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The Devil's Heir Page 8

“Oh.” My cheeks flush. “I don’t ever check it. I’m not used to having access to a phone.”

  “Well, we were about to head over to get some tacos for Taco Tuesday if you’re down,” Daisy says.

  “Yeah, but I think we’re much more interested in hearing about your walking buddy.” Becca wags her brows up and down.

  The boys don’t respond.

  “We were chatting.”

  “Just chatting?”

  I shrug. “Hate to break it to you.”

  “Boring,” Becca says. “Come on, let’s get tacos.”

  After waiting for twenty minutes at the small, crowded restaurant, we take our food to go. I follow the group to a building on the edge of town.

  Diablo Elementary, home to Denny.

  “Who’s Denny?” I ask when we approach.

  Tyler smiles down at me. “Denny the Demon, the school mascot. He looks like a cartoon cherub but red. Can’t really tell kids they’re cheering for a baby demon.”

  He laughs but I don’t. “You guys really take the whole demon thing serious.”

  He shrugs. “It’s just the way it’s always been. It’s who we are.”

  “And that doesn’t…make you feel weird? Supporting the character of the devil?”

  Tyler snorts. “We don’t take it seriously. It’s like Scotty the Bear. A mascot, nothing more.”

  We bypass the building and go into the play yard. There’s a simple play structure in the middle of the area. It has bars to swing from and a slide. Filled with memories of games I never had the chance to play.

  We walk past it and continue toward a group of the tables under a canopy. I immediately take my food out, which is already cold, but that doesn’t stop the little moan I make when I bite into it.

  “Okay, I want to be invited to every Taco Tuesday from here on out.”

  Becca laughs and reaches over to give me a high five. “Welcome to Diablo, Calla, home of the best tacos I’ve ever had.”

  Freddie laughs at his girlfriend. “Pretty sure they’re the only tacos you’ve ever had.”

  She rolls her eyes. “I don’t need that type of negativity in my life.”

  So begins an easy conversation. I find I’m able to participate and never feel out of place. This is what being a teenager is supposed to feel like. This is what being a teenager is supposed to look like.

  Twenty minutes or so have passed when Tyler whispers to me, “Want to take a walk? I need to walk off those tacos.”

  “Eight tacos will do that to you.”

  The two of us rise from the table and I ignore Becca wagging her brows.

  His fingers graze mine and he smiles down at me. I return it. When we’re far enough, he says, “I’m sorry about yesterday.”

  “No, I’m sorry,” I say. “Sometimes it’s hard to pull myself out of that place.”

  “What do you mean?” he asks quietly.

  I swallow spit to ease the sudden dryness in my throat. “I know this probably sounds crazy but…after my grandmother died, I felt like I needed a break from the church.”

  Tyler laughs. “Well, I’d certainly say you accomplished that. Moving to Diablo and all.”

  We approach a fence sectioning off the school’s yard from the rest of the forest. He opens the small gate and it slams shut behind us. A small, wet path leads into the forest and we follow it.

  “Why did you feel like you needed to take a break?” he asks.

  I release a heavy sigh. “The church was my entire life. It was the only thing that mattered to my grandmother. It was the only thing she let me focus on.”

  “I understand,” he says. “My father was the local pastor.”

  “Really?”

  He sighs just as heavily. “Up until my brother died, yeah.”

  The leaves under our feet are wet so they don’t crunch despite the path being filled with them. The whistle of the wind through the trees is the only sound.

  “What happened?”

  “He, uh, he got himself into some trouble. Met the wrong crowd, got into things he wasn’t supposed to, you know how it is.”

  Tyler doesn’t need to say more; I already know how it affected his family. If there’s one thing church goers loved, it was gossip. No one spoke to my grandmother and me, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t listen to what was being said around us.

  “Is your dad still with the church?” I ask.

  His head shake is stiff. “No, he’s not. He drank to mask the shame and now he’s gone.”

