Dead, Sweet Boy (Book One - Dead, Sweet Series) Read online

  “Sunny, stop right there. Sit down,” she barked. The fat little woman pointed a pudgy finger at the chair I’d vacated.

  “Really? You know what I don’t get? You could have asked me if I was okay. You could’ve asked me if I needed help. You could have offered your help, but no, you called me down here and talk to me like I’m nothing. You listened to my mother – your first mistake, and then you decided what you were going to do. Don’t call me down here again unless you lose about fifty pounds.”

  With that I slammed her office door. “Just leave me alone,” I yelled as I left the office.

  Mack was dead. He suffered. My life would never be the same. It was final.

  When I bumped into Linda on my way out of the school, she called me a freak. I’m not sure when the plan started, but as I waited by Rick’s truck for a ride home, the plan became solid. I would call a band practice. My parents wouldn’t know, because I needed my car. I would do something normal and add to my alibi.

  I didn’t know I was being prompted by evil.

  Chapter Two

  Tinderbox

  Pressure’s gonna cook us if we don’t unlock it

  Guns going off if we don’t uncock it

  We’ve gotta climb out of the other one’s pocket

  Or we’re gonna burn, out on this beautiful rocket

  (Elton John’s – The Captain & the Kid)

  Excuses are boring. No matter how true; an excuse always feels like a lie when you tell it. The way I see it, there aren’t any excuses for evil. I don’t explain what I did, to anyone. My hands started the fire. Apparently I’m capable of that kind of evil. Nothing possessed me except the hatred my own heart created. I lit the match and the flames surprised me. There in the heat of that fire I met my own darkness - and it’s ugly.

  They all talk about me. I’m always surprised how many kids say they know me. I’m the girl who’s haunted by her best friend. At seventeen my life changed. I’ve been through more paranormal hoops than I can recall, and it’s not a game. It all started when Mack did what he did, but it got worse when I started the fire.

  I went to practice that night, but no matter how hard we played we sounded like crap. Mack wasn’t there. I couldn’t play my guitar, and the rest of the band, well except for Rick, was stoned.

  When I left, Rick tried to talk to me, but I had a plan. I couldn’t be stopped. The lapse of time from when I left practice to when I got in my little rowboat was a blur. I know what happened, but it’s like looking at a comic book rendition. Little blocks of time. I can’t really recall feeling myself in those segments.

  As I approached Linda’s dock, the band Slipknot started a performance in my head. The song was – Dead Memories. Oh God, every time I hear that song now… well… it doesn’t matter, ‘cause I did it. Not like I can take it back.

  When I walked up to the back of Linda’s house, the music was already part of me.

  Sitting in the dark, I can’t forget

  Even now, I realize the time I’ll never get

  Another story of the bitter pills of fate

  I can’t go back again, I can’t go back again

  I’m certain by that part, I was singing along and aloud. If it helps at all, I didn’t strike the match as soon as I got to her house. Her mother was at work and Linda hadn’t stayed home a night since Mack did what he did. I watched from the river, to make sure she was gone, and even then I thought about what I was doing. It was my Mack who made me think first. He loved that stupid girl.

  It was her caustic love that killed him.

  But you asked me to love you and I did, the music raged on.

  I even said a prayer, but nothing stopped my hand as I poured the gas on the back porch. Nothing put out the match as I threw it.

  The other me is dead, I hear his voice inside my head

  My only regret at first was I wouldn’t be able to stick around and watch the big burn. But when the flames grew, I did look around for water or something to put them out. So weird. It was like an excuse because there wasn’t any water close enough. So in a way I was off the hook. The music got louder in my head:

  But I’ll never survive with dead memories in my heart

  Dead memories in my heart

  No one saw me leave. Linda and I share the same river and the houses are spaced pretty far apart. She lives downstream and on the other side. It works like the railroad tracks in some towns and Mack and I live on the prosperous side of the river. Did I say Mack lives? It’s lived.

  Going home in my little rowboat, in the dark, didn’t frighten me. I love my river. It was the river I played new songs to, and it was that water I would take Mack to when his spirit needed calming. That night it took me to the revenge I couldn’t live without, and on the way home the eels slithered alongside my boat. They seemed to guide me. I think they were pleased. On the banks I heard the river rats scurry and jump like they were afraid of me. I felt a little sick.

  They were witnesses.

  The fire left an imprint in my eyes. It was hard to see. The tune in my head changed with my heart. Over and over I hummed, She burns, she burns, she burns, as I rowed home as fast as I could. I was grateful when I reached my dock, and the sound of sirens in the distance silenced the band Finch. Their song was an accusation. But then it hit me. The emergency crew would never be able to save Linda’s house. First my hands started to shake and then my knees. This was something I would live with forever. It was frightening when the regret began. It sparked like the match I threw. I felt like a stranger.

  Half the lights were on in my empty house. My parents didn’t care about cost. The place was grand when it was lit up. Grateful that the lights around the pool were out, I stripped to my panties and bra and jumped into my heated pool. Swimming helped when I was stressed, so from the water of my river, I took the rest of my pain to the laps of my pool, pushing myself to keep stroking.

  Exhaustion didn’t take away that tiny little light of regret, so I let the air out of my lungs and sank to the bottom of the deep end. No sound, very little light, it was a different place from where I lived and breathed. It was good for a minute, but then I saw his face with my eyes closed. Mack was hurt by what I had done. I saw a flash of gold. It was the necklace he always wore. I thought I saw it fall from his neck. Before I could look again, my feet pushed off from the bottom of the pool with such strength that the air hit my lungs before I could adjust. I screamed. For the first time since his death I was going to break down.

  “Oh – my – God,” I screamed, as the tears flooded from my heart to my body. I couldn’t stop the pain. My plan didn’t help. I burned down a house. “I’m crazy Mack.” There wasn’t time to even wonder if I had really seen him.

  Think Sunny! I had to think before the grief took over. There couldn’t be any sign of what I’d done. My clothes. They didn’t smell like gas to me, but how would I know? I checked the pockets of my jeans for the matches. In my memory they had been thrown into the fire, but I had to make sure. There was nothing in my pockