The House in the Pines(27)

“That’s cool that you have some of his work,” the librarian says. He smiles warmly at her, and she can’t help but notice that he’s actually kind of hot. Alluring in a way that sneaks up on you. There are lines around his eyes but something young about his demeanor. His small chin is smooth, his gaze velvety. “Guess I should probably get back to my desk,” he says. “My break must be over by now. Hey, it was really nice talking to you.”

“You too,” she says as he stands up. “My name’s Maya, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you, Maya. I’m Frank.”





FOURTEEN




A ringing phone woke Maya from her dream.

She reached for the phone beside her on the bed, but that wasn’t the one that was ringing. She sat up, blinking into darkness. The digital clock read 2:57 a.m. She was drenched in sweat. She took a deep breath as, elsewhere in the house, the ringing went on.

Why wasn’t her mom answering her phone?

Maya got out of bed, the dread of her nightmare still clinging to her skin. She walked slowly down the dark hall, stopping outside her mom’s closed door. The ringing wasn’t coming from in there.

She turned on the living room lights, nearly blinding herself. She turned them back off. The ringing was coming from the kitchen, and it wasn’t a sound she was used to—there was something different about this ring, but also familiar.

The old landline. A phone mounted to the wall behind the kitchen table—Maya had forgotten it was there and couldn’t remember the last time she’d used it. She was surprised it still worked. She stepped closer as it continued to ring.

A bad feeling crawled over her. Frank must have been the last person who’d ever called her on her mom’s landline. Who even had one of these anymore? She felt like she was still dreaming as she reached for the receiver and held it to her ear.

Silence.

She held her breath. She felt sure that it was him. He could have guessed that she’d seen the video—many thousands of people had. He could be calling her mom’s phone to see if Maya was back in town. To see if she was looking for him. She stood frozen as the thoughts flew through her head. Was that breath on the other end? It was hard to hear anything above her own pounding heart, her lungs begging for air.

She was about to hang up when the kitchen flooded with light.

“Maya?” said her mom.

Maya stared at her.

A click on the other end of the phone.

“Who are you talking to?” Brenda asked. She took in her daughter’s fearful expression and pale skin, her sweat-darkened shirt. The dial tone blaring from the phone in her hand. “Are you okay?”

“The phone was ringing. Didn’t you hear it?”

Her mom’s brow knit with worry.

“Whoever it was called like three times in a row. I answered it, but . . . there was no one there.”

Brenda shook her head. “I didn’t hear anything.”

Anger rose in Maya’s throat. “What—you think I hallucinated it?”

“No, no, of course not,” Brenda said, but it was obvious that she was just trying to de-escalate. She laid the back of her hand on her daughter’s forehead. “You’re a little warm. How are you feeling?”

Maya felt like screaming. She had the urge to tear the phone off the wall and smash it on the floor. Her mom didn’t believe her. Again.

“You must be losing your hearing,” Maya said coldly as she slammed the receiver back into its cradle.

She strode past her mom on her way to her room.

“Wait,” Brenda said. She followed her daughter a way down the hall. “I’m only trying to help, Muffin. You know that, right?”

Maya almost laughed at that. As if her mom could help her. If that was Frank on the phone, he knew where she was now. After all, why else would she be back in Pittsfield? Hadn’t she always wanted to escape?

“I don’t need your help,” she said to her mom as she closed the door in her face.





FIFTEEN




Here,” Aubrey says, “try this one.”

She turns from her bedroom closet to hand Maya a white tank top with tiny silver clasps running up the front.

Maya stands at the mirror in her cutoffs. She pulls the shirt over her head. She knows this is one of Aubrey’s favorites.

“Looks good on you,” Aubrey says, and the mirror confirms this. The white sets off the summer gold in Maya’s skin—although it doesn’t fit her the way it fits Aubrey, who has cleavage.

“I don’t know,” Maya says. “I don’t want it to look like I think this is a date.”

“Isn’t it, though? I mean, don’t we want this to be a date?”

Maya grins. “We do.”

“So?”

“All we’re doing is going for a drive.”

“A lot can happen on a drive.”

“I don’t even know if Frank likes me.”

“Of course he does. He picked you up at the library, of all places.”

They laugh, although Maya’s not sure why it’s funny. She feels giddy and nervous: she’s supposed to meet Frank in twenty minutes and still isn’t sure why. She leaves for BU in three weeks, and all they’ve shared so far are two conversations at the library: the first when they met, and the second when Maya went back in the hope that he was working.