  I stop walking and he pauses. “I’m really sorry, Tyler.”

  His smile is sad. “It’s okay. It was a long time ago.”

  “Doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.”

  “It doesn’t. I don’t want to speak ill of the dead but my father wasn’t great to us anyways.”

  I know what that feels like.

  He shoves his hands in his sweatpants pockets. “Go figure, the pastor in a town called Diablo was probably closer to the Devil than he was to God.”

  I swallow the lump in my throat. “Unfortunately, this city isn’t the only one.”

  His blue eyes home in on me. I can see the question in his eyes. “Is your grandmother the one you won’t forgive?”

  I rock back on my heels and a shiver runs down my spine. “We didn’t have a healthy relationship.”

  He hesitates but eventually asks, “She hit you?”

  I inhale sharply.

  “Did yours?”

  The question goes unanswered. We both already know.

  He starts walking again. “I don’t blame you for wanting to take a break from the church.”

  “Did you?” I glance up at him.

  “Yeah, I don’t go to church anymore. After coming across the scene at the Barn, it felt right to go back. But it doesn’t mean I don’t believe.”

  “And you don’t blame Him?”

  “Not at all. If God is the one who decided who gets put on this Earth, then he also decides who gets taken away. Maybe He realized his mistake and fixed it.”

  That’s a scary power.

  “There’s a creek just up there.” He points farther up the path. “We used to take a lot of trips here as kids to look at all the animals and plants that grow here.”

  “Really?” I ask.

  “It’s small, probably not even big enough to show up on a map. I don’t even think anyone comes here after graduating from elementary school.”

  As we approach the bottom of the small hill we need to climb, I hear a quiet trickling of water.

  “Just so you know, I told you because I want you to know you’re not as alone as you may think.”

  “I really appreciate it.”

  We reach the top and I let out a small breath of air.

  Small lamps are stuck into the ground along the edge of the stream and cast a small glow over the water. Little illuminated creatures dance through the dim light and I can almost hear the faint buzzing.

  “The lights are powered by the sun.”

  We continue down the path to the water.

  “Wow,” I say in appreciation, “this is really beautiful.”

  “Yeah,” Tyler replies and nudges me with his shoulder. “As kids, you don’t really see the beauty in a lot of things.”

  “Do you guys come here a lot?”

  “Pretty often actually. But no one thinks to come here after school lets out.”

  “Thank you for showing me,” I say.

  Though there’s not enough light to illuminate the small creek in all its glory, the overall aura is blissful. Small splashes of water dance over the rocks as they make their way down stream. Bugs fly low to the water, tiny visible specks in the faint light, then disappear.

  “I hope you don’t take offense, but you put up a pretty good facade.”

  Tyler laughs. “It’s no facade. My whole family might be stuck here, but I won’t be. I plan on playing soccer in college and getting far away from here.”

  “That’s really great, Tyler.”
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  “That’s really great, Tyler, me too, or that’s really great, Tyler, but not me?”

  I snort. “Am I that obvious?”

  He nudges my shoulder. “A little. But I’ve been there. Even before my dad died I knew I wanted to leave but I always knew it was going to be a fight.”

  “Why a fight?”

  “My brother left for college, nothing big, just a local community college, but look where that got him. After he got hooked, my dad got worse. He’d always been a drinker, but his perfect family facade was starting to break. A pastor with a junkie son?” Tyler snorts softly, almost to himself. “He wanted to know my whereabouts at all times and even wanted me to get a new friend group.”

  “I’m glad you’re better,” I say because it’s all I can.

  His lips barely move. “You too.”

  Tyler’s phone rings. We both jerk in surprise and he fishes it out of his pockets and picks up. “Yeah?”

  There’s a jumble of voices on the other end. I can’t understand most of it, but I do hear Becca saying something about “freezing her tits off.” Whatever that means.

  “Yeah, by the creek. Cool. Bye.” He puts his phone back in his pocket. “We have company.”

