Mason (10 page)

His fear ticked up a notch. The trembling in Mason's body turned into an audible hum that settled in his head. And beneath this droning, his anger and dread subsided as the thrumming buzz grew louder. A crow flapped its wings, rose from a branch, and then settled back to its perch. The terrible pack of dogs watched him with cold, black eyes. The hum followed his veins from his head to his feet, wiping out all sensation as it went, leaving Mason numb.

A figure in white appeared behind the pack of dogs.
It was Rene, and she looked pretty in a white dress, but Mason felt nothing about it. He simply watched her.

Rene held out a hand to him. Her body trembled and jerked to the side and a spray of blood flew from her mouth. Another twitch of her form and a wound blossomed on her shoulder. A scarlet blotch stained her white hospital dress.

This terrible dance went on for over a minute, but Mason felt nothing. It was like hearing so many noises all at once you couldn't really hear anything at all. His emotions had grown too strong, too loud. As a result, they canceled each other out.

Mason stood and the vision of the forest flickered, faded, and then vanished. He reached down to the desk and lifted the sheet of paper, looked at the faces there—the faces of Lara Pearce, Lump Hawthorne, Ricky Langham, and Hunter Wallace. He followed the contours of their brows and cheeks and mouths.

He examined every line in the drawing.

And he felt nothing.

Lara hadn't felt warm in days. At home, she wrapped herself in a blanket and shivered beneath it, though the furnace pumped more than enough warm air. When outside, as she was now, walking to school, she wore a parka that her dad, Larry, had bought her for a ski trip. The family was supposed to go to Aspen, but the trip had been canceled, like all the family trips had. She shook with cold, barely able to keep her teeth from chattering.

“Why, Lara?”
Rene had asked.

The question came back to her like a cold stream, running down the back of her head to trickle along her spine. Lara stopped in the street, only half a block from school. She thought she might cry again. She bit her upper lip and breathed deeply through her nose, trying to remove Rene and her question from her thoughts.

It wasn't that easy. She hadn't stopped thinking about Rene and what had happened to her since that night at the Hollow. If she'd known what Hunter was planning, she never would have made that call. God. She never would.

But she did make the call. And worse. She stood there and watched them hurt Rene and did nothing to stop it. She didn't even protest, and she didn't know why. At the time she had felt Rene deserved her punishment—felt Hunter and his friends had every right to beat her up. But why?

“Why, Lara?
”

Lara bit down a little harder on her lip to make sure she didn't start crying. She hadn't talked to Hunter since that night and wouldn't if she could help it. Once she'd thought his bad-boy rep was hot. After what he'd done, she just found him terrifying. She took a step forward, knowing she was already late for her first class. Then she stopped.

A white figure stood behind the Marchand High sign. It was Rene, wearing a hospital gown. Even from such a great distance, Lara could see the red and purple wounds staining her face. Recognizing her friend, Lara gasped and stepped back.

This couldn't be real. She'd called the hospital before leaving for school. Rene was still in a coma. But there she was on the front lawn of the school less than fifty
yards away, clear and solid and pointing at Lara.

“Oh,” Lara said, the sound catching in her throat.

She considered the possibility that she was seeing a ghost. Maybe Rene had died.

It was too much for her. She couldn't go into that school, not where she and Rene had shared so many memories. She just couldn't.

Heart racing, Lara turned away from the apparition. A car skidded on the road only a few feet in front of her. She was so startled, she thought her heart might stop right then.

When she recognized the driver—Hunter Wallace—she almost wished it had.

“Get in the car,” Hunter told her.

“I…I'm late for class,” Lara said with a trembling voice.

“Screw class. We gotta talk.”

“I'm really late,” Lara tried.

“Get in.”

Lara did as she was told, but she moved slowly. Clutching her books to her chest like a shield, she shuffled her feet through the dirt. She reached out for the door handle and leaped back when the door swung open.

Lara climbed in. She felt like she was lowering herself into a black pit.

“Close the door,” Hunter said, revving the engine.

She did as she was told again, and Hunter sped away. Lara looked out the passenger window, saw her school pass on the right. She clutched her books tighter and waited.

“You didn't return my calls, baby,” Hunter said. “That ain't cool.”

“I've been busy,” Lara replied. “A lot of homework.”

