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The next day I remained quiet and reserved. No one commented on the party much, except for my mother's warning me again to be careful in the woods. And until we figured out what had been after us, I did not intend to venture too far into the trees – at least at night time.
I didn't ask anyone any other family-related questions, as, honestly, I had no patience to hear more of the half-answers I was receiving. I felt angry and insulted that no one was willing to confide in me. Daniel and Matthew had returned to school, so I couldn’t interrogate them face to face. I resolved to try again with my parents, but I decided to give them a few days first to reconsider after everyone’s stonewalling me.
Allen didn't show up at any of my classes, which saddened me, and I sulked through most of school. At the end of the day, I tagged along after my friend Abby and her boyfriend Tom. They'd offered me a ride, and I accepted, even though I'd be ignored while they made out the whole way to my house. And that was especially scary because Tom liked to operate the car himself instead of using self-driving mode.
The school's front doors opened onto a large circular drive, the perfect place for pompous jerks like Tom to pick up their friends. He strutted over to the parking lot to get his car, and we waited, witnessing the daily parade of seniors pulling in and out.
I was never part of this scene. I almost always stayed after school for some club or activity, and I usually took the bus after. So when Allen drove directly up in front of me in a glistening, brand-new convertible sports car, I could only gape.
“Can I give you a ride, Corinne?” he called to me.
I turned beet – no, radish – red, and I could practically feel the other students’ stares searing through my skin. They began to whisper about me, and I knew I had no choice but to accept my flashy ride. In fact, if I didn't, I probably would be taunted about it for life.
“Sure, Allen!” I replied in a self-assured voice that concealed my true feelings. With a very-overdone nod at Abby, I shrugged, adding, “Thanks anyway, guys.”
Abby gawked at me, both skeptical and astounded at the same time.
Swaggering into the red car and shutting the door, I gave a last victorious look at my classmates. Ha, ha! Finally, I'm better than all of you combined! I announced in my mind, and we were on our way.
Basking in my good fortune, I breezily dashed off, “So, Allen. Why do you need a car if you live so nearby?” Okay, that sounded idiotic. I had to re-phrase this quickly before I lost all the confidence I was exuding. “Well, I mean, why drive here when you can walk?”
“Most of these kids can walk here, and they have cars,” he pointed out, turning down a side street. “Driving your own car is fun too. I hate the way everything is automated. Steering wherever you want to go instead of a computer controlling the car's actions is great.”
“I guess you’re living in the wrong century,” I said.
“Ah, believe me, this century suits me quite well. And,” he smirked, “I admit it. The real reason I brought the car by is because I wanted to show off.”
I was very much on edge. As much as I liked Allen, and as jealous as I'm sure my classmates were of me, I was a little nervous about driving around with him. I jimmied around with the seat belt until I could get it to click shut, and then felt stupid that it had taken me so long to achieve that simple task.
But I was also bursting with satisfaction. I'd finally shown the kids at school that men were interested in me. And not just any man – a very rich man, apparently. Even if he did live in a shack...
Admittedly, that was something else to ask Daniel about.
“Sorry I took off with Daniel at the party. He really kind of needed me. I came back later but the party was over.”
I frowned. “What were you two doing?”
“Well,” he hesitated for a second, “I'd rather you ask Daniel. It's his...project.”
Okay, maybe Daniel was doing something for school? He often worked in their research lab testing new drugs and procedures.
“You're helping Daniel out?”
“Yes,” Allen said, tapping his left foot on the floor. “Well, as much as I can.”
If this explanation were true, then I was fine with it. The fact that they were working during my party, however, was still annoying.
“So, you just want to go home, or you want to drive around a bit?” he asked, interrupting my thoughts.
I glanced behind us. “Can you lower the top on this thing?” Yes, I'd never ridden in a convertible.
“Sure!” He pressed a button and the top slowly folded into the back of the car. He then proceeded to skid around a corner way too fast. I gripped the seat to stay upright, laughing despite myself.
“Too windy? I can put the top back up if you want.”
“No, it's fine. Drive more!”
My tension eased with each moment beside him. As we bounded down the streets like we owned them, it dawned on me that I was truly having a good time. Yes, Allen was speeding, and he wasn't the best driver, but for some reason, I trusted him.
“I love the wind in my hair!” I cried. “I feel like I'm flying!”
Allen grinned. “Have you ever dreamed of flying?” he called over the gusts as he slipped through another curve.
“What, like Peter Pan?” I yelled back, flapping my arms comically.
“Or like a bird!”
“Might be nice to do both!” I tittered. “Why?”
“They say dreaming of flying shows you're confident or happy.”