  Voices carry from over the hill.

  “They’re fast.”

  Our friends make their way down the path, using their cell phones for light. The combined glow is brighter than the small ones by the water.

  “Everyone decent?” Becca asks.

  Daisy giggles before panic crosses her face. She lets out the loudest scream as she grabs Becca’s arm.

  Becca flinches. “What? What?”

  Daisy’s shaking finger points toward the water.

  Tyler and I glance over our shoulders and I feel him freeze.

  A body lies face down at the edge of the water. The stream is so narrow only a small section of the corpse is actually in the water. Had our friends not come with their bright lights, we might have never seen it.

  “Jesus Christ,” Becca grunts.

  “Someone call the police!” Daisy yells.

  “I’m on it,” Freddie replies.

  Across the water, parallel to the body, I see a pair of red orbs floating high above the ground. I draw in a quick breath. They’re like the ones I saw at the Barn. I’m focused on them, the body already forgotten, entranced as they begin to sway. I find myself rocking in time with them, and I don’t blink in case they disappear.

  I step forward. Someone jerks me back.

  Daisy’s stares back at me. “Come on, Calla, let’s go.”

  She tugs me back down the path and when I look over my shoulder, the red orbs are gone.

  We reach the end of the trail. Red and blue lights flash ahead. Two cop cars are parked at the edge of the playground with four officers marching toward us.

  One of the officers holds his arms out when we approach. Becca dives underneath.

  “Come here, son,” the sheriff says, pulling Freddie into the hug.

  The officers continue down the path, following Tyler’s instructions.

  Tyler wraps his arm around my waist when I shiver. I lean into it.

  “Let’s get you kids out of here.”

  A third car shows up and Freddie’s father opens the rear door, ushering Tyler and me into the back seat. The cold leather and barred divider are a gruesome reminder of the day I was taken to the police station covered in my grandmother’s blood.

  “It’s going to be okay,” Tyler whispers into my hair as he lays his cheek on top of my head.

  “Hey, Ty,” the middle-aged officer says through the bars, “we going to the ship this year, or what?”

  Tyler’s laugh is forced. “Here’s to hoping, man.”

  For the remainder of the short ride to the station, they talk about soccer while I sit frozen under Tyler’s arm, not believing this is happening to me. Again.

  All I can think about is how upset Aunt Polly is going to be when she gets the call that I’m at the police station.

  The uniformed man leads us into the building. There’s an older woman sitting behind a glass window. “Hey, Barb, checking these kids into Interrogation Room C. Tell the others to meet them in there.”

  The woman doesn’t bother replying.

  I’m ashamed that this isn’t my first time sitting in an interrogation room. Though, I have to admit, when the officer leaves the door wide open to grab more chairs from another room, it feels more like a shameful trip to the principal’s office than an interrogation.

  Tyler and I have barely taken our seats on the cold metal chairs when the rest of my friends walk in. Freddie’s dad gives his son’s shoulder a tight squeeze. “You kids need anything?”

  “Can I have a water, please?” Daisy asks, rubbing her mascara-smeared eyes.

  “Sure thing, Daisy,” he replies, “anyone else?”

  We shake our heads.

  This time, he closes the door behind him.

  “This is so fucked up.”

  I lean forward and rest my forehead on the metal table. Someone pats my back.

  While everyone else is trying to console Daisy, I need some fresh air. When Freddie’s father comes back into the room with a few water bottles and a box of tissues, I rise from the seat. “May I use the restroom?”

  He leads me down the hall. He tells me that he has to wait outside of the door for me and I tell him okay.

  It’s a single-person restroom so I don’t have to worry about others.

  Washing my hands post bathroom use, I hold onto the porcelain sink and allow myself to breathe. Staring into my reflection, I feel numb.

  I don’t feel distraught, I don’t feel concerned, I don’t feel worried.

  I’m frustrated.

  My reflection looks tired.

  Why me? I ask to whoever is listening. Why me again?

