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Celestial Souls, Book I: Christine
Chapter Three: Close Encounter

Shelby didn’t return until the following Wednesday, looking very tired – something about the way she walked. Shoulders slumped, mostly looking at the ground. Unusually quiet too; she had been and gone by the time I reached our locker, and it wasn’t until History class did I get a chance to talk to her, as everyone was settling in.

“Hey,” I said, trying to be comforting. “How’s your grandma?”

“She’s doing all right,” was the response, though her body language indicated anything but.

“You sure?”

“Oh, yeah. Most I did was cook and clean; Mom did the worst of it.”

She seemed to clue in to something just then, perking up a little. “Oh, Grandma’s not dying or anything – God no.” She laughed. “I’m just really, really tired – didn’t get back until nearly midnight.”

“So why’d you come to school today?”

“Dad insisted,” she shrugged. “Said I could get by on seven hours of sleep.”

I snorted. “Is he crazy?”

“That’s what I said, but...” she paused, yawning. “Sorry. If I fall asleep, wake me. No, wait – on second thought, just wake me when class is over.”

The door slammed shut just then – I jerked a little in my seat; Shelby did not do so much as blink – and Carly and her groupies walked in. I never pay much attention to that group in the first place – even then, most of them were taking their seats, talking, and generally not even noticing – so it was a surprise when Carly pointedly glanced over, made that hilarious face she makes when she tries to raise only one eyebrow, and set her books down.

Then she took a step forward – I did not see Eric enter the room as much as I guessed based on the direction of her stare and her body language – and said, just as pointedly: “Oh, Shelby, you’re back.” There was a pause, and she seemed to be fighting some deep-seated urge: “How...nice. I guess that seat’s taken.”

Shelby had laid her head down on the desk, using her cloth-covered binder as a pillow. Her hair looked especially orange against the dark binder. “What the hell do you want?”

“I don’t want anything, especially not from you,” Carly snapped right back. “I was just noting your return.”

She was probably glaring at the back of my head, but I was focused more on Shelby, who honestly did look ready to fall asleep right there. “Damn, Shelby. Maybe you should go home during lunch and crash.”

“Maybe I should. Goddamn, what’s Carly’s problem now?”

I didn’t know whether or not I should tell her about what had happened those few days she was gone – it was bound to spark more awkward conversation, once she had properly rested up.

“Hey Christine,” Eric said from behind me. I turned to face him.

“Hey Eric. How’s it going?”

He shrugged. “It’s going. Hey Shelby. How’s your grandma?”

“She’s better,” Shelby said, raising her head slightly off the binder, hair in her face. “My aunt’s up there now helping her out.”

“What was the matter?”

“A bunch of things,” she said, finally brushing a lock out of her eye. “She’s still recovering from surgery and came down with a really bad cold, so she was feeling pretty crappy.”

“You look pretty bad right now.”

“I know,” Shelby moaned. “I didn’t get back until, like, midnight. So tired.”

“Maybe you should go home and rest,” Carly suggested, sounding irked.

“Shut your face, Carly,” Shelby said. Eric looked baffled before turning back to me.

“They...do this often?”

“Every chance they get,” I said. “I wish I knew why.”

“You and me both.”

He glanced about, evidently looking for a seat.

“There’s a spot over here, Eric!” Carly said, gesturing to a seat next to her. She had probably used it to sit her purse on before clearing it off. With an apologetic glance and a shrug, he went and took the seat. Carly looked pleased, shooting a smug glare in my direction. She was the only one happy about it; what did I care about where Eric sat? I don’t even think he cared about where he sat.

“What’s her problem?” Shelby muttered.

“Oh...nothing, really. Eric just sat there while you were gone. You know how change upsets her.”

Shelby finally raised her head off the binder. “He sat here? Beside you?”

“It didn’t help that Carly walked out during a class,” I said. “Does it matter?”

Shelby, though tired, looked at me like I was crazy. “Yeah, Chris. It matters. It means he wants to spend time near you. This is a good thing.”

I rolled my eyes, and before I could say anything further, Rourke walked in, and began the lesson.

September came and went with little difficulty – if you ignored Carly. Normally this was easy to do; she tended to ignore me most times, but now I seemed to be firmly in her radar. It was not a pleasant feeling, especially considering her MO was all about subtlety – an ‘accidental’ trip here, or the oddly-placed comment there; she was not one to out and out call me a bitch, and could technically claim innocence. To call it ‘frustrating’ would be an understatement.

“Oh, Christine!” Carly said one day as the door slammed into my face; I let out an audible gasp, feeling the pain radiate from my nose outward through the face, followed quickly by a persistent throbbing feeling. Dazed, I took a step or two back, feeling Shelby’s hands steady me. Within a moment the door moved again to reveal Carly, her blonde hair down and shining in the sunlight, her expression that of complete shock. “I am so sorry – I didn’t see you there!”

