Sweet Evil Read online

  “Yeah, I’m sure. Love you,” I said.

  “Love you, too.” I watched her go inside with the cloud trailing close behind.

  Birds were chattering to one another in a nearby tree, and the air smelled like wet grass. I pushed my hearing out to the birds, testing my ability. I concentrated, sending it in an invisible, pencil-thin line, then bubbling it around them. The birds sounded as if they were perched on my shoulder.

  The heightening of my sense of smell and taste had come together the night of the fire, leaving a deadly flavor in my mouth. It had been like being stuck in a small, closed, unvented room with a smoking barbecue grill. I had no way of knowing I could control it at first. I’d thought I was dying or going insane.

  Every year or so, the nightmare would return as a new sense blossomed. My head wanted to explode when my hearing enhanced. Hundreds of voices and sounds within a mile radius shouted like blaring televisions with no volume control. I couldn’t hear my own cries.

  My enhanced vision, the fifth and final sense, welcomed me into my preteens. At least I could close my eyes with that one.

  Mastering each sense had taken major practice, not to mention causing migraines, vomiting, and nosebleeds. Being able to hear and see and smell everything within a one-mile radius was major sensory overload. And unfortunately, perfect health did not make me immune to pain.

  I’d been to the doctor only for annual checkups. Other than the migraines, I never got sick. Cuts and scrapes and bruises healed in a matter of hours, sometimes less. It wasn’t like on television, though, where a superhero’s gash closed and mended itself in seconds before your very eyes. I could watch it happening over the course of a couple of hours, like a flower tilting and opening to the morning sun, but who had time for that?

  I missed a lot of school during those days. The only advantage of having no friends before ninth grade was having nobody to explain myself to. At least I had Patti. She’d fostered me as an infant, adopting me as soon as the states of California and Georgia would allow. I was old enough to call her “Pat-Pat” by that point.

  I couldn’t hide the physical side effects of everything I went through, but Patti nurtured me through it all with no questions. She brushed my long hair with care when my sense of touch developed; it felt like each tangle would mangle my scalp forever. It hurt to move my arms because of the sensitive skin and muscle.

  When a plague of migraines came and I couldn’t keep food down, Patti somehow got her hands on serious prescription-strength painkillers that would supposedly knock out a grown man and have him sleeping for hours. After the first one, I felt a blessed sense of drowsy relief for about twenty minutes, then the blistering pain broke through again. Patti was horrified when she found out I’d taken six in one afternoon. The label warnings said to take no more than two per day. After she took them away, I searched the house with a blind obsession all week, but never found them.

  Each physical sense got easier to rein in as I gained focus. Eventually I was able to use my normal sensory levels at all times unless I chose to strengthen them, which might have been fun if there was someone to share it with. Only there wasn’t.

  The hazy little clouds were everywhere, following people. Every person had one. I stared at them outright all day, which I’m sure made me seem even weirder than usual.

  I watched Jay’s move around him as I switched books at my locker.

  “What’s up, birthday girl?” he asked, glancing around himself. “Do I got a spitball on me or something?”

  “No, nothing. Sorry.” I forced my eyes to his face. “I’m getting my license today.”

  “Sweet. Good thing Patti’s car is a stick shift. That means you can drive mine, too.”

  “Good thing,” I agreed. Jay’s car was a clunker. It made Patti’s old sedan look mint.

  I slammed my locker and we let ourselves be herded by the crowd to our classes. When Jay wasn’t looking, I discreetly reached out to touch the white cloud in front of me, and my hand went through it. I turned to Jay.

  “Want to go to that end-of-the-year party next Friday?” I asked him. He bumped knuckles with the president of the drama club going the opposite direction. A girl from the dance team swung her locker closed and gave Jay a flirty look as we passed. He stared over his shoulder at her before returning to our conversation.

  “The one at Gene’s? You really want to?”

  “Yeah, I think so,” I said. “If Patti will let me.”

  We were at my class now. Jay hitched his thumbs under the straps of the backpack on his shoulders.

