Graveyard Games (20 page)

“
She’s beautiful,” Dusty
murmured, turning the page. She had forgotten all about her dinner,
engrossed in the album.

The next page was the woman and a very
fair-skinned man, his head nearly shaved but obviously blonde. It
was a wedding photo—her white dress, his uniform. There was another
one, where the old gray-haired man was glaring at the couple,
obviously not pleased.

“
Your grandfather?” Dusty
pointed to the old man. Sam nodded, drinking his Coke.

She gasped when she turned the page. This
was the house, beautiful, opulent, like a shiny new penny. And here
was Sam’s mother, gardening, cooking. These photos were different
somehow—she was still smiling, but the light had gone from her
eyes.

“
What happened to the
house?” she asked, shaking her head.

“
Haters,” Sam replied,
watching her flip the pages. “Muh-my father called them ‘haters.’
They didn’t luh-like my muh-mother or muh-me. Thought she was a
witch and I was a…a retard.”

“
They ruined the house?”
she asked with a frown.

“
Truh-tried to burn it
down twuh-twice.” He nodded. “Muh-my father went to the
auth-auth-authorities many times. Nuh-nothing was ever
done.”

“
She was pregnant with you
here?” Dusty asked, showing him a photo of the woman in what must
have been their backyard, standing near a red rose bush. Sam nodded
again.

“
Oh, and this is you… Sam,
this is you!” she exclaimed with a smile, looking at the little
baby bundled in the woman’s arms. There was another one, with the
father, Roy, his face blank. He looked older than in the wedding
photo…of course, he was.

“
Yuh-yes,” Sam agreed. She
turned the page and found it blank. There were no more.

“
She died then?” Dusty
frowned, putting the album back on the table. “Lee told me. He said
it was an embolism.”

Sam smiled, but it was a grim thing. “No.
She died of a bruh-broken huh-heart.”

“
Oh, Sam.” She sighed,
picking up her fork again.

“
Uh-I was bruh-broken,” he
told her, looking down at his plate. “Muh-my father didn’t want a
bruh-broken son.”

“
Don’t say that.” Dusty
reached out and put her hand over his. He looked down at it and
then at her. “You are
not
broken.
”

“
Huh-he was angry.” Sam
turned his hand over in hers, taking it, squeezing. “Huh-he didn’t
want me thuh-this way.”

“
No,” she breathed,
feeling his pain.

“
Nuh-no one has ever
really wuh-wanted me.” His eyes were on their hands, twined
together.

“
I do.” Dusty squeezed his
hand. He lifted his face to hers, hopeful. “I mean…I want to be
your friend.”

“
Yuh-you do?” He looked so
disbelieving it made her heart hurt.

“
I
am
your friend, Sam.”

"Yuh-you're muh-my friend?" he asked
hesitantly.

She squeezed her fingers over his. "Yes,"
she assured him.

"Thank you," he said softly, raising her
hand and rubbing it against his cheek.

She was a little frightened by the intense
look in his eyes.

* * * *

“
Sorry, but I have to pick
up the rest of the beer." Shane pulled the Mustang up in front of
his house and shut the engine off. He pocketed the keys and looked
over at her. "You can stay in the car if you want. I won't be
long."

Dusty looked at the house in the fading
sunlight. The small one-story drooped. Two shutters hung askew,
leaving bare wood showing. The white paint was faded gray and the
corner of one window had been replaced with a piece of
cardboard.

"No," she replied, opening the car door.
"I'll go with you."

He put his arm across her shoulders as they
approached the house.

"My dad's home," he warned, opening the
front door and leading her inside.

Dusty inspected the small
living room with its dingy green carpet and turquoise colored
walls. A man snored loudly in a reclining chair while
Cops
radiated from a
television set equipped with a set of coat hanger antennae. The
man, wearing boxer shorts, had a beer resting on one arm of the
chair and a cigarette dangling precariously between the first two
fingers of his left hand.

"My dad." Shane steered her toward the
kitchen, connected to the living room by an archway. Dusty glanced
over her shoulder at Shane's father, trying to see the resemblance.
He had a pot belly hanging over the top of his shorts, and his
dirty blonde hair did indeed look very dirty. He had a fuzzy beard
growing.

