Lurker (6 page)

“Bye, Dale,” she said and closed the door. She threw the lock quickly and felt his fist hit the door through the handle.

Mandy leaped back, heard him shout, “God!” in frustration, then ran up the stairs, ignoring the ringing doorbell. He must have jabbed the button a dozen times before finally giving up.

In her room, Mandy sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the window. Her nerves were dancing on coals. That sick feeling took hold in her stomach again, and she gnawed on her thumb. Only when she heard Dale start his car and back out of the drive did she relax, and then just a little.

Mandy fell back on the bed and stared at the ceiling. She replayed their conversation in her head, always pausing at the moment he went from hurt to angry, wondering why his attitude changed so quickly. Maybe it was just hormones, like they talked about in Human Development class. She didn't know, but it worried her. Would it always be like this? Were all guys like this? Even adults? Boy, she hoped not.

A tone from her computer announced she had new mail, but Mandy wasn't interested. When her cell phone buzzed a few minutes later, she let it. She didn't want to think about Dale, or Nicki, or her killer. In fact, she just wanted a few minutes of peace. No boyfriend. No tragedy. No monsters. No typing on a keyboard or talking into a microphone, having to think of clever things to say. She couldn't remember the last time she just let herself zone out, ignoring messages inside and outside her head. She didn't know if she could do it, but she was going to try.

 

Her experiment in mental deprivation did not go well. Mandy lay on her bed, stared at the ceiling, tried any number of tricks to block out Dale, Nicki, Laurel, Drew, and a man she thought resembled a cartoon witch. Instead of blocking them out, her mind jumbled them, and she went into a kind of daydream. Then, she fell asleep, and solid, true dreams took hold of her mind.

Dale and the Witchman sat together in the school cafeteria, joking and shaking their heads, talking about Mandy, she knew. The Witchman extended a long finger that looked like a scalpel
and poked at the air. This made Dale double over with laughter, while the Witchman threw his hands up, miming the protests of a screaming victim.

Next to her, Drew said, “God, it's so romantic. I mean, to have them thinking about you all the time.” Laurel nudged her shoulder. When Mandy turned to look at her friend, Laurel shook her head solemnly. Where her eyes should have been were empty black sockets. She held candles in both palms, and the wax dripped over her hands, sealing them in bumpy white gloves.

The cafeteria was gone. Behind Laurel, whose head continued to turn from side to side, stood a blond brick building, the library. It was night, and the floodlights bathed the edge of the parking lot in a dull amber glow. Beyond the light, a field of tall dead grass ran to a stand of black woods. The trees looked like they were moving, but then Mandy's eyes adjusted, and she saw them:

A hundred people—men and women, boys and girls—seemed to be carved from smoke. They sat at similarly misty desks, typing frantically at computer keyboards, staring vacantly at panel screens made of fog. Two girls paced back and forth at the
tree line, cell phones growing from their heads like tumors. They did not speak into the phones, simply listened, shambling back and forth between the trees.

Nicki was there, walking through the field of dead grass. Her steps were jerky and slow, and each one seemed to hurt her a little more. As she approached Mandy, she became less mist and more flesh, growing more solid with each agonizing step.

Mandy's heart raced; her pulse thundered in her ears. Nicki was coming to give her a message. Mandy knew this, but didn't want to hear what the dead girl would say. The thought of Nicki's wisdom terrified her.

She tried to back up, but Drew and Laurel and Dale stood behind her, blocking her retreat. Her friends stared blankly past her, like they were hypnotized.

Then, Nicki was right in front of her. She still wore the sliver-moon earrings she was wearing the last time Mandy saw her.

“We're going to miss so much,” Nicki said.

Mandy spun away. Her friends no longer blocked her path. They were gone. Everyone was
gone. She sat in front of a flat panel screen that foamed with opaque mist. Two of her fingers jabbed keys frantically creating a single word, repeating it over and over:

Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha hahaha…

 

She woke with a start, the details of her dream instantly forgotten. Sitting up in bed, Mandy looked at the clock on the nightstand just as her mother yelled, “I'm home,” from downstairs. It was a few minutes after six.

“'Kay,” Mandy called.

Wiping the sleep from her eyes, Mandy walked to her computer, looked at the screen, and felt an odd sense of dread. Why her computer should scare her, she couldn't say exactly. As she sat down, she thought about something stupid Drew had said at the candlelight vigil.

She's going to miss so much.

