Unearthly Things Page 9

  I turned and scowled at John Rochester. Crossing my arms I asked, “Why does he hate you so much?”

  “Jealous, maybe?” John flashed a cocky grin, then clapped his hands and said, “I’m starving. Why don’t we get better acquainted over lunch?”

  The silence on the other end of the phone had gone on for so long that I finally said, “Um, hello?”

  “Still here,” Kaila replied, but she sounded distracted.

  “If you’re busy, I can call you back,” I said, disgruntled.

  “No, it’s cool. So . . . you and this Daniel guy saw something?”

  “Yeah.” I settled back against the pillows, my eyes inadvertently drawn back to the ceiling. Overhead, the attic remained silent, but that only made it feel more ominous. I half expected that pink ball to drop through the chandelier. “It was super creepy.”

  Another long pause, then Kaila said hesitantly, “A ghost? I mean, it just seems—”

  “Crazy, I know,” I groaned. “But trust me, it happened.” I repressed a twinge of annoyance; she was acting like I was telling her about my chemistry test. How could she be so blasé?

  Kaila and I had managed to talk every few days since I’d left, but the conversations felt strained. It was hard to hear about my friends doing all the stuff we used to do together, especially since I’d secretly hoped they wouldn’t be able to carry on without me. But, of course, that hadn’t been the case. Sometimes I wondered if they really missed me at all. “What?” I finally snapped.

  “It’s just . . . I mean, you’ve been through a lot. Do you think you might’ve imagined it?”

  Kaila had adopted the sort of soothing tone you’d use with a mental patient, which really ticked me off. Defensively, I said, “Daniel saw the ball, too.”

  “Okay. So what does he think?”

  “We haven’t had a chance to talk about it yet. I told you, we ran downstairs, then John showed up and he took off.”

  “Uh-huh.” Voices in the background. Kaila giggled and hissed, “Quit it!” under her breath.

  “What’s going on?” I demanded, exasperated. “Is Taka there?”

  “No, it’s Tommy. We were about to go grab an ice.”

  “Tommy Oliver? Seriously?”

  “Yup,” she said with forced nonchalance.

  “Since when?” I asked. Kaila had fostered a hopeless crush on Tommy since the seventh grade. And despite the fact that he’d dated pretty much every other girl in our class, he’d never shown any interest in her before. Must be her turn, I thought uncharitably before catching myself. I should be happy for her. And I would be, except that I knew how things always ended with Tommy Oliver.

  “We’ve been hanging out for a few weeks,” she said vaguely. “Anyway, I should probably go. There’s a Kona truck down the street.”

  “Yeah, sure,” I said dispiritedly. Kona trucks served towering cones of shaved ice dripping with flavors like Orange Creamsicle (my favorite) and Wedding Cake (Kaila’s, not surprisingly). My mouth watered just thinking about it. “I’ll call you later,” I said, and hung up before she could protest.

  I drew in a deep shuddery breath. I’d been counting on Kaila to make me feel better about the way Daniel had raced out on me. Instead, I wound up feeling like an obligation she grudgingly accepted, like the weekly call to her grandma in the nursing home.

  Which was totally unfair. I’d always been there for Kaila. I’d helped drown post-breakup tears in pints of ice cream. I’d cheered for her in every surf contest (even when she was my main opponent). I’d taught her how to ride a skateboard when we were eight, and how to sneak out of her house when we were fifteen. And now, when I needed her, she didn’t have time for me?

  Screw her, I thought angrily, checking my phone again. I’d sent three texts to Daniel, and he hadn’t responded to any of them. And screw him, too. I tossed my phone to the other side of the bed and grabbed my laptop. I had an essay due this week on the clash of social classes in Wuthering Heights—eerily appropriate, considering my current situation. Shoving aside all the spooky events of the morning, I settled down and started writing.

  “Oh my God, are you actually doing homework?”

  Georgina flounced into the room and flopped down on my bed. I grabbed the laptop to steady it.

