#cerealunaliver
Hazel
The doorbell wakes me up, which is concerning because I always set at least three alarms. My phone is lying on the bed in front of me and I stare at the lemon slice Jibbitz on the case for a moment until the events of last night hit me like a Mack truck.
I shoot upright, my room spinning and Flynn’s soft voice telling me to go back to sleep echoing in my mind. Crap. I fell asleep on a serial killer and he… carried me to bed. I take in the crumpled sheets, the knitted blanket from the couch tangled around my waist. Did Flynn tuck me in?
I collapse back onto the bed.
So let me get this straight, ma’am, an escaped prisoner broke into your house and instead of calling the cops you… made him hot chocolate? The police officer inside my head raises an imaginary brow and I groan.
The last thing I want to do is call the police, but I know I have to. Before I can pick up my phone though, the doorbell rings again. One long buzz.
I clamber out of bed, snagging an old hoodie off my laundry basket and pulling it on as I hurry into the hall. “Coming!” I call as the bell rings again.
There’s a man with a clipboard on my doorstep. I blink at him.
He scratches behind his ear and checks his paperwork before glancing up at me. “Hazel Halloway?”
My shoulder blades tingle. I check the logo on the polo top stretched over his round belly. Speed Safe AS.
“That’s me,” I say, wracking my tired brain for some sort of clue.
“I’m Carl, I’m here to install your alarm system.”
My brow digs so far down I go a little cross-eyed. I shake my head. “I didn’t order a new alarm.”
Carl taps his pencil against his clipboard. “Says right here you did. 241 Pear Tree Avenue.” He lifts a page. “Order was placed by a… Mr. Dexter.”
My blood freezes. I clench my hand around the door frame and nod to the clipboard. “Can I see that?” I whisper.
Carl shrugs and passes me the form. The name is typed out in black and white. Dexter.
What’s your favorite TV show, Flynn?
It can’t be a coincidence. On the other hand, if this isn’t some mix-up, then the very first thing Flynn did after escaping prison and leaving my house last night was order me a security system. Frankly, that seems almost as crazy as a coincidence.
I wet my lips as I hand the clipboard back, my mouth dry from hanging open. “There’s been a misunderstanding. I didn’t order this. I’m sorry to waste your time.”
I go to close the door when Carl clears his throat. “Uh, it’s already paid for ma’am.” He scratches behind his ear again. “Boss won’t like it if I don’t complete the installation.”
I bite my lip. I think people-pleasing might be the death of me because I’m not sure I can let Carl, this man I have just met and have no emotional connection to, get in trouble. “What does it do exactly?”
Carl launches into a practiced spiel. “Speed Safe alarm systems are completely wireless, providing a single point, multiroom security measure that encompasses your whole home and allows you to sleep soundly and leave your home in the safe hands of our rapid response security team.”
I’m tempted to clap but the manners my gran drilled into me hold me back. “Um, what does that mean exactly? In normal human language.”
Carl scratches his ear and smiles. “Uh, movement sensors connected to an alarm system on every door and window.”
My interest piques. “Windows?”
“Yes, ma’am. Every single one.”
I hiss a breath out between my teeth. I know I’m being manipulated. I know Flynn is playing with me. But after last night, having movement sensors on my windows honestly sounds really fucking good. “Okay.” I nibble at my lip. “You can come in.”
I step back, holding the door open for Carl and the boxed-up alarm system.
It occurs to me I probably should have asked for an ID but then fake IDs aren’t exactly hard to get, and my skill set falls way below the bar of being able to spot one.
When everyone else was sneaking out to go underage clubbing, I was staying home to look after my gran.
Not that I particularly wanted to go clubbing.
Anything that shares the name with an activity where you beat up baby seals is a no go for me.
The only time I ever went out was when Tommy was in a sour mood and I was too scared to tell him no.
Carl takes out a screwdriver and I have momentary visions of him stabbing me in the stomach with it, but he just gets to work disabling my current alarm system. Though the word current is a bit misleading given the last time I actually set it was back when my gran was still alive.
Between Tommy and Flynn, I decide I need to have better survival instincts, so I watch Carl like a hawk, tailing him around the house in nothing but my oversized hoodie and teddy bear slippers.
My bare legs goosebump as a thought occurs to me.
“There’re no cameras, right?” I ask as Carl fixes a small white box to my bedroom window frame.
“No, ma’am,” he says around the screwdriver between his teeth. He takes the screwdriver out and looks back at me. “Whole system’s done on sensors, so you don’t get no creeps hacking the video feed or crazy shit like that.”