I gingerly prodded my nose – it didn’t feel broken, nor was there blood, but it still hurt. Carly still looked shocked, and it took a minute before I could work up anything enough to respond: “You should be more careful.”

I knew there had been something else I wanted to say, but I was distracted; Shelby’s grip on my shoulders tightened and I felt her steer me away, out of the portable and past them.

“Yeah,” Shelby said nastily as we passed, “You might hit someone less forgiving next time.”

“Oh, I don’t think I need to worry about that,” Carly said. “Besides, this was an accident.”

“I’m sure,” Shelby said. “I’m just saying – there’s a lot of strange things happening...”

Eric had wandered up from the parking lot just as we were clearing the stairs, the group of them behind us. My nose was still throbbing, and I tried not to touch it; that seemed to make the pain worse. He glanced over Shelby and I, then to Carly and her group. He looked baffled.

“Hey,” he said. “You okay? Your face is all red.”

“A door slammed into my face,” I said.

“And I am really sorry – I didn’t hear you there,” Carly added, once again looking utterly innocent. For all I knew she was telling absolute truth; it had been a small accident and she was truly sorry, but considering the way her eyes narrowed at me before focusing on Eric’s, I wasn’t entirely convinced. I didn’t want to start anything, though; I just wanted an ice pack more than anything else at that point. Shelby could have let go of my shoulders at that point – I would have liked it if she had – but no, the grip was still there, and she couldn’t resist getting one last jab in:

“I’m sure your hearing is fine – it’s your eyesight you need to work on. You’re squinting an awful lot. Come on, Chris...”

And then she led me to the office, where we cobbled together an ice pack out of ice cubes and a plastic bag. Mama was not pleased; apparently by the time I got home the area around my nose was starting to bruise.

“What the hell happened to you?” I was greeted with. “You get hit in the face with something in Gym?”

“No, a door slammed into my face.”

“What?”

“Girl named Carly opened a door too quickly and it hit me. No big deal.”

My mother didn’t think of it that way, and we then spent an agonising three and a half hours in the ER just to confirm that it was, in fact, no big deal – I was right; nothing had been broken or fractured, it was simply a little bruised. Mama was still not pleased. I wasn’t either, when I woke up the next morning; the mirror greeted me with a pale face and some slight bruising around the nose. Feeling just a little upset – I didn’t look good. But (I paused to inhale and exhale a few times) there didn’t appear to be any difficulties breathing, so it wasn’t as if singing would be affected – it just was sore.

Mama even got up earlier than she usually did just to check: “Maybe you should just stay home today. This bimbo might hit you again, and it would be worse.”

“I don’t think she’s a bimbo,” I said. I didn’t want to talk too much about it; it was bad enough Shelby was having fits over it, I didn’t need to hear it at home too.

“She doesn’t sound bright, which is usually a good indication,” Mama said simply.

As tempting as it would have been just to stay home, I ultimately went. Who knew what Carly would do in my absence? For all I knew, she and Shelby would rip each other apart without some sort of distraction.

It was a cool day, even for the end of September, and I had on an old jacket for warmth – military surplus, not especially attractive, but especially ill-fitting. I felt a little like I was drowning in the thing. Still, I couldn’t say anything about quality; during the wait for the bus I was plenty warm, even though a cold wind was blowing.

Carly spotted me as I stepped off the bus – Shelby was not far off – and eyed my appearance.

“You look awful,” she said. “I don’t want you to strain yourself; maybe after lunch you could go home—”

“Oh, shut up,” I growled. “I’m feeling shitty enough without you doing your drama-queen act.”

“You don’t have to be rude. I’m just trying to make up for yesterday!”

“You can ‘make up’ to it by leaving me alone for a day.”

“Gladly,” I heard one of her friends mutter. Carly ignored them.

“I just want to help – you don’t want to strain yourself.”

“I’ll get by,” I said. “Today, you should be more careful opening doors. I wouldn’t want you to hit someone else.”

It was by this point that Shelby caught up to me, a thin jacket tossed overtop her uniform. She looked to be a good deal colder than I was, even with the jacket; her arms were crossed across her chest and she appeared scrunched up, as though trying to conserve what heat she could.

“You should be careful too, Schumacher,” one of her friends added. I couldn’t remember her exact name, just that she was ‘the black-haired one’; I knew her surname was Morgan, and her (very large) family owned several prominent stores in the area, but that was it. She was looking at me with a funny look. Was she threatening me?

“And why’s that?” I said, keeping my voice even.

