Can You Keep a Secret? (2 page)

Mom didn’t say anything. I heard Sophie sneezing back in the kitchen. I grabbed Mom’s arm and pulled her to my bed. “Look.”

We both stared at the tangle of sheets on my bed. My mouth dropped open. My breath caught in my throat.

The sheets were perfectly okay.

3.

Sophie appeared in the bedroom doorway, a Kleenex wadded in one hand. “This is getting too weird,” she said. She crossed to my bed, grabbed the sheets, and tugged them, making them billow like sails. “You should listen to Mom, Emmy, and go see Dr. Goldman.”

I started to protest. But the words wouldn’t come.

Am I seriously crazy?

“B-but … Sophie,” I stammered, finally finding my voice. “You saw the sheets ripped up. When I woke you up. You saw it, too.”

“Huh? You didn’t wake me up.” She studied me, her expression sympathetic … caring. I could see she was worried about me. “It must have been part of your dream, Em. I didn’t see your sheets or anything.”

Again, I had that cold feeling. I followed them to the kitchen. Mom offered to make scrambled eggs, but I didn’t feel hungry. I sat down at the table and filled a bowl with corn flakes. But I didn’t reach for the milk.

“Let’s change the subject,” Mom said, forcing her “cheerful” voice. “What are you doing today?”

“I’m going to the library to work on my Asian Studies report,” Sophie said. Sophie’s second home is the library. She has a special place behind the stacks in the main reading room where she likes to sit on the floor and spread out all her papers and read and write. The librarians know her. She’s like their pet. I can’t understand why she likes to be alone so much of the time. But she does.

I guess that’s the biggest difference between us. I can’t
stand
to be alone. I’m a social person. I like friends and boyfriends and hanging out with crowds of people and partying and laughing and having fun.

Sophie is prettier than me. I really think so. But she’s never had a serious boyfriend. I can’t talk to her about it. She just clams up when I mention it.

“And what are you doing today?” Mom had turned to me.

The radio voices droned on. Some kind of call-in show. Were they talking about the wolf attack? I didn’t want to hear anymore. I clicked it off.

Who listens to radio these days anyway? No one. Only my dad. He always has to have a radio on. And he collects old radios, like from the nineteen forties and fifties. Weird-looking but he loves them. He loves fiddling with them, fixing them, polishing them up, and getting them to work.

Mom was waiting for me to answer her question. “I have to bring Eddie his backpack,” I told her. “He left it at the gym yesterday.”

Mom frowned. She always frowns when I mention Eddie.

“Eddie started his new job this morning,” I said. “At the pet cemetery in Martinsville.”

“What a horrible job,” Mom said, making a face.

“I know. It’s yucky,” I said. “But he really needs the money. Especially since his stepdad was suspended from the police force.”

“He deserved to be suspended,” Mom said, twirling her coffee mug again. “He beat up that teenager for no reason.”

I groaned. “Mom, you know that’s not true. He thought the kid had a gun. He made a mistake, but—”

“I don’t know why you got mixed up with Eddie and that Kovacs family,” Mom interrupted. “Danny Franklin is such a nice guy.”

“Mom, give Emmy a break,” Sophie chimed in. “You
know
that Danny broke up with Emmy. Emmy didn’t break up with him. Now he’s going out with Callie Newman.”

Mom squinted at me. “So you had to immediately start going out with his best friend?”

I wasn’t enjoying this conversation. I could feel the anger growing in my chest. I tried to hold back, but I couldn’t. I exploded. “None of your business, Mom,” I screamed. “Eddie can’t help it if he isn’t rich. You’re a total snob.”

Of course, standing there, tugging at the sides of my hair, feeling my anger burn my chest, I had no way of knowing that in a few short hours, Eddie and I would be
incredibly
rich.

4.

I tossed Eddie’s backpack into the backseat and climbed into Mom’s Corolla. Mom teaches English at the private Boys’ Academy in Dover Falls, a few towns south of Shadyside. Her school let out in May, and Mom is taking the summer off and mostly staying at home. Which means the car is basically mine.

It was a hot, hazy day. It felt more like summer than spring, and the sky was an eerie yellow above the mist that clung to the road. Still early on a Saturday morning. There wasn’t much traffic after I got out of Shadyside.

Martinsville is a small industrial town about fifteen minutes away. I always picture blue-and-white uniforms whenever I think of the town. The Martinsville Blue Devils are our big rival in football and basketball.

