Chapter 7 Chloe #2
“He spoke about Theo Shorn as if he were, you know, alive.” The morning sun beats down on my shoulders, hot enough to make the oatmeal I had for breakfast churn around in my stomach. “And I just worried, what if someone’s actually out there?”
“And what? They’ll steal Oliver away?” Blaire laughs cruelly, and for a second, I see the teenage mean girl she almost certainly was. “I don’t know if you realize this, but Oliver isn’t normal. So I don’t think he holds much of an appeal to kidnappers.”
I gape at her, too stunned to speak. From deep inside the house, a male voice calls out her name.
“Is that all?” she asks sharply. “My husband needs me.”
“Have you been over there?” I blurt out. “To make sure it’s safe?”
Blaire stares at me coolly. “No one lives out there,” she says. “And I can’t believe you interrupted my breakfast to tell me my son has an imaginary friend.”
I swallow, my throat dry. I didn’t think this through. “But Theo Shorn really existed.”
It’s a stupid thing to say, and I’m immediately met with another cruel laugh.
“So?” Blaire rolls her eyes. “I’m supposed to get worked up over the Hanging Lake boogeyman?
It’s a story. Hikers get lost. Some serial killer came through here fifty years ago.
So what? I still don’t understand why you’re on my front porch. ”
I worry the hem of my shirt. I ought to just leave. I know that. It’s not like I can explain that Theodore Shorn might be an unkillable murderer—that’ll just make me sound even crazier. But I feel like I’m bolted down to this spot.
“My realtor told me there were dangerous animals out there,” I finally say, because there’s this awkward, heavy silence between us, and because part of me wants some sign that Blaire actually does care about her son. “Like rattlesnakes.”
Blaire sniffs. Behind her, a man stomps in the hallway, looking as clean-cut as a pastor. I can only assume it’s Mr. Jenkins. “What in the world is going on here?” he barks.
“It’s the neighbor,” Blaire says, looking at me. “She’s worried about Oliver going over to the peninsula. He told her about his little imaginary friend.”
The man scoffs at that. “We don’t need any do-gooders hanging around telling us how to raise that boy.”
They both stare at me, like they’re daring me to argue. I squeeze my hands into fists. “I just wanted to make sure you knew it was safe.”
“Mind your own business,” Blaire says icily, before stepping back into the cool dark of her house and slamming the door shut, the bang like a punctuation mark.
And all I can do is blink at the door for a few seconds, my heart thumping. That did not exactly go how I had pictured.
Not that I was even sure what I wanted to accomplish. I don’t have proof of anything. Just that prickling sense of unease.
I should probably suck it up and call Penelope about it.
I step off the porch, feeling guilty and shaken up all at once, and cut across the lawn, back toward my house. I’ve just crossed over the property line when I feel something brush against my hand. A second later, Oliver himself jumps in front of me and blinks through the tousled bangs of his hair.
“Oliver,” I say, too surprised to remember to sign. Oliver just grins and nods, then signs a quick, “Hello!”
“Did you hear me talking with your mom?” I ask, forming the words slowly.
He nods, and my heart twists around in my chest.
But then his fingers start flying, fast enough that I struggle to keep up. “I wanted to tell you not to worry,” he says, his expression earnest. “I know Theo seems scary, but he’s actually very nice. Did you meet him?”
It takes me a second to register that last question. “Theo?” I spell the name out. I still haven’t gotten the hang of the personalized sign Oliver uses for him.
Oliver nods. “You said you went to his territory! Even though I told you he doesn’t like visitors. But I think he would like you, because you’re nice, too. So I was wondering if you met.”
Oliver drops his hands to his side and stares up at me expectantly. I wish I knew something about kids.
Finally, I do a quick, jerky, “No.”
“You didn’t see him at all? Did you go to his cabin?”
I shake my head, unease settling in my stomach again. “I found a cemetery,” I finally say, stumbling over the word for cemetery. I’m really going to have to amp up my vocabulary, living next door to this kid. “And a gravestone. With Theo’s name on it.”
I’m not sure what I expect to happen, sharing this information. I almost feel kind of bad about it, like I’m trapping Oliver in a lie. But he just grins.
“That’s his gravestone,” Oliver sighs, emphasizing the his with a dramatic surge of his shoulders. “Didn’t I tell you? He’s a ghost.”
I breathe out. A ghost. An imaginary friend. Not a murderer.
“You didn’t mention that,” I say.
“Oh, sorry.” Oliver shrugs. “Well, he is. And he was probably watching you, even if you couldn’t see him. He can make himself invisible.”
I smile at that, and some of the worry lifts off my shoulders. This is definitely getting into imaginary friend territory.
“That’s a pretty cool trick,” I say
“Yeah, it is.” Oliver studies me for a moment longer, squinting into the bright morning sunlight. “I hope you’ll meet him soon, though.” He signs more fervently. “He’s just shy. But just wait ’til I introduce you. I know the three of us will be best friends.”