C I N: "Lynn, Lynn, the city of sin. You never come out the way you went in." (The C I N Series) (3 page)

“I am not your cousin.” Alex blurted. My heart beat furiously. Could he hear what I was saying? “My family is out of town and Millie offered to stay and watch us until school started. This is my house, not Millie’s. She lives next door.”

“Thanks,” I frowned. “Do you have a TV here?”

Alex rolled his eyes. “What in the world would we need a TV for?”

“To pass the time, I guess.” It felt like a trick question. “Who painted your house all those different colors?”

“You have to feed the chickens early so I suggest you go to bed.” He disappeared into the room next to mine. I closed my eyes as his door slammed shut.

What was the matter with this place? I turned around and the little Boston terrier stood in the entrance of the hallway, blocking me from passing. “What’s your problem? Pig...” He glared at me intently. “You’re supposed to greet people when they come to your house. You’re supposed to be man’s best friend.” I went into the bedroom. It was tiny and there was only one bed.
 
I wouldn’t have to share with the Nazi, would I? I sure hoped not.

Pig stood in my doorway. His head peered around the corner with his bug eyes. I sat down on the bed and stared back. “So, I’m not allowed to touch the cat but what about you? Are you friendly?”

Pig growled. I crossed my legs and put my hands on my knees. “Well, Pig, I’m gonna change your name to Bipolar. One second you want me to pay attention to you and the next minute you act like you want to kill me.” Pig crept closer. He was halfway in my doorway now. He turned and lay in the entrance, almost as if he was on guard over my room. What was he protecting me from? The cat? Pig turned his head sideways and sort of nodded. I chuckled. First Alex can read minds, and now the dog. I must be really tired.

I looked up at the tiny shelf next to the bed. There were black and white photos inside beautiful handcrafted frames. The kids in the pictures looked just like Ally and Alex. Maybe the fair came here and did those old fashioned photos. If I were crazy I would say they were authentic from maybe the 1920’s. Maybe it was their great-great-grandparents or something. That sort of stuff happened all the time, right? Nearly twins several generations later…

I needed to brush my teeth but Bipolar Pig would not let me leave the room. He growled when I tried to step over him. So I just went to bed. What was the point in getting bit? I probably forgot to bring a toothbrush, anyhow. Maybe in the morning I could meet Aunt Millie and she would at least take me to the store to get the necessities. I sure wish I hadn’t left all my things behind.

Three

Midnight Visitor

Pig barked and snarled. I jumped up. I’d fallen asleep. What time was it? Midnight… Maybe Aunt Millie was home. I flipped on the light. Pig stood in the doorway with his hair raised and his teeth bared. But, this time it was not at me. He was vicious. The little ten pound pug nosed dog scared me worse than a Doberman Pincher or Pit Bull.

“Who’s there?” I twisted my head around the corner. Pig did not get upset that I stood so close to him now. His only concern was for the dark shadowy figure crouching in the hall. Was it the cat? What was wrong with the feline? Did she have rabies and they wouldn’t put her down or something? My eyes adjusted and I squinted to get a better look at the invader.

It was a human, for sure.

We were being robbed. Why else would Bipolar Pig be attacking? I needed something to defend myself with. I looked around the barren room. The only thing with substance was the shelf bolted into the wall. I doubted Alex’s parents would approve of me ripping their shelf off the wall but what else could I do? My heart pounded. I looked under the bed and spotted a painter’s stick with a purple tip. I grabbed it and held on tight. My fingers trembled and I couldn’t breathe.

Pig snarled and snapped at whoever lurked in the hallway. Footsteps echoed in my ears. The burglar was advancing. “Get out, whoever you are! There is nothing here that’s valuable! They don’t even have a TV!” I pounded my fists on the wall. Maybe if I was quiet they wouldn’t come near me. It was too late for that brilliant idea. “I know karate and I’m not afraid to use it!”
 

Who was I kidding? Karate?! Pig snapped at the darkness, growling louder than before. He barked and barked and lunged forward. His teeth bit into someone. His jaws locked onto them and he wouldn’t let go.

