HERE (On the Otherside Series, Book One)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Chapter Fourteen

Mom insists I eat dinner with the family. I almost snort, like she’s made a joke. Anna asks if Mom’s heard from Dad, but she shakes her head, looking down. She pushes around the food on her plate with her fork.

I choke down a few bites then return to my room and shut the door. I lay on my bed, bored with no homework to occupy my time. It hits me that two weeks ago I hadn’t done my homework and never worried about how to fill my time.

Maybe I am getting better.

I find my old MP3 player tucked in my dresser drawer. It’s dead, which is no surprise since I haven’t listened to it in months. My docking station sits on my desk, slightly dusty and neglected like most everything else in my life. I hook up the player and search for a CD, one of my old favorites. Music fills the room, a dark and melancholy song, a soundtrack to my unrest.

My backpack still lies on the floor where I tossed it. I pull out my notebook and turn to the last page, only partially full of drawings. My hand resumes drawing after the R adding an E. When I start drawing a second E, chills tingle up my neck into my scalp.

Oh, my God. I’m writing Reece.

A rap on my door startles me, and I drop the pen on the paper as the door opens. My mom’s pale, frightened face pokes through the crack. I’ve never seen Mom look this scared, not even when Dad left.

“Mom?”

“Julia, the police are here.” Her voice quivers. “They want to talk to you.”

My heart pounds so fast I’m sure it will fly out of my chest. I sit up and swing my legs over the side of the bed, swiping my clammy palms on my jeans. “Why?” I stumble over the word.

“I don’t know. They wouldn’t say.”

I swallow, my brain scrambling to figure out what I could have done. Is it a crime to hide in the choir room? I don’t think so. I take a deep breath and hold it in for a several of seconds before pushing it away. I might be more oxygenated, but my anxiety still persists.

Mom opens the door. My shaky legs follow her into the living room. Anna hugs the door way to the kitchen, staring with big, wide eyes. Two uniformed police officers fill the room. One of the officer’s hands hangs on his belt, drawing my gaze to the gun at his side.

“Julia Phillips?” asks the other officer, a tall, dark-haired man with a bushy mustache.

I nod, not trusting myself to speak. I wonder if we should call a lawyer. I wonder if Mom even knows a lawyer.

“We’d like to ask you some questions about Evan Whittaker.”

I’m sure my eyes are popping out of my head. “Evan?”

The officer points to the sofa. “Why don’t we sit down?”

I’m grateful to take a seat, unsure how long my wobbly legs will hold me up. He plants himself in the chair across from me. The other policeman, the one with his hand on his belt, stands next to the door. Maybe he thinks I’ll try to escape.

“Can you tell me about your relationship with Evan Whittaker?”

Mom sits next to me, eager to hear my answer.

I fold my hands in my lap, twining my fingers together. “Um…he was my tutor.”

The officer clears his throat. “Was?”

“I changed schools today. I don’t need a tutor anymore.”

“Did you ever notice Evan acting strange? Any change in his behavior?”