The Pizza Boy

Part 4

Licking my lips I pressed answer, it couldn’t be him, he had the house number not my cell.

“Hello?” I asked tentatively, my voice wavering.

“Katy you okay?” the voice replied.

My heart soared with relief,

“Who is it?” Kevin whispered.

“Calvin,” I mouthed back.

“What are you guys doing? Mom said to check up on you.” Calvin said.

“This weird guy has been calling the house,” I blurted, feeling tears stinging the corners of my eyes.

“What do you mean?” Calvin asked.

“I ordered a pizza, and the guy that delivered it was a total weirdo,” I sniffed, “He keeps calling the house.”

“Well why don’t you call the pizza place and report him.” Calvin said.

I stopped, I don’t know why I hadn’t thought of that. Calvin then proceeded to ask several times if the doors and windows were locked, where we were in the house, and whether or not we wanted him to fly in tonight instead of on Monday. I looked at Kevin, I mean yeah who wouldn’t want their older, college age soccer captain brother to cower behind but at the same time I knew it was expensive and after all the loans, and books, he was flat broke. 

“That’s okay,” I said slowly, “You don’t have to we’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, “There’s a flight leaving in two hours I could be there, on the doorstep in four hours.”

I hesitated, the offer was tempting and I insulted myself for turning it down but I knew he wouldn’t get a refund for the flight he already booked and flying last minute would be expensive.

“It’s okay,” I said, “We’re okay.”

Calvin then asked to talk to Kevin, so I handing him my phone. After having basically the same conversation I had, he hung up.

“What did he say?” I asked.

“He said if anything else weird happens to call him,” Kevin replied, “And if that creep calls again to call the pizza place.”

I nodded and looked down at my feet where the phone was still lying broken and silent.

“Let’s just leave it like that,” Kevin said, seemingly reading my mind, “That ways he can’t bug us.”

I nodded eagerly. Kevin then went around double checking all the doors, before pouring himself a glass of grape juice. He asked me if I wanted anything but my stomach was in knots, which I hoped were just nerves and not the flu, and then we headed back upstairs.

When we reached the top landing Kevin turned to face me.

“You can sleep in my room tonight if you want.” He offered.

I nodded eagerly.

“We can like watch movies and stuff.” He said, “It’ll be like when we were little.”

I couldn’t but crack a small smile at the memory. When we were little like when I was four, Kevin was six and Calvin nine we had used to have sleepovers all the time. Usually in Calvin’s room since he was the only one with a TV.

“I’ll get blankets out of the bathroom closet,” he said, “You go get ready for bed.”

I nodded and slipped across the hall into my room. Riffling through my dresser I decided on a pair of fuzzy socks, my snowboarding kitten pajama pants and a warmer sweatshirt. Sliding off my jeans, sweatshirt and One Direction t-shirt that I was too embarrassed to wear in public so as not to look like one of those people.

I liked One Direction, I was not willing to jump off a bridge for them. Standing in my sports bra and boys shorts I tossed my dirt clothes in the hamper, slipped on my pajama pants and was about to put on my sweatshirt when I was distracted by a bruise on my hip.

Figuring bruise here or there was par for the course on the basketball team I was about to slip on my sweatshirt when my phone began to buzz on my bed. Crossing over to it I looked at the screen. No name came up, just a number. A lump of fear rose in my throat but I quickly diminished it, Calvin’s call hadn’t had a name either.

Pressing the answer button before the call went through to voicemail I pressed the little rectangle of technology to my ear.

“Hello?” I said.

“What happened?” a voice asked.

My blood ran cold, it was Sam.

“How did you get this number?” I whispered, somehow speaking aloud made the call more real.

“What happened?” he asked again, ignoring my question.

“What?” I demanded.

“How did you hurt yourself?” he asked.

“I didn’t hurt mys…” I started to reply then stopped, my eyes widening with realization I looked down at the bruise.

“Where are you?” I asked, my voice hollow and trembling as I pressed the sweatshirt to my body covering myself.

There was a small chuckle, “I’m watching you Katy, I can see you right now, although I’m sure you’d look much better with your bra off.”

Horrified I struggled to get the sweatshirt on one handed.

“Where are you?!” I demanded loudly, my voice breaking.

“I’m in your closet,” he whispered back.