  “Shocking, I know,” I said acerbically. “Since it’s due tomorrow.”

  “Oh, Janie.” She sighed dramatically. “You don’t actually have to do the homework. Haven’t you learned that yet?”

  “Personally, I’d like to graduate,” I said, bristling at her tone. “And besides, I don’t mind.”

  “Really?” she said dubiously.

  “Really.” I threw her a look. “Now I need to finish this paper—”

  “So this is where the party is,” John interrupted from the doorway. Sauntering in, he added, “What a ghastly room. I don’t think I’ve ever been in it before.”

  “It was Marion’s present room,” Georgina said idly, rolling over on her side and propping her head on her hand. “Guess how thrilled she was to hand it over?”

  “Oh, the horror,” John gravely agreed. “Where will she keep the hostess gifts now?”

  “The present room?” I asked, puzzled.

  “Yes, our Marion is quite generous,” John said as he settled into a chair by the fireplace. “She keeps a stack of presents on hand at all times.”

  “Well, I guess that’s one way to get the jump on Christmas,” I muttered, turning back to my computer.

  They both burst into laughter.

  “What?” I demanded.

  “They’re not for us, silly,” Georgina said as soon as the giggles petered out.

  “We get checks for Christmas,” John explained. “Ten grand, just under the minimum that needs to be reported to the IRS.”

  “Wouldn’t want them to come sniffing around, now would we, Johnny?” Georgina said, doing a dead-on impression of Marion.

  “Those brutes, sullying my carpets? Never,” John replied, matching her tone.

  Watching them banter, it was hard to believe that John hadn’t been here all along. I didn’t understand why nobody had mentioned him. He was a conceited jerk, basically the male version of Georgina, but still—their comfortable familiarity gave me a pang. Maybe it would’ve been nice to have a sibling. At least then, I wouldn’t be going through this alone.

  “Ugh. She’s making that face again,” Georgina noted.

  “She does that a lot?” John asked, squinting at me.

  “Constantly.”

  “I’m right here, you know. I can hear you,” I grumbled. I wanted to ask them to leave, but this was technically their house. They’d probably just ignore me anyway. Sighing, I shut my laptop and leaned back against the headboard. “What do you two want?”

  “Testy, too,” John said to his sister.

  “You see what I have to deal with.” Georgina sighed again.

  I glared at her, but she pretended not to notice. Tossing a throw pillow to her brother, she said, “Lovely to have you back, Johnny. So what was it this time? Cheating? Stealing?”

  He caught it with one hand and smiled. “Drinking.”

  “Really?” She frowned. “That shouldn’t have been enough to get you kicked out. Especially not at St. Paul’s.”

  John balanced the pillow on his palm and shrugged. “Not usually, but I accidentally mistook the headmaster’s dog for a urinal. Right in front of him.”

  Georgina cracked up. I couldn’t help but smile too, in spite of myself. John flashed us a genuine smile. For the first time since we’d met, he seemed like a real person.

  Don’t trust him, echoed Daniel’s voice in my head. Annoyed, I pushed it away. Issuing a warning like that without explanation—who did Daniel think he was?

  As if guessing my thoughts, John said slyly, “You missed some excit
ement today, Georgie. Alma caught Miss Janie here in the attic.”

  “No!” Georgina spun, regarding me with a mix of horror and awe. “Why?”

  “You know why,” I said, throwing her a glare. “I wanted to find out what was making the noises.”

  “What noises?” John asked, eyeing me with the same skepticism I’d gotten from everyone else.

  “Weird noises,” I said defensively. “Humming, footsteps, even screams sometimes—”

  “Oh, that,” he said dismissively.

  “‘Oh, that?’” I echoed. “Um, call me crazy, but that’s not really normal.”

  Georgina had visibly relaxed, too. “He’s right. It’s just Alma.”

  “Alma?” I looked back and forth between them; they had to be putting me on. “What are you talking about?”