“Confident, huh?” I'd often dreamed I was flying – my mother said it was very common. Like any teenager, however, I couldn't say I was a well of self-assurance.
Then the dream I'd had came back to me. The flapping and scratching really did occur when I was with Matthew. Did that mean something? I remember Mom saying that people were “sensitive” in her family. Maybe this was what she was describing – perhaps I could tell the future?
Joyous and excited at the prospect, I straightened up in the seat and clapped my hands in glee. Allen saw my reaction and beamed. “We should do this more often!”
“Definitely!”
We made our way through town. Past Mom's office, past the hospital where Dad and Grandpa Ron worked, past Grandpa Brian's building... I wanted everyone to see me. At long last, I was important! Someone was interested in me!
When we approached my house, I almost told Allen to park farther down the block so my parents wouldn't see. But who was I hiding from? Allen wasn't a bad person! Maybe my parents would approve!
Oh, who was I kidding?
Allen stopped the car and turned to me. There was a look on his face that I couldn't quite place. Longing?
Slowly, he leaned over toward me. My palms began to sweat, I began to shiver...
“No. No, I can't,” he mumbled, pulling away.
What was that? Why hadn't he kissed me? I couldn't say anything. I just...
Woodenly, I opened the car door and got out. “Good night, Allen,” I whispered. Struggling to hide my disappointment, I trudged up the lawn and entered my house without looking back.
He remained for several more minutes before he drove away. And, from behind the curtains, I watched him every second he was there.
***
DINNER THAT NIGHT WAS interrupted by a phone call from Daniel. Dad answered and immediately went upstairs. He slammed the bedroom door forcibly behind him.
My mother took a deep breath and dug into her food without saying a word.
I scraped the last bits of pasta from my plate. “Any more baked ziti left, Mom?”
“Sorry. Your father finished it.”
I rolled my eyes. Nothing could keep Dad away from Mom’s food.
After drinking a tall glass of water, I burst out, “Mom, I had a dream that stuff was clawing at me from the air before it happened.”
“Before what?” she answered. I don't think she was listening com-pletely.
“That night when we said things were...attacking us – I dreamed it first.”
She waved her hand at me dismissively. “Yes, well...coincidences happen, you know. It doesn't necessarily mean anything.”
I immediately felt silly. Undoubtedly she was right – I heard sounds outside that set off my dream. Those shrieks could have spawned a horror movie, too.
So I probably couldn't tell the future.
Mom craned her neck, trying to hear what was going on upstairs. The conversation with my brother must have been getting particularly intense because my father was stamping on the floor above us. He spoke in a muffled voice, so I couldn't make out the words, but Dad was very angry. Suddenly I heard the door sweep open, and he yelled, “I'll get your mother, but she feels the same way, and she'll say the same thing!” He stomped down the stairs and handed my mom the phone.
She stared at it a moment before accepting it. “He's not listening?”
“I gave him the ultimatum. I’ve had enough.”
“Daniel?” Mom said gently into the receiver. “Give me a second, I’m coming.” She walked upstairs, and I turned back to face my father. His face was scarlet and he was forming fists with both hands. I rarely saw him get this enraged.
“Dad, what's wrong with Daniel? Same thing?”
“Daniel needs to know when to mind his own business,” he said cryptically. “And he needs to stop getting mixed up with dangerous people. I just wish he'd listen.”
“You...told him to get away from these...people?”
“Yes. Or I'd disown him.”
I wasn't sure if he was serious or not about the disowning part, and he wasn't even Daniel's real father, but it didn't really matter. “Dad,” I whispered, “why can't you tell me what's going on?”
Dad couldn’t possibly have missed the tears of exasperation in my eyes. He sighed, shaking his head. “Corinne, we're protecting you. The less you know, the safer you are. Just trust us on this one, okay?”
“Yeah, I figured that's what you'd say.” My frustration increased into anger. “I guess I need to hit twenty-one before someone takes me seriously. Or is it because I’m female? I never thought that would be a problem in our family!”
“Oh, Corinne, why can't you just...”
I realized it was perfectly quiet upstairs. I rose, not wanting to hear any more from my father, and I raised my hand at him as if to cut off his speaking. “Forget it. Let me just go see if Mom's okay.”
Strangely, my dad jumped up and held me back. He paused for a moment, almost as if listening for something that wasn't there, and then shook his head. “Don't go up. She's fine.”
I sat back down, and my mom started shouting again. A lot.
When she came back and joined us, she looked wild. “I swear, Julian. It amazes me sometimes that he's not related to you. I wanted to slap him. He's more Julian than Jack.”
“Is he going to do it?”
She cracked her knuckles. “He'd better.”