Black-Haired Morgan adopted a surprised look. “Didn’t you hear? Another girl went missing early this morning. My father’s working on the case – he says a good chunk of all the missing girls in the province are blonde. You wouldn’t want something to happen to you.”

“That’s why I’m grounded,” Carly added, a sour note in her voice.

“I don’t think that’s really necessary,” Shelby added. “I don’t think bleached blondes really count.”

“This is my natural hair colour,” Carly huffed. I rolled my eyes – they were acting like they usually did, and I didn’t want to hear much more of it – and moved to head inside. The bell was going to ring soon, and I didn’t want to be in a rush to get to class.

“Sure, Carly. I assume those boxes of dye your mother buys at the store are for her?”

“Lay off it,” I muttered to Shelby. “Trashing someone’s mother is a low blow.”

“Have you met her mother?” Shelby said as we walked off; the group behind us broke out into laughter for some reason. “If you did, you’d know where Carly gets it from.”

Religion was quiet, as usual. Either Black-Haired Morgan had been lying, or the news simply hadn’t spread yet, for O’Reilly didn’t offer up any sort of special prayer like she usually did; we mumbled through the ‘Our Father’ with no special ceremony. She took her place at the large desk, and paused to adjust the neck on her cream coloured turtleneck, and then her glasses. I wondered if this was what she did to kill time.

“Surprise test today,” she snapped. I blinked. The class groaned simultaneously. Who had pissed in her coffee? She usually was rather even-tempered, but not today. She shuffled through some papers on her desk before coming up with a stack of bright white papers.

“I know this class is first thing in the morning, but that doesn’t give you an excuse to sleep through it,” she said as she paced through the aisles, deftly passing out the test, “For those of you that honestly, truly haven’t been doing such a thing, then you will have no problems with this, as this only covers the material we have been undertaking in class.”

She finally stopped by my desk, flicked four stapled pages towards me, then raised an eyebrow. Half-expecting her to ask the obvious ‘what happened to you?’ question, I was surprised when she said nothing and moved onto the next row. As she continued, I glanced at the test – it wasn’t exactly difficult, but there were several things I didn’t quite remember her talking about, mostly those having to do with Buddhism.

By that point O’Reilly had made her way back to the front of the classroom. Glancing at the clock by the chalkboard, she mentally calculated something: “You have until a quarter-after nine. That should give you about forty-five minutes. You may start.”

I pulled the test towards me, scrawling out my name and the date before glancing at the first question: Multiple choice – 5 marks. 1. What year was Buddhism started? (1 mark)

a) 1 BC  b) 400 BC  c) 563 BCE  d) 534 BC  e) None of the above

My mind drew a blank. Suddenly staying home sounded like it had been a good idea.

By the end of the test period, we were forced to grade someone else’s test while the answers were read out, and by the time it came back, I was almost relieved to see I’d gotten a fairly average seventy percent mark. I’d bombed the first question, but so had everyone else. The tests were then collected and we were given a blessedly short lecture on Buddhism before the bell rang.

I was cautious during History – very much so – but no doors were slammed in my face either on the way in or out of the classroom. Even Carly seemed to have taken mind of what I’d said and did not attempt to even look at me, though Eric looked concerned as I walked in.

“You don’t look too good,” he said. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine,” I said. “It’s not broken or anything, just sore.”

“You’d be surprised – I knew a guy back in Chesley; he was on the basketball team with me and he got a basketball to the face. Broke his nose, and it was all bruised for weeks.”

“No really – went to the hospital just to be sure. Doctors said it wasn’t even fractured.”

“Huh. That’s surprising.”

I felt a little pleased that he was so concerned; it was a nice change from Carly’s other male lackeys, several of who were laughing and shooting odd looks at me. I didn’t know what they were joking about, and I didn’t want to know what they were joking about. I took my usual seat beside Shelby, who was quietly seething.

“Shelby,” I said. “If this is about Carly, or has anything remotely to do with her, I don’t want to hear it. I’m sick of hearing her name.”

“Yeah, I can imagine,” she said. “I’m just pissed that she could get away with that. You should see yourself.”

“Do I look that bad?”

“I’ve seen worse,” she admitted. “But it’s still not pretty – and there she is, pretending it was an accident—”

“I said I don’t want to hear it. Can we talk about something else?”

Shelby sighed, and then switched the topic: “My mom got her hands on two free movie passes. For some reason she didn’t want them so she gave ‘em to me.”

“How’d she get them?”

“The radio. She was the tenth caller so she won those and some sort of spa package.”

“Did she give that to you?”

Shelby grinned. “Nah, she’s keeping that for herself.” There was a pause. “You doing anything Friday night?”

“Just singing lessons after school.”

“Ah. Shit. And you guys don’t even eat dinner until, like, seven. Huh.”