“Pig, you stop that.”

I looked up and Alex stood in dim light. Was the dog biting him? No. He wasn’t moving. But whoever Bipolar was biting wasn’t screaming or struggling. Maybe Pig didn’t have any teeth. No, I’d seen them. They were razor sharp.

“Who’s he biting?” I leaned firmly against the closet door. “Not you, right?”

“He’s biting
me
.” A girl’s voice answered. She flipped on a light in the hall. “Pig likes you.”

I poked my head around the corner and came face to face with Ally. She was the snotty girl at the food mart that I’d made faces at in Michael’s pickup truck. She was the Nazi.

“Bipolar was protecting me?”

Her eyes widened. “Bipolar? Really? Yeah,
your
Bipolar Pig isn’t going to let me near you.” Ally admitted. “Smart dog... You should heed his advice and do the same.” She flipped her long blond hair over her shoulder. Red highlights glowed in the hall light. Pig sat at my feet and snarled at Alex who stood inches away.

“Keep your door closed,” Alex said. He then disappeared inside his room. Where the heck was I? What sort of people own animals that attack them? And why didn’t she scream when he bit her? She should be in the bathroom bandaging her leg. Instead, Ally the Nazi was leaving the house again. Did she come and go whenever she wanted? Aunt Millie wasn’t a very good babysitter at all.

I looked down at Pig. “Do you even like your name? Why do they call you that?” Pig snorted almost like a real pig. He backed up so that I could close the bedroom door. I crawled back in bed and Pig lay on the floor at the foot of the bed.

“Thanks for watching out for me, Pig.”

He snorted and I turned out the light.

Four
Aunt Millie

“Morning, Lisa.”

I rubbed my eyes. It was still dark outside. I looked down at my watch. It was only six am.

“I’m your Aunt Millie. It is time to feed the chickens. Get dressed. It’s cold out so bundle up,” a short, round woman with mud brown hair said. I didn’t see any red highlights at all. She wore a white dress shirt buttoned all the way up and her eyes were pale. Pig did not growl at her. I peeked over the side of my bed. Where was Pig?

“What happened to the dog?” I looked under the bed. “Bipolar?” He snorted. I leaned up and Aunt Millie pointed to the shelf above my head. Pig lay along the shelf with his head against the old photographs.

“You renamed the dog?” Aunt Millie inquired. “You named him Bipolar? I don’t know what’s worse: Pig or Bipolar.”

“Do you have a spare toothbrush? And thank you for allowing me to stay with you while my mother—”

“It’s my pleasure to have you here. I have extra toiletries over at my house. Once you finish feeding the chickens and collecting eggs you can shower and eat there. I’ll cook you a nice, big breakfast.”

“It’s so refreshing to meet someone who’s nice.” I tied my shoelaces. “I’ve never fed chickens or collected eggs so please be patient with me.”

“It’s not very hard. Alex said he would help you. Go on outside and meet him.”

Michael’s ski jacket really came in handy. It had to be below fifty degrees outside. There was frost on the ground and my teeth chattered. I was happy he hadn’t taken it back.

Alex stood in the middle of the chicken coop with a bucket of feed. He sprinkled seeds out in a long thin line. Chickens gathered round, pecking furiously. His blond hair fell, covering his face. I could still
feel
him looking at me, though. I smiled and peered down at Pig who stayed at least an arm’s distance from me.

“Are you going to let me do all of your chores?” Alex asked. I jogged over to the coop and crawled through the opening in the chicken wire.

“Sorry. I’m not usually up this early or in such cold weather.”

“Grab a basket,” Alex pointed to a wooden weaved basket. “Fill it with eggs. You need to make sure the chickens do not see you or else they will peck you.”

“Now I see why you feed the chickens. It’s easier than collecting the eggs.”

Alex did not smile. He glared at me with his pale blue eyes. Now that the sun was creeping up behind us, the rooster crowed. I laughed. Alex was Mr. Scrooge and I was up before the rooster. It couldn’t get any worse.

