Rattled (10 page)

“Yeah.” I returned to the magazine.

I felt the mattress shift as she sat down on the corner of my bed. “Something happen? You two are getting along okay, aren't you?”

I didn't answer. I just kept turning pages but a little more violently.

“Was Sam there?” she prodded. “I know Jilly asked him to a movie, but if you have a crush on him too…”

“Mom! Stop!” Sputtering and choking, I rolled over onto my side. “Why would you say something like that?! I
totally
do not have a crush on him!”

She held up her hands in defense. “Whoa, sorry I brought it up. I just thought I picked up on a little something.”

“What are you talking about?” I grumbled. “And FYI, nobody says
crush
anymore.” I was starting to feel a little lightheaded over the fact that apparently the whole world knew I had a crush on Sam.

“It's okay, he's absolutely adorable. And tall,” she added. “All the boys in your group are so short.”

“Mom! I don't
like
him! And in case you didn't know, Jilly called first dibs.” It sounded even stupider when I said it out loud.

“You see him more than she does,” Mom pointed out. “And you know Jilly, she'll have her eye on someone else before the week is over. She goes through boys like they're on a Rolodex.”

“A what?”

“Never mind. Before your time.”

“Let it go, Mom. I'll just stay out of Jilly's way, thank you very much. Do you want to find me in a shallow grave in the backyard?”

“
Fine
. Like I said, sorry I brought it up.” She sighed and got up to leave.

I pulled at a loose thread on my bedspread. There was a tug of war going on inside me. I took a deep breath. “Mom?”

She turned in the doorway.

“What do you think of Mrs. Swicker?”

“Well…I'll admit, she's a bit unusual.”

“What would you say if I told you I think she killed her husband?” I just threw it out there, then braced for her reaction.

She did a double take, like something from a cartoon.

“Pardon me?”

I repeated my question but softer, basically because Mom was looking a little scary, like she was going to snap any second.

“Lydia, is this some kind of
test
?”

“Mom. You've gotta check out this woman. She's hiding something, I know it. She has these dreams. ‘I had to do it. You made me.' That's what she yells. And no one knows what happened to Sam and Megan's father. It's like he's fallen off the face of the earth.”

Mom didn't respond. But she looked even more scary, if that was possible. Making matters worse, Jilly appeared in the doorway.

“You know, Lid…”

“Get out!” I shouted.

She ignored me and flopped across the bed beside me. She slid the magazine over in front of her.
Typical
.

“She could be talking about
anyone
in her dream,” Jilly continued.

“How long have you been in the hall listening? Mom! Make her get out!”

“She could be dreaming about a friend or something, or if it
is
her husband, it doesn't have to be something
that
awful. Like maybe she spent all his money, you know, left him penniless.” Jilly was on a roll. “And like maybe he deserved it.”

“I think if it's causing nightmares and she's yelling, it's probably a little worse than that.” I wanted to add “you idiot,” but I knew better.

“Well, I couldn't imagine anything worse than that,” she stated, scratching and sniffing a perfume sample.

“Oh my God! Mom! Please make her leave!”

“Jilly,” Mom sighed. “Could you please leave, I want to talk to Lydia
alone
.”

Crap
. “It's okay, Jilly, you can stay.”

“Nice try.” She flashed me a triumphant grin, and scurried out of the room. Of course she took the magazine with her. I could still smell the perfume sample.

“Lydia, I honestly don't know what I'm going to do with you.” Mom sat back down on my bed. “Where in the world do you come up with these ideas?”

I sat up. “There's something wrong with Mrs. Swicker. I really mean it, Mom. What about the barbecue? She wouldn't come, just like I said! And I never told you about our trip to the waterfront. When we—”

“Just because someone doesn't want to come to our barbecue, doesn't mean they're a murderer.” She cut me off. “And you better not be sharing these wild ideas with Sam and Megan. God knows what could get back to Mrs. Swicker.”

I bit my lip. I was fighting a losing battle.

“How would you feel if someone made the same accusations about me?” she added.

“But Mom, you don't act like you're crazy!”
Most of the time
.

“Lydia. Allow me to make this perfectly clear. I don't want to hear anymore talk like this, not a word. Do you understand me?”

She was actually wagging her finger at me, like I was a five-year-old.

“Fine!” I said it kind of nasty, through clenched teeth.

“Would you like to rephrase that?” Mom asked, folding her arms.

I was defeated. The only person who would suffer would be me. “Fine. Not another word.” I beamed a fake smile, zipped my lip, and threw the imaginary key over my shoulder. “Guess I was just being overly dramatic. Must be all those wacky teenage hormones and stuff.” I made my voice sound super chipper.

She looked at me suspiciously. “Yeah, must be.” She closed my door softly behind her.

I picked up my pink, heart-shaped pillow with the sequins, and tossed it across the room. It was just all so unfair. My ditzy sister was trying to get her claws into my future husband, plus, I was pretty sure I was living across the street from a murderer, and of course no one believed me. I threw myself back on the bed and pulled a pillow over my face. Could my life get any suckier? I didn't know it yet, but apparently it could.

Chapter 14

I
t was inevitable. The date had been rescheduled. I'd been so wrapped up with my new theory, the box of baby stuff, renewing my efforts to get back in that furnace room, not to mention being worried that I'd majorly ticked off Megan, that I momentarily forgot about Jilly's efforts to scoop Sam.

She was making toast when I went to the kitchen for some breakfast.

“I've got a date with Sam,” Jilly sang. She turned, waiting to see if I'd say anything. She could be such a witch.

I gave her a sarcastic thumbs-up, refusing to comment or ask for any details.

“And you said his mom wouldn't let him,” she added smugly.

