearing my dad’s clothes. His hair was cut and combed
and his face was smooth. No nicks and clumps of shaving cream stuck
to his neck.

Who was this guy? Did he think I was dumb
enough to fall for his sudden transformation? If he was going to
act the part of the responsible parent, he’d have to find me a
better role model than some girl he dragged home from the bar.

I blew out an irritated breath. “And you
think April is mature enough to be my babysitter? She’s like
twenty.”

“For your information, I’m twenty-four and
you’re not going to sneak out to the lake on my watch.” She turned
up her chin, a triumphant smile stretched across her annoying
face.

I just wanted to slap her—and my dad. “You
told her?” My heart plummeted and I felt terribly betrayed. Had he
told April I spoke to the dead? I’d thought that was our secret.
Not all of the years of his neglect could even compare to the pain
I was feeling.

“Of course, he told me.” Her voice took on
an even more grating tone as she waggled her head like one of those
bobble-head dolls. “Sneaking off to the lake to meet your friends.
I don’t know what you kids do at the lake at two a.m., probably
drugs.” She made this weird snorting sound, like her nose was
choking on boogers.

My anger abated slightly as short sigh of
relief wheezed through my clenched teeth. So Dad hadn’t told her
what I was doing at the lake. I’d rather she think I was a user
than know the truth.

“April.” Dad sighed, glaring at her from the
corners of his eyes. “I told you my daughter doesn’t do drugs.”

She walked up to him, jabbing a finger in
his chest. “Andy, you have to stop being so trusting.”

Trusting? What was so ‘trusting’ about
taking clothes without permission?

“She didn’t even ask if she could wear my
shirt.” I cringed at the whining sound that had slipped into my own
voice. This was pathetic. I felt like I was stuck in a really bad
reality show.

“Krysta,” Dad groaned, throwing both hands
into the air. “Can April wear your shirt?”

“No.” Folding my arms across my chest, I
tried to keep my voice even, controlled. Let Dad see who is mature
and who is not. “That’s my most expensive shirt.”

Looking from me to his girlfriend, Dad took
a deep breath, bringing his hands to his sides. “April, take off
the shirt.”

She gasped, her lips turning in a pout.
“Andy, whose side are you on?”

Dad’s face showed no emotion as he casually
shook his head. “I know what’s best for my daughter. I’m not
listening to you anymore.”

“Fine.” Stomping her foot, she made a very
dramatic sweep to Dad’s bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

Dad turned to me with a soft smile, fatigue
clearly showing in the deep lines around his eyes. “Sorry. You
okay?”

I shrugged one shoulder while jutting a hand
on my hip. “As soon as I get my shirt back.”

Dad had the nerve to laugh.

I didn’t know why his laughter annoyed me,
but it did. I guess I had grown comfortable with him ignoring me,
not
taking
my side in an argument and then asking if I was okay.

Weird
.

His new attitude would take some getting
used to. Luckily, I had planned to camp out somewhere else tonight.
“Can I spend the night at AJ’s?”

His smile dropped before he plastered on
another one. “Yeah, what do you girls have planned?” Dad looked
down at his shirt, adjusting cuffs that were already in place.

What was going on with him?

“We’re making bigger protest signs. They’re
building The Crossover Mall over a cemetery and we’re protesting
again tomorrow.”

His jaw slackened, eyes widening. “Have you
gone crazy? You love shopping.”

Yeah, I did love shopping, but I didn’t
think my dad ever paid attention to my passion. Up until recently,
I hadn’t thought he’d paid attention to me at all.

I couldn’t refrain from smiling. “I think I
am
crazy.”

He cocked a brow. “Let me guess, a couple of
ghosts convinced you to do it.”

“Something like that.” I half shrugged and
turned away, not wanting him to see how his attention was affecting
me.

I felt so strange. Kind of bubbly inside.
All because my dad was interested in my life. I used to wonder if
he’d miss me if I never came home. How long would it take him to
notice if I ran away? I’d always felt like a fly on the wall in his
world and now he was finally acting like a parent.

“What time’s the protest?” Dad’s voice
sounded strained. Then he made a strange rumble like he had
something stuck in his throat.

“At two.” Keeping my eyes focused on the
puke green fridge in our compact kitchen, I answered without
turning to look at him.

“Do you need a ride?”

“No.” I shrugged, focusing my attention on a
speck of dirt under my nail. “Mrs. Dawson…”

“Yeah, I should have guessed,” Dad groaned.
“Other people are always looking after my kid.”

“I thought you liked it that way.” I spoke,
barely a whisper, as my throat tightened with emotion.

I heard something fall behind me. Turning on
my heel, I saw Dad on his knees, fighting with the broken leg on
the coffee table. The splintered wood would not go back into the
slot. Swearing, he threw the leg across the room.

What was up with my Dad? He looked ready to
cry.

Just then, April stormed out of the bedroom
and threw my shirt at Dad. Jerking open the front door, she flung
herself through the doorway like a true drama queen and slammed the
door behind her.

The poor rusty hinges practically screamed
in protest.

Dad looked at me with a huge goofy grin.

I couldn’t help but laugh out loud.

Dad stood up and tossed the shirt to me.
“I’ve got to get to work. Come on. I’ll give you a ride to
AJ’s.”

After I grabbed my overnight bag, I hurried
to meet Dad in the apartment parking lot. I had no idea what was
going on with him, or why he was suddenly this new person. Even
though this afternoon was totally awkward, I still hoped my new dad
would stick around for a while.