Help for the Haunted(77)

“What’s wrong with you?” she asked, coming back into the living room with her breakfast, crunching away.

“Nothing.” I turned again from Penny’s smiling face to see my sister’s more serious one. “Where are you going?”

“Hate to break it to you, Sylvie, but there’s this place called high school where I have to be in a bit. Another place called junior high where you have to be soon too. That’s something I wouldn’t expect an egghead like you to forget.”

Above us, floorboards creaked. Our parents were getting ready to start their day too. Rose rolled her eyes. “For once I’m actually looking forward to it,” she said. “I mean, anything to get me out of this joint for a while.”

In the mornings, Rose left the house first, since the high school bus came before the one I took to junior high. But that day, I asked if I could walk with her to the stop in hopes of finding a moment to confront her about the games she was playing with me. After I hurried to dress and gather my books, we headed out the door together. On the way, Rose stopped to pick up rocks, tossing them into the empty foundations and doing her best to hit those rusted fireplace rods at the bottom, which gave a loud clank and elicited a “Yes!” from her whenever she was successful. At the end of the lane, she pulled a cigarette from her sock, just like she’d done in that desolate park on Orchard Circle. As she sucked on one end, blowing a hearty puff into the morning air, I heard the rumble of an engine not far down the road. “I don’t think what you’re doing is funny,” I blurted, worrying that the bus must be approaching.

Rose rolled her eyes and let out a groan. “Oh, please, Sylvie. The last thing I need is a lecture from you about smoking. I get enough lectures from Mom and Dad.”

“I’m not talking about smoking. I’m talking about my horses and the—”

“Your horses? You’re back on that? I told you, I didn’t do it.”

“I don’t believe you.” Instead of the bus, a truck rumbled past. But I pressed on with the conversation anyway. “Why should I?”

“Why should you? I don’t know. First, you’re the only one in our family treating me decently right now. Second, I know those horses actually mean something to you. I wouldn’t mess with them. In fact, you can take mine if you want. They’re under my bed. Looking at them only makes me think of Howie, which is something I’d rather not do.”

“I thought you liked Uncle Howie?”

“Liked. Past tense.”

“What changed?”

“What changed is that I called and asked if I could come live with him.”

“In Tampa?”

“Last I checked that’s where he lives, knucklehead.”

Just the thought that Rose might actually find some way to leave home caused an unexpected longing to stir inside, because I was not ready to lose her. “Why would you do that?”

“Why? Sylvie, open your eyes. In case you haven’t noticed, things aren’t exactly working out for me here in Holy Roller Hell. I figured it might be better if I stayed with him. You know, finished up school down there then figured out what to do with my life.”

As we spoke, Rose ran a thumb over the dial on her lighter. Once in a while, she did it hard enough that a flame reared up. She took another puff of her cigarette, blew smoke between us. “Well, I wouldn’t like that,” I said.

“And why not?”

I felt silly saying the words, but I said them anyway: “Because I’d miss you.”

My sister looked away from me, back down our street at those old foundations where we used to play, before turning to me again. “Oh. Well, I’d miss you too, kid. But it doesn’t matter. Our dear old uncle blew me off. Said he didn’t know how long he’d even be in Tampa since he had other plans.”

“What plans?”

“Pipe dreams, really. Crap he blames Dad for getting in the way of all these years. Anyway, who cares? The point is, I’m not a fan of Howie. So the horses in my room, they’re yours if you want them.”

“What about Penny?”

“The doll? Well, you can have that too. But you might want to check with the thing’s new parents. Mom and Dad, I mean.”

I told her that’s not what I was asking, then took a breath and explained what happened the night before. But once I was done with all those details, the most Rose had to say was, “Three’s Company, huh? Now that’s a dopey show. Though I’d like living near the beach in California.”

In the distance, I heard the sound of an engine again. This time, I looked to see that it really was the bus rolling in our direction. Before it got closer, I said, “Tell me you came downstairs and hid Penny on me last night.”

Rose snuffed her cigarette on the bottom of her sneaker before stashing what was left of it in her sock. She reached in her pocket for a stick of gum, folding it into her mouth. The smell of smoke mingled with mint, same as in the park. “That night at the truck stop, when you woke to find the yarn in your hand, remember that?”

“I do.”

“I admit to putting it there. I was just messing with you. Having some fun.”

“I knew it. And the same goes for last night?”

The bus bore down upon us, lumbering to a stop just feet away with a loud squeal of brakes and the roar of teenage voices laughing and hollering inside. The driver, a vest-wearing woman with a ratty ponytail, swung a lever and the door sandwiched open.