Deadly Little Games (10 page)

A
FTER OUR MEETING
at the sandwich shop, Adam offers me a ride home, and I know I should probably take it. I know it will probably give me more of an opportunity to pry deeper into his life.

But I really need to get away.

And so I take off down the street, in the opposite direction of where he’s headed, and duck into a bookshop. I pull out my cell phone and dial Kimmie’s number.

“Where are you?” she asks. “Wes and I’ll come pick you up.”

I give her the address, and they’re here in less than the time it takes me to read through the first chapter of
Spy Girl
.

“Well?” Kimmie asks, joining me in the backseat.

I give her the lowdown, and she lays right into me: “I cannot believe you let Adam off so easily.”

“I know.” I sigh. “I feel like such a failure.”

“Or maybe you’re just paranoid,” Wes says. “I mean, have you considered that maybe you’re wrong about him?”

“I’m not willing to take that chance. Too much has happened. There are way too many red flags to call what’s been going on a coincidence.”

“My vote? You suck at subtlety,” Kimmie says, obviously referring to my prying skills. “But, lucky for you, I don’t suck.”

“At subtlety, that is.” Wes smirks.

Kimmie middle-finger-scratches her nose at him. “Where does Adam live? We’ll go by his place, and I’ll help you get some answers.”

“I don’t know.” I shrug.

“Seriously?” She evil-eyes me. “You dated the guy.”

“It wasn’t exactly dating.”

“Which is still no excuse. Call the boy. Get his address. And I’ll do all the talking.”

I take out my cell phone and rest it on my lap. “And what do you suggest I give as an excuse for needing to drop by his place?”

“Booty call?” Wes suggests.

“Blame it on me,” Kimmie says, fishing out an eyeliner pencil from her Tupperware-container purse. “Tell him that we were in the area, picking you up, that we got talking about schools, and I mentioned being interested in his. It wouldn’t be completely unheard-of if I wanted to check out my housing options.”

“He’ll see right through it,” I tell her.

“Not that it matters,” she says. “I mean, the boy is totally hot for you, right?”

“I’d put him more in the warm category.”

“So he’ll want to see you regardless of your lame-o excuse.”

“Yes, but he’ll think I’m interested.”

“Look, do you want to figure this all out or not?” she asks, applying a thick ring of purple around one eye.

“I do,” I tell her. And so, I flip my phone open and dial his number.

A
S KIMMIE PREDICTED
, Adam doesn’t question the excuse. I’m not even sure he hears it. Because, no sooner do I mutter the words “Do you think we could stop by?” than he’s giving me directions, landmarks, and alternate routes.

We pull up in front of his apartment building. It’s tall, brick, and dingy-looking, sandwiched between a feline hospital and a place called Busty’s Bar. We enter a dank lobby, and are confronted by a set of elevators. A giant
OUT OF ORDER
sign is tacked across the doors.

“Lovely,” Wes says, nodding toward a puddle on the floor. Buckets have been set up in a lame attempt to catch the dripping water that must trickle down from the broken-tiled ceiling during rainstorms.

“It smells like moldy Cheez Whiz,” Kimmie says, scrunching up her nose.

I look around for a security buzzer, figuring that Adam will have to buzz us up, but it seems there’s no security whatsoever.

“Are you sure you got the address right?” Kimmie asks. “I wouldn’t even let my dad’s new girlfriend stay here. Did I happen to mention he’s dating a child?”

“Now, now,” Wes says, giving her shoulder a good patting. “Nineteen years old is hardly a child. She’s old enough to sign a contract, buy porn and cigarettes, and cross state lines with your dad if she wants to.”

“Unfortunately, I think you just summed up their Saturday night,” she says.

“We definitely need to talk about this later,” I insist, giving her a hug.

We climb two flights up the emergency stairs to Adam’s apartment. The door is already open.

“Hey!” Adam says, peeking into the hallway, clearly having been anticipating our arrival.

“We’re here to scope out your place,” Kimmie says, pushing past him into the apartment. We enter the kitchen. It’s separated from the living room by just a couple of support beams, making the two rooms feel like one.

The girls from the sandwich shop are there, as well as Tray, Adam’s friend from school.

“Hey,” Tray says, nodding in my direction. His hair is long, dark, and straight, pulled back in a low ponytail, exactly like Jungle Girl Janet’s. The two of them are sitting together, watching a gymnastics competition on Adam’s big TV screen.