Drew's ability to state the obvious in the most inappropriate ways was a long-standing character flaw. Everything was a romantic notion to her friend, and she didn't seem to be gifted with the filter that kept such ridiculous ideas in her head
and out of her mouth. Still, for all of her clumsy speculation, Drew had actually made an interesting point.

Unlike Nicki's dream of being a veterinarian, Mandy didn't know what
she
wanted to do after school, not as a profession anyway. She presumed she would go to college and study something, figured she would get married and have kids. Over the years, she'd imagined her wedding day down to the finest detail as she sat around her room dreaming with Drew or Laurel; they'd all taken turns describing the perfect husband. These were the obvious things, events in a woman's life that she'd grown to take as givens. But they said nothing about what she wanted for herself.

Little-girl dreams of pop stardom, modeling, being a great actress had all come and gone in their time, but even when she had lip-synced into a hairbrush; or strutted in outfits before her mirror, working the runway of exposed wood by her bed; or recited lines from her favorite movies; she never really expected them to come true. They were fancies, daydreams, distractions created on boring afternoons. They made her feel giddy and silly. It was fun to pretend, but Mandy took none
of those glamorous careers seriously.

So, what am I going to be,
Mandy wondered.
What do I want to do?

She knew she wanted to travel, to see the world. Her parents had taken her on family trips to New York and to Walt Disney World in Florida. They had gone hiking in the Rocky Mountains. But these trips, while fun and full of wondrous sights, were only a taste of the exploring she intended to do. All the pictures she saw in history class and poli-sci opened her eyes to a planet full of interesting places. Some places were wrapped in obvious desires: dining in Paris; shopping in Rome; skiing in Austria, shooshing down the slopes with a hottie before getting drinks in a lodge; wandering through London just because it was there. But it was the other places—places like Prague and Thailand and Istanbul, places she knew little about but that sounded exotic and different—that really excited her. There were probably a thousand such destinations, filled with amazing people waiting for her.

What am I going to miss?

It occurred to her that the greatest shame, the biggest loss would be not experiencing those
unknown things. New people she would never meet, new places she would never see.

“We're going to miss so much,” Nicki said.

Mandy sat down at her desk and hit the space key to shut down the screen saver. Maybe surfing the Web would help her find the right career, some profession—and not something silly like being a flight attendant—she could pursue that would open the world up to her.

But before she opened Google to start her career search, she noticed the e-mail that had been sent to her by the guy named Kyle. She had intended to erase it, until Dale showed up and started freaking out. Now, she found herself opening the note again.

Kylenevers

Subject
: Me Again

Hey, sorry about yesterday. I know we don't know each other. Kyle here. I feel kind of bad about IMing you like that. With everything going on with N., I just wanted to chat…don't know a lot of people…

 

Mandy read the entire note twice, and though
she at first had thought it the miserable plea of a looz, she now figured he was just another kid, like her, who wanted to expand his world. She cut and pasted his screen name into the Profile Search box, just to make sure he wasn't a complete goof, like some science geek who thought dissecting rats was interesting.

No picture. Not a good sign. And he certainly didn't give much away in the profile, but Mandy wasn't surprised. Most people her age knew better than to string together lists of personal information. It made it too easy for the creeps to start up a conversation. He lived in town, which struck Mandy as interesting. If he was local, he had to have attended Lake Crest High; there was no place else to go, unless…

Not Hammond,
she thought.
Ew!
Okay, that wasn't fair. The kids at Hammond Special Studies School couldn't help being different. They had challenges, physical and mental. It's not like they were dangerous or mean or anything.

With more than a little curiosity and a bit of excitement, Mandy clicked the
Reply
button. She wrote back, telling Kyle she understood exactly what he meant about feeling weird after Nicki's death, and yes, they should chat sometime. She sent the e-mail before talking herself out of it, then leaned back in her chair.

There
, she thought.
I've just met a new person. Already on my way to expanding my horizons. Kyle might become a new friend, maybe a new boyfriend (no way, stop thinking about that), and if he turns out to be creepy, I'll just block his messages. Delete him. Sending a reply was the polite thing to do. No harm in it.

Besides, Dale would be really pissed off if he knew.

Mandy leaned back in her chair and waited for Kyle to send his picture. They'd been chatting ever since Mandy excused herself after dinner and ran back upstairs to see if he sent a reply to her note. Though her away message was on, Kyle had sent an IM—
just sayin hi again
—and she immediately replied.

