The Conclusion (2 page)

I let out a disgusted groan. “I couldn't stand there and listen to that,” I told my two friends. “It—it's just too crazy!”

My voice broke. I felt tears welling in my eyes. I turned away so that Jasmine and Angel couldn't see.

I don't know why. But I just didn't want to appear weak right then.

They were counting on me, after all.

They had followed me. They had run away with me. They had stuck with me all the way.

I didn't want to let them down.

Eden was gone. Darryl was totally out of control.

Angel and Jasmine were my only real friends in the whole world.

I put one arm around Angel's shoulder and one arm around Jasmine's shoulder. “Let's go,” I told them. “I think I know where we can hide.”

We needed a place to hide from the police until we could figure out what to do. I wanted to hide from Darryl too. But I knew he would find me.

Moving along Vermont, I kept in the shadows of the tall hedges that lined the street. A van filled with guys from one of the fraternities rolled by. Someone inside it called out to me and waved. The others laughed.

I didn't turn around. I just kept walking.

I passed an old house that had been turned into apartments. Two students were tucked into the front doorway, kissing, their arms wrapped tightly around each other.

I looked away. They made me think of Darryl and me.

How could you do this to me, Darryl? I thought bitterly, crossing the street. I care about you so much. We've been so close, ever since . . . since high school.

How could you ruin our lives like this?

I took a deep breath and forced Darryl from my mind. I couldn't feel sorry for myself now. I knew I'd have plenty of time for that after I found us a place to stay.

We crossed the street and passed an empty lot. The bare trees shivered in the light breeze. Someone had stuck a pair of blue boxer shorts high in a tree limb. Probably the result of some wild fraternity party.

Beyond the empty lot stood the house I was
looking for. A large, three-story red-brick house nearly hidden behind a thick cluster of tall evergreens.

I looked up and down the street and saw no one. So I jogged up the front lawn, overgrown and choked with weeds. The large bay windows in front were covered by dark drapes. One small window in the front door was shattered. Someone had spray-painted the name
MARIO
on the wall beside the door.

I stepped onto the old-fashioned front porch, which stretched along the whole front of the house. A wooden swing stood under one window. One side had fallen to the porch floor.

I led the way to the front door. “Be careful,” I warned Angel and Jasmine. “Some of the wood planks on the porch are loose.”

“What
is
this place? Does anyone live here?” Angel asked nervously.

“It's the old Phi Beta house,” I told her. “The girls in Phi Beta used to live here. But the sorority closed down. The house has been empty for a long time.”

They stayed close behind me, glancing warily toward the street. I tried the knob. The front door opened easily.

“How did you know about this house?” Jasmine asked.

I motioned for them to follow me inside.

“I had some meetings with my French instructor in September,” I told her. “You remember. The cute one with the curly red hair. His house is on the next block. I used to pass this house all the time.”

“What are we going to do for money?” Angel said.

“I only have about twenty dollars on me,” I admitted.

“I have some money saved up from my waitressing job,” Jasmine told us. “And I've got my cash card in my pocket. We should be able to buy some clothes and food and stuff. Enough to last until one of us finds a job.”

“Stay here for a moment,” I told my two friends. I wanted to check out the house.

I glanced around the front entryway. Straight ahead, a wide stairway led to the rooms upstairs. The big front room stretched to my right.

I waited for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. Then I made my way to the front windows to pull open the drapes.

I was halfway across the room when I heard the floorboards creak behind me.

And realized I wasn't alone.

Before I could cry out, someone grabbed my neck from behind and I stumbled to the floor.

I
spun around to face my attacker.

No one there.

I tore open the heavy drape—and as light washed into the room, I saw him.

A cat. A black cat.

He hunched tensely on the floor, his back arched, tail straight up. His green eyes glowed up at me.

I rubbed the back of my neck.

“You—you
jumped
on me!” I cried down at it. My heart still thudded in my chest. “You nearly scared away all of
my
nine lives,” I scolded.

It narrowed its eyes, studying me. Its tail slowly lowered. It started to relax.

“I guess I scared you as much as you scared me,” I said, starting to feel better. “What are you doing in here? Are there more of you?”

I pulled open the drape on the other front window. Then I let my eyes sweep over the room. Two couches and several armchairs had been pushed to the center of the room. They were covered with bedsheets. The fireplace screen had fallen over, revealing black, charred logs in the fireplace. Two crushed beer cans adorned the mantel above the fireplace.

I tugged the sheet off one of the couches. “At least we have something to sit on,” I murmured, watching a cloud of dust rise from the sheet.

The black cat tilted its head and meowed.

“I'll bet you're hungry,” I said softly. I bent down to see if he would allow me to pick him up. He did.

I raised the cat in both hands and brought him face-to-face with me. “I'm going to call you Lucky,” I announced.

I gazed into his glowing green eyes. “Are you going to bring me luck, Lucky?” I asked him. “Are you?”

I sighed. “I really could use some luck,” I told the cat. I set him back on the floor.

“Are we really going to live here?” Angel asked, glancing around the room. “It's kind of creepy, isn't it?” She made a disgusted face.

“It isn't so bad,” Jasmine said, tugging the sheet off the other couch. “We can fix it up.” She forced a smile. “It's so huge. I've never lived in such a big house.”

“And we have it all to ourselves,” I added, trying to sound cheerful. “It's the perfect place to hide, and—and . . .”

I tried to look on the bright side. But I couldn't
fight down my anger. My anger at Melanie, Margie, and Mary.

My throat tightened. My temples started to throb.

I slammed the back of the couch with my fist, sending up another cloud of dust.

It's
their
fault, I told myself. It's their fault I had to leave the dorm, run away, hide like a criminal in this abandoned dump.

I want to pay them back, I decided. I really do. I want to hurt them and make them suffer. The way they hurt me.