Meanwhile, Melissa and Piper completely ignore us—they’re too busy hovering over what appears to be an old yearbook at the kitchen island. Piper lets out a peal of laughter, and Melissa giggles along with her.

“Seriously,” Piper says to Adam, “what were you thinking by wearing Hawaiian shorts and work boots to the prom?”

“Who cares?” Melissa says. “He still looks hot. I mean, check out those sexy legs.”

“More like pigeon legs,” Tray calls out.

The girls ignore the remark and continue to paw at his picture. And, honestly, if I didn’t know better, I’d say Adam had his very own fan club.

“Adam tells us you guys are thinking about coming to Hayden,” Melissa says, finally acknowledging our arrival. “Is that true?”

“It’s true for me,” Kimmie says.

Melissa eyes Kimmie’s lace-and-latex skirt. “Well, just so you know, it’s a whole lot harder to get in here than one might think. They don’t just accept
anyone
.”

“I think I can handle it,” Kimmie says, completely on to her bitchery. “I’ve been able to sign my name and write a check since the third grade.”

“Do you all live in the building?” I ask, in an effort to change the subject.

“Everyone but me.” Piper frowns. She moves into the living room and plunks herself down on Tray’s lap. “I still live at home with my overprotective parents, but I’d give anything to have my own place.”

“Well, I must admit, I’m less than impressed,” Kimmie says, staring at a crack in the wall. “I mean, no parking garage, no doorman out front…”

“No security cameras,” Wes adds, pointing back toward the hallway.

“Well, you know, this isn’t actual student housing,” Adam says.

“Right.” Melissa snickers. “I doubt the school would be able to afford liability insurance for a hole like this.”

“And how’s the neighborhood?” Kimmie persists. “Would I feel secure walking around the streets at night?”

“Funny,” Melissa says folding her arms across her chest, “but Adam didn’t mention that you were a streetwalker. Is that how you’ll be paying for school?”

“Why, are you looking for extra work?” Kimmie asks.

“Don’t mind Melissa,” Piper says. “She just failed a history test and got bitched out by her mom.”

“Plus, we should probably go,” Janet says.

“Finally.” Tray practically pushes Piper off him. He gets up and makes a beeline for the door.

Piper reminds Adam once again about their study session later, and then, within sixty seconds, all of them are gone.

“Well, that was about as pleasant as having my ass waxed,” Wes says.

“Sorry about Melissa,” Adam says. “We went on a date last week, and things have been awkward ever since.”

“Awkward meaning you two-timed her and got caught?” Wes asks. “Or meaning she gave off a sisterly vibe, and, as a result, you’re still trying to shake it and/or her.”

“I’d go with the latter,” Kimmie says, ever the clinician. “Because she’s obviously still too into you for the pure, unfet- tered hatred that could result from option number one.”

“Not bad,” Adam says, seemingly impressed. “But not quite accurate, either. Just after our date, I found out that Tray had a thing for her, too. And so I started giving Melissa the cold shoulder. Not the most mature way to break things off, but what can I say?”

“You’re a guy,” Kimmie sighs. “Say no more.”

“So, I take it Melissa doesn’t have a thing for Tray?” I ask.

“No, but Janet does. Of course, he’s not interested in her.” Adam shakes his head. “It’s all so bogus and complicated. You think you’re done with drama in high school, but it’s just as bad in college.”

“And, speaking of college,” Kimmie gives Adam’s arm a tug, “care to take me on that tour? How else am I going to know whether or not to apply?”

While Kimmie continues to deploy her prying skills, Adam leads her down a short hallway to where I assume the bedrooms are, and Wes moves into the living room to rifle through the stack of Adam’s mail on the coffee table.

“Just leave it,” I say, scolding him.

Wes ignores me, pulling forth what appears to be a crossword puzzle. “What’s this?” he asks.

I take a closer look, noting the shape of the puzzle—the way the tiles form a capital
T
in the far right corner, and a capital
L
in the lower left. There’s a sea of tiles between the two letter shapes.

Exactly like what I sculpted last night.

“What’s wrong?” Wes asks, noticing my alarm.

Before I can answer, Adam returns to the kitchen, having finished playing tour guide. Luckily, however, thanks to Kimmie, they remain at the kitchen island, with their backs toward us.

“So, would you say that most everyone in the building is pretty normal?” Kimmie asks, still fishing for information. “There’s no one I’d need to worry about? Because my parents are pretty anal about that sort of thing,” she lies. “I swear, if it were up to them, I’d probably be living at home for the rest of my life.”

