Where the Staircase Ends (4 page)

Logan’s hands were on my shoulders, their heat curdling my blood into sour milk. He shook his shaggy hair from his eyes and looked down at me. His mouth twitched impatiently.

“What?” I asked after a few beats of silence. “What do you want?”

There was no sound, but his chest rose and fell in a silent
harrumph
. He lifted one hand from my shoulder and ran his thumb slowly along the length of my jaw.

It made my skin crawl.

He turned his back to me and looked out at the expanse of steps before us. I watched with him, not because I wanted to see what he was seeing, but because I had no choice but to stare straight ahead.

He pointed to something off in the distance, reaching a long finger toward the top of the staircase. Then he quickly swiped it down in a straight line, as though his finger were the edge of a blade.

For a moment, the blue and gray of the stairs and the sky stood still. Then all at once the image split into two halves, opening like a curtain to reveal a perfect square of gaping, horrible blackness.

It was a window into nothing, so dark I doubted stars could survive. Beside it, the image of the staircase flapped fabric-like in a breeze I could not feel, and a horrible sucking sound cracked the air as the canvas of my previous setting slapped against the side of the opening. It sounded like a wet towel clapping against a tile wall.

“What is that?” I asked, a shiver running up the back of my spine.

Logan didn’t answer.

Beneath me nothing had changed—my feet were firm on the stone steps—but in front of me was a window of night, curtained by the image of everything that had once stretched out before me.

“What is it?” I asked again, but I didn’t really want to know the answer. It couldn’t be good. Nothing that dark and empty could be good.

Logan turned to face me, a proud smile warming his face. Then his hands were on my shoulders again, and he pushed me forward toward the blackness.

“Please, no,” I cried, shoving my arms in front of me to block out whatever was on the other side of the blackened window.

I tipped forward until all I could see was an inky sky. My ears clanged with the horrible sucking sound as the black square tried to pull me into it. No, tried to
breathe
me into it.

Logan’s palms pressed harder on my back, and just before he gave me a final shove he whispered.

“Remember … ”

And then I tumbled forward into the dark hole he’d cut into the stairway. The air was wet and thick, tangling my ponytail behind me. I felt like I was falling into the sticky dampness of someone’s breath. There was no color. No light. Only blackness, and everywhere there was the slap, slap, slap sound of a wet towel hitting a wall.

My feet hit something hard, the impact rattling my spine.

Then silence.

I could feel the solid comfort of the ground beneath me, and my heels registered the soft tickle of grass.

Where am I?

It was the last thing I thought before my memory blackened and I lost hold of everything that had happened moments before.

* * *

“I don’t understand why we have to go watch some lame-ass cover band so you can shake your boobs in front of some guy,” Sunny said, an unlit cigarette perched between her freshly glossed lips.

“He’s not just
some
guy.” I frowned as I cupped a hand around Sunny’s lighter, helping her to fend off the wind that kept blowing out the flame. “And it’s the perfect chance for me to finally catch him outside of school.”

We were several blocks away from my house, hiding in an alley in case my mom drove by. I stepped back from the cloud of smoke Sunny exhaled in my direction, hoping to minimize the contact with my clothes. If my mom noticed the smell that usually followed me home from school she didn’t comment, but that didn’t mean I wanted to intentionally rub her nose in it.

“I don’t want to hurt your feelings, Taylor, but did you ever consider the fact that maybe he’s not interested in you? I mean, you see the guy every day, and if he hasn’t bitten by now, well … ”

She opened her mouth and let out several quick circles of smoke, the rings floating upward like tiny life preservers until they melted into the rest of the afternoon air.

Part of me worried that Sunny was right. I’d spent the last few months using every move Sunny had ever taught me: flipping my hair, giggling, wearing tight shirts and sticking out my chest when I was near Justin. I even started buying the same music he liked so we’d have more stuff to talk about, but still the guy never made his move. Sunny had every right to question his interest, except for one teeny tiny unexplained reoccurring event: he kept staring at me.

