Chapter 13 Caulder
Caulder
“Is this some kind of joke?”
Avery’s face is paler than usual in the scant light of the house, her eyes wide and her fists clenched at her sides.
She looks from me to the living room, where clothes are littered on the ground: Javi’s baseball jacket, Kaitlyn’s pink crewneck, a YouTube-branded windbreaker that Lucas was sent last year, random jeans and lounge pants.
A tiny black hoodie that must be Marlene’s.
“I dunno,” I say. “What would be the point of the prank?”
Avery shrugs. “Maybe so we think they were raptured or something?”
“That sounds just dumb enough that Emerson would do it,” I say, considering her theory. “He’s always watching prank videos and telling Lucas he should do them.”
When Emerson joined the team, he was even disappointed because we didn’t do any kind of hazing.
He told us about how, at his last school, people had to do a full debate round while drunk in order to be officially accepted—something the teachers obviously didn’t approve of, but it impacted the team’s votes for new players.
Still, though. Did he decide this on the fly after he sent me and Avery into the room for the seven-minutes thing?
There’s also the fact that I know Javi doesn’t usually do pranks.
He hates them, always has. But I don’t mention that to Avery.
“Well, whatever it is, they’re clearly just trying to freak us out,” Avery says. “Should we look for them?”
I nod. “But we should be quiet so we don’t wake the teachers up.”
“Right,” she says. “Well then, I’ll take down here, and you take the upstairs.”
She goes to push past me, but before she can, I reach out and grab her wrist. It’s impulsive. I’m not thinking, or maybe I am thinking, and all my brain seems to be saying is that she’s not going around this dark, creepy-ass house by herself.
She jerks away, looking at my hand on her wrist and back to my eyes before I let her go, stepping back and putting my hands up in surrender.
“Sorry,” I say. “I just…I don’t think we should split up.”
I’m careful not to say I’m worried she could get hurt—she would definitely not respond well to that.
“Excuse me?” she asks, arching an eyebrow.
“Look, it’s clearly just a prank or whatever, but I also don’t think we should be wandering around alone,” I say. “It’s just…weird.”
Behind me, the storm thunders. I appreciate the emphasis. At least, until Avery smirks and tilts her head, looking like she just stumbled on gold.
“Don’t tell me Caulder Grant is still scared of the dark?”
I roll my eyes. “No, Avery. I’m not eight anymore. But I still think it’s better that we stick together. Just in case they, you know. Try to…jump-scare us or something.”
She keeps her gaze locked on me, and I can see she’s considering every angle here. Why I want to stay with her. If she should be insulted. If she should be thankful. At last, she seems to decide to give in and trust me—for once.
“Fine,” she says, tucking her hair behind her ears and crossing her arms over her chest. “Where should we look first?”
—
We decide to start with the downstairs, checking the kitchen that’s on the other side of the entryway. It’s not as large as I would have guessed, but Pop would absolutely lose his mind over the tiles. He loves this shit, which I guess makes sense, since he’s a real estate agent.
We check the pantry, the only place big enough for anyone to hide in…
and even then, only Marlene would fit. Afterward, we cross back through the living room to the other side of the house, where there’s a small sitting area with floor-to-ceiling windows with long velvet curtains surrounding a plush bench.
I pull one of the curtains back to look outside.
The rain’s still a steady barrage. In the distance, I can just make out a cliff’s edge and the ocean beyond it.
We leave the room and walk down the hall in silence, coming to a stop at the end, in front of a small door. Avery glances at the knob, worrying her lip, before looking back at me.
I can’t help it. Now it’s my turn to smirk. “Scared to open it?”
“You mean am I scared to open the ominous small door at the end of the hall? No, I’m not scared. But I do have a bit of self-preservation.”
I snort. “You can just ask me to open it for you, you know.”
She glares. “And you could just open it without being a dick.”
I suppress a laugh, stepping forward and seizing the handle, then flinging it open. Avery gasps and jumps back as something tumbles out of it and hits the ground.
Now I really do laugh at her as I bend over to pick up the blanket that tumbled out. She’s blushing furiously, the pink tinge to her cheeks making her freckles stand out in the dim hallway light.
“Asshole,” she mumbles.
“Me or the blanket?” I ask, folding it and replacing it on the closet shelf. “Didn’t realize you had a fear of linen closets.”
She holds her glare steady. “A ‘linen closet’? How old are you? Ninety?”
I shrug. “Blame my dad, I guess.”
I shut the closet door with a heavy thud, but it doesn’t close all the way. Too many blankets and towels stuffed inside, I guess. I try to force them back in, but they keep tumbling out. I’m pushing them back when—
Thump.
Both Avery and I look up at the ceiling, where it sounds like something heavy just hit the ground.
“That must be them,” Avery says, but she doesn’t sound convinced. If anything, that fear’s crept back into her voice. “Right?”
“Yeah, definitely,” I say, but as the wind howls outside, something in my stomach drops.
We stay quiet. We listen for another sound, but it doesn’t come. And in the silence, I realize something else. The record player’s stopped, too. The side must be over.
“We should go upstairs,” Avery says, her voice a whisper. And I don’t need to ask why she’s whispering. Why her feet haven’t moved yet.
Panic is the enemy of victory, but that doesn’t stop me from imagining the worst as we turn down the hallway, heading for the stairs and whatever waits for us above.