Aunt Millie stood a few feet away. “Alex, honey, could you fetch me one of the chickens, please? I want to fix a nice dinner for Lisa.” Alex nodded his head and snatched a passing chicken by her neck. She clucked and scared all the other hens. They scurried around and hid inside their coop. Alex looked up at me. His eyes were blank.

“I better go get the eggs,” I mumbled, frozen.

Alex took out an axe, stretched the hen’s neck across a tree stump and dropped his weapon. The headless body ran around. That poor chicken. She didn’t even see it coming. Alex didn’t even flinch. Could I call PETA on him?

I doubled over and vomited.
Probably not a case for PETA.

I think vegetarian is the way to go. A chicken free diet never hurt anyone; especially not the chickens.

Pig inched closer. He sniffed the air and snorted. “I know, I know, get the eggs.” I took a deep breath. Pink’s song, ‘Funhouse’ played inside my head.
This used to be a funhouse. But now it’s filled with evil clowns.
Yeah, that’s how I felt.
It’s time to start the count down. I’m gonna burn it down.
 
I think someone already burned this family. They were cranky and angry. Even the animals seemed troubled.

Alex stood inches away with the dead, twitching body of the hen in his hand. “Breakfast is ready.” I turned and narrowed my eyes at the chicken killer. He glared back. My heart beat irregularly almost as if I were afraid. I wasn’t going to let some blond, blood thirsty punk with evil pets scare me.
 
Well, maybe a little.

“I have to get the eggs.” I turned my back to him. “I—I have to get the eggs.” I smacked myself in the forehead. Why was I repeating myself like some idiot? He was
not
going to get the better of me. I’d met worse people.

“I have to get the eggs.” I repeated. What was my problem? I glanced over my shoulder to find Alex gone. I was alone with the hens and Bipolar dog. Pig did seem calmer today. He wasn’t snarling at me when I made sudden movements, but he still would not let me pet him. What kind of dog hated to be touched? Even the meanest dogs liked a pat on the head every now and then. Pig didn’t even want commendation.

I stepped into the henhouse and gasped. Alex was there. His basket was overflowing with eggs. How’d he get in there? I was standing in the doorway the whole time.

“How’d you get in here?”

He didn’t respond. “Take this basket of eggs inside. And don’t drop any.” He brushed past me, barely grazing my ski jacket. He twirled around. “Why’d you touch me?”

I stepped back. “I didn’t. You’re the one moving. What’s the big deal anyway if I did touch you?” I reached my hand forward. I was going to poke him in the shoulder.

Alex jerked back, angry. “Never touch me again.”

I froze. He really
was
crazy. Maybe my mom sent me to the loony bin and is at the beach laughing at the mix up.

“It was an accident. Chill out already.” I squeezed the basket of eggs tightly. “I better bring these inside.” I inched my way around him and hurried up the small dirt pathway to Aunt Millie’s house. Pig trotted alongside me. “Why don’t you growl at Alex when he’s being mean?”

Pig growled at me.
Evil
dog…

“If you’re gonna be mean to me, then go away. Get!” Pig barked and kicked dirt up behind him. “I mean it. Go away.” I knocked on Aunt Millie’s door. Pig sat at my feet. His eyes drooped and he looked sad; almost sorry. “I’m sorry, Pig.”

Aunt Millie turned the handle and welcomed us inside. Her house was filled with at least two of everything. She had two televisions in the main room, two matching clocks on the wall. They were of a red rooster and when the clock struck noon it crowed.
How freakin’ delightful
. I meant that with total sarcasm, of course.
 

Aunt Millie had two matching lazy boy recliners that pointed at their own television and two bistro tables in her small dining room.

“Sit here with me at this table.” Millie pointed at the one closest to the kitchen. “Alex may join us and he likes to sit at his own table.”

I rolled my eyes. “I seriously doubt he’s going to join us.”

“Oh?” Aunt Millie placed a plate of warm pancakes in front of me. There were fresh strawberries and homemade syrup on top of them. My mouth salivated. When was the last time I ate? “He is my star pupil at school and he also lives next door to me, so I suggest you peacefully coexist.”