I nod my head like me and “crazy shit” aren’t practically bunk buddies at this point. I wonder whether we get a limit on how much unlikely stuff can happen to us in one week. “I’m sorry Miss Halloway, you can’t win the lottery today because a serial killer broke into your house last night.”
Carl finishes with my window but breaks into a smoker’s coughing fit as he stands up. My determination to watch his every move is fast replaced with the manners hard-wired into my brain. “Can I get you a drink? I have coffee.”
Carl freezes, panic flashing in his eyes. “No. Thank you.” He coughs again.
“Are you sure?”
He uses the screwdriver to scratch behind his ear. “Ah man, you seem real nice ma’am but there was a note on the order advising me not to accept any food or drink offered by the homeowner.”
I clench my arms across my chest, the tips of my ears burning. I’m going to kill Flynn. And I’m never making him another hot chocolate ever again. I scold myself. Of course you’re not Hazel, you’re never going to see him again.
It takes another half hour for Carl to finish installing the system and showing me how it works, and I spend every minute of the time fuming.
I turn my fancy new alarm on after he leaves and storm back to my room. I don’t know why I’m angry, except I want to shout at Flynn and he’s not here. I mean really, it’s just common decency to be readily available when someone wants to scream at you.
My gaze lands on my phone where I left it on my bed and I get this feeling in my bones. I snatch the phone up and go to my contacts to see if my suspicion is correct. Motherfucker.
I click on the number that was definitely not there yesterday and jab my fingers on the screen.
Hazel
You bought me an alarm system? Really?
Dexter
Seemed like a good idea. You know, in case a serial killer decides to climb in through your bedroom window.
The. Audacity.
And, of course, he would name himself Dexter in my phone because, clearly, I’ve found the one serial killer in the world with a sense of humor.
Hazel
Also, my hot chocolate is not THAT bad.
Dexter
Your hot chocolate belongs in Drayford.
My mouth drops open.
Hazel
YOU belong in Drayford!
I throw my phone back onto the bed. It bounces off and hits the floor with a thump.
“Argh.” I faceplant into the comforter and question every single life choice that’s led me to this point. My phone buzzes on the wooden floorboards. I belly shuffle till I’m hanging off the edge of the bed and reach for it.
Dexter
Want to hear a joke?
I scowl.
Hazel
Shh. I’m not talking to you.
Dexter
How did the serial killer greet his victim?
I refuse to answer but apparently Flynn needs no encouragement.
Dexter
Knife to meet you.
Dexter
How about this one?
He sends me a picture of a cereal box with a knife stabbed into it along with the caption #whenyou’reacerealunaliver. I snort despite myself, a smile cracking at the dreadful joke. Then I roll onto my back and groan. It’s official, I’m a horrible person.
Dexter
You laughed, didn’t you?
Hazel
I did not.
Dexter
Thought you weren’t talking to me.
Hazel
I’m not. This is messaging.
Dexter
Don’t forget to go to work, Lilac.
Shit. Work.
I sit bolt upright, deciding to put the fact that Flynn knows my shift schedule away in a locked box for now, because I have ten minutes to get ready and drive to the dispatch center which is twelve minutes away. Yeah, the math ain’t mathing.
I throw on some clothes, type out a quick message to Wright to cover for me and try not to break any traffic laws on my way to the office.
I’m only ten minutes late by the time I make it, pushing open the heavy doors to Seattle Dispatch Center.
The office is pretty much a 911 responder’s dream.
It got refurbished last year and the whole place is all swanky now.
I dash over to the desk I share with Wright and message the word swanky to Olivia for our weird word of the day streak before slipping on my headset.
Olivia is the office tech guru and she pops her head out from her little box sized office in the corner to wave at me.
She types something on her phone and a second later I get a message.
Olivia
Good word. Wright killed your cat off, by the way. It got caught in a lawn mower.
I re-read the message. Trust Wright to choose the most violent excuse for me to be late.
Hazel
You couldn’t have talked her into a flat tire?
Olivia
We’re holding a memorial for Mr. McStuffins this evening.
Hazel
Mr. McStuffins? Seriously?
I’m tempted to kick Wright, but she’s on a call and left me a hot chocolate on the purple coaster Olivia crocheted for me, so I just nudge her foot under the desk.
She peeks over the monitors, the corner of her lips curling up. Her silver stud catches the light as she sticks her tongue out at me.