71. Dr. Everything’ll Be All Right

“I don’t like leaving you here by yourself.”

Mom has a suitcase by the door and is moments away from leaving.

It’s a bit surreal, to be honest. It’s like she’s going on some vacation, but instead of going to an all-inclusive resort, this place won’t have any perks and won’t be fun.

“I told you Dad is going to try and get here tomorrow or Friday.”

It’s late September, and I have no idea what Dad might be up to. But I do know he’s not coming here tomorrow or Friday or anytime.

“Tell him to call me—I’ve left you the contact information. I don’t know how available I’m going to be to talk.”

She looks pale and tired. And really old.

I should probably be more supportive, maybe ride with her to the place or at least give her a nice pep talk before she goes, but I don’t.

“Chris—the envelope in there—it’s money for you. For these next few weeks. I know your father—well, I don’t want to seem like I’m leaving you here with nothing.”

Oh, but that’s okay, Mom.

“Just be careful. Okay? Anything—if anything strange happens. If there’s anything—anything—that happens, let me know. Do you understand?”

I nod, but think she might have said this to me when we first got here.

There’s too much to tell her. It wouldn’t fill a book. It would fill a series.

Yeah, just keep reading, Mom. Edward and Bella show up in chapter seventy-five.

“Chris, I love you,” Mom says, giving me a hug.

And that’s when I feel like a complete and utter failure as a son. I don’t tell her I love her back. Nor do I let the hug linger long. Nor do I tell her the truth.

Nope.

She gives me a look that almost looks like it could be the final look she gives me.

“I’m gonna get better,” she says. “I promise.”

I nod. Smile. Pick up the suitcase and take it down to her car.

Then I watch her get in and drive away.

Soon the car disappears and I’m left on my own.

In less than a year, I’ve ended up watching both my parents exit my life. And in both cases, I’ve been kinda glad.

I go back inside the cabin, where I feel something all around me.

Not ghosts or voodoo or sadness.

No. I feel the wonderful sensation of freedom.

I feel like turning up the stereo and doing air guitar in my tighty-whities and shades. But I don’t have tighty-whities (no thanks), and my shades fell off while I was riding the other day. And I have no idea what song a young Tom Cruise was dancing to in his empty house. Actually, even if I had that song and did everything the same, I’d run out of room in this tiny cabin.

Instead, I select one of Uncle Robert’s records and blast the first track.

I’ve heard it before, but not like this, not deliberately. I’ve seen it in a movie or a video or somewhere. I don’t even know much of Prince’s music.

But I get goose bumps when the crunching guitar kicks in and the song picks up at a hundred miles an hour.

Yeah, I can’t help but dance.

Yeah, I can’t help being happy.

The music is loud and all I wanna do is go crazy and get nuts. Just like the song says.

I’m seventeen, so sue me.

I’ve had a particularly bad year.

With the music cranking, I think about all the things I can suddenly do.

The little dark face on my bed stares at me. Midnight is wondering what I’m doing.

I’m trying to have some fun, want to join me?

I begin to mimic some air guitar that sends Midnight behind a pillow.

“Take me away!”

And with that, the song ends.

But I am just starting.

The screaming is downstairs, just like always.

I get out of bed and rush down, knowing that Mom is having another nightmare.

It’s only when I turn on the lights in her room that I remember that she’s gone. She’s gone and the house is empty except for Midnight and me (as much as I tried for it NOT to be by texting Lily) and the bedroom I’m looking at is bare.

Except …

The bedspread. It’s different.

I remember Mom had made her bed, and it looked fine when I picked up the suitcase earlier.

Now there’s an impression on the bed as if somebody had been lying on top of it.

The scream sounds again, and this time I jump.

Wake up wake up you’re just dreaming.

But I feel that scared falling sensation and I know I’m not dreaming.

The scream is coming from outside—maybe on the deck?

Don’t go out there don’t look.

It comes again. Like someone out of her mind. Higher pitched than my mom’s scream. But just as awful.

The tiny light outside the front door is on, but it doesn’t really shed much light. I go find a flashlight, then check out the deck from the windows. Nothing.

“Help me, they’re coming!”

The voice sounds like it’s right there in front of me. I actually duck because I think someone is going to suddenly reach through the glass and grab me.

But instead of glass breaking, I heard the sound of footsteps going down the steps.

My heart is racing, and I wonder what’s happening outside.

Another scream. Growing more faint.

I curse and open the door.

Idiot.

I shine the light down the steps on our driveway. I spot my bike where I parked it earlier. And then—moving around like some ghost—

What the—

The face turns, and I see her clearly. Even though her eyes are darker and she’s got blood coming out of her nose and mouth, I know who it is.

It’s Heidi Marsh.

On my driveway. Screaming.

Hey, you broke into her house once.

I’m stunned and freaked out not just by seeing her there and by her screaming, but also by what she’s wearing.

Or not wearing.

It’s like a loose slip or something. White, but all stained with blood. The blood is all over her back, as if she’s been cut somehow, and going down her bare legs. She looks skinny and frightened like a picture of a concentration camp victim suddenly let loose.

A hand goes up in front of her face, then almost seems to claw at me. Her scream is even wilder.

Then she’s gone. Down the driveway and onto the road and into the night.

I might be crazy. I might have gone searching for Jocelyn when I knew she was in trouble. Or I might have gone down in those tunnels looking for whatever was there. I might have even gone into the woods behind Staunch’s house to see Grandpa dearest.

But this—

No way.

I’m not about to follow that.

I get back inside and lock the door and wait. Wait to hear something else or see something.

But I’m waiting for a long time and nothing happens.

I guess I really did what Prince wanted me to do.

Let’s go crazy. So I did.

Heidi Marsh—well, something tells me she’s been crazy for a very long time.