“I would like to, believe me, but he’s awfully moody.” I complained, stabbing my fork into the pancakes. “This looks so good. Thank you, Aunt Millie.”

“Funny you should say that. Alex’s last name is Moody. Oh, and you did an excellent job collecting eggs.”

I shook my head and swallowed. “Alex got them. I wish I could take the credit but it was all him.”

Millie disappeared inside the galley kitchen. Her house was designed exactly the same as Alex’s house. At least she didn’t have her home multicolored and it was nice to see she had a TV.
 
Excuse me,
two
TV’s. Can you say compulsive?

“Do Alex and Ally come here often?” I inquired. Millie put sausage links on my plate and a bowl of grits down on the table.

“Yes, their parents are out of town a lot, and when they go away I stay with them at night but entertain them here during the day. Please do not try to touch the cat. She’s very temperamental and you will regret it.”

“When do I get to meet my future dorm mate, Donna?”

“Sometime tomorrow.” Millie went to the front door. She opened it and Alex crept inside. “She’s still out of town on summer vacation.”

Alex took a seat at the other bistro table. He snatched
my
bowl of grits and sprinkled it with pepper. I wanted to tell him that those were my grits and that he had some nerve coming inside and taking them like that. But the anger that radiated from his eyes stopped me. There was something dangerous about him. I could feel it.

“Aunt Millie, did my mother call to check on me?” I leaned back in my chair balancing on the back legs.

Pig barked and Alex stood straight up like a private in the military.
 
“Don’t break the chairs.”

 
I let my chair drop back to the floor so that I was on all four legs. “Excuse me.” He was a real piece of work. But I had to coexist. Isn’t that what Aunt Millie asked of me? I’d only have to deal with him as long as it took for my mother to get better. She’d never been long; a week, maybe a month.

“Your mother didn’t call but I’m sure she will soon. Let me bring you some more grits. Alex, would you like some pancakes?”

“No, thank you.” Alex kept his eyes fixed on mine. He took a spoonful of grits and shoveled it into his mouth. As he swallowed I scratched my fork against the china plate.

“I’m sure she will get better soon and then I can go back to Florida. I didn’t even bring a lot of clothes; just two outfits and some sneakers. When does school start? Will I have to wear a uniform?”

Alex dropped his spoon inside his empty bowl. “She is not going to get better.” He declared. “Your mother is not going to change.”

I wanted to slug him.

My eyes filled with tears and I couldn’t swallow. There was a thick cloth stuck right in the center of my throat. How could someone be so bluntly cruel? Amber
was
going to get better and she
was
going to come save me.

“How dare you speak to me like that? You don’t know anything about my mother; or me.”

“You know she won’t change. And why are you wearing Michael’s jacket?” Alex took my plate of half eaten pancakes. “You’ve lost your appetite, right?”

I pushed myself away from the table and ran out the front door. I raced along the dirt path past the hens and around the lake, halfway to the school. I fell to my knees in the grass. Pig skidded to a stop and lay down, facing me.

Aunt Millie hadn’t defended me. She’d said nothing. Alex could’ve told me I was an ugly toad and she would’ve sat their passively. What did he, like, own the school? She was my aunt. Aunts were supposed to stand by their nieces not the kids next door with absent parents. Well, I guess Alex and I weren’t too different. His folks left him, too. At least he knew they were coming back. What about mine? I hated to admit it, but the reason his words stung so badly was because I really did think my mother’s recovery was hopeless.

“It’s the truth,” Alex whispered. I jumped. “You feel like she is not going to come back.” I closed my eyes and counted slowly to ten. I didn’t want to lose my temper. This was Alex, Aunt Millie’s star pupil. I needed to be respectful even though he obviously had zero manners.

Screw politeness
.

“Were you raised with the chickens?” I snapped. “Because you sure cluck a lot about things you don’t know.” I climbed up and stomped farther away from the two cottages.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Alex. He kept rhythm with each step I took.
 
Why would he follow me? Did he have his axe with him? Was he going to chop off my head, too?

Alex chuckled. His eyes danced.