“I could eat early,” I said, catching on to what she was getting at.

“You could come to my place for dinner.”

I shook my head, already knowing that that would not work out with my schedule. “Nah, it wouldn’t work out – I can walk to my lessons but it’d be a little difficult to walk to your place, and your mom never lets you use the car...”

Even I could see Shelby deflate a little bit at this. “Huh. But it’s only Tuesday now; I’m sure we can figure something out before then.”

“Like what we’re gonna see, for one. I don’t know if there’s anything good coming out.”

Shelby shrugged; she didn’t seem too concerned. “We’ll worry about that when we get there.”

I didn’t worry about it too much at the time. The day passed by quickly – Gym was uninteresting, Music was bland – and by the time Thom and I were walking home I was rather bored. Tuesdays were boring days.

“How was your day?” I muttered to Thom as we walked. His brown hair looked mussed, like he’d just gotten out of bed and called himself dressed. (He probably had; I wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d overslept).

“S’okay,” he muttered back. “Was O’Reilly being a bitch to you today?”

“Yeah, she sprung a surprise test on us.”

“Us too. She seemed really pissed off about something.”

“Wonder what it was.”

“Dunno. It’s probably the sort of thing that just happens with middle-aged singles. You know, one day they wake up and realise their life sucks so they take it out on everyone else.”

“I don’t think that’s it.”

Mama was at work by the time we got home, so I unlocked the house and stepped inside, Thom following. Tossing my bag in my room, where it landed with a thud against the carpet, I shut the door and went to change – the nice thing about my room was that the closet door was mirrored, so I could better see what I was doing. It was definitely outdated, but it was useful, and right at that moment the mirror was reflecting my small bed, the wall behind it, and the window open.

I never left the window open. The craptacular nature of the windows tended to let various small bugs in the summertime and fall, so it was usually shut in a vain attempt at keeping them out. Why was it open?

I could feel an odd sensation in my gut, one that I wanted to dismiss as irrational – Mama probably opened it and forgot it had been open before leaving – but it wouldn’t quite go away. A cool breeze swept through the room just then, causing me to break out in goose bumps as I threw the blouse aside and quickly threw on the nearest available shirt. Quickly darting over, I shoved the window shut, locking it just to be safe. I was being irrational, I knew – but what with everything going on, it seemed to be a good idea...

Mama came home at half-past five, carrying a bag of groceries. I mentioned the open window to her, trying to keep my voice casual.

“I must’ve forgotten to shut it,” she said. “I was trying to get at a spider that had crawled in there.”

There, I was being stupid.

School next day was...interesting. Besides O’Reilly giving us a half-hour lecture on how she was ‘shocked’ at our mostly poor grades on the test the day before – maybe Thom was right, maybe she was just having some sort of mental breakdown because I swear that half of her speech had been along the lines of her being underappreciated and we were cruel for the sake of being cruel – Eric approached me on the way out of History, just as I was wondering how I was going to do the assigned project.

“Hey,” he greeted me.

“Hey,” I said back; Shelby copied the greeting. After some small talk, he brought up the topic of movies.

“You guys figured out a movie yet?”

Shelby grinned. “Nah. We’ll wait until the last minute, and then we’ll spend ten minutes disagreeing with each other before we settle on something.”

“That’s usually the way it goes,” I added with a grin of my own.

“There’s that horror flick coming out this Friday – what was it called? Last Weekend?”

“Last Night,” I said. “Good luck seeing it come here – you’ll quickly learn that pretty much all the good movies don’t come here, and the few that do are gone by a week.”

“It’s true. But I don’t like horror, anyway,” Shelby said, making a face.

“What do you like?” Eric said. He seemed to be asking the both of us equally.

“Comedies,” Shelby said. “And a good drama, too.”

I saw the look on his face – chick flicks. I tried not to grin.

“Chick flicks,” I said.

Shelby stuck out her tongue. “Not chick flicks, funny things – anything, really. It’s better than you – musicals and horror?”

“Thrillers,” I said. “Horrors are gory; thrillers aren’t always. They’re more ‘whodunit’ sort of things.”

Eric grinned, looking somewhat incredulous. “You like....thrillers? Seriously?”

“Seriously. If they made a thriller musical I’d be in heaven, but that’s probably never gonna happen.”

“I saw something in the paper about a thriller playing here,” he said, pulling the door open and holding it open for us to step inside. “Can’t remember what it was called – something about an old woman trying to find a boyfriend from her past?”

The description sounded vaguely familiar. “I think I know the one you’re talking about, but I can’t remember it either.”

“It’s called The Manhattan Diaries and we’re not seeing it,” Shelby said. “It’ll be boring.”

I grinned at Eric. “You see, this is why we shouldn’t see movies together.”