  “Listen.” He hesitated. “Just... watch out for Scott, okay?”

  Huh?

  “Wait a sec,” I said. “How can you get all excited about someone like Kaidan Rowe, but warn me about someone like Scott McCallister?”

  Jay looked down and scuffed the floor with the toe of his tennis shoe, making it squeak.

  “You don’t hear him in the PE locker room when it’s just the guys.”

  “Oh.” I pondered this. “Does he say things about me?”

  “No, not you. You think I’d let him do that?” He pulled his eyes away from me. “Look, never mind. Just forget I said anything.”

  I wondered whether Jay was jealous of Scott—not over me, but just in general. Scott was popular, but then again, so was Jay in a different way. I’d never sensed jealousy from Jay about anything. His color now was only a mild grayish brown of worry.

  “I’ll be careful,” I promised. “And you’ll be there, too. And I bet Kaylah will go....”

  “All right, all right,” he said. “We’ll go.”

  He left me, running down the hall to his class before the tardy bell. His white cloud trailed close behind him.

  I slipped into my own class just in time, blinking at the roomful of floating mists around my classmates. Those were going to take some getting used to. It was World History, and we were assigned group work. I had this class with Gene, so I decided to take advantage of the mild chaos of desks being moved and people shuffling places.

  “Hey, Gene?” I whispered.

  He looked up and gave me a nod. He was short and muscular, like Scott, from wrestling, though Gene was in a lighter weight class.

  “My mother, um... she kind of wants to talk to your mom about the party. To make sure it’s going to be supervised and all that.” I tried not to cringe. His eyebrows went up for a second.

  “Yeah, I hear you, girl.” He tore off a corner of his paper. “Have her call this number the day before the party. Just tell her that my ma works crazy hours, so that’ll be the best day to reach her. Cool?”

  I felt giddy as I thanked him, slipping the paper in my pocket and heading for my group.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  LAKE PARTY

  The next Friday was our last day of school, and it was sticky-hot. Dusk brought little relief from the muggy heat. The air conditioner in Jay’s car pushed out lukewarm air even on its coldest setting. My feet were propped on his dusty dashboard on our way to Gene’s lake house. I fanned us both with an old french-fry box from the floor that still smelled like grease.

  I’d never been to a lake house, though I’d been to the lake plenty of times for church picnics, or afternoons with Patti. I always enjoyed the serenity of the winding drive thick with trees.

  We turned down a bumpy gravel road and made our way toward the lights of other cars and a beautiful, massive log cabin. It was getting darker now as we parked and got out. Crickets, frogs, and cicadas serenaded us from all directions in the moist, warm air.

  The house was brightly lit, but our path was not, so I extended my sight to be sure I didn’t trip on any rocks or fallen branches along the way. Along with being able to see far away, I could adjust my sensitivity to light. I liked to think of it as “night vision.” The moon was a crescent sliver and wouldn’t have been bright enough for normal eyes to see by, but it worked for me. Our feet crunched the gravel as we walked.

  “Get a load of this pla
ce.” Jay gawked.

  “I know. It’s huge.” The house had three vast levels with wraparound porches and a vaulted roof. It looked like a lodge.

  I pulled my sight back in as we reached the porch rimmed with lights. Voices and laughter were mingling with loud hip-hop music inside. When Gene answered the door, the change in volume hit us hard.

  “No way! Look who’s here, y’all! What’s up, Jay?” They smacked hands in a clasp, then Gene looked at me. “Anna Whitt in the house!” He leaned in and we hugged, giving me a strong whiff of alcohol on his breath. He must have been sneaking drinks while his parents weren’t looking.

  We walked through, bumping shoulders with the steadily growing crowd. Jay was greeted by everyone he came across. Gene’s family room had been turned into a darkened dance floor, stereo blaring. The dining room was full of kids standing and cheering, playing some kind of game. Jay and I stopped.

  Girls and guys stood across the table from one another, placing their plastic cups at the edge of the table and trying repeatedly to flip the cups over one-handed. It was a race. Kristin Miller’s cup finally landed upside down and she threw her arms up in victory. The girls jumped up and down screaming while the boys moaned and shook their heads.