Adam tries to address her concerns as best he can. Meanwhile, I grab a pen and get to work on the puzzle, noticing that there are only three questions, even though the puzzle’s big—with enough tiles to fit over twenty different answers. Still, I solve the riddles fairly quickly; the answers are all pretty obvious.

“I just don’t get it,” I whisper, knowing there must be some significance here. I mean, what kind of crossword puzzle only gives you a few of the questions and leaves the remainder of the puzzle unsolved? And, since when are those questions so easy? So foolproof?

“What’s wrong?” Wes says again. “Do you need to be medicated? Because I only brought my Pez along with me today.” He flashes me his SpongeBob dispenser.

“Watch your back,” I whisper, reading the crossword puzzle answers aloud.

“Okay, fine,” Wes snaps, taking his Pez offering back. “But a simple ‘no thank you’ would have sufficed.”

“You don’t understand,” I snap, holding the crossword puzzle out to him.
“WATCH YOUR BACK.”

Wes tilts his head, trying to make sense of what I mean. “I guess, if you really read into it, but it could also be
BACK WATCH YOUR
, or
YOUR BACK WATCH
. Not to mention that there’s a huge hunk of the puzzle undone.”

I shake my head and tell him that Ben had written the same message across the cover of his notebook—that he’d sensed the phrase and couldn’t get it out of his head.

“What are you guys looking at?” Adam asks, standing just behind us now. He glances in the direction of his stack of mail, nearly half of which is already ransacked. But before he can squawk about it, I hold the crossword up to him.

“Where did you get this?” I ask.

“I don’t know.” He shrugs. “I get tons of junk from the student activities office.”

A second later, Adam’s cell phone rings. He picks it up.
It’s Piper,
he mouths to us. “Yes, I’ll be there,” he tells her.

While he continues his phone call in private, Kimmie snatches the crossword puzzle out of my hands. She takes a moment to look it over before glaring straight back at me. “Watch your back,” she whispers.

“Exactly,” I say.

“Let the games begin,” Wes sings. He pulls back the head of his Pez dispenser and downs the entire contents.

T
HE CROSSWORD PUZZLE
is still clenched in Kimmie’s grip; I take it back, hoping that Ben might be able to sense something from it.

“Can someone please tell me what’s going on?” Adam asks, finally flipping his phone shut.

I hold the puzzle out to him again. “You don’t think this looks off?”

“Not really,” he says, barely giving it a second look.

“Someone thinks you should watch your back.”

“No,” he says. “Someone thinks I have time to waste on crossword puzzles.”

“There’s more to it,” I insist.

“Why are you going through my mail?” he asks Wes.

“He wasn’t going through it,” I lie. “I saw the puzzle and filled it in.”

“And now you think someone’s out to get me?”

“I just think it’s weird,” I say, for lack of a better explanation.

“This whole scene is weird.” He looks at Kimmie and then back at me.

Part of me wants to tell him about my sculptures. Another part isn’t ready to expose what I know or how I know it.

“You haven’t received any other puzzles like this, have you?” I ask, thinking about the series of stalker photos I received last fall.

“Actually…” Adam grabs the garbage pail by his desk and starts to pick through the trash. He pulls out a ball of crumpled paper and tosses it to me.

I smooth it out against my stomach.

It’s another crossword puzzle, with the exact same shape as the one I just filled out, only there are different clues at the bottom.

“I got that one yesterday,” he says.

“And the other one today?” I ask.

He nods. “I think student activities must have some kind of game going on. They’re always sending out stuff like this. For the fall, it was a scavenger hunt, so that people could get used to the campus. Then, just before the holidays, they sent these paper-mitten cutout things, so that people would remember to donate.”

“Have any of your friends received crossword puzzles?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugs. “We don’t normally discuss our junk mail.”

“Could you ask them anyway?”

“First, tell me what’s going on.”

I focus on the crumpled puzzle for a moment. I’m able to crack a couple of the clues right away: the words
always
and
watching
.

“You can call her a paranoid schizo all you want,” Kimmie says.

“God knows I do,” Wes mumbles.

“But the fact of the matter is that Camelia’s been through a lot,” she continues. “And so she likes to play it safe, especially when it comes to her friends.”

“Look, I appreciate your concern,” Adam says. “I really do. But—”

“But nothing,” I say, interrupting him. I stuff both crossword puzzles into my pocket and tell Kimmie and Wes it’s time to go.