It was while we were at lunch that what I’d suspected was finally brought up:

“So, is this a sort of girls’ night...thing?”

“You’re welcome to come,” Shelby said. “But the passes are only for two people...”

“I can pay for mine,” he said.

“Oh, no,” I said; that didn’t seem right to invite someone and then make him pay—

“No, I insist,” he said. “I’ll ask my grandpa if I can use his car; I want to get out of the house and he wants me out of the house. I’m pretty sure he’ll let me for one night.”

I was slightly giddy as I came home that afternoon, and I was sure I was being even stupider. It wasn’t a date, unless he was into polygamy, and if he was he was in for a rude awakening. Mama wasn’t home when I was, but she arrived well before six – that was when the news broke. Black-Haired Morgan had not been lying those few days ago; a girl from Port Stanley had been taken. Elizabeth Quinn, twenty years old, five feet six inches, one hundred and thirty pounds, read the screen, alongside a photo of her. It depicted a girl, who did not look much older than me, with wavy, golden blonde hair spilling over her shoulders and dark eyes.

“You sure you still want to go out Friday?”

I glanced at the television, seeing Elizabeth Quinn’s photo staring back at me, smiling as she held onto a small plushie. She had been walking to work the morning she’d been kidnapped, I was informed, and if anyone knew anything they were to call police. She was, like all the others, alone when she had been taken; I would not be. If someone wanted to snatch me they’d have to not draw the attention of the other two people I would be with, not to mention countless others in the building. It would be fine.

“Yeah, of course.”

Mama did not look very happy at that. “You know I worry about things like this – you’re practically a walking candidate!”

“It will be fine, Mama. I’ll be with two other people, not alone, and we’re just going there and back.”

“Two other people? I thought you were just going with Shelby.”

“Oh, well – we kind of invited the new guy along too. Thought it would be nice if we showed him around.”

“Him?”

“Yes, Mama, it’s a guy. His name is Eric.”

I waited to see her reaction; she had some odd ideas and I hoped she didn’t go the obvious route and think it was a date. (How could she? I was going with Shelby too; it would be a very odd date). She appeared contemplative before speaking.

“All right, fine. There and back – you should be okay. But if he doesn’t have you back by midnight, I’ll hurt him.”

I rolled my eyes. That was the reaction I could live with. “Yes, Mama, you’ll hurt him – got it.”

The week passed by quicker than I would have expected – even with school to contend with. By Friday afternoon, I rushed home, quickly changed, and then rushed right back outside again, huddling up in my huge coat. October was going to arrive any day now, and the weather had chilled. The walk to the Saluccis house was no longer than usual, but it wasn’t pleasant; the wind whipped at my face, and by the time I got there my cheeks were reddish.

I rang the bell. After a moment, the door opened with a creak. Carla was there, polished as she usually was; I gratefully stepped inside, hanging up the coat. It was warm in their house, almost too much so.

“The basement looks nice,” I said idly as we passed through the living room.

“Isn’t it?” Carla said. “Colour really came out nice. Now we just need to hang up all the pictures again and it’ll be perfect.”

“Anything else after that?”

“We were thinking about repainting the piano room while we were at it, but I’m not sure on that right now...”

I shut the door behind us as Carla sat down at the piano, the warm hue of the basement lights giving her tanned skin a glow. Her fingers darted across the keys as she got the hang of it, and she lifted a hand to gesture me over, her nails painted a deep red.

“Warm-up,” she said. “’Tip of the tongue’ right now. Eight times.”

“The tip of the tongue, the teeth, the lips...”

I always found warm-ups very dull. I knew they were necessary – you didn’t just jump into singing just like you didn’t jump into running for twelve solid minutes without completely wrecking yourself – but they weren’t interesting. I was relieved when they were done, and Carla shuffled over her sheet music, looking for the correct one. Plucking one out, she set it on the stand, and eventually the actual lesson, the good part of it, began.

“ I dreamt that I dwelt in marble halls,

With vassals and serfs at my side... ”

The hour seemed to rush by quickly, gone just as quickly as the rest of the week. But it always seemed to rush by to begin with.

“Still on vacation?” I asked her as we ascended the stairs.

“Oh, yes,” she said. “It’s nice to not have to rush about everywhere.”

“I’ll have October’s payment next week.”

“That’s fine. Be careful walking home – I heard on the news another girl was taken Tuesday morning.” She looked uncomfortable. “I thought they were usually returned by this point.”

I hadn’t paid much attention to the case, and so this news was a shock: “She’s not back?”

“No. The police are confused. Don’t know why he’s changing his usual method.”

“Maybe it’s someone else?”