  “She considers herself a bit of a witch,” John said, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Examining his fingernails, he continued, “Richard and Marion tolerate it because she’s been with them for so long.”

  “It’s so gross.” Georgina wrinkled her nose. “Chicken bones and smoke and God knows what else.”

  “Now, now,” John chided. “It’s not nice to criticize other people’s beliefs.”

  I opened my mouth to protest, then shut it again. Because what could I say? To suddenly bring up a bouncing pink ball seemed ridiculous—and maybe there was a plausible explanation for that, too. It could have been sitting in the shadows, stirred up by our footsteps. I flashed back on it bouncing toward us, as if it had been thrown . . . but was I completely sure that’s what happened? I hadn’t slept well in so long, I wasn’t sure of anything anymore.

  “I’ll have Daddy Dearest tell her to cool it,” Georgina said, suppressing a yawn. “If it’s really bothering you.”

  “But seriously, it’s no big deal,” John chimed in. “Alma probably doesn’t even realize you can hear it. Nicholas can sleep through anything, and there hasn’t been anyone else in this wing of the house since—”

  His mouth slammed shut, lips pressed together.

  A look passed between him and Georgina, and the air was suddenly thick enough to cut with a knife.

  Eliza, I thought. With a chill, I wondered which room had been hers. Surely not this one? Hopefully it had always been Marion’s “present room.”

  “Well, that’s a relief,” I said awkwardly to break the silence. “I was starting to think I was losing my mind.”

  “Oh, you haven’t been here nearly long enough yet,” Georgina replied drolly.

  “Takes at least six months for that,” John agreed.

  “Eight if you’re lucky.” Georgina got to her feet and stretched her arms above her head. “I’m famished.”

  As if on cue, the dinner bell rang. John bowed in my direction, extending an arm toward me. “M’lady, may I have the pleasure of escorting you to dinner?”

  “You’re both nuts,” I said, rolling my eyes. But secretly, I experienced a small thrill. For the first time, it felt like maybe I could belong here.

  By now, I’d grown accustomed to the awful, stilted dinners at the Rochesters’. It seemed particularly bad tonight, however. Everyone’s gaze remained fixed on their plates. As I sipped water, I wondered if they could all hear me swallowing.

  “So, John,” Richard Rochester said, making me jump. “You’ve been kicked out of another school.”

  John sat complacently, occupying the seat to Marion’s right that until now had been vacant. “Six in three years,” he said. “I’m kind of hoping that’s some sort of record.”

  Richard set his wine glass down so hard it teetered. Marion’s eyes narrowed at the drops of red wine that splashed out, sullying the pristine white tablecloth. “You think this is funny, young man?”

  “A little, yeah,” John said, but his voice wavered. Privately, I wondered why. Marion was the one who terrified me.

  “Do you have any idea how much money I’ve lost? Tuition alone was more than forty grand,” Richard growled. His low, measured voice made the words sound even more venomous. The chicken Kiev dried up in my mouth.

  “It’s just money,” Georgina muttered weakly. Her face had gone pale, though.

  “Just money?” Richard’s face amped up another shade of red, matching his voice’s rise in decibels. “Neither of you has a clue, do you? No idea what you cost me?”

  After a weighted moment of silence, we all put our silverware down. I wondered if dropping to the floor and crawling out of the room was an option. I was glad that Nicholas ate in the kitchen, so he wasn’t witnessing this.

  “Riding lessons,” Richard spat. “Fancy schools. A driver. God, what you waste on clothing alone—”

  “Richard,” Marion warned. “The staff.”

  “Screw the staff!” he slammed his palm down hard enough to make the tableware jump. The candles guttered, sending wispy black plumes toward the ceiling. “None of you understands the things I have to do to keep this family going. You think it’s easy? Making all these decisions, knowing that if I screw up, it’ll all just disappear?”

  “We know how hard you work, dear,” Marion soothed.

