Shadow and Stars

Seven

Julian running away from me was not the only thing that kept my mind occupied on the way home. I could not stop thinking about all the impossibilities that had slithered their way into my life; things that could not be real.

But they are. Julian saw it; he saw me set that piece of paper on fire. So unless we're both insane and having identical hallucinations, at least some of this is real.

Why did my dad working at the Crescent make him run away? Nothing about any of this made any damn sense, and by the time I'm pulling into my driveway, I want to just crawl under the covers and hide.

I jog up the stairs to my room, not bothering to stop at the kitchen for a snack, but as soon as I step through the door, I know something's wrong.

I'd made my bed this morning, but now the blanket is turned down, my closet door open wide, the papers on my desk shuffled through.

"What the hell," I mutter, dropping my bag to the floor with a dull thud.

I flip the cover up on my bed as I pass, running my fingertips along the clothes in my walk-in closet as I step inside. At first, nothing seems to be amiss, and I figure Dad must have been in here cleaning before work.

But my eyebrow dips when I notice three empty hangers near the end of the rod.

I'd just done my laundry yesterday, and I remember hanging up the hoodie from when I played lacrosse with my name and number on the back, the Crescent Hotel t-shirt my dad finally just let me have because I wore it so much, and the black leather jacket that used to belong to my mom. 

All three of them have vanished.

I root through the clothes in the closet, rip every article of clothing from my dresser drawer, search the laundry room and even my dad's closet.

But they are nowhere to be found. I knew they would be, because if there's one skill I know I have, it's attention to detail. Those three articles of clothing were hanging in this closet last night.

And now they're gone.

The front door opens and closes as I'm stepping out of my dad's room empty-handed.

"Cam? You here?" Dad's voice echoes through the empty house, his footsteps heavy on the floorboards.

"Yeah, I'm coming down," I call, trying to keep the shaking out of my voice. I smile without showing my teeth as I meet him in the kitchen, giving him a peck on the cheek. "How was your day?"

He rolls his eyes and plops down on a stool at the island. "Long and annoying. Managing a place so old can be a nightmare...especially when stuff doesn't work the way it's supposed to."

"Sorry...what's not working the way it's supposed to?" I ask, genuinely interested, content to let his problems overshadow my own for a moment.

"Oh, just a lot of little things," he says, reaching across the counter, plucking an apple from the bowl in the center, and taking a bite. "Faulty heating and air units, broken door handles and locks, ancient wiring, that sort of thing," he explains around a mouthful of fruit.

I nod as if I can commiserate. "That sucks. Can I do anything to help?"

Shaking his head, he sets down the apple and leans forward on his elbows. "You can just make sure you're taking care of yourself. Are you?"

"Yes, Dad, I am, I promise," I say, and it isn't exactly a lie.

The problem is that I can't take care of myself until I figure out what the hell is happening to me.

He narrows his eyes, but he must decide I'm telling the truth because he pushes himself off the stool and ruffles my hair as he says, "All right. I'm going to take a shower, then. Do you mind chopping up lettuce for the salad?"

"You got it, Dad."

As I chop lettuce and help get the chicken started, my mind drifts back to Julian and the way he ran away from me earlier. During dinner, Dad tells me more about his day and asks about mine, and while I keep up with the conversation, all I can think about is my phone in my pocket and how I have to get in touch with Julian.

When I can finally excuse myself from the table, I run to my room and type out a text. But before I can finish, my phone dings with a message from him.

Cam, sorry about before. Meet me at the library right now if you can.

I dart out my front door with a hurried goodbye to my dad and jog the quarter of a mile to the library. This time I'm leaning against the stone wall waiting for him.

He rushes up to me, and before I can pull on the handle to enter the building, Julian gently grasps my wrist and shakes his head. "Let's stay out here," he says in a low voice, jerking his chin toward the stone picnic table across the street, in front of one of the town's natural springs, the gentle trickling water against the mossy rocks soothing to my ears.

"Afraid I'm going to catch something else on fire?" I ask cheekily, attempting to lighten the mood as we approach the table; his face is not the picture of relaxation.

"Not exactly...I just thought you'd want the freedom to react however you want when we have this conversation," he says, pushing his hair out of his eyes as he sits, his leg bouncing wildly.

My heartbeat speeds to a steady gallop, as fast as the shaking of his leg, and I sit next to him, angling my body so I can hear his soft, measured words.

"I'm sorry I ran off the way I did, but when you told me your dad worked at the Crescent, I started putting things together in my head, and I got freaked out." He glances up at me with remorse in his eyes.

"It's okay, I forgive you. But why would that freak you out?"

"You really don't know, do you?"

A chill washes over me, despite the muggy afternoon, but I shrug it off. "Know what? That it's haunted?" I roll my eyes. "That's nothing but a tourist trap, Julian." 

He shakes his head so vigorously that his bangs fly back on his head. "That place...the Crescent...it's not just haunted; it's cursed."