“It’s too similar to be coincidental.” She bit her lip and looked worried. I felt a little worried as I stepped out the door, zipping up the large jacket as I went. But although it was cold, and getting dark – I shivered more than once on the way back; it seemed way colder than when I’d left – I got home perfectly safely. An unfamiliar blue car was in the driveway when I came back, and the blockier shape indicated an older model. I squinted. There was no one inside.

Sure enough, Eric and Shelby were sitting on the couch when I stepped in, and he looked far more awkward than Shelby did. Had Mama told him she would hurt him? Probably; that was just how she was. God only knew he wasn’t the first guy to have been scared off by her, but considering he wasn’t completely tense, and didn’t bolt the instant I walked in, it couldn’t have been that bad. Meanwhile, I could hear my mother in the kitchen, doing something.

“Hi,” I said to them. “How long have you been waiting?”

“Not long,” Shelby said. “No more than five minutes.”

“Oh, good. I got here as quick as I could.”

“Where were you?” Eric asked, sounding curious.

“Singing lessons,” I told him. “My teacher lives just a couple blocks from here, so I walk.”

“Oh,” he said, not sure how to react.

“We should probably be going soon,” Shelby added. “My mom said we’d be eating at five-thirty.”

“Right, just give me a second,” I said. They both seemed okay with it, so I darted off to my room, changing out of the sweatshirt I had tossed on earlier – it was fine for singing, but didn’t really look that nice. I raided my closet – several too-fancy blouses, a few sweaters...it was cool outside, so I chose the nicest sweater, throwing that on and then quickly grabbing the nearest brush and running it through my hair. It didn’t look any better. Seizing my purse, I headed back to the living room, passing by the kitchen.

“We’re going now,” I said to Mama, who was busy peeling potatoes.

She glanced up briefly. “Be careful.”

Eric seemed relieved to finally get up and go outside, tossing his coat on and going to the car before either of us had our own coats on.

“You’re wearing that?” Shelby said, gesturing to my camouflage-printed coat. I zipped it up.

“Yeah, why?”

“It’s okay for going to school and stuff, but we’re going out. Shouldn’t you wear something...nicer?”

“This is the nicest coat I have,” I told her. “Besides, it’s a coat.”

“I know,” Shelby said, zipping up her own coat and moving out the door; I was still slipping on my shoes. “But it’s so...drab.”

“So is yours,” I said with a grin, gesturing to her own, very plain, navy blue jacket. She glanced down at it, grinning herself.

“But mine’s tailored nicely.”

The car was already started up when we came outside; Shelby elected to sit in the back, leaving me to have the passenger seat. Eric backed out of the driveway slowly.

“This is your grandfather’s car?” I said.

“Yeah. I swear he’s had the same car for the past thirty years. Still runs nice for its’ age.”

“Mm.” I didn’t know what to say. Cars were not my forte. “Kind of boxy looking.”

“Yeah, it’s ugly as hell,” he agreed. “Everyone says so.”

“Yeah, we walked in and your mom asked why we were driving a blue fridge around,” Shelby added. I couldn’t help it; I laughed. My mother never minced words, something that most people didn’t quite know how to handle.

Eric was apparently one of them. “I don’t think your mother likes me.”

“What’d she say?”

“She didn’t really say anything but – I dunno, I just got the idea she didn’t like me.”

“My mom’s very blunt – if she doesn’t like you, you’d know for sure,” I reassured him. “I think she’s just worried about us going out in general – did you hear another girl had been grabbed?”

“Yeah, on her way to work or something,” Eric said.

My mom didn’t want me to go out ‘cause of that,” Shelby said.

“Yeah, same here, but I said we’d be safe in a group. She still worries,” I said.

The conversation took a little bit of a lull after that; ten minutes later, when we’d pulled into the driveway, Mrs. Summers was there to greet us, her short red hair fluttering in the breeze.

“Hello, Christine,” she said warmly. “I haven’t seen you around here in a bit.”

“School’s been keeping me busy,” I said. What a lame joke. She chuckled anyway, probably out of politeness more than anything.

She seemed to take Eric well enough, greeting him just as warmly as she’d greeted me, and we were ushered inside for dinner, and afterward, Shelby ushered us outside, back to the blue fridge on wheels. I let Shelby sit in front this time, as I slipped into the back seat.

“You’re taking turns with shotgun?” Eric said, looking amused.

“Yeah, it works out perfectly,” I said.

The movie theatre wasn’t too crowded when we arrived, about half an hour before the movie was to start. That gave us plenty of time to argue over what we were going to see; in the end we chose...well, something. Eric and I both didn’t want to see the romantic comedy that Shelby had already seen twice, Shelby insisted we weren’t seeing The Manhattan Diaries even though I’d never brought up the subject to begin with, and Eric’s joking suggestion of the slasher flick went over as well as you would expect. In the end we decided on a comedy, and just a comedy.

