Kind of like I am now.
Cold creeps across my skin. I have no idea what to do here. Call Carson? How? It’s a little obvious if I announce I need to take a personal call. Furthermore, what can Carson even do? I don’t even know if he can arrest Jason. The incriminating pictures were obtained illegally. They won’t stand up in any court of law. So that leaves . . . I have no idea.
My cell rings. Keeping one eye on Jason, I check the screen. Shit. It’s Manda Ellery.
I mash the green answer button. “Hello?”
“Wicket? Wicket Tate?”
I roll my eyes. Are there any other Wickets running around? “Yes, it’s me, Mrs. Ellery. Is everything okay?”
“Of course everything’s not okay. You know you’re still grounded.”
Was that a question? I agree anyway. Jason is on the move again, and while Mrs. Ellery reams me a new one for having a boy at the house, I study him. He’s the right height for the guy I saw in the woods and I guess the walk is similar. Really though, aside from a limp or something, how distinctive is a walk?
It makes sense and it doesn’t. Or maybe it’s just me. I can’t wrap my head around the idea, and as Jason passes me to look in Todd’s old office, I press my back to the cabinets, making yes or no noises into the phone.
“It’s just a guy from school, Mrs. Ellery,” I say, interrupting her tirade. “He’s just here to pick up a homework assignment. He’ll be gone in a few minutes.”
Jason pops into the kitchen again and leans against the oven to listen. Then he checks his phone . . . and starts to whistle, and my heart crams into my throat. He looks at me and I straighten, gripping the phone. Still whistling that long, low tune that makes me remember the taste of blood and mud, Jason begins to pace again, circling the kitchen—circling me.
He’s not just looking around. He knows.
“Wicket, are you listening to me?” Mrs. Ellery is getting screechy.
“Oh, I’m listening.” Golden afternoon light slants across the kitchen, catching on the cereal bowl I left in the sink.
The paring knife Bren left there to dry.
As Jason watches, I switch the cell to my other ear, pretend I’m fiddling with a strand of hair. Then I slide my hand into the sink, curling my fingers around the knife’s plastic handle.
Just having it makes me feel better, but now what do I do? Wave it around? Not likely.
I feed the handle up my sweatshirt sleeve, leaving the tip of the knife pointing toward my fingertips. If he jumps at me, I can stiffen my arm and the knife will drop into my hand.
In theory.
In practice, I might cut off my fingers. Well . . . it’s better than nothing.
“Homework or not,” Mrs. Ellery continues, “I don’t think your mother wanted you to have guests while she was gone.”
“You’re right.” I have to force the words through gritted teeth. “Maybe you should come over. You can wait with me until he’s gone.”
Jason’s eyes narrow.
“I’m already here,” Mrs. Ellery snaps, and starts pounding on the front door. Still watching Jason, I slide past him and hustle down the hallway. I barely have the door open before Mrs. Ellery shoves her way inside.
“Honestly, Wicket, I don’t understand why you have to be such an obstinate girl,” she says, glaring at me. “My children weren’t half the trouble you and your sister are to poor Brenda.”
I retreat a step to give Mrs. Ellery room, but she’s already swishing toward the kitchen, head swiveling from side to side as she checks the rooms to the left and right of the hall.
“Where is he?” she demands.
“He’s—” We both push into the kitchen, look around.
No one’s there. Jason’s gone.
42
Mrs. Ellery searches the house, paying extra-special attention to the bedrooms. In the interest of trying to look like a Good Girl, I follow her, trying not to laugh when she bends down to check under the beds. Repeatedly. Someone’s been watching Dr. Phil talk about teenage sex parties again.
I’m tempted to tell her that, when engaging in wild orgies, we hide our partners in closets, but Jason actually could be, so I help Mrs. Ellery look. Once we’re both satisfied the house is empty, Mrs. Ellery makes me call Bren while she stands and watches. Unsurprisingly, I get voice mail. I wait for the beep and leave a message, making sure to detail that yes, I had a guest stop by and oh-by-the-way he needed a homework assignment.