Whispers in the Dark (2 page)

We all laughed, then took the shots down.

“Woooooo!” Stephanie cheered as she watched us. “You guys want another one?”

“Not me,” Justin said, frowning from the taste. “I'm the DD tonight, but you can
bring them another round.”

“Yeah, bring it on!” Greedy exclaimed loudly.

No matter how much Patron I drank, it always burned going down. I knew it was going
to be one of those nights.

Hours later, Justin drove us back to my house. Greedy and I were really drunk—Greedy
had passed out in the backseat, and Justin and I were singing at the top of our lungs
to one of Miley Cyrus's songs on the radio.

“Hey, this song right here,” I said, trying to get my thoughts together, “This song
right here needs to be played everywhere. Weddings, baseball camps, schools, elevators.”

“Elevators?” Justin laughed.

“I'm serious,” I continued, “Miley Cyrus is a freaking genius. I don't care what
no one say. For her to go from being Hannah Montana to . . . to . . . to . . . to
not
being Hannah Montana is genius to me.”

“I know what you mean, man.” Justin smiled.

We had just turned the corner before my grandmother's house.

“Hey, slow up, Justin,” I instructed. “I've gotta sober up some. Lea hates it when
I get like this.”

“Isn't that her sitting in her car?” Justin asked.

I looked and saw that Lea was indeed sitting in her car, parked alongside mine in
the driveway. It looked like she was talking on the phone. “Yeah, it is. I wonder
what she's doing out here.”

Justin pulled up beside the curb. I took a deep breath, then got out of his truck.

Lea turned her head toward me as I walked up. I could tell she was mad about something.
I walked around to the driver's side where she was sitting and opened the door.

“What . . . what are you doing out here?” I managed to ask her.

“You're drunk again, aren't you?” Lea asked.

“I'm not drunk, we just had a few beers,” I lied.

“Yes, you are, I can see it in your eyes, Adrian.”

“I'm not drunk!” I yelled, then looked up at Justin and waved for him to pull off.

“Adrian, get in the car,” Lea demanded. “We need to talk.”

Ah, crap, I knew what that meant. She was pissed about something once again. There
was just no satisfying this woman.

I closed her door, then walked around to the passenger side.

“What's wrong?” I asked as I sat down.

“I'm sick and tired of being left here by myself on the weekends, Adrian,” Lea said,
angrily. “I'm not trying to take you away from your friends, but every weekend? Every
weekend?”

“It's not every weekend,” I refuted.

“Yes, it is, Adrian. And I'm sick and tired of it!” Lea yelled. “I didn't move all
the way here just to be left in this old, dusty house.”

“Old, dusty house?” I repeated, angrily. “You should be happy we're in a place where
we don't have to pay rent or a mortgage. I mean, if this isn't good enough for you,
then you can just go back to Florida.”

Lea looked at me, then looked out her window. I knew I had struck a nerve by saying
that.

After a brief moment of silence, Lea asked, “Do you wanna know the real reason I'm
out here?”

“Why?”

“Because I hear noises in that house all the time,” Lea explained. “And it's really
starting to creep me out.”

I shook my head. “It's just the house settling, like I said before.”

“All the time, though?”

“It's an old house,” I said, defensively. “It's always been like that.”

“This wasn't just the house settling,” Lea explained. “It's like I heard someone
in there. I just don't like being here when you're not home.”

Tears started to fill Lea's eyes. I pulled her in for a hug and told her, “It's gonna
be okay.”

I felt bad. I knew I was going out a lot, but I figured I was still young enough
to do that. I'm only twenty-six years old, so it was normal for me to be hanging
out with my friends. I guess I could take Lea out more. She really was a good girlfriend.
I always felt like she was every man's desire. Smooth, caramel skin with dimples,
and naturally curly black hair, creative, cultured, and knowledgeable when it came
to interior design. Like I said, every man's desire, but she complained a lot. Lea
had the ability to be a topnotch interior designer, but she believed that it would
only happen in a big city like Los Angeles or Miami, not in a small town like Newnan,
Georgia.