The urge to scratch her eyes out was overwhelming. I walked out of the kitchen and back to my room without a word, without my breakfast.

I didn't want to be around for the pre-date preparations, and I certainly didn't want to be around for the post-date debriefing. Was it possible I could just leave town for a few days?

The doorbell rang.

“Lid!” Jilly yelled. “It's for you!”

Megan was standing in the doorway. “Hi,” she said, as I came down the stairs.

I was surprised to see her. “What's up?” I looked past her shoulder to see if Mrs. Swicker was hiding in the bushes or something.

“I was wondering if you wanted to catch a movie tonight.”

“Ummm…you're not mad at me?”

She smiled and shook her head. “No.”

“Because I'm really sorry. Sometimes I just say stuff without thinking.”

“It's fine. I was…tired, that's all.”

“Right,” I nodded. “The not sleeping thing.”

“So a movie?”

“Sure.”

“Just so you know…Mom's taking us. She'll pay, though. A thank you for looking after Peter.”

I could tell by the look on Megan's face that she was expecting me to change my mind. But what was the point of that? It wasn't like I had anything better to do. Plus the thought of being here when Sam picked up Jilly… “That would be great,” I said.

Megan breathed a sigh of relief. She was about to leave, then spun around. “Oh yeah, Mom wanted me to get my key back.”

My lying gene immediately kicked in. “Ooooh…I had Jilly's hoodie on when I fed Peter and I put the key in the pocket, then Jilly wore it to Vivian's and left it there. I'll get it back right away though.”

A look of panic flashed across Megan's face. “Okay…Just get it as soon as you can.”

I nodded, chewing the inside of my lip. I didn't want Megan to get in trouble, but there was no way I was ready to part with that key yet.

“What time are we leaving?” I asked, changing the subject.

“About ten after seven.”

“See ya then.”

• • •

The van was idling loudly in the driveway when I crossed the street to meet up with Megan. It was as though Mrs. Swicker's impatience was being blown out through the exhaust pipe. I checked my watch—it was exactly 7:10. I took a deep breath and slid open the door.

It's funny the way things work out sometimes. If anyone had suggested I might experience a moment of joy during this movie outing, I would have called them a liar. How wrong I would have been. When I opened that van door, imagine my surprise when I saw Jilly and Sam crammed into the back seat. My mouth hung open, my eyes bugged out of my head.

“Hey, Lydia,” Sam said as though nothing was unusual.

I wanted to say hey back, but no words came out. I hopped up into the seat beside Megan. Mrs. Swicker peeled away from the curb before I even had the door closed. I stared straight ahead, pinching my lips together, trying not to smile. The look on Jilly's face was seared onto my brain, a combination of horrified and mortified with a touch of excruciating pain thrown in. Too bad there wasn't some magical way I could make it into my screen saver.

Megan was watching me the whole time. I could feel her eyes on me. Somehow I had a feeling she knew exactly what I was thinking.

Leaning over I whispered, “You could have told me it was a group outing.”

“I thought you might not want to come,” she whispered back.

“I wouldn't miss this for the world.”

The drive to the theatre was…odd. Jilly and I never spoke or acknowledged each other's presence. I was dying to turn around and give her some kind of look, but I didn't want Sam to see. Mrs. Swicker didn't utter a sound, not that I expected her to. Sam and Megan chattered away as if this was all so normal, but it
so
wasn't. Every few minutes I just wanted to break out into fits of maniacal laughter. There was something about this whole situation that I found hysterically funny. Guess Megan wasn't the only one who was overtired.

Once inside the theatre, Mrs. Swicker actually let Sam and Jilly break ranks and sit by themselves. Unfortunately we weren't so lucky. She waited to see where they sat, then ushered Megan and I into seats a few rows back. The house lights were still on, so I wasn't worried about Sam and Jilly,
yet
. I glanced over periodically as Megan and I made small talk. I couldn't think of too much to say, and Mrs. Swicker was listening to every word anyway. Megan told me how Sam had just received an invitation to play a solo at the conservatory.

That caught my attention. “That's great. When's that again?”

“Thursday night.”

Day after tomorrow. I filed that information away for later.

The movie was some romantic comedy. I didn't pay much attention. My view of Sam and Jilly was pretty good. They were about four rows in front of me, diagonally. My eyes adjusted to the dark and zeroed in on them. Their heads constantly touched because Jilly wouldn't stop whispering in his ear. I've been to movies with Jilly, she never shuts up. After about thirty minutes, my eye muscles were so tired from looking sideways, I had to stop. Digging my fingers into my eye sockets, I massaged my eyeballs.

“Are you okay?” Megan whispered.

“Yeah, yeah, I'm fine.”

I focused my eyes again on Sam and Jilly, hoping I hadn't missed anything. I was waiting for the classic yawn and stretch. If it actually happened, I wasn't sure how I was going to react. I had a vision of me jumping up and screaming “Nooooo!” across the dark theatre. Mentally I glued my butt to my seat. I didn't have to wait long. It was beautifully executed. Jilly was truly a master. Sam probably didn't even notice that all of a sudden her arm was now around his shoulder.

“Hey! Watch it, would ya?”

Apparently I had squeezed my popcorn bag in a kind of reflex action and managed to empty half of it onto the lap of the girl sitting beside me.

“Oh, sorry.” I felt like a total idiot.

By the time the movie was over, I was worried I had done permanent damage to my eyes. I couldn't stop blinking. We quietly filed out of our row and met up with Sam and Jilly in the lobby. Jilly seemed royally miffed or something. I was pretty sure nothing resembling making out went on between them. I don't think they ended up doing
anything
. Poor Jilly. I was starting to change my mind about not wanting to hear the post-date debriefing. But I bet she wasn't going to be so eager to share the details of this one—probably not one of her success stories.