  “That looks fun,” I said to Jay as we watched from the doorway.

  “It’s a drinking game,” he explained. “Flip Cup. You gotta drink whatever’s in the cup before you can flip it. No fair being sober.”

  “Oh.”

  We moved to the gigantic kitchen, where the soaring vaulted ceiling loomed high over stainless-steel appliances and terra-cotta tiling. The entirety of the massive granite kitchen island was covered in bright-colored plastic cups, juices, sodas, beer cans, and bottles of alcohol. My stomach tightened. His parents were allowing blatant underage drinking?

  A group of people stood in front of a huge window overlooking the water. Gene turned from the group and came over.

  “Whatcha drinkin’?” He hitched a thumb toward the island.

  “Nothing for me, thanks,” I said. I sensed Jay’s hesitation. Be strong—you don’t need it, I silently urged him. He made eye contact with me and sighed before answering.

  “Nah, nothing right now, man.”

  “You sure?” Gene eyeballed us in disbelief. “My sister just turned twenty-one, so we all put in money and told her to buy out the store and keep the change.”

  “Where are your parents?” I asked, glancing around.

  “Bahamas.”

  “Bahamas?” I couldn’t keep the shock from my voice.

  “Yeah—that was my sister’s cell your mom called. She can pull off the parental voice dead on. I can’t believe y’all aren’t drinkin’. Better get it before it runs out.” The doorbell rang and he darted away, sliding on socked feet into the hall now swarming with people. I was dumbfounded.

  “Patti thinks his parents are here,” I muttered. Jay scratched around the stubble of hair on his head.

  “Er, she does? Do you wanna leave? Is that what you’re sayin’?” he asked with reluctance.

  I didn’t answer him. I didn’t want to leave, but at the same time I felt guilty staying.

  “Let’s give it one hour,” I compromised. “Is that okay?”

  “Deal. One hour.” Jay was still running his hands over his head. Then he rubbed his hands together, a nervous gray streak cutting into his yellow aura.

  “I could have just one drink,” he said, sounding hopeful. “You can drive us home now.”

  “You,” I said, poking a playful finger to his chest, “are the life of the party. Other people have to drink to be how you are when you’re completely sober.”

  He pinched his chin hair, thinking.

  “I don’t know what it is about you, Whitt, but I can’t seem to deny you anything, no matter how bad I want it. It’s really annoying.”

  I smiled, because I could see he was feeling a pale yellow contentment without a trace of annoyance.

  Behind Jay, Kaylah’s bone-straight blond hair and chic wire-rimmed glasses came into sight. She was on the dance team, and had an hourglass figure.

  “I spy your crush,” I whispered.

  “Sweeeet,” he whispered back.

  “Go ahead and talk to her. I’m going out to see the view.” I gave his big ole bicep a squeeze and made my way to the back door. I knew the moment Jay caught up to Kaylah, because her whole gaggle of girlfriends broke out into squeals at his loud greeting.

  Nobody else was out on the deck. I walked to the edge and put my hands on the wooden rail. It was dark now. Crickets and frogs seemed to be competing for who could be noisiest. Lightning bugs flashed from every direction. There was a dimly lit walkway of stones that led down to a dock and boathouse. Distant voices and moving shadows told me there were partyers down there as well. The water glistened in the moonlight. Warm air sat heavily on my skin, but I was comfortable.

  The door opened behind me, and a muddle of music and voices spilled out before it closed again.

  “There you are.”

  I turned to the voice.

  “Hey, Scott,” I said. And hello, butterflies.

  Ever since he’d invited me to the party he’d been on my mind. He came up and stood next to me with a red cup. It smelled doughy and sour.

  “Beer,” he said. “Want a sip?”

  “No, thanks.” I felt shy. He tipped his head back and drained it in several gulps, then turned to the side and burped. Nice.

  “Excuse me,” he said, setting down his cup on the ledge. “So. What are you doin’ out here by yourself?”