"He's a permanent fixture there." Shane took
two six-packs out of the fridge. He pulled one off the plastic
holder and popped the tab. "I just kind of ignore him."

"Does he work?" Dusty shook her head when
Shane offered her some of his beer.

"Off and on. Mostly off. I bring in money
for this place working at Vikings," he said, referring to the auto
parts store over in West Lake. "But he doesn't do much of anything
except seasonal work and collecting unemployment."

Shane took another drink of beer. Dusty
looked back into the living room. He was a big bear of a man.

"Hey." Shane tugged on the sleeve of her
jacket. "Come here." Dusty went reluctantly and he wrapped one arm
around her waist. He kissed her lightly and rested his cheek
against the side of her throat. "Don't worry about me."

"I don't worry," Dusty replied lightly,
breaking the mood by picking up one of the six-packs. "Come on,
they're all going to get to the path and there won't be any
beer."

"They'll bring their own," Shane told her,
grabbing the other six-pack and following her out the door.
"Everyone drinks everyone else's anyway."

"That's not fair." Dusty got into the car
and put the beer on the floor.

"It's okay." Shane put the key into the
ignition. "Everyone's too drunk to care by end of the night." He
pumped the gas pedal twice before starting the car.

"And, hey…" He put the car in reverse and
backed it quickly and easily out of the driveway. "Who said life
was fair, right?"

* * * *

The path never failed to amaze Dusty,
although she’d been there dozens of times. It was so isolated, so
completely theirs. The circular area had been leveled years ago, no
one could remember why anymore, leaving only one natural pathway in
and out.

"We're here!" Shane called out his open
window in the direction of their group. They always parked on the
west side.

Billy and Chris had their cars parked in an
unfinished semi-circle around an already burning bonfire. Shane
completed it by pulling up next to Chris.

"Party time." Shane leaned over toward
Dusty, his face inches from hers. "You ready?”

"I'm ready if you are," she replied and
kissed him.

"Okay, you two love birds, break it up!"
Billy called through the driver's side window, Meg on his arm.

Shane moved away from Dusty and picked up
one of the six-packs from the floor. Dusty picked up the other one
and got out of the car.

"Here." Shane tossed the keys over the hood
of the Mustang. "Flip on the radio." Dusty missed the keys, but
Jake, standing behind her, caught them with one hand.

"Gotta be quick." Jake said with a smile,
looking at Dusty with one eye. The other was covered by the long
strand of hair that always hung over his forehead. "Here, I'll
trade you."

She handed him the beer and he gave her the
keys. Dusty crawled back into the car and put the key into the
ignition, flipping on the radio. WCSC, the only rock station
Larkspur picked up, was the only station allowed on Shane's radio.
Creedence sang about a bad moon rising and she left it.

Dusty leaned on the Mustang's door, looking
around. Being a Saturday, the path was already full of life. She
had weaseled an extra day off work to come, on Shane's request. The
path was used by people from Shadow Hills and West Lake, too, so on
a weekend, it rarely went unused.

Shane sat on the hood of Billy's car,
talking and laughing with both Chris and Billy. He motioned for her
to come over and she nodded, but didn’t move. Another car pulled up
beside Shane's and she peered inside. It was a small car, piled
with people. At least six in the back and four in the front.

"Hey!" The guy that climbed out the driver's
side door could have been Shane’s older, heavier twin and Dusty
recognized him immediately although they’d never officially
met.

"Hey, Buddy!" Evan called from where he sat
on the Chris’ hood, drinking a beer. "Shane! Buddy's here!"

"Hey." Shane hopped off the hood and walked
toward him, pausing to put an arm around Dusty.

"I want you to meet somebody," he told her.
She followed him, cautious.

"Told you I'd make it." Buddy clapped Shane
on the back. "I brought the gang and everything. Hope you don't
mind."

"Finally, a
real
party," Evan said
from behind them.

"Buddy, this is Dusty Chandler," Shane said.
"Dusty, this is my brother, Buddy."

Such a formal introduction from Shane, and
meeting Buddy, left her taken aback.

