The Hand on the Wall(40)

Of course, there were bones too. There were Pix’s precious teeth in the little craft organizer. Her mantel was decorated with some bones that were probably fake—a femur, a skull, a knee joint mounted on a little board. The rest of the place was filled with books—books in all directions, piled into bookcases and into stacks along the walls. Books next to her little sofa, books by the hallway and books on the table.

Pix handed her a landline phone. Stevie braced herself against Pix’s treadmill and dialed. Her mom answered.

“Hey,” Stevie said. “I’m sorry. I missed the coach. It all happened really fast, and . . .”

“You’re all right! Oh, Stevie, are you okay? Are you warm?”

To her utter amazement, her mom did not seem angry. The school had to have said something mild, that she had missed the coach or something—not that she had run and hidden in a pool until nightfall. This seemed like Call Me Charles’s work; it was his job to smooth the rough and make it seem like Ellingham wasn’t a total death trap. In his defense, he had done a pretty good job. All the bounciness and platitudes had some good effect.

“You stay in,” her mom said. “Stay safe, stay warm. As soon as the snow clears, you’ll come home.”

“Sure,” Stevie said, unsure of how to feel. When her parents were understanding about things, it always made her feel like a toad, like she was misjudging them.

“We love you,” her mom added.

What was this love stuff? It wasn’t something her parents and she did. They all felt it, but they didn’t go around saying it.

“I, um . . . yeah. We’re fine. We have lots of food, and, like, popcorn and stuff. And blankets and firewood.”

What was she saying? She must have been trying to build some mental picture of what a cozy weekend indoors in a cabin was like. Which, to be fair, was a pretty accurate picture. They did have food and popcorn and blankets and firewood. It would be cozy.

When she was done with the call, she handed Pix the phone.

“You seem confused,” Pix said.

“I thought they’d kill me,” Stevie replied.

“Surprise, Stevie. Your parents just want you to be safe.”

Pix put the phone back on the charging base and leaned against the wall.

“You guys are morons, you know that?” she said. “Out of all the houses, I got the most boneheaded. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t happy you’re all still here. Now come on. Let’s get all the calls out of the way and then we can eat. I raided the dining hall when I realized all of you were still here.”

The mood in the room lifted a bit as everyone made their calls and then the food started coming out of the kitchen. Pix had come back with a solid haul—trays of mac and cheese, plastic bowls of salad and fruit, lasagna, chicken, roasted potatoes, grilled tofu . . . whatever had been prepared for the day’s lunch, plus milk and juice and all kinds of drinks. There was too much of it to fit in the fridge, so Pix had put some of it outside, under the kitchen window. Nature had provided the refrigeration. There were plenty of the normal things like hot chocolate and popcorn and cereal. Really, they had all the makings of an amazing weekend in. One great last hurrah together. They all dug into the food enthusiastically.

“Who else stayed?” Janelle said. “Not just you, right?”

“You mean aside from you maniacs?” Pix said. “Mark from maintenance. Dr. Scott and Dr. Quinn. Vi, I’ll make up the upstairs room for you.” The upstairs room was Hayes’s room, but no one was going to say that. “You two”—she indicated both Janelle and Vi—“separate rooms.”

Vi and Janelle passed a silent look. Even Pix picked up on it.

“It’s nice to be back,” David said. “I’m going to go to my room, read. Enjoy the snow. See you all in the morning.”

“I think I’ll do the same,” Vi said. “I’m pretty tired.”

“It’s so weird not to be the first person who wants to go to bed and read,” Nate said, when those two had gone to their respective rooms. “Anyone want to play a board game or something?”

“I’m not really in the mood for a game,” Janelle said. “Night, everyone.”

Pix looked at the rapidly dwindling group at the table.

“Okay . . . ,” Nate said. “Well, the game I had in mind is better with a bigger group, so maybe I’ll call it a night too. Work on my book or something.”

Things had gotten dire. Now it was Stevie, Hunter, and Pix. Stevie knew that the right thing to do was sit and talk to Hunter. But she heard the footsteps overhead—David was once again in the house. After this storm, they would all be blown in different directions across the map. She would not be able to talk or focus. The best idea was to go the way of the others and try to go to sleep.

After an awkward good-night, she shuffled back to her room. She climbed into bed and stared at the wall, unable to turn out the light. It was unlikely any message would appear there, but she had an uneasy feeling that someone was watching, someone not in the house. This was impossible. The snow was driving down hard and the school was empty. She got up anyway and went to the window. It took a bit of effort to open; the cold had half frozen it shut. Once she did, arctic air and a blast of snow shot into her face. She picked up her heavy-duty flashlight and shone it out.