  “Just taking it all in. It’s beautiful.”

  “Yep,” he said. “Your hair looks pretty.”

  “Thank you.” I had a strip on top pulled back with bobby pins, and the rest hung down my back.

  “Remember Mr. Bunker’s astrology lessons last year in Earth Science?” I asked, looking up at the sparkling sky, fascinated by the magnitude of creation.

  “Uhh, no.” Scott guffawed.

  “Okay, look right there.” I pointed. “It’s the Big Dipper. That square box part right there is the ladle, and then those stars are the handle. See it?” Scott sidled closer as I traced the shape with an outstretched finger.

  “Where? Oh, hey! I see it! Cool.”

  We got quiet and I realized this was a very romantic setting, if only I weren’t so fidgety and unable to look in his direction.

  “We should go inside,” he said. “Have you seen the basement?” I shook my head. “It’s awesome. I’ll get you a drink and then we can check it out.”

  “Scott...” I didn’t want to have to say it. Again. It would almost be easier to just have a drink so people would leave me alone about it.

  “How about something nonalcoholic,” he offered. “Soda? Juice?”

  I was getting thirsty. “Sure, thanks. Anything is fine.”

  He took me by the hand as he led me inside. It felt strange, but nice. There were even more people now, and many of their colors were faded or gone from alcohol consumption. The clouds were still there with each person, not affected as the auras were. Even though the white shadowy things were see-through, it was still a lot to take in with so many people crammed together.

  The air was heavy and hot, despite the high ceilings. As we made our way through, still holding hands, I recognized athletes from school as they called out, “What up, Scott?” and “Scottie!” They did knuckle bumps in passing, eyed me, then nodded knowingly to Scott, giving him a thumbs-up or a high-five. I pretended not to notice.

  I was caught between feeling embarrassed, nervous, and, God forbid, excited as we came to the stairway for the basement. I wondered if this party was a “date” for us. Maybe I would get my first kiss. My legs trembled and I clasped his hand tighter.

  One hour. I would give this party one hour, then I’d have to honor Patti. Okay, maybe fifteen minutes had passed since I made that deal, but I wouldn’t count those. Sixty minutes starting now.

  “Go ah
ead on down,” Scott shouted close to my ear. “You can find us a seat and I’ll be right down with our drinks.”

  My knees wobbled the whole way down the stairs. I stopped at the bottom in the entryway. The huge open-spaced recreation room was a guy’s dream. A giant flat screen television was mounted on the wall, surrounded by a plush, oversize L-shaped couch. There was a pool table, a foosball table, standing arcade games, and a side area with a huge card table and bar. The walls were covered in college sports memorabilia.

  As I surveyed the people in the room, two things were quickly apparent. First, the half of the room with couches was currently being used as makeout central. And second, the other half of the room was filled with older boys who I didn’t recognize smoking what I instinctively knew to be marijuana, though it was my first time ever smelling the tangy-sweet smoke. The scent gripped me with a longing that nearly brought me to my knees. Panicked, I took the stairs back up two steps at a time.

  At the top, I concentrated on calming my breathing as I made my way through the crowd toward the kitchen. Scott stood at the island talking to one of his friends, Kristin Miller. Something about their whispered conversation made me stop and stretch out my hearing toward them.

  “She doesn’t know?” Kristin asked.

  “Not yet, so just keep your mouth shut,” Scott said. Kristin laughed. She was a notorious gossip.

  “She is going to be so mad at you.”

  “Nah,” he said. “She’ll probably thank me for it.”

  I stood where I was, pulling my hearing back in and wondering what they were talking about. Maybe his ex-girlfriend was here and she’d be mad to know he was talking to me? But why would he say she would thank him for it?

  I caught a glimpse of Jay’s fuzzy head as he bounded toward me. I was glad to see him. He gave me a bear hug, lifting me off my feet a second before setting me back down.

  “You’ll never believe this.” He was nearly out of breath. “I just talked to this guy who was at the Lascivious show tonight, and he said the band is coming!”