"Hey there." Buddy nodded toward her. He was
tall, taller than Shane, with the same blonde-blue-eyed look. He
wore a denim jacket and jeans, and he looked normal, not like the
hardened criminal she’d expected. His hair was cut at a respectable
length and he was clean-shaven. "You look familiar."

"I'm Nick Chandler's sister," Dusty said,
glancing at Shane.

"Oh. Hey, yeah, I knew him. I'm real sorry,"
Buddy said.

Dusty nodded, feeling that familiar heat in
her chest. “Thanks.”

"So, you two an item now, or what?" Buddy
eyed the two of them standing together. Dusty glanced up at Shane
and he never took his eyes from her face.

They’d never discussed it and she didn’t
want to. Until then, she’d gotten away with not mentioning it at
all.

When Shane didn’t reply, Dusty shrugged and
looked at Buddy. "Yeah," she replied. "Something like that."

"Well, that's cool." Buddy grinned and
nodded.

"Let's party!" Chris popped the top on a
beer he’d shaken up. It sprayed all over his wife, Teri, who threw
a can at his head and missed. It broke everybody up.

* * * *

The stars looked like studded diamonds on a
backdrop of black velvet. Dusty snuggled closer to Shane and he put
his arm around her. A sliver of the moon sliced through the sky.
The breeze was chilly, but the fire was warm.

"You're going to catch cold if you don't put
your jacket back on," Dusty said. Shane was using his jacket as a
pillow.

"Nuh-uh." He shook his head, eyes turned
upwards toward the sky. "I've got you to keep me warm."

Dusty laid her head back down on his chest,
her eyes half-closed, comfortable with the rise and fall of Shane's
chest. The party was still going, but it was more subdued. Everyone
had consumed a ton of beer, herself included. She felt sleepy and
relaxed.

Beverly and Billy sat by the fire, talking
quietly, Beverly toying with the loose ends of thread hanging from
the holes in the knees of his jeans. Chris and his wife were in the
front seat of his car. Jake, Evan, Meg, Suzanne and Buddy were
sitting on the Mustang's hood. Dusty ignored the dirty looks
Beverly threw her way.

"Is Suzanne going out with Evan?" Dusty
inquired quietly.

"I’m not sure what’s going on there," Shane
admitted, the rumble of his voice against her ear. "I think she
took Nick’s death kind of hard and he’s trying to pick up the
pieces? I hear she isn’t coping real well…"

"Are any of us?" Dusty asked sleepily,
closing her eyes. "Isn't that what these parties are for? So we can
all forget about Nick?"

"Not for me," Shane said finally, and she
felt his hand on her hair, his touch soft and soothing. "For me,
it's kind of a way to remember him. He made all of this more
fun."

"I wouldn't know." Dusty opened her eyes. "I
was never invited."

"Yeah, you were." Shane rolled carefully
over on his side, moving his leather jacket under her head, looking
at her in the light of the fire. "You were invited, you were just
too much of a princess to come."

"Not true!" She scoffed.
"I was only invited in backhand ways, and only by
you.
Nick never once
asked me to come along."

"He didn't want you along," Shane told her
honestly. She stared at him.

He explained. "Nick was
always yelling at me about asking you. Don’t you get it?
I
was the one who asked
because
I
was the
one who cared about you being left out. Nick didn't want you along
because Nick didn't want us to get involved. Like this, or even as
friends."

"That's not true." Dusty laughed a little
nervously. "That can't be true."

"It is," he said. "He used to tell me to
keep my hands off his little sister, and I used to tell him you’d
see me in hell before you let me near you. It was kidding, but it
was serious, too. Nick wanted to be my friend, but Nick wanted you
to stay his sweet, innocent little sister."

"I'm not—I wasn't—his little sister," Dusty
told him. "We were twins. Okay, he was the older twin—by about two
minutes."

"He thought of you as little. It was
like..." Shane paused, careful and searching. "It was like he grew
up, but you were supposed to stay young and innocent forever."

Her head felt funny, light, and her mind
refused to focus. "He didn't say that." Shane shrugged and Dusty
looked at him. "He really said that?"