The Haunted - Jessica Verday [92]
I ran downstairs, eager to see Kristen’s parents. It had been months. They were standing by the couch in the living room, and I halted on the third step down as soon as I saw them.
Mrs. M. looked… older. Her hair, once scattered with fashionable gray strands—“stubborn streaks,” she’d called them—was now almost entirely gray. And her face looked gaunt, like she’d lost some weight. Mr. M. didn’t look as bad, but there were definitely a few new wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. The stress of losing both of their children was clearly catching up to them.
Mrs. M. must have heard me approaching, because almost as soon as I stopped, she looked up. Her face broke into a smile. “Abbey.”
I flew down the stairs and threw my arms around her. “Mrs. M.!” She squeezed me tight, and I held on, overwhelmed with happiness. I reached out a hand to Mr. M., and he patted it, beaming at me.
“It’s so good to see you,” she said, taking a step back to size me up. “Look how beautiful you are. How’s your summer going? I heard that you’re doing some extra-credit science work?”
“It’s great,” I said, leading her into the dining room. We sat down, and everyone else came in a second later. “I’m helping my uncle out, working at his ice cream store, and Ben, one of our classmates, is tutoring me for this science test I have to take before school starts. It’s a whole big thing.” And you know the reason I left? That dead boy I was seeing? He’s real. And I love him. I smiled at her and took a sip of water from the glass in front of me.
The doorbell rang, and I looked over to Mom. “Who’s that?” She stood up quickly. “That must be the rest of our company.”
“The rest of our… ?” I glanced at Dad. “What company?”
“Oh, just some people that came over today for coffee,” Mom replied, going to answer the door.
I waited for Dad to explain, but all he did was shrug. The classic I don’t know; ask your mother shrug. I shot a look over at Mrs. M., expecting her to be just as curious as I was, but she was paying careful attention to the napkin in her lap. Almost like she was avoiding me.
Interesting.…
Mom reentered the dining room with a man and a woman behind her. They were both dressed in navy blue, she in a crisp business suit with a breezy red scarf styled artfully around her neck, and he in a navy polo shirt that went perfectly with his pressed khakis. They looked to be about Mom and Dad’s age.
“Of course you met my husband today, and the Maxwells.” Mom stopped for a moment and gestured across the dining room. Mrs. M. nodded at them, and the business-suit woman was all smiles. “And that’s my daughter, Abigail. We call her Abbey.” We call her Abbey. What was I, a pet dog? I bristled, but didn’t have time to show my dis-pleasure, because they were both coming my way. Fast.
“I’m Sophie,” the woman said, hand outstretched, “and that’s Kame.” I locked eyes with Sophie, getting ready to shake hands, and noticed right away that her eyes were unusually colored. Clear and glasslike. Almost translucent.
The hair on the back of my neck stood up, and something tickled the edges of my brain.
They looked vaguely familiar.
Sophie clasped my hand in a firm grip, and it suddenly felt like a million spiders went tap dancing along my spine. I shook her hand for the briefest of seconds and then pulled away, trying not to make it look so obvious that that was what I was doing.
Kame put out his hand. Everything in me screamed not to touch it, but I didn’t know how to get out of it, so I shook it briefly. “Kame,” he reminded me, and I nodded. His voice was deep and lilting; it almost had a musical quality to it. Come to think of it, so did Sophie’s.
Mom ushered Sophie and Kame to seats across from me, and as they turned to walk past, I got a whiff of something strange. Like burned toast, or dying ashes.
Wrinkling my nose in distaste, I caught myself and then