We met during our last year of college, in an art class at the University of North
Carolina. After four months of just talking, we decided to start dating. We both
had big dreams and planned on moving to a big city after graduation, but neither
of us could find a job that was a direct reflection of our degrees. When Finley Academy
called me, Lea put aside her dreams of becoming a successful interior designer. So
now I had to prove myself—to her, the students, their parents, and the faculty. I
started tensing up again, thinking about all that.

“Come on, let's go inside,” I told her.

We got out of her car and walked up the old wooden steps of my grandmother's house.
Living here was definitely not my top choice, even though it meant home. I never
knew my father, and when my mother died, my grandmother raised me. She left the house
to me before she passed. I kept telling myself that this old house had potential,
and it just needed a little renovation.

But I knew I was kidding myself. The house was way too old for us, and it smelled
like mothballs. It sat in an old neighborhood, with other old houses. The carpets
in the bedrooms and living room were stained, and the walls needed a serious paint
job. When we first moved here, Lea and I both hated going into the kitchen at night,
because we knew we were bound to see roaches scatter on the floor and table when
we turned on the lights. The exterminator put an end to that, and I did buy some
new furniture that Lea thought would look nice in the house. In my mind, this was
only temporary. I promised Lea that once I built up my credit and saved some more
money, we would start looking at other homes.

We both plopped down on the living room couch and watched an episode of
Law &
Order: SVU
. I fell asleep with Lea snuggled up beside me.

I woke up to the sound of a soft
boom
from upstairs, as if something had fallen.
I looked at Lea, who was sound asleep.

Something must have fallen. I sat there and watched the television for a few more
seconds, then I heard the noise again. My heartbeat sped up. It did sound like someone
was upstairs. I used to hear noises in this house all the time when I was growing
up. My grandma always said it was just the house settling, and that I didn't have
anything to be afraid of.

I slowly rose from the couch to see what the noise was. I walked cautiously out of
the living room and up the stairs. At the top I looked down the hallway. I opened
our bedroom door and turned on the light. Two of Lea's boxes were sitting in the
middle of the floor. I turned on the hallway light and opened the doors of the other
two bedrooms. Nothing looked like it had fallen in there, either. I walked into the
hallway bathroom and turned on the light.

Maybe I was just hearing things. Probably just my nerves.

I took a deep breath and looked in the mirror. Something was wrong. I looked closely,
and noticed something on my neck.

“What is that?” I said aloud. There was a faint mark around my neck. Could this mark
be left from my dream? This was too much, and I still wasn't sober yet. I started
to feel dizzy, so I ran some cold water on my face. I had to go lie down before I
threw up. I stumbled through the hallway and passed out on the bed.

Chapter 2

T
he next day went by like a breeze, and before I knew it, it was Monday morning—the
first day of school. I woke up early, around 6:00 a.m. As I looked in the bathroom
mirror, I made sure my white-collar shirt covered the faint mark around my neck.
Lea hadn't noticed it, but I still wasn't sure where it came from. Greedy said he'd
held my nose for almost a minute, but had he messed with my neck somehow? It couldn't
have come from the dream about the wire around my neck—that was just a dream!

“Hey, I made you some breakfast,” Lea said, popping her head around the door.

“You made breakfast?” I asked, surprised.

“I sure did. You have some grits, eggs, bacon, and a piece of toast downstairs waiting
for you,” Lea answered. “I figured I'd do something nice, since it's your first day.”

“Really, now,” I said, surprised. “I think I just might keep you around.”

I went in for a kiss, but Lea pushed me away, saying, “Uh-uh. You've still got morning
breath. You need to hurry up and brush your teeth.”

“Oh, come on over here and give me some sugar,” I said, playfully, holding out my
arms toward her.