Eric was sandwiched in between Shelby and I for the whole thing, and during the unfunny parts my mind wandered. I couldn’t quite figure out the stream of thought; it had been provoked by something in the movie itself, something that drew my mind back to the kidnapped girls, and the open window in my room, and the murmurs around school. This girl – this Elizabeth – was she alive, still? And what about the others? They had been returned alive, yes, but how well were they? No physical trauma didn’t necessarily mean anything.

And they were happening so quickly too – in a matter of days and weeks, not months and years. My mother, Mrs. Summers, the Saluccis – even O’Reilly – were right to worry, even if it was stifling. Why? What was the point of it – and would Shelby, or Carly, or even me, get taken just as easily as any of the others?

A burst of laughter broke my train of thought; I focused enough to get the joke, and laughed along with everyone else. I was fretting too much – it was time to slip back into the movie. It was okay, I decided. There were some good laughs here and there. The leading man, a light-haired actor I’d never heard of, was on the phone at that point, talking to the villain:

“You know what?” he said, holding the phone oddly (the audience laughed at his expression), “I...have a super-secret weapon!”

Cue the dramatic music, cue the cut to the villain looking absurdly shocked (the audience laughed again): “No!”

“Yes, and—”

Something light brushed my arm, ever so slightly, and I swear I jumped in my seat, feeling my heart race suddenly. Whipping my head to the side, I saw Eric there, the cause of the feeling. I tried to calm down again.

“D’you mind if I steal some?” he muttered, half-reaching for the popcorn in my lap. I felt my face grow warm in the already warm theatre. Now I knew I was being stupid about everything. If he or Shelby could have seen me they probably would have thought I was paranoid.

“Sure,” I said, still feeling my heart hammering. It was good that it was dark in the theatre; that way he couldn’t see my face flushing with embarrassment as I offered him the bag. He reached in, pulled out as large a handful as he could manage, and began inhaling them.

After being jolted back to reality like that, it was easy to forget about everything and immerse myself in the movie, although all too soon, it was over. The credits started rolling, the lights faded into view, and all around us, people were getting up and leaving. I glanced down at the popcorn bag; it was now completely empty, a few buttery kernels still at the bottom of the bag.

“That was better than I thought,” Shelby said.

“The bit where the guy sets off an explosion was hilarious,” Eric added, imitating one of the characters: “’Oh, shit! That’s dynamite!’”

“’That makes things explode!’” Shelby added. I grinned. “What’d you think of it?”

“It was pretty good,” I said. It had been funny at points, mostly near the end. “The explosion bit was priceless.”

As we drifted outside, holding our jackets, we made a brief stop at the washroom – my hands were covered in that buttery flavouring from the popcorn, and I felt the urge to wash my hands, slipping past the line of people that stretched out the door, making my way to the nearest sink. I regarded my image in the mirror as the warm water splashed over my hands – the fluorescent lighting made me look horribly pale, but the bruises that had been around my nose were essentially gone, and (thank God) my face was no longer flushed red. Relieved, I dried my hands, adjusted my things, and went out into the lobby, where Eric was waiting.

Shelby arrived not a few minutes later, and we made our way outside again. Night had fallen already, the parking lot lit dimly by the rows of lamps.

“What time is it?” Eric said. Shelby checked her watch.

“Just after nine,” she said. “Do we want to do anything else?”

“There isn’t really anything to do,” I said.

“Huh, you’re right,” she said. “Stupid town.”

“Maybe you two could show me around here tomorrow?” Eric said as we wove our way through the parking lot to the car. “If I’m out of the house, Carly might not call.”

“Carly calls you?” I said. Wow. She was desperate – either because she liked him or to prove a point, I didn’t know which. He had only been here two weeks, tops, and already she’d gotten his number?

“Yeah, since she can’t go out after six now she’s been calling my place whenever she can,” he said. “Driving my Nana nuts. I don’t mind talking to her—” (in the darkness, Shelby made a face) “—but I don’t need to talk to her three times a day. I mean, I see her at school all the time and we talk then, too, but for some reason that’s not enough for her. It might be a girl thing, but it’s annoying as f—yes?”

Standing by the car, very still, appeared to be a man. Automatically I felt myself tense up, though I couldn’t explain why; something about the man’s stillness was unnerving. He seemed to turn towards us, away from the nearest light; his face could not be seen properly, although the light caught off his grey hair. It was then I noted he wasn’t wearing a jacket of any sort. Wasn’t he cold? I was.

A whisper of something – I couldn’t exactly hear what – reached our ears, intermingling with the chatting of people around us as they headed to their own cars, seemingly oblivious. Eric made a face, looking a little confused, before stepping forward a little bit to put himself in front of us.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that,” he said calmly. “Is there a reason you’re standing by my car?”