The first time I caught him I thought I’d imagined it. I’d just answered a question, my voice shaking the way it always did when I had to speak in front of the class. It wasn’t an especially hard question, but our teacher was pleased enough with my answer to write part of it on the board. I was glad to have everyone’s attention diverted away from me, but after a few seconds I still felt the heat of someone watching, so I turned around. My eyes only met Justin’s for a second before he flicked them toward the front of the classroom, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d been studying me. Then a week later I caught him staring again, and then again the week after that, always with a discerning glare that somehow felt different from your average everyday staring.

It never happened when I wanted it to, like when I was poised and ready to catch his eye. It was as if he intentionally tried to catch me off guard, like he was conducting some kind of field study on the inner workings of Taylor Anderson. Maybe Sunny had a point about him not making a move yet, but if he didn’t have at least some kind of interest in me, why did he keep watching me like that?

“Pleeease,” I begged, taking the cigarette from Sunny’s outstretched fingers. “Pretty please? If I show up alone, I’ll look like a stalker. Besides, it’s not like there’s anything else going on that night.” I put the cigarette between my lips and gagged when I made contact with the slimy, lip gloss covered surface. “What the hell, Sunny? Can’t you blot before you pass?” I raked my hand across my mouth to rid it of the secondhand gloss. “I hate it when you do that.”

“Then buy your own pack for a change. At least now I don’t have to share it with you.” Her smirk made me wonder if she did it on purpose. It was a typical Sunny move. I watched with irritation as she wiped the sticky goo from the butt and took another drag, all the while studying me from under a row of spidery black-mascaraed lashes. “What the hell is up with his taste in music? I mean really, a Grateful Dead cover band? That band’s like a hundred years old. Can’t he at least go see something original?” She paused for a minute to tap off some ash, an exasperated sigh slipping out from between her lips. “But fine, I’ll go.”

I let out a squeal and wrapped my arms around her, narrowly missing the fiery end of her Camel as I jumped up and down.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

“There better be other cute guys there, or you will owe me big time.” She stepped back from my half-hug and flicked her smoke into the grass. “And don’t let your mom pull that ten p.m. curfew crap on us again. I’m not driving all the way downtown just to turn around and come back after the first song.”

“I won’t, I promise. You’re the best!” I gave her one final hug, squeezing her so tightly I’m surprised her head didn’t pop off, then I bounded in the direction of my house (after a few spritzes of Sunny’s perfume) so I could begin primping. Everything was settled. It would officially be the best night of my life.

Of course my mom had other ideas.

“Ten thirty?” I screeched, my mouth falling open in disbelief. “Come on, Mom, that’s completely unfair. It’s a Friday night for crap sake!”

“Don’t use that tone with me, young lady.” She gave me one of her warning glares and moved toward the kitchen. I followed despite her dark tone, my cheeks flaring hot with frustration.

“But the band doesn’t even go on until after nine. I’ll miss half the show! Are you trying to ruin my night? Do you want me to be a social pariah?”

“Don’t be so dramatic, Taylor. Coming home early from a show is not going to make you a social pariah. And you’re lucky I’m letting you got out at all. You need to get a good night’s sleep so you can study tomorrow. You have a math test on Monday.”

“Come on, Mom, its
Friday
. Plus I’m doing really well in that class.” I had to fight to keep the edge out of my voice. If it were up to my mother, I’d be chained to a textbook for the better part of an eternity.

“Yeah, well, you can’t rest on your laurels. You need to finish the year out strong. And if I recall, you only got a B on your last quiz.” She gave me a pointed glare, then turned her attention to an unsorted stack of mail. My blood boiled over at her impassive attitude. Never mind that it was supposed to be my night, or that I’d planned every detail—from my outfit down to what I was going to say when I “accidentally” bumped into Justin. I was nothing but a walking report card to my mom.
Study harder. Think harder. Work harder.
More, Taylor. More, more, more.

I should have had Sunny ask her. Whenever Sunny asked my mom for something she said yes. But when her own daughter was the one doing the asking, the answer was almost always a resounding no.

“But Sunny doesn’t have to be home until midnight,” I lied, knowing full and well that Sunny didn’t have a curfew. Her dad didn’t care what time she came home as long as she came home, and even then sometimes he didn’t notice. But my mom would never let me stay out without a time stamp on the evening, and midnight was better than ten thirty.

