tight. Ani's stomach lurched at the proximity, but she held strong. "We'll get him, Ani. The police will find him, and they'll lock him in a padded room forever."
Chapter 14
They stitched up Mike, held him for observation, and released him the next morning with a prescription for painkillers and bed-rest. Whatever connection Ani thought she might have made with Devon had disappeared, killed and eaten by psychotic, hormone-crazed jealousy. Ani avoided her when she could and used Fey for cover when she couldn't.
That night the phone rang, interrupting her mom's dinner. Ani didn't recognize the number, but it was local. Her mom was mid-chew, so Ani hit 'Send' and put it to her ear.
"Hello?"
"Hi, Sarah?" The voice was female but she didn't recognize it.
"It's Ani. Let me get—"
"Oh, Ani, thank God you're alright! This is Mrs. Johnson. Dylan's mom." Ani’s bugged out eyes glared at her mom, who was eavesdropping. "I'm so, so sorry. I don't know what came over my little boy." She started to sob.
Ani held the phone and waited, with no idea what to say. It's okay? I hope the cops catch him soon?
"Are you there?"
"Yeah, I'm here," Ani said.
Mrs. Johnson sniffled. "Well I just wanted to say I'm sorry for everything."
"Okay," Ani said. "Thank you for calling." She hit 'End' and set the phone down. Her mom took another bite of mashed potatoes. "That was weird."
Mrs. Johnson called again the next day, and the day after that she stopped by with a plate of cookies.
* * *
Aside from nervous waiting for some word from the police, the only excitement was when Ani's five-week grades came out on the 23rd—and it wasn't the good kind of excitement. Even though she had done all of her work, her test scores were a shambles. It was hard to concentrate with the thought of Dylan appearing behind her, knife in hand. Even moving her seat to the back of the classroom, where she had a full view of the door and windows, didn't help. Her mother remained firm—she was grounded. Not that she had a job or a life, or was allowed to go see anyone in the first place. Like grounding a houseplant.
Still, come Christmas Eve the house smelled like cinnamon and nutmeg and the pine wreath over the mantle, Bing Crosby crooned on the stereo, and their fake plastic tree twinkled with colored lights and ornaments. Things could be a lot worse.
The doorbell rang.
Ani looked at her mom. "I got it," she said. "Maybe it's the police." Her mom moved over to the couch as Ani checked the peep-hole. "It's Mike!"
Her mom tsk- ed and moved back to her desk. Ani schooled her face blank, then undid the double deadbolts and opened the door.
"Merry Christmas," she said. "Come on in."
She stepped aside so he could do just that, shut the door behind him, and re-set the locks.
"Merry Christmas, Ani." He handed her a small box wrapped in gold paper. "Merry Christmas, Mrs. Romero."
"Miss. Or Doctor." She smiled at him. "Merry Christmas to you, too. Make yourself at home."
Ani set the gift on the piano while Mike removed his boots. "Do you want something to drink?" she asked. He shook his head.
"No, I'm good," he said. She sat on the couch, and he sat next to her, then glanced at the present.
"I didn't get you anything," she said. Dammit, dammit, dammit.
"That's okay," he replied. "I wasn't expecting anything." Neither was I, but I should have gotten you something anyway.
They sat in awkward silence, thighs touching, him staring at the floor while she stared at the shuttered window. Her mom scribbled in a notebook, and the pencil scratching across the paper was the loudest thing in the room.
Mike cleared his throat. "Hey, I got my mom a keyboard, a Yamaha DGX-530. Got it used on Craigslist."
Ani smiled, trying not to stare at him. "Wow. That's a nice machine." Expensive. "I didn't know she plays."
Mike returned her smile. Why is it so hard to breathe when I don't even have to? "She doesn't, but she's always wanted to. I was
Chapter 14
They stitched up Mike, held him for observation, and released him the next morning with a prescription for painkillers and bed-rest. Whatever connection Ani thought she might have made with Devon had disappeared, killed and eaten by psychotic, hormone-crazed jealousy. Ani avoided her when she could and used Fey for cover when she couldn't.
That night the phone rang, interrupting her mom's dinner. Ani didn't recognize the number, but it was local. Her mom was mid-chew, so Ani hit 'Send' and put it to her ear.
"Hello?"
"Hi, Sarah?" The voice was female but she didn't recognize it.
"It's Ani. Let me get—"
"Oh, Ani, thank God you're alright! This is Mrs. Johnson. Dylan's mom." Ani’s bugged out eyes glared at her mom, who was eavesdropping. "I'm so, so sorry. I don't know what came over my little boy." She started to sob.
Ani held the phone and waited, with no idea what to say. It's okay? I hope the cops catch him soon?
"Are you there?"
"Yeah, I'm here," Ani said.
Mrs. Johnson sniffled. "Well I just wanted to say I'm sorry for everything."
"Okay," Ani said. "Thank you for calling." She hit 'End' and set the phone down. Her mom took another bite of mashed potatoes. "That was weird."
Mrs. Johnson called again the next day, and the day after that she stopped by with a plate of cookies.
* * *
Aside from nervous waiting for some word from the police, the only excitement was when Ani's five-week grades came out on the 23rd—and it wasn't the good kind of excitement. Even though she had done all of her work, her test scores were a shambles. It was hard to concentrate with the thought of Dylan appearing behind her, knife in hand. Even moving her seat to the back of the classroom, where she had a full view of the door and windows, didn't help. Her mother remained firm—she was grounded. Not that she had a job or a life, or was allowed to go see anyone in the first place. Like grounding a houseplant.
Still, come Christmas Eve the house smelled like cinnamon and nutmeg and the pine wreath over the mantle, Bing Crosby crooned on the stereo, and their fake plastic tree twinkled with colored lights and ornaments. Things could be a lot worse.
The doorbell rang.
Ani looked at her mom. "I got it," she said. "Maybe it's the police." Her mom moved over to the couch as Ani checked the peep-hole. "It's Mike!"
Her mom tsk- ed and moved back to her desk. Ani schooled her face blank, then undid the double deadbolts and opened the door.
"Merry Christmas," she said. "Come on in."
She stepped aside so he could do just that, shut the door behind him, and re-set the locks.
"Merry Christmas, Ani." He handed her a small box wrapped in gold paper. "Merry Christmas, Mrs. Romero."
"Miss. Or Doctor." She smiled at him. "Merry Christmas to you, too. Make yourself at home."
Ani set the gift on the piano while Mike removed his boots. "Do you want something to drink?" she asked. He shook his head.
"No, I'm good," he said. She sat on the couch, and he sat next to her, then glanced at the present.
"I didn't get you anything," she said. Dammit, dammit, dammit.
"That's okay," he replied. "I wasn't expecting anything." Neither was I, but I should have gotten you something anyway.
They sat in awkward silence, thighs touching, him staring at the floor while she stared at the shuttered window. Her mom scribbled in a notebook, and the pencil scratching across the paper was the loudest thing in the room.
Mike cleared his throat. "Hey, I got my mom a keyboard, a Yamaha DGX-530. Got it used on Craigslist."
Ani smiled, trying not to stare at him. "Wow. That's a nice machine." Expensive. "I didn't know she plays."
Mike returned her smile. Why is it so hard to breathe when I don't even have to? "She doesn't, but she's always wanted to. I was
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