Instinct was telling me something was wrong here, that Eric should not have been standing so closely to this man, that Shelby and I should have been trying to quietly slip into the car, or run off, not stand there mutely and uneasy. It could have been overreaction, the man could have wanted something completely innocent, but whoever he was, he was not making a good first impression, and I wanted to get out of here...

He whispered something else; Eric paused. Even in the darkness I could see his posture become more rigid, his hand clamp into a fist. “Y...yes, that’s...” Another whisper. “I don’t think he’s introduced us,” he said, his voice becoming notably warier. I was fighting the urge to run now, morbidly curious. He knew this man somehow?

A third whisper; I did not know how Eric could hear him so clearly. “If it’s so important, you can tell him yourself, I—”

I can’t describe what happened next. It happened far too fast; the last thing I could adequately process was the man stepping forward – smoothly, confidently – reaching for something while Eric stepped backwards, throwing an arm out to keep Shelby and I behind him at all times; the three of us stumbled backwards, and even though he was growing ever closer I didn’t really see his face, saw nothing memorable or noteworthy—

The next thing I knew there was an odd noise, and Eric suddenly flung himself on top of Shelby and I, attempting to shield us with his arms as something sailed overheard. I felt my blood run cold – a bullet? Were we being shot at? I felt unable to speak, let alone breathe properly – this was it, this was the man who’d been kidnapping girls, and he evidently saw Eric as a threat to be taken out – and as I scrambled out of the way, several things happened all at once:

The man moved suddenly towards us, and finally whatever had been building in my chest let itself out as a scream that echoed throughout the parking lot. The man froze – there was a second shriek, this one of pain, and Shelby fell hard onto the ground.

“Is everything all right?” I heard someone call. The man seemed to glance around quickly before backtracking out of there as fast as he could; I blinked and he was gone.

A few people had been drawn to the area, most of them clutching cell phones, and it was clear that they had drawn the same conclusions as I had. Slowly coming down from my adrenaline rush, I glanced over at Shelby; she was clutching her ankle.

“I think—I think we’re okay,” Eric said, not sounding convinced.

“Shiiit...” Shelby moaned.

“Is it broken?” a woman had knelt down beside her, while another one helped me to my feet. I turned around to face her – she had very short hair, and a concerned expression, but that was all I remembered.

“I don’t know,” Shelby winced. She stood, wobbly, and attempted to put weight on it, but fell down, swearing.

One couple – I learned the woman’s name was Carmen; her boyfriend’s, David – insisted on following us to the hospital, which went by in a sort of daze. All I could clearly remember was that the ER was rather quiet for a Friday night. Shelby was whisked off quickly, while the police showed up. Statements were taken, and I insisted upon calling Mrs. Summers, but the police did it for me; she showed up not ten minutes later, her face bone-white.

The nurse on duty, a pale blonde whose nametag indicated she was a student, allowed us to see Shelby. Her ankle was sprained, and had been placed in a brace for the time being.

“She should try and keep off it for a little while,” the nurse said. “If she needs crutches, I can get those for her.”

“I’m really sorry,” Eric said, looking very sorry at the situation.

“It wasn’t your fault I tripped,” she said, having calmed down. “Who was that guy?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “Said he knew my grandfather but he was probably lying. I would have remembered someone like that.”

“Do you need to be looked at?” the nurse said, suddenly standing next to me.

“Er, no. I’m fine. Just a scrape or two. Really,” I said.

She insisted on checking me out anyway, as well as Eric – it was while she was applying a bandage to my arm – “Better safe than sorry,” she said – that I noted her name: Serena Reine, student at the medical department of the University of Western Ontario. I could have been reading too much into the situation, but she was a little sharper with Eric than with Shelby or I. Maybe she assumed he’d done it, though that was laughable.

The night had been going so well too. But that had killed any sort of joy I’d gotten out of it. Eric drove home alone, a few hours later, when Shelby was discharged; Mrs. Summers would not rest until she’d driven me home and escorted me to the door.

“You’re both very lucky,” she said, her voice shaking a little as she faced my mother. Then, she shut the door and was gone in a heartbeat.

“You are very lucky,” Mama said, her voice distant. An unusual expression was on her face. Within seconds she’d snapped back to reality, her voice as brisk as it ever was: “That was too close, even in a group. You’re not going out after six until whoever’s behind this is caught.”

I could barely protest: “But it – that wasn’t—”

“That’s an order, Christine. It’s for your safety. Go to your room and lie down; you might feel better.”

It was useless protesting against my mother, so I did what I was told, sinking onto my bed and suddenly feeling grateful I was there.