Claire sighed, shook her head. “That’s okay.”
“You do this all the time.”
“Maybe you’re right. It’s just—”
“I know what you’re thinking. Don’t even say it.”
The two of them were silent, remembering. Behind them, they heard their father’s trowel digging into the dirt.
“Hey,” Diane said, changing the subject, “did you hear about Mr. Otano at the library? He’s being laid off. Budget cuts.”
“He’s been there since we were little.”
“They’re only going to be open Monday, Wednesday and Friday, with one part-time librarian and the rest volunteers.”
“Jesus.”
“Remember when I was thinking of being a librarian?” Diane shook her head. “I’m glad I didn’t go into that field.”
“I always thought it suited you better, though.”
Diane shrugged. “People don’t read anymore. But the demand for electricity only goes up.”
“Depressing but true.”
The two of them walked back into the house to help their mother set the table for lunch. She’d told them she’d be making BLT sandwiches, but when they entered the kitchen, she was heating up barley soup on the stove. A flicker of worry crossed Claire’s mind. Both she and Diane were concerned that their mother had started to forget things lately, and she hoped this was just a result of not having the right ingredients for her original meal rather than a symptom of memory loss. She shot Diane a look, received and acknowledged, and, clearing her throat, said, “I thought we were having sandwiches, Mom.”
Their mother looked up, startled to see them. “Oh!” She smiled. “You’re right. We were. But I found out that we were out of bacon. And tomatoes.”
Relieved, Claire went over to the sink to wash her hands, and she and her sister started setting the table, Diane getting out the bowls and cups, Claire taking care of the silverware and napkins. Ten minutes later, their father was called in, and all four of them sat down.
They discussed family matters as they ate, in-laws and grandkids, gossip, until her dad, sipping his soup, frowned at Claire. “You know,” he said, “I had a dream about your house the other night.”
She lowered her spoon, the skin prickling on her arms, and glanced quickly over at her sister.
“What happened?” Diane asked.
He frowned, shaking his head. “I can’t remember exactly. But it was some kind of nightmare, because your mother said I was thrashing around and calling out in my sleep. She had to wake me up.”
“I did!”
Claire’s heart was pounding.
Her dad spoke slowly, and she wasn’t sure whether the import that gave his words was intentional or not. “The only thing I remember,” he said, and Claire felt cold, because she knew what was coming next, “is that it had something to do with your basement.”
Nine
Finally, her friends were going to be able to stay over, and Megan planned for the slumber party by writing down lists of food, drinks, games, movies, everything they would need. She didn’t want to leave anything to chance, and as each item was found or purchased, each task completed, she made a check next to the entry on the appropriate list. Her parents had even arranged for James to spend the night at Robbie’s house, so she and her friends would have the place to themselves, and that alone was worth the wait.
James’s friend might have stayed over first, but she was going to have a party. And it was going to be good.
The day of, everything went smoothly.
Until it didn’t.
After lunch, her dad took James over to his friend’s house, while Megan and her mom baked brownies and mixed together the dip for potato chips. When her dad returned, he took her over to Safeway, where she rented two Twilight DVDs from the Redbox. There were three girls coming over, and originally she’d planned for all of them to camp out in the living room, but her dad had put the brakes on that idea (“I’m not giving up my entire evening for your friends,” was what he’d said, and she’d been tempted to respond, “Why don’t you find something to do besides watch TV all night?” but she sensed that this was not the time to push back). She’d then thought about having two of her friends spend the night in James’s room (that would drive her brother crazy!), but since it was her party, she knew that whoever didn’t get to sleep in her room would feel slighted. And she didn’t want to make enemies of any of her friends.
So she’d decided to rearrange her own room so there’d be enough space for everyone. It was harder than she’d thought, not just because she needed to create an area big enough for two sleeping bags and the feather mattress (she was still going to sleep in her bed), but because she needed to put away things that weren’t cool and replace them with things that were. The last thing she needed was to get a reputation as a geek or a nerd.
She was removing a World Wildlife Federation poster of a herd of running horses from the wall at the head of her bed when her iPhone beeped. Putting the tacks down on top of her dresser, Megan picked up the phone and looked at the message on-screen.
Take off your pants.
She erased it, her heart thumping crazily.
The message popped up again.
Take off your pants.
A bolt of fear shot through her.
“Mom!” she yelled. “Mom!”
Her mother came hurrying up the stairs and into her room. “What is it?” Megan immediately handed over the phone. A shadow crossed over her mom’s face as she read the text. “Who sent this?”
“I don’t know!” Megan was almost crying.
“Have you ever gotten anything like this before?”
There was a second’s pause, too short to be noticed. “No.” Her mind was whirring. She was scared, and she was glad that she’d shown this to her mom—
Take off your pants.
—because it was too serious to keep to herself. Her parents needed to know about it. But if her mom found out about the other weird messages Megan had received, she would definitely take her phone away—and probably restrict her Internet access. She might do that anyway, but Megan wasn’t going to help her.
“Who do you think would send you something like this? Is there a boy from one of your classes … ?”
“I don’t know!” Megan insisted. And she didn’t.
Only …
Only she didn’t think it was anyone familiar, did she? No. For whatever reason, she thought it was a man, an adult, someone she didn’t know but who somehow knew her. She had no idea where she’d gotten this impression or why she believed it to be true, but she did.
“Well, I’m keeping your phone until we get everything sorted out. I don’t like this at all, and your father won’t, either. This is scary stuff. There are all sorts of predators out there, and until we find out who’s doing this, I don’t want you calling, texting, tweeting, IM-ing or anything like that. Do you understand?”
Megan nodded. In a way, she was relieved. She needed to get hold of her friends and tell them not to send any texts or leave any embarrassing messages, but at least she didn’t have to worry about some psycho pervert harassing her. She could just get on with her life and concentrate on her slumber party.
Maybe it was someone who found out about the party but wasn’t invited. …
No. It was a man. Besides, she didn’t have the kind of social standing that would make anyone jealous of not being invited. Her friends were probably the only ones who would want to sleep over.