Chapter 25 #2
“Because I don’t feel great and I miss you?
I haven’t seen you in a few days. And I feel guilty.
That’s why I made dinner. Plus I rented a movie you like, and I got chocolate-covered raisins.
Which are gross, by the way, but I made the sacrifice.
” She spits out the words in a ramble as I chew and keeps going when I push to my feet to get a glass of water.
“Why do you feel guilty? We’ve gone a week without seeing each other before.” Coming back to the table, I perch on the edge of the wood, my hand held out for the sour cream Sophie hands over without a word. “Thanks, Soph.”
“I feel guilty about Manic Manor. I freaked out in the slaughterhouse and ran. So I feel responsible for that guy chasing you around with a knife. I should’ve stayed.” Her voice is heavy with conviction, but I just watch her as I eat.
“Not your fault,” I mutter finally. But now I’m the one feeling guilty.
I should’ve made more of an effort to make sure she was okay, and to let her know I was fine.
Instead of having her worry and giving her half-assed explanations over text for the whole night, then ignoring her completely.
“One movie. And it’s a short movie. Hour and a half max,” I bargain, killing off three potato chunks in one go.
“Deal.” Her grin is quick and has the potential to be contagious, but I’m more interested in the relief in her eyes.
Is it really such a big deal, I wonder, for me to stay and watch a movie with her?
I go through possibilities in my head as to why, and consider that she might be a little freaked out about the neighborhood and being here alone.
Though why take this job if she didn’t love the location?
Or maybe Reagan really is just feeling lonely this year. To my knowledge, it’s the first Halloween she’s had without a boyfriend in years, and with her parents out of town, she’s alone in a big, empty house. Only, she doesn’t love it like I do.
That thought drives my guilt deeper and I settle back in my chair, glaring at my chicken and wondering how fast I can convince them to eat and if I can somehow increase the playback speed of whatever movie she wants to watch to get myself out of here even a few minutes faster.
Not that I’ll tell her I’d rather be in my bed, with my cats and a horror movie, than here in this house that smells of musty sugar cookies.
We’re halfway through one of my least favorite Scooby Doo movies and I’m practicing my dissociating skills when Reagan finally says something from the other end of the sofa. Though the words are fuzzy in my brain, so I blink a few times and reluctantly drag myself back to Earth.
“Hmm?” I ask, turning to glance at her. Between us, Sophie is curled up under a giraffe-patterned blanket, with a stuffed giraffe in her arms, and leaning on my shoulder.
She hasn’t said a word since the movie started, though as far as I know, she’s still awake and interested in whatever’s happening on screen.
“I was asking about your plans tonight.” Reagan gives me that apologetic, sheepish smile again. “Were they with that guy? The one from Manic Manor?”
“I didn’t realize you remembered him.” Absently, I pick at a loose string on the arm of the threadbare couch. “Yeah. That was the first time we’d seen each other in a while, and we’ve been sort of reconnecting. It’s nice.” The words are as honest as I’m willing to be with her.
“Was he the one who took you home after what happened in the slaughterhouse?” She isn’t looking at me anymore, and her eyes are fixed on the screen, though her distracted expression makes me wonder if she’s actually paying attention.
“Yeah. He was outside. He’d just gone through and I ran into him.” The partial lie comes easily to my lips, and I turn to look at the TV as well, my hand inching toward my phone. My last message to Cass had gone unanswered, and I definitely don’t want to be the stereotypical, needy girlfriend.
Hopefully he’s having a better night in Akron than I am here.
“He seemed weird.” It takes her a moment to say the words. “I don’t know…he just seemed really off when he was talking to you. You looked sort of nervous of him, too. Hey, wasn’t he there when Lacey was killed?”
Surprised, I glance down at Sophie, who’s very much awake and can hear everything Reagan is saying. “Maybe we can have this conversation another time?” I hint, glaring at Reagan to try to communicate that this is turning into nightmare inducing territory for little kids.
She looks down as well, biting her lip sheepishly, and mumbles an apology to Sophie before fidgeting uncomfortably on her side of the couch.
“Can’t believe you intimidated them off with a hammer you found on the floor,” she says with a snort a few minutes later.
But I’m back to dissociating, so the words barely sink in.
Reagan getting up gets my attention, though, and I blink up at her.
“I’m going to go disrespect the upstairs bathroom,” she says in reply to my questioning look.
“Why upstairs?”
“It’s nicer.” With a mock salute, she disappears into the hallway, her footsteps on the stairs thumping against my eardrums a second later.
Something feels off about what she said, but for some reason my brain isn’t working well enough tonight to figure out what exactly. Though I’m starting to wonder if everything seems suspicious because I’m so frustrated with how my night is going.
“She was acting strange before you got here.” Sophie’s voice is tiny and almost inaudible over the movie, but I look down at her, processing her words.
“What?”
“Reagan wasn’t being nice. She told me I had to get you to come in, that I’d be in trouble if you didn’t.
She wasn’t being nice.” Sophie repeats that part, like it’s the most important one.
“I’m happy you’re here,” she adds, scooting closer to me and wrapping her arms around mine.
“She wasn’t acting okay when you weren’t.
Then she kept checking the time and snapping at me. I was scared.”
My stomach twists as I look at her, and suddenly the part of Reagan’s statement that had me confused clicks into place.
“Okay, Sophie,” I say, easing to my feet.
“Reagan just gets a little anxious sometimes. Everything’s fine, all right?
” Smiling, reach out to tap the back of her hand.
“It wasn’t cool of her to make you scared, and I’ll make sure she knows that.
Here.” I hand her the remote, and the rest of my box of raisins, which she surprisingly enjoys.
“You can totally change this if you want. I’ll go yell at Reagan while she’s trapped in the bathroom. ”
Sophie doesn’t return my teasing smile, and I can’t find the words to reassure her as she huddles under the blanket. “Don’t be gone long,” she whispers. “I don’t want to be alone with her tonight if she’s going to get mad and anxious again.”
“Hey, no worries, okay?” It’s hard to maintain my facade of calmness, but I manage. “I won’t leave until your parents come home. Reagan said they’ll be back by eleven, right?” I check my phone, happy to see that it’s already ten forty-one.
“What?” Sophie looks up at me, confused. “What do you mean?”
“What do you mean?” I ask, already on my way to the stairs. “Reagan said—”
“My parents won’t be back until tomorrow morning.” Sophie cuts me off in a small voice. “Reagan knows that, too. She had a check in with them right before you got here, and confirmed they won’t be here until nine in the morning, at least.”
For a few seconds, all I can do is stand there with the movie playing in the background. The stark light shines across Sophie’s face as she stares at me, but I’m trying to not give her any sort of reaction to scare her.
Not until I figure out what’s going on with Reagan, anyway. There’s a chance Sophie’s wrong or lying. Or maybe Reagan misunderstood…something.
Though I’m not sure what could be confusing about when Sophie’s parents are coming home. “I’ll yell at her for you,” I say again, forcing myself to start up the stairs. “Don’t worry, Soph. Everything’s all good.”
Except somehow, I’m really starting to doubt it is.