call to Aunt Jen before she left, in case there was any news on the Gaia'sparents-mystery front.
She gave the shopping bags a shake. Even though most of her Christmas presents had been
of the ex-druggie-book variety
, there had still been some cash slipped in among the pages. Not as many bills as in previous years, but then, her parents were
probably afraid that if they gave her a big wad of cash, she would shove it up her nose.
Even the reduced cash supply had been enough to add some serious punch to Mary's wardrobe. She emptied the contents of the first bag onto her bed and studied the results. There were blouses she had liberated from Classics, a retro clothing store south of the park. There were some jeans that were
completely too squeezy
at the moment but that Mary hoped to wear as soon as she had battled off the holiday bulge. There were three pairs of shoes and a lace camisole in a violet so deep, it was almost black.
Mary smiled down at the pile. The clothes represented four hours of dedicated shopping, but they were definitely worth it. If you knew where to shop, a little bit of cash could buy
a big chunk of cool
.
She reached down, picked up the camisole, and carried it across to the mirror on her dresser. She held it up and was just imagining what her mother would say if she tried to wear it sans shirt when she heard a noise from the hallway.
Mary turned. "Mom?"
There was no reply.
"Mom? Are you guys home?"
For several long seconds Mary heard nothing. Then there was a soft creaking sound--
the sound of boards shifting under someone's weight
.
At once Mary's throat drew tight. "Mom?" she tried again, but this time it was only a faint whisper.
Slowly she let the camisole slide from her fingers and fall into a dark puddle on the floor. Moving as quietly as she could, Mary took a step toward the door.
Then another
. She peered out through the opening.
There was no sound from the hallway. No creaking boards. But there was a shadow. A man-shaped shadow. Just outside the limits of her sight, someone was standing in the hallway. Even without the shadow Mary didn't have to see him to know he was there--she could
feel
him.
She thought of making a run for the front door, then remembered the phone by her bed. Keeping her eyes on the hall, she slid toward the nightstand.
There was another noise, not so soft this time. A footstep, followed by the sound of something--of someone--brushing against the wall.
Mary's heart bounced in her chest. Fear ran through her body like strong acid. With trembling fingers she lifted the receiver of the phone and brought it up to her ear. In the silence the dial tone seemed impossibly loud. Surely whoever was out in the hallway would hear it. Surely he would know what Mary was trying to do.
Another footstep from the hallway. Louder this time.
Closer
.
Mary brought her fingers to the dial and pressed down on the nine. The tone was so loud, it made her jump. She had to close her eyes for a second and draw a breath before moving her finger over to press the one. She raised her finger to press the button again.
There was a sudden noise from downstairs. A clatter followed by the squeak of the door being shoved open.
"Mary, honey?" called a voice from downstairs. "Are you home?"
Mary felt a wash of relief so strong, she almost fell. "Dad!" she called out. "I'm up here." But as soon as she spoke Mary realized that her parents could also be in danger. "Watch out!" she shouted. "There's someone else up here!"
Footsteps sounded from the stairs. "What did you say?" called her father.
Mary let the phone drop and jumped to her door. "Stay back, Dad! There's someone--"
But there was no one. In both directions the hallway was empty.
Her father reached the top of the stairs. "Who did you say was here?"
Mary looked along the empty hall and shook her head. "I heard . . . I mean, I thought . . ." She paused, then shrugged. "Nobody, I guess."
Her father's face turned down in an
She gave the shopping bags a shake. Even though most of her Christmas presents had been
of the ex-druggie-book variety
, there had still been some cash slipped in among the pages. Not as many bills as in previous years, but then, her parents were
probably afraid that if they gave her a big wad of cash, she would shove it up her nose.
Even the reduced cash supply had been enough to add some serious punch to Mary's wardrobe. She emptied the contents of the first bag onto her bed and studied the results. There were blouses she had liberated from Classics, a retro clothing store south of the park. There were some jeans that were
completely too squeezy
at the moment but that Mary hoped to wear as soon as she had battled off the holiday bulge. There were three pairs of shoes and a lace camisole in a violet so deep, it was almost black.
Mary smiled down at the pile. The clothes represented four hours of dedicated shopping, but they were definitely worth it. If you knew where to shop, a little bit of cash could buy
a big chunk of cool
.
She reached down, picked up the camisole, and carried it across to the mirror on her dresser. She held it up and was just imagining what her mother would say if she tried to wear it sans shirt when she heard a noise from the hallway.
Mary turned. "Mom?"
There was no reply.
"Mom? Are you guys home?"
For several long seconds Mary heard nothing. Then there was a soft creaking sound--
the sound of boards shifting under someone's weight
.
At once Mary's throat drew tight. "Mom?" she tried again, but this time it was only a faint whisper.
Slowly she let the camisole slide from her fingers and fall into a dark puddle on the floor. Moving as quietly as she could, Mary took a step toward the door.
Then another
. She peered out through the opening.
There was no sound from the hallway. No creaking boards. But there was a shadow. A man-shaped shadow. Just outside the limits of her sight, someone was standing in the hallway. Even without the shadow Mary didn't have to see him to know he was there--she could
feel
him.
She thought of making a run for the front door, then remembered the phone by her bed. Keeping her eyes on the hall, she slid toward the nightstand.
There was another noise, not so soft this time. A footstep, followed by the sound of something--of someone--brushing against the wall.
Mary's heart bounced in her chest. Fear ran through her body like strong acid. With trembling fingers she lifted the receiver of the phone and brought it up to her ear. In the silence the dial tone seemed impossibly loud. Surely whoever was out in the hallway would hear it. Surely he would know what Mary was trying to do.
Another footstep from the hallway. Louder this time.
Closer
.
Mary brought her fingers to the dial and pressed down on the nine. The tone was so loud, it made her jump. She had to close her eyes for a second and draw a breath before moving her finger over to press the one. She raised her finger to press the button again.
There was a sudden noise from downstairs. A clatter followed by the squeak of the door being shoved open.
"Mary, honey?" called a voice from downstairs. "Are you home?"
Mary felt a wash of relief so strong, she almost fell. "Dad!" she called out. "I'm up here." But as soon as she spoke Mary realized that her parents could also be in danger. "Watch out!" she shouted. "There's someone else up here!"
Footsteps sounded from the stairs. "What did you say?" called her father.
Mary let the phone drop and jumped to her door. "Stay back, Dad! There's someone--"
But there was no one. In both directions the hallway was empty.
Her father reached the top of the stairs. "Who did you say was here?"
Mary looked along the empty hall and shook her head. "I heard . . . I mean, I thought . . ." She paused, then shrugged. "Nobody, I guess."
Her father's face turned down in an
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