“Homework,” Hunter repeated. He snorted out a low chuckle. “Seems more like you're avoiding me.”

“Just busy.”

“Yeah, well, I been busy too. Me and the boys been working real hard to make sure our alibis are good and tight. Seems they think someone might start talking.”

“Really?” It suddenly went from cold to freezing in Hunter's car.

“I don't s'pose I need to remind you that you set this up.”

“I didn't know what you were going to do!” Lara cried, her voice so loud it startled her. “You said we were playing a joke.”

“You knew. You knew damn good and true what was going down and you didn't do a thing to stop it. So, baby, that makes you an accessory, and if we fry,
you
fry.” Hunter's voice grew calmer as he spoke. “Now, your little friend's takin' a nap and ain't sayin' a word. Nobody's got to worry about a thing. But you go steppin' all righteous and we're going to have a whole lot
of worry. And I don't
do
worry. So, I'm going to make it a little easier for you.”

Lara shivered, kept her eyes on the trees sliding past the window.

“Maybe you're thinking you can turn some evidence and get off free and clear,” Hunter said. “Or maybe you're tellin' yourself that you deserve to be punished so you don't worry so much what the cops do to you. But I swear to God, if you say a word about the Hollow to anyone, what we did to your little friend is going to look like a slap on the ass compared to the pain we bring down on you.”

“Hunter,” Lara said, unsure if it was a plea or a question.

He slammed on the brakes. Lara lurched forward in the seat, nearly smacking her head against the dashboard. A second later, Hunter had his hand wrapped around her face. He yanked hard so that she was forced to look at him.

“Bitch, I am so
not
joking. You lay it down a few times, and you think that makes us tight? That don't make us shit. I'd throw you out on this street and back over you right now if I wasn't worried about messin' up my tires. You think I'm lyin'? Do you? Answer me. You think I'm lyin'?”

“No,” Lara cried. She knew he wasn't lying. Anyone who could do what Hunter did to Rene didn't care about
anyone. She knew that. She believed it.

“Good,” Hunter said. “Now, you take your ass back to school and you remember that mouth of yours is good for only one thing, and talkin' ain't it.”

The insult drove into her. Shame made her blush. It tightened her throat so badly she couldn't speak, but she nodded her head furiously so Hunter would know she meant it.

“Good,” he said again. “Now get out of my car. I got places to be.”

 

By the time Lara had walked back to school, she was so upset she disappeared right into the girls' bathroom and sat in a stall, crying for over twenty minutes. Once she was certain the worst of the tears were over, she washed her face and reapplied her makeup. She waited for the bell to announce the end of first period and then slipped into the halls amid her classmates.

Lara kept her head down, books tight to her chest. If anyone asked, she'd tell them she was still totally freaked out and upset about Rene's attack.

Walking through the halls, she got the feeling everyone already knew what she'd done. It made no sense and was so impossible, but she felt their eyes on her: Miranda Bocage with her fake nose and breasts; Tod Crawford (Eric's little brother) with the nest of zits on his forehead; Mark Decouteaux and Susan Melvoin,
always looking for someplace to make out between classes. They watched her pass, and they knew what she'd done. Done to her best friend!

Cassie was the worst. She wouldn't even look at Lara when they passed in the halls. Once Cassie caught sight of her, she turned her head, nose slightly raised, and continued on as if Lara were a bum asking for change.

Feeling sick to her stomach, Lara wished she'd just stayed home for the day. She could have pounded a bottle of NyQuil and slept through this terrible feeling.

She stopped at her locker to drop off her English textbook, which she hadn't needed anyway. As she placed the book inside the locker, she noticed the picture of Hunter Wallace taped to the door. She tore it off and crumpled it up. Instead of dropping it on the ground and stomping on it the way she wanted, Lara navigated across the hall through the streams of kids and threw the picture in the garbage can. That was where Hunter belonged. He was a low-life freak who pushed drugs. He wasn't even good in bed. Just another boy. Just a nothing.

Except he was a scary nothing with a gun.

“
But I swear to God, if you say a word about the Hollow to anyone, what we did to your little friend is going to look like a slap on the ass compared to the pain we bring down on you
.”

Lara was halfway back to her locker, kids pushing in
on all sides of her, when she saw Rene again. This time, her friend stood less than ten feet away. Her face was bruised and swollen. Her white hospital gown dripped blood, spattering the floor at her broken, misshapen feet.