Eddie told me the pet cemetery was on the outskirts just past the old dairy, where the highway narrows. I found it easily. I followed a narrow dirt road along a brick wall up to the tall iron gates where a stenciled sign read:
PET HEAVEN
.

I saw only one car parked in the small lot, a beat-up old Pontiac with the rear window cracked. I parked a few spaces away from it, hoisted up Eddie’s backpack, and headed to the main gate.

I saw Eddie through the tall metal fence that stretched on both sides of the gate. He was bent over the handle of a shovel, mopping his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt. He turned to the fence when he heard me calling to him.

He brushed back his wavy brown hair. His face was red, from work, I guessed. He didn’t smile. Eddie almost never smiles. But he gave me a wave and motioned me to the gate.

Eddie has slate gray eyes that don’t look real. People think he wears contacts, but he doesn’t. People notice his eyes right away.

He’s lanky and tall and his serious expression makes him look more like a man than a boy. He has a scar on his chin that he doesn’t remember how he got, and it makes him look a little tough. But he’s generally calm and has a soft voice and an easy manner. He’s very confident. Little things don’t bother him.

I think that’s why we’re a good couple. Sometimes I can be like an emotional volcano, and he’s always smooth and steady. When I’m feeling really troubled about something, he always knows how to calm me down.

Ha. Here I am talking like we’re an old married couple. I should be talking about how I don’t really know Eddie. I mean, we’ve been going together for less than a month.

Eddie was watching me, waiting for me to enter the pet cemetery. I grabbed the handle to the gate—and stopped.

I felt a sudden chill. A coldness in the air … I couldn’t tell where it was coming from. My senses felt alert. A kind of warning. My skin bristled, as if all my nerves were standing on end.

I let go of the gate handle and gazed around. No one there. I couldn’t see anything that would make me feel this frightened.

But I felt it. I felt I was in the grip of something very wrong.

I suddenly realized I was holding my breath. Holding it against a strong, putrid odor that seemed to be pouring through the entrance gate.

What smells so awful here?

“Emmy? What’s up?” Eddie’s shout burst into my thoughts.

I took a deep breath, pulled open the gate, and stepped inside. The backpack stuck on the iron frame and I had to tug it free. The gate slammed behind me as I hurried over to Eddie.

“Eddie, there’s something wrong here,” I said breathlessly. “I don’t think you should work in this place.”

His strange gray eyes flashed. “Hello to you, too,” he said softly.

“I’m sorry. Hello,” I said. “But there’s something evil here, Eddie. I can feel it.”

He shrugged his slender shoulders. “It’s a cemetery, Emmy. There’s a lot of dead dogs and cats here. It’s not supposed to be the Magic Kingdom.”

“I-I know,” I stammered. I was beginning to doubt my own strong feeling. But the cold lingered on the back of my neck, and the sickening smell had grown even stronger on this side of the fence.

“Thanks for bringing the backpack,” Eddie said. “You can drop it by that tree.” He pointed. He turned and strode back to a rectangle of dirt between two low gravestones. “Mac has me digging a grave. It’s like a hundred degrees. I’m totally drenched in sweat.”

“Is that what smells so bad?” I said, making a joke.

“Funny,” he muttered. He dug the shovel blade into the dirt.

“Mac is your boss?” I asked.

He nodded. “Yeah. And he owns the place. That’s his office over there.” He motioned with his head to a two-story shingle building across the field. “Mac lives above the office. Do you believe it? He lives in a pet cemetery.”

“Weird,” I said. Then I saw the large green trash bag under a tree. “Eddie,” I said, “what’s in that? Is it—?”

“Yeah. A dead dog,” he said. “Killed last night.”

I blinked. “Oh, wow. Last night?”

Eddie tossed a shovelful of dirt aside. “The owner said it was attacked by a wolf.” He turned to me. “Do you believe that? A wolf in Shadyside Park? So close to your house?”

He kept his gaze on me. “Hey, Emmy? What’s wrong? You’re shaking like a leaf.”

5.

Before I could answer, I heard a shout. Eddie and I both turned to the voice. I saw a big man in a baggy gray sweats trotting toward us. “Hey, how’s it going?” he called.