As if reading my thoughts, Darryl appeared in the front entryway. “Hey—!” he called, his pale blue eyes sweeping over the front room before locking on me. “Thought you could get away?”

He moved quickly across the room and took my arm. “You didn't try to leave me behind—did you, Hope?”

I pulled my arm free and didn't reply. I scowled at him.

“Not a bad place,” he said, running a hand over the arm of the leather couch. “I think I could get used to it here.”

“No, you won't,” I said sharply.

His eyes widened in surprise. His smile faded. He placed a hand on my shoulder. “Don't worry, Hope,” he said softly. “I'm going to help you.”

His gentle touch brought back a lot of memories. Warm memories.

“Help me?” I replied. “How?”

“I'm going to take care of the three M's for you,” he said, caressing my arm. Then he raised his hand
and trailed one finger tenderly down my cheek. “I'm going to hurt them for you.”

“No!”
I cried. “No, Darryl!”

He took a step back, his face twisted in surprise. “What's your problem?” he demanded. “It's what you want—isn't it? It's what you were thinking.”

“How do
you
know what I was thinking?” I demanded. I could feel my anger growing. My chest felt about ready to explode.

A strange grin spread across Darryl's face. “I know you,” he said. “I know you better than you know yourself, Hope.”

“I don't care!” I shouted. “Look what you've done, Darryl. You've ruined my life. You've ruined all our lives!”

“You're wrong,” he insisted. “Melanie has. Melanie and her two friends.” He swept back his longish dark hair. “They called you crazy, Hope. They told the police you were crazy.”

He gripped the back of the couch and squeezed the leather. Squeezed it until his hands turned red.

“You're not going to let them get away with that—are you?” he demanded.

I could feel his eyes burning into me. I crossed my arms in front of my chest, as if to protect myself. “I don't want you to do anything,” I said through gritted teeth. “I just want you to leave.”

His eyes narrowed in disbelief. “Huh?”

“You heard me!” I cried. My anger exploded. I couldn't control it any longer. “Go away, Darryl!” I screamed. “I mean it. Get away from me. Get out of this house! I can't take it anymore! You're too much trouble! Too much!”

Circles of dark red spread over his cheeks. He shoved his fists into the pockets of his leather bomber jacket. His mouth curled into a sneer.

“You're not serious,” he uttered in a low voice. “You don't mean it, Hope. You know you need me. You know you want me to hurt those three girls for you.”

“Get out!” I screamed. “Get out—now! And don't come back!”

I raised my fists and shoved him. “Get out! Get out! Get out! I don't want to see you again!”

I'd never talked to him that way before. His mouth gaped open in shock.

And then the shock faded, and his expression turned to anger. His blue eyes froze. The lines on either side of his mouth twitched.

He uttered a curse. And moved quickly, menacingly toward me.

“No—don't!” I cried. “Please, Darryl—
don't!”

I
staggered back.

I'd never seen anything as cold as the hatred on his face. Those blue eyes like ice. The jaw clamped shut so tight, mouth twitching . . . twitching.

“Don't touch me!” I shrieked.

To my shock, he moved past me. His shoulder bumped mine. I felt the rough leather of his bomber jacket. He kept going, as if walking right through me.

Feeling dazed, I turned. I couldn't see his expression now. I saw only the back of his head, his longish hair falling beneath his jacket collar.

He moved past me, walking heavily. Stepped up to the black cat, my new pet. Lucky. Lucky the cat.

Without breaking stride, Darryl swung his leg back and kicked the cat. A sharp, lightning kick.

The toe of his boot caught the cat under its
stomach and sent it flying off the floor—into the front window.

The cat opened its mouth in a high squeal.

It hit the windowpane with a solid
thud.
And dropped on its side to the floor.

“Don't kill it! Don't kill it, Darryl!” I wailed.

Darryl took a long stride toward the fallen cat. Changed his mind. Turned. And headed toward the front door.

As he reached the front entryway, he muttered something under his breath.

“What? What did you say?” I called after him, my voice trembling. My whole body shaking with fear.

“I said you can't get rid of me,” he repeated, his jaw still clenched tight with fury. “You're stuck with me, Hope. And don't forget it.”

And then he was gone.

Jasmine and Angel were gone too. Probably hiding in another room. Hiding from Darryl.

I watched the cat slink to the back hall, its tail between its legs.

I'm alone now, I thought, still trembling, still hugging myself tightly. I'm all alone in this place.

“Lucky? Hey—Lucky?” I called the cat. But, of course, he didn't come.

I took several deep breaths, waiting for my temples to stop throbbing, for my heartbeat to slow down. Then I pulled the sheet off the armchair, balled it up, and tossed it into the corner.

I sank down into the plush, leather chair. It smelled stale and mildewy, but I didn't care.

I needed to think.

What next? What to do next?

I didn't stay seated for long. Two large portraits on the wall across from the mantel caught my eye. A man and a woman.

I climbed up and crossed the room to examine them. A gold plaque beneath the portraits explained that the couple had donated the house to the sorority.

The man was old, bald, and had a beak like a chicken. Feeble-looking despite his expensive, well-tailored suit. He had a half smile on his face that made his expression kind of sad.

And the woman. The woman was kind of horsey-looking. A long face. Big teeth. She wore a flowered dress with a high collar up to her chin.

And her hair was up . . . just like . . . just like . . .

Just like my mother wore.

Her hair pinned up behind her head like a tilting beehive.

The same eyes too. My mother's eyes. So small and cold and disapproving. Eyes like steel marbles.

I could smell that awful perfume, so sweet you wanted to puke. The only sweet thing about her. It's a miracle the perfume didn't turn sour on her skin.

Sour.

Yes. That's my mother, all right.

She followed me here.

Will she follow me everywhere?