Lara screamed and leaped into a group of her classmates.

“What the hell?” a boy said, shoving Lara back to the center of the hallway.

Lara stumbled, nearly fell. She righted herself and again saw her beaten friend. Rene raised a hand toward her, a single finger pointed at Lara's chest.

Oh God
, she thought.
She is dead. They killed her. I killed her, and now she's come back for me
.

A small crowd gathered. They whispered. Some showed pity, others amusement. Why didn't they see Rene? They had to see her—her bruised and battered face, her bloody white hospital dress. No one said a word.

This is what crazy does to you
, Lara thought.

The apparition of her friend trembled. Rene's head whipped to the side as if struck by an unseen fist. Blood sprayed the locker behind her. Lara slapped her hands over her own mouth so she didn't scream.

Then she ran. Down the hall. Away from the gawking crowd. As far as she could get from her open locker.

Even if she had noticed Mason Avrett sitting on the floor next to the biology lab with his eyes closed, she wouldn't have given him a second thought.

 

One more class
.

Lara just needed to make it through Mrs. Denver's dumb-ass art class. Her nerves were finally settling down after a day of complete stress. Rene didn't appear again, but every time Lara turned a corner or looked up, she expected to see her friend, pointing that finger at her. It wasn't a ghost. She knew that. Lara called the hospital right after history class and was totally relieved to hear that Rene's condition hadn't changed. If she wasn't dead, then she wasn't a ghost.

So what was Lara seeing? Just some weird manifestation of her guilt?

She shifted in her chair and looked out the window at the long lawn running from the school building to the football field. She couldn't focus on the assignment, something about negative space and drawing what
wasn't
there. Concentration was impossible, and it was still so cold. Too cold. She clutched the ski parka around her, wishing she were lying beneath a mound of them.

She looked at her classmates, noticing how they were all drawing something on a sheet of paper. All except Mason.

That was strange. This was the only class Mason had a chance of passing, and he usually got as excited as a puppy when Mrs. Denver gave an assignment. Today though, the big goof had his eyes closed.

He was probably upset about Rene too. She was the only real friend the retard had.

Lara looked away, back to the board, where Mrs. Denver finished drawing a circle. The teacher said something, but Lara wasn't listening. She just wanted to go home and get warm.

She returned her attention to the broad stretch of grass outside the window and gasped.

A girl dressed in white stood against the chain-link fence separating the football field and track from the lawn. Black birds circled the air above her. They dove at the ground and rocketed back into the sky. Circled again. Rene walked away from the fence toward the school. She moved with catlike grace, each step seeming to bring her several yards closer. And the murder of crows followed.

Lara ground her lower lip between her teeth to keep from screaming. She scrubbed at her eyes with the backs of her hands.

Rene crossed the vast lawn in less than a dozen steps. She stood just outside the window, her wounds clear and terrible so close up. The birds were wounded
too. Lara saw the gashes in their bellies and across their throats. Their eyes, like tiny bits of flame, flashed orange light at her.

Tears filled Lara's eyes. She swallowed a cry.

Rene lifted an arm and pointed. Her mouth dropped open, revealing the great dark pit of her throat. A black snake slid out of her mouth, coiling as it dropped to the grass. Another snake pushed over Rene's lips and circled up to coil around her head, covering her eyes like a blindfold. Its tail rested on her chin. Rene's head fell back and a flock of black birds soared from her mouth, shooting skyward like a perverse geyser.

Lara screamed. Her reason crumbled. She couldn't look away, and even if she could, the damage was already done.

 

Watching Mrs. Denver at the front of the class, sketching the assignment on their notepads, no one even noticed Lara trembling in her chair and staring out the window. Only when her screams cut through the sound of pencils on paper, chalk on board, did they take notice.

Then the students reared back in their chairs. Some leaped to their feet. Loudly spoken questions and exclamations of surprise filled the room. They looked at the source of the cries and saw Lara Pearce clutching the
edge of her desk, still transfixed by something happening beyond the window. They tried to see what she saw but couldn't. Mrs. Denver raced from the front of the room toward her disturbed student. The entire class was in motion.

All except for Mason Avrett, who sat quietly in his chair, eyes closed and head down.