Eddie introduced him. Mac Stanton, the owner of the place. He was tall and wide with a big pouch of a belly poking against his sweatshirt. He had a perfectly round face with a shaved head, a silver ring in his right ear, and a black neck tattoo I couldn’t make out.

“Hey, Emmy—welcome to Pet Heaven.” He had a hoarse voice, scratchy and kind of high. His smile revealed a gold tooth in front. “I’m putting this dude to work.” He slapped Eddie on the shoulder.

“I’m almost finished with this one, Mac,” Eddie said, mopping the sweat off his forehead again.

Mac studied the hole Eddie had dug, rubbing his double chins with stubby fingers. “I think a foot deeper,” he said. He pressed a fist into his back and stretched. “Normally, I’d help you out with this. But I got a kink in my back.” He winked at me. “I don’t want to tell you how I got it.”

“No problem,” Eddie said, shifting the shovel to his other hand. “I’m just happy to have the job, Mac. You know my family needs the money right now.”

Mac nodded. He rubbed his shaved head. “I gotta get out of the sun. I stroke easily.” He laughed at his own joke. “Nice meetin’ you, Emmy,” he said. He turned and started to trot back toward the office.

“He’s kind of rough, but he’s a nice guy,” Eddie said.

I watched Eddie dig the grave a foot deeper. It didn’t take long. I stared at the bulging trash bag. I pictured a big wolf attacking the dog. The wolf was black. Just my imagination again. Dreams don’t come true. Sensible Me knew that. But …

Eddie climbed out of the grave with a groan. Wiping his sweaty hands on the legs of his jeans, he grabbed the trash bag. He started to slide it down into the grave.

“Whoa!” He cried out as the bag broke. The dead dog tumbled onto the ground at my feet.

I let out a cry and stumbled back. The dog corpse was stiff and it already smelled sour. A black Lab, so messed up I could barely recognize it as a dog. Its eyes had sunken deep into their sockets. The fur … the fur … the fur on its back had been clawed away. Patches of dried blood clung to the shreds. The skin underneath was red and raw.

Like a hunk of rotting meat.

“Ohhhhh.” A moan escaped my throat. I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t take my eyes off the disgusting thing.

But I couldn’t stand it. My stomach lurched hard and I started to gag.

“Are you okay?” I heard Eddie call to me. But he suddenly seemed far away. “Are you okay?”

No,
I
wasn’t
okay.

“Urrrrrrp.” I forced my lunch down, swallowing hard. And holding my hands over my mouth, I spun around and ran.

6.

I wrapped my arm around a slender tree trunk. Panting, swallowing frantically, I forced myself not to vomit. The putrid smell lingered in my nose, and I couldn’t blink away the sight of that pink, furless body, covered in scratches and streaks of dried blood.

My whole body trembled. The waves of nausea wouldn’t quit. I pressed myself against the tree trunk, holding on tightly as if hanging on for dear life.

The dog was skinned. Skinned alive.

And much as I tried to force it from my mind, my dream of last night played itself once again in my mind. And I saw the black wolf with its terrifying blue eyes, saw it paw the muddy ground, snarling and drooling, baring its teeth. Saw it leap to the attack with a shrill cry from deep in its animal throat. Clawing and biting furiously.

Just a dream.

But I was a wolf in the dream. I was the blue-eyed wolf with the raven-black hair. I was the one on the attack.

This poor dog had died at the same time I was a wolf in my dream.

Am I making a crazy connection?

“Of course I am,” I told myself. “What possible connection could there be?”

A coincidence. A frightening coincidence.

Stop scaring yourself with crazy thoughts, Emmy.

I started to feel a little better. My stomach was still churning. But the waves of nausea had faded. My heartbeat returned to normal.

I turned to find Eddie behind me, his face solemn and filled with concern. “Emmy? You okay? I’m sorry you had to see that dog corpse. It upset you?”

I nodded. “Yeah. It was so … red and raw.”

“Well, it’s gone,” he said, placing a hand on my shoulder. “I buried it.” He blinked. He had drops of sweat in his eyelashes. The sun was lowering itself behind the trees. But the air still felt hot and humid.

“I’m outta here,” Eddie said. “Come with me. I have to ask Mac something.”

He carried the shovel in one hand and kept the other arm around my shoulders as we walked through the rows of low gravestones to the office at the top of the sloping hill. Mac stood outside the glass door, leaning against the wall, his thumbs tapping rapidly on his phone.