Towering - By Alex Flinn Page 0,82

car.

It was nearly dark, and a tight squeeze with all my hair. She reached over me to push a button which, I guessed, locked the door. I sat in silence as she locked her own, then fastened herself into the car. She looked back over her shoulder, then backed out onto the road.

“Best to put the hood over your head,” she whispered. “It will be dark soon, and they won’t know this car—it’s the neighbors’, but best to be safe.”

I obeyed. I felt safer—a bit—now that Mama was here. I could smell the scent of her house on the coat. Now, I knew it was her house. Yet, I knew that there was something I, and only I, would have to do to find Wyatt. I pulled my hair toward me. Perhaps I should braid it. Yes, I would do that. I began to sift through the hair, looking for the ends, so I could arrange it behind me.

I knew she wanted to ask me more questions, why I left, and how. There would be a time to answer those questions, or maybe there wouldn’t. But now, I didn’t want to talk about it.

I breathed in. “He said . . .” There was a car behind us, close behind, which seemed strange on such a deserted road. Its lights glowed bright in the mirror between our heads. I saw Mama’s hands on the steering wheel, gripping, her knuckles white, striped red. I sunk down in my seat, still arranging my hair.

The car roared around us at incredible speed. Soon, I could only see the red lights on the back of it as it disappeared into the night.

Mama laughed, a short bark. “Crazy driver.” Then, she turned to me. “I don’t even know where we’re going.”

“Maybe . . . the police?” I wasn’t sure whether this was the way to go, but in books, people called the police when there was trouble. Wyatt had mentioned that he should have called the police about his friend Tyler.

But Mama shook her head. “I’m afraid not. The police were . . . not helpful when Danielle disappeared.” She pursed her lips together. “They thought she had simply run away . . . or perhaps, that I killed her. And I can’t take you to my house. It’s no hiding place, and we can’t hide anymore anyway. No, we will have to settle this ourselves.”

I had feared, or maybe anticipated that. On both sides of the car was blackness, black trees, black rocks, black space. Mama was barely a shadow beside me. “I think he is at the Red Fox Inn, in Gatskill. I heard . . .” I stopped. It sounded crazy.

“What?”

“Sometimes, I can hear his voice in my head. And he can hear mine. I know he can. That is how he found me.”

Mama nodded. “I had suspected as much. That’s where I was going, in any case. The Red Fox Inn was where it all began.”

“Where what began?” I found the ends of my hair, and I arranged it, as best I could, into three sections. I began to braid it as close to my head as possible, though I knew it would grow.

There were no cars on the road now. It was so quiet, so dark.

“All of it,” Mama said. “I suppose it is time to tell you. Perhaps I should have told you long ago.”

The scary car was long past, but her knuckles were still white. I wanted to embrace her, but I feared it would distract her. “Tell me what, Mama?”

She sighed. “Once, when I was a much younger woman, I had a difficult life. I took care of my elderly parents, worked hard at a job, and didn’t have much hope in my life.”

“I’m sorry, Mama.”

“Then, one day, a smiling stranger came along and I believed myself in love. He offered me a magical leaf. He said that, if I ate it, I would be happier, more alive. I ate it, and so I was. I saw wonderful visions, even felt like I could fly, and when I ate that leaf, which was a drug called rhapsody, I felt like I had no problems, even when the stranger left. But then, there was no more rhapsody, either, and I was miserable. I tried other drugs, but they weren’t the same. I went through horrible withdrawal.”

She looked at me, then away, and I realized she was embarrassed. I decided to say nothing, so she could go on.

She did. “Just