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Everything is so quiet. The wind whips around us up on the hill under the giant white oak tree, and all I can see in the scant space between us are our sneakers. “I have to go,” I tell his shirt, still not willing to look at him. The wind picks up, as if in protest, and his arms move, sliding around my shoulders until he’s actually hugging me.
“Oh Bailey, Bailey,Bailey,” he sighs, with that same chuckle that has always made my stomach twist. “What are we going to do with you if we can’t even get you to admit that bad people deserve to die?” But thankfully, he releases me. His arms falling suddenly to his sides as he looks at me with an expression in his eyes that I refuse to read clearly.
Because he has Rory, for one, and for two…I’m already in enough trouble tonight. I don’t answer him or pretend to have any composure left in me. I stumble, taking off towards the path that’ll take me home and try to forget how his hands felt on my shoulders, on my face, and most importantly, on my throat, with varying degrees of minimal success.
It isn’t until I’m close to the big gates that I look up, and my heart jolts up into my throat when the man from the fairgrounds, eerily light eyes fixed on me, catches my attention from twenty feet away.
He isn’t trying to, I don’t think. But how can I not let my steps drift to a stop when he juststaresat me, hair greasy and curled into small ringlets. He looks...off, for one. But he still has that unnaturally uncomfortable look, like he’s going to vomit or scream at me. His hands clench, then unclench, and I’ve never once thought someone was a killer based on their appearance before now.
But if he’s not the one killing people, even though I’ve never seen him in my life and can’t imagine why he would, then there’s no one else more fit for the role. My own palms feel clammy as I scrub them against the fabric of my hoodie, and I hate that I have to swallow back my racing heart.
I won’t let him keep me here, and it isn’t like he’s blocking the gate. But it’s hard to make my legs move forward, harder to try to make my escalation into almost a jog look casual when I’m almost parallel with him on my way out.
“It’s cold out here,” the man mutters, facing the ground but probably talking to me, since there’s no one else around. When he looks up at me, I find myself slowly, curiosity getting the better of my common sense. “And it’s only getting colder. Shouldn’t you be at home, instead of out here all alone?”
I don’t hang around to reply. Thankfully my brain snaps back into action and I take off once more, not caring about looking subtle or caring about what he thinks of me. It’s much more important for me to get home, where the most dangerous thing in the world is my sticky front door.
Chapter14
If there’s a part of me that’s disappointed when the rest of the week goes by murder-free, it’s a part of me that I refuse to admit exists. The curfew falls away completely on Wednesday, and on Thursday I take my anxiety meds and stare at myself in the mirror, wondering if I look ‘family friendly’ enough for the first day of the Halloween fair. The events kick off with a kids-only event where children can dress up and safely trick-or-treat a few weeks early.
For our town, two nights of trick-or-treating have always been normal. I don’t know how other towns existwithouttwo days of kids bouncing off the wall with a sugar rush. Or, hell, how the dentists stay in business outside of Hollow Bridge.
No matter how much I want to borrow Nic’s cool cat mask again, I know it’ll probably scare some of the little kids. So instead I dress all in black and go as a regular cat, with painted on whiskers and cute ears. My only job is to hand out candy with my parents for a couple of hours, then run a few last checks with them to make sure everything is set for therealopening of the annual Halloween Fair on Saturday.
Thankfully, my parents don’t remark about my insistence on all but setting up a surveillance station to stare over at Phoenix’s parents’ booth.But to my disappointment and relief, I don’t see Rory or Phoenix there, handing out candy or otherwise.
But what did I really expect? I’m sure a lot of people in town aren’t Phoenix’s biggest fans, given his attitude and how vocal he’d been back when Daisy died. Still, my heart sinks just a little when it’s obvious he isn’t there, and the boredom that sets in at the realization is hard to ignore for the rest of the night.
Twenty-hours later, I find myself sitting on my sofa, staring at Leatherface on my television as he wraps a guy’s leg in butcher paper. I eat my red velvet ice cream without really paying attention to the movie itself, or the amount of screaming echoing through my room.
I want to do something before the fair. Sure, going is nice. Helping out is… Well it’s notfun,but I definitely don’t mind. And this isn’t my last night of freedom by any means. But this year more than others, I feel almost stifled, like somehow I’ve wrapped myself in a blanket burrito to protect myself from the outside world but forgot to poke air holes for me to breathe.
Or something like that.
Fumbling for my phone, I sink down in my seat until I can flop over onto my side and stretch out on the sofa comfortably, scrolling to my contacts until I find my best friend’s name preceded and followed by star emojis.
Do you want to go somewhere tonight? I ask, typing the message fast enough that it autocorrectstonighttotonguejust before I send it. I fix it, then send the message and wait, knowing that Nic is good about keeping her phone on her come hell or high water.
Sure enough, thedeliveredon my screen changes toread, and seconds later the gray bubble pops up to show me she’s typing.
Where do you want to go? We’ll have to pick up Nolan. He’s actually not here.That’s a surprise, and by her words, she knows it too. Normally, they spend most waking moments together.
Oh no, is he deathly ill? Possessed?I tease.Has to be right? To be outside of your bubble?
Probably possessed, she shoots back.
Haunted house?I ask, unable to deny how much I’d like to go to one this year.
Haunted field? You know where I mean. Field of Nightmares.
Done.I love Field of Nightmares, and we haven’t been in three years. Not for any real reason…I think. Things just haven’t seemed to line up lately. And by lately, clearly I mean the last few years.
I’ll pick you up in thirty minutes? Nic asks, never one to waste time. I’m on my feet and going for my closet even as I reply in agreement, careful not to step on Stranger’s tail as he saunters to the food bowl where Kale is currently standing guard, eyes wide as he watches for imaginary danger.
From my closet I pull out a pair of leggings, shimmying into the fleece-lined clothing and yanking them up over myFriday the Thirteenthunderwear. It’s Hollow Bridge, after all, so I feel a certain call to be at least a little on theme as much as I can for the month. I snatch a red top from my bed, pulling it on over my leggings and tugging it down until the long shirt with thin straps covers me to my thighs, before finally gripping a ouija board-themed hoodie and pulling it on as well. As with most of my sweatshirts, it’s technically too big and falls to my thighs, the sleeves needing to be pushed up to my elbows so I can have use of my hands. While it’ll bother me and I’ll probably sweat aggressively until Nic picks me up, I’ve looked at the temperatures for tonight and I know that even in this, I’ll still end up being chilly at the Field of Nightmares.
I’m ready when you are,I text Nic, knowing she’ll be a little while.Just watching Leatherface slaughter home invaders until then.