“Well Sunny doesn’t live in my house and you do, and I’m telling you that I want you home by ten thirty.” She frowned back at me, her eyes flicking down toward my right hand. “Stop picking at your nails, Taylor. It’s tacky.”

I tucked my hands behind my back and ignored the familiar jab. “But it’s not fair! Sunny’s driving me. If you make me come home early, then you make her come home early, and this is like her favorite band of
all time
,” I lied easily. “Please, Mom. It’s just a concert, and I don’t want to make Sunny miss the end of the show. We’re only going to listen to the band and then come straight home. I promise. I’ll come home as soon as it’s over, scout’s honor. And I’ll spend the whole day tomorrow studying.” When I saw my mom waning, I moved in for the kill, raising my hand in mock-salute while I gave her a “look how cute and angelic I am” smile.

She rolled her eyes and shifted her weight. “I want your word that you will leave the concert venue by eleven thirty or as soon as the band is finished, whichever comes first. And I want you to call me as soon as you’re in the car and on your way home, do you understand?”

“Yes, I promise. I’ll call.”

“And none of this ‘my cell phone died’ BS,” she added, referencing my standard excuse for missing curfew or not calling when she asked me to.

“I promise, scout's honor. We’ll just watch the band. No funny business. No loitering. Say no to drugs, crack is whack, no sex before marriage, etcetera.”

“Not funny, Taylor,” she said with a contradicting chortle. I gave her one more angelic smile for emphasis—it never hurt to lay it on thick when negotiating with my mother. “And I mean it about studying. I want books open first thing in the morning, no excuses.” I nodded, resisting the urge to shout “Yes, drill sergeant!” back at her.

* * *

Sunny’s VW Beetle pulled up in front of my house a few hours later. It was appropriately named “The Bee”
given the bright yellow paint job and black leather car bra that stretched across the front. For added affect her vanity license plates read “
Buzzzd
.” Sunny told her father the plates were all part of the bumblebee look, but really she wanted to commemorate her favorite driving state of mind directly on her car. She used the guise of an innocent insect to get her way and give her father a silent eff-you for the lack of attention he paid her.

“How do I look?” I asked, sliding into The Bee and smoothing down my shirt so she could get a better look. She angled one of the vanity lights at my face to better inspect my makeup job, then popped open the glove box and rummaged around until she found a black eye pencil.

“Hold still and look up,” she ordered before raking the pencil across my upper and lower lids. Then she sat back to admire her handiwork. “There, now you look super hot. Don’t get too comfortable in that tank top, because Justin is going to want to rip it off as soon as he sees you.”

“Shut up.” I turned my face toward the passenger side window to hide my grin so she wouldn’t know how much I needed the compliment. My stomach was fully infested with butterflies at the evening’s prospects.

Sunny rolled down the window and passed me the spiked Gatorade she had been drinking.

“Nothing like a little liquid courage,” she said as she watched me take a swig. I made a face as the liquid burned its way down my throat.

“Yuck, it tastes like lighter fluid. Couldn’t you swipe something better from the liquor cabinet?”

“If you’re going to complain then give it back.” She snatched the bottle from my hand and took another drink, using her knee to navigate the steering wheel so her other hand could hold on to her Camel. “So what’s the plan?”

I turned to look out the window, watching the passing street signs as we turned onto the highway. The concert venue was located in one of the converted old warehouses downtown, about a half-hour drive from my house. I hadn’t bothered to share the
exact
location with my mother. It was better to be vague about the specifics of my evening activities when dealing with She-Who-Likes-to-Say-No. My mom was under the impression that any place outside of our suburb was filled with crackheads and rapists lurking in the shadows, waiting to snatch unsuspecting high school students and sell our kidneys on the black market. That, and she loved putting the kibosh on pretty much anything that made me happy.
No, Taylor, I don’t want you going out on a school night. No, Taylor, no daughter of mine is leaving the house dressed like that. No, Taylor, you’re not an experienced enough driver to drive downtown when it’s dark out. No, Taylor. No, no, no.