Though their conversation was only twenty minutes old, she liked him. Kyle was funny and
not
a student at Hammond Special Studies. Since his parents moved so much on business, they'd started homeschooling him so he didn't have to endure enrolling in classes just to be yanked out before the semester ended. Things had settled down, and his family had lived in Elmwood now for nearly a whole year. Kyle assured her that was a record.
LOL
. In fact, he was technically a high school graduate, but he still studied because he wanted to get a jump on his engineering degree.

Besides, there's not much else to do.

She felt sorry for Kyle, and she envied him at the same time. Going from town to town, school to school, always having to make new friends, always leaving friends behind must have sucked, but he'd lived all over the country, seen so many places. When she asked where he used to live, he replied,
Everywhere. Ugh. LOL
.

If someone asked Mandy the same question, she'd say Elmwood. Just Elmwood. She imagined Kyle must have had wonderful stories to tell about oceans and mountains and big cities and quirky small towns. Mandy wanted to hear about every-place he'd ever been.

Kyle's photograph arrived, attached to an e-mail that read,
Happy now?
Her heart beat fast as she clicked the box to download the image. She saved it to her desktop, waited for it to finish. With her fingers trembling on the mouse, she double clicked the file and waited, holding her breath, hoping he didn't look like one of the kids at school that collected
Lord of the Rings
action figures.

When the picture opened, Mandy laughed. It was a good laugh, an amused and relieved laugh. Kyle stood in a bedroom with walls painted a soft
sand color. He was wearing black jeans and a white button-down shirt. His body wasn't as bulked up with muscle as Dale's, but he was tall and solid. He was blond—she'd thought he would be—and had a smooth, handsome, tanned face without a single blemish. He was very nice-looking. In fact, he was hot, even though he looked a little embarrassed in the picture. There in his left hand he held a shiny black hairbrush as she had requested. With his other hand, he saluted the camera.

Mandy's heart beat a little faster reading his reply. He'd seen so many cool places. And she
could picture Kyle there. Her imagination put him on a bustling street in London with a red double-decker bus rolling by; she saw him at the base of the Eiffel Tower, and pictured him in a gondola floating slowly along a canal in Venice. In this last daydream, she pictured herself on the bench next to him, nestled in the crook of his elbow, drifting on the water and looking out at ancient, beautiful buildings. She felt herself blush.

“So, let me get this straight,” Laurel said through
the phone at Mandy's ear. “The rest of us are freaking out and locked up 24/7 because Nicki died, and you're out cruising the superhighway for hottie hitchhikers?”

Mandy laughed. “It's not like that.”

“You're some kind of megaho.”

“I told you,
he
IM'd
me
.”

“Ho.”

“I am not a ho,” Mandy said with another laugh. “Knock it off. God, I don't even know if I'm going to meet him or not. He's just a nice guy.”

“You said he was a full-on hottie.”

“He is.”

“And you just want to chat with him?”

“I don't know.”

“Yeah. Uh-huh. Ho.”

“Whatever,” Mandy said. “You're just jealous.”

“Damn right,” Laurel replied. “I haven't had a date in like two months, and you're lining 'em up like a boy-band producer.”

“It's one guy, L.”

“And Dale.”

“Who is soooo yesterday.”

“Said the ho.”

“I'm calling Drew back. She totally understands.”

“I bet,” Laurel said. She changed her voice, suddenly speaking in a softer, higher tone. “Ooooooo, he sounds so dreamy. I'll bet he sneaks over to your house with roses and kisses you. He probably reads poetry and has a unit the size of your arm. Oh, tell me about him again. Oh. Tell me. Oh. Oh. Harder. Oh Kyle. Oh.”

Mandy cracked up, falling over on her bed as Laurel continued to coo into the phone, imitating their friend. She laughed so hard that tears filled her eyes. “Knock it off,” she said, her voice spluttering from the laughter.

“Yeah, she understands all right. Until we get her a man, she'll keep using ours and her shower massage.”

“You can be such a bitch to her.”

“It's all from love,” Laurel said. “I love. I tease. They are my gifts.”

“So, is your dad letting you come to school tomorrow?”

“Yes,” Laurel said, as if the word weighed a ton. “Now that everyone knows what that guy looks like, he figures I can go places that are
populated and well lit
. His words. Not mine.”

“Then you don't have to sit home all weekend,”
Mandy said, wiping the last tear from her cheek. “We can catch a movie or something.”

“Definitely.”

“Good. The sooner things get back to normal, the happier I'll be.”