  “Yeah, really hard. Great job.” John said, so low I barely heard it.

  Richard’s eyes blazed. He slowly rose out of his seat, up to his full height. The vein in his temple throbbed alarmingly. “You,” he said thickly. “All of you. You’re nothing but vultures. You sicken me.”

  He stalked toward John, stopping behind his chair. I wasn’t the only one holding my breath. Marion had gone rigid, although her gaze was still fixed on the plate in front of her. John didn’t move, not even turning his head to look at his father. His shoulders had hunched protectively, as if braced for a blow. Time slowed to a crawl, marked off by the dolorous ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner. It suddenly chimed, each toll loud and resonant.

  Without another word, Richard stalked from the room, leaving silence in his wake.

  We all sat there, rooted in place. I felt shaky. That was an entirely different side of Richard, one I never could have imagined. And the way his family had reacted, as if preparing themselves for physical violence . . .

  First Daniel, then Richard. Ever since John appeared.

  “So I’m guessing the market crashed again,” John said conversationally. “Did Dad lose another couple mill?”

  “Shut up,” Marion hissed, turning on him. “Why must you always make things worse for yourself?”

  “Mother, you have to admit—”

  “If you weren’t my son, I’d throw you out myself,” she said curtly.

  John looked like he’d been slapped.

  We all watched silently as Marion folded her napkin and set it to the side of her plate, then pushed back her chair.

  “You should avoid your father until he’s in a better frame of mind,” Marion said without looking at us.

  “Sobered up, you mean,” John muttered, but she’d already left the room.

  I stared at my plate, feeling sick to my stomach. I desperately wanted to retreat to the sanctuary of my room, but I’d rather not run into Marion or Richard on my way there. Pushing the mostly uneaten chicken breast around my plate, I decided to give the halls five minutes to clear.

  “She’s right, you shouldn’t joke about it,” Georgina snapped. “It’s not funny.”

  “Just imagine if after all those years of hosting charity functions, Marion suddenly became a charity case,” John said snidely. “It would almost be worth it.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” Georgina retorted, but there was a tremor in her voice. “Daddy would never let that happen.”

  “Sure he wouldn’t. Hey, remember our ski house in Vail, and the Paris apartment? How long until he auctions off Napa, too?”

  “Everyone has downsized,” Georgina scoffed. “It’s no big deal. We’ll get i
t all back soon.”

  John laughed ruefully. “My dear sister, you’re always such an optimist where money is concerned. Anyway, thank God for Janie.” He lifted his water glass in my direction. His hand shook slightly, making water bead along the sides. “Good to know that something keeps the old man in check.”

  If that was “in check,” I’d hate to see Richard out of control, I thought. I’d come down to dinner with an arm linked through John’s, feeling for the first time like maybe this family wasn’t so bad. And now I realized they were so much worse than I’d ever imagined.

  The fact that they’d been selling off houses was news to me, too, although they were still a long way from the financial troubles my family used to have.

  –––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

  Dad sat in front of a stack of bills, his hand hovering over the checkbook. A lot of them were bright red late notices.

  Everything okay? I asked, grabbing orange juice from the fridge.

  Fine, he said, but it wasn’t very convincing. I knew business had been slow, half the time his helicopter sat idle on the landing pad.

  I don’t have to compete this weekend, I said, swishing the juice around my glass. I mean, we could save the entry fee.

  Dad reached out for me. I went over, and he pulled me into a hug. Don’t worry, baby girl. We always find the money somewhere.

  –––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

  “What were your parents like?” Georgina suddenly asked.

  “What?” I said, startled. It was as if she’d read my mind.

  “Your parents,” she said, with only a trace of her usual condescension. “What were they like?”

  “Um, I don’t know. Normal, I guess.” My hands were clenched in my lap; I forced them to relax, wondering what she wanted to hear. Was she seeking reassurance that every family was like this behind closed doors?

  “There’s no such thing as normal,” John mumbled.