  Someone’s voice comes through the thin walls.

  “This has never happened before. We’re waiting for a teeth match…looks like it’s just a kid…”

  The voice fades as footsteps lead away from the bathroom door.

  I jump when someone knocks on the door.

  “Calla?” Freddie’s dad’s voice calls out. “We’re ready for you.”

  I rub my pounding temple and give myself a final glance.

  “I’m coming.”

  For the second time in a matter of weeks, Aunt Polly had to come pick me up from the police station. The police asked that we keep quiet until they knew their next steps.

  Exhaustion weighed heavy on me as I crawled into bed and tossed and turned all night to images of red and blue lights, sirens, and the sheriff.

  At school the next day, the whispers and rumors going around are too disgusting to even repeat. The assumptions that this is the beginning of my “mental breakdown” are disheartening. Sasha’s insistence that I should be considered a suspect in these murders despite the sheriff’s denial has spread across the campus. Even my friends seemed to take my lack of emotion as something concerning.

  When the final bell rings, I’m the first one out the door. I pass the locker smeared with fake blood and the words “SATAN” written across to mine, freshly cleared of more flyers.

  I take out the necessary textbooks for tomorrow’s homework assignments, and when a rush of rain pelts the school roof, I press my forehead against the cold metal. As if this day couldn’t get worse, someone throws a wad of paper at the back of my head. When it hits the floor, I let out a quiet cry into the metal.

  A hand touches my shoulder and I whirl around, ready to defend myself against whatever accusation is going to be thrown at me.

  Luke holds up a hand. “Whoa.”

  My shoulders slump in relief. “Yes?”

  He raises his brows in surprise.

  “Is there something you need?” I snap when he doesn’t respond.

  “Do you need a ride home?”

  “No.” I just want to be alone.

  “It’s a long walk in the pouring rain. I
t’s not a problem.”

  “I said no,” I snap.

  The way he looks at me, stares into me, I know he can see through my denials. But instead of calling me out on it, he just says, “Okay.”

  He walks away and though I want to bang my head for allowing such an offer to walk off, the accusations about the both of us are too much to bear together. If one more false claim gets added onto my shoulders, I might—

  Wait.

  My eyes narrow as Sasha saunters up to Luke at his locker. She smirks at the painted words, and I’m sure she had something to do with them being there in the first place. Her small frame manages to block him from my view, but the way she twirls her hair around a finger and touches his shoulder tells me enough: this isn’t an ambush. She’s here to flirt.

  I walk up to them, taking pleasure in the surprise on Sasha’s face when my hand wraps around a chunk of her hair and slams her head into the lockers behind her. The echo of flesh against the cold metal rings melodically in my ears.

  Except…that doesn’t happen. I only envisioned it.

  My feet take me down the hall.

  Luke smirks when I approach. “Are you ready?”

  Realizing she’s about to lose her prey, Sasha turns to me with a venomous glare. “Didn’t your mother tell you it’s rude to interrupt a conversation? Oh, wait…you don’t have a mother.”

  Before my chest can ache from the accusation, Luke firmly closes his locker and faces the pitiful brunette. “We can’t all choose our parents. Or do you like dabbling with heroine like your mother, Sasha?”

  Sasha’s wide-eyed expression is one I hope to never forget.

  “I-I-I—”

  “Hmm,” Luke hums, “your teeth are real so maybe not. I hope you stay that way. Best of luck to you.”

  He holds his hand out, gesturing for me to follow him out of the hall. Sasha’s icy glares are nothing compared to the burning heat crawling up my spine from the hand hovering over my lower back.

  Luke ushers me out the double doors and tells me to stay put. I watch as he steps back into the safety of the school. I cross my arms over my body to stay warm.

  A few minutes later, a black sedan pulls up to the curb.

  Luke rolls down the passenger window and motions for me to join him.

  I hold my backpack tight to me and take in a deep breath before running out of the safety of the awning and into the rain.