“Noooo,” Lea laughed, running out of the bathroom.

I chased her down the hallway, down the stairs to the living room, and around the
coffee table. I finally grabbed her from behind and pulled her onto the couch.

“I looooove you,” I said, giving her kisses on her neck and cheek.

“Noooo! Morning breath!” she laughed, pretending to resist.

I truly loved my girlfriend. Lea had been there through thick and thin. After my
grandmother passed a couple of years ago, Lea really filled that void I felt. She
knew my grandmother had been there for me when no one else was, and she took it upon
herself to fulfill that role. Ever since then, I've been open with her about everything.
Well, almost everything; I hadn't told her about my panic attacks. One day I'll tell
her, and hopefully she'll understand.

“Hurry up, or you're gonna be late for your first day,” Lea warned.

“All right, all right.”

About twenty minutes later, I sat in the kitchen with Lea, eating the breakfast she'd
cooked. As I ate, I Googled everything I could find about Finley Academy. I had been
doing that every day since I received the call that I got the job.

“Look at this. These kids pay a
reservation
fee of two and a half grand, and then
a
tuition
fee of
twenty-one thousand
dollars,” I told Lea.

“Their parents can afford it,” Lea responded, absently, tapping at her own phone.
“I'm sure they're like doctors and lawyers.”

“But still, that's twenty-three and a half thousand in tuition!” I exclaimed. “That's
like paying college tuition.”

“I know, babe. You've said this over and over again,” Lea replied, looking up. “You're
not nervous, are you?”

“No, I'm not nervous. I'm just saying that's a lot of money,” I explained. “But that's
what they're known for.”

“Well, you're a part of that school now, so stop saying
they
,” Lea said. “And I can
tell when you're nervous, because you start repeating yourself.”

I took a deep breath. She was right. I was nervous, but I didn't want to admit it.

“It's almost seven,” Lea said, looking at her phone. “You've gotta get a move on.”

“Yeah, you're right,” I said, gathering my belongings and briefcase. “I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

I kissed her, then walked out the door to my car. As I drove down the street, I saw
kids standing on the corner waiting for their school bus. The same, exact corner
I waited on when I was younger.

Finley Academy was about fifteen minutes away from my grandmother's house. I rode
in silence the whole way, trying to get all of my thoughts together. It still hadn't
hit me that I was headed to a job that I'm sure people from all over the country
had applied for.

I turned down the street that Finley Academy was on, and slowed to a near stop. There
was a long queue of cars going into the school. As I moved slowly toward the entrance,
I looked at the tall brick wall that bordered the front of the school.

When I was younger, I remember my grandmother telling me that the people in the neighborhood
didn't like it when that brick wall went up. They felt like the school thought it
was better than the neighborhood it was in.

At the school's entrance there was a shiny brass plaque on the brick wall that read,
“Finley Academy, Established in 1901.” I held out my badge to show the security guard.

“How you doing?” I asked him.

“Doing good, sir. Enjoy your day,” he responded, with a smile.

As I drove onto the school grounds, I looked at all the brick buildings set in the
lawns of golf-green grass. This school was more like a small college campus than
a K–12. The buildings had tall, white pillars at their entrances, and their hedges
were lush and well trimmed. Beautiful white, pink, and yellow begonia flowers were
planted throughout the campus. This school was built for the wealthy.

I drove past the main building where the school buses and parents' cars were dropping
students off. The kids were all dressed in uniforms: the girls in navy-blue plaid
jumpers with white polo shirts, and the boys in khaki pants and white polo shirts.
I pulled around the side to park in the teachers' parking lot.

My whole life, I had been on the outside looking in when it came to Finley Academy.
A guy who would come into my barbershop was the only person I knew who went to the
school, but he never said much.

This was my fifth time coming to the school since I got the job. I'd been here for
interviews and orientation, and the first day for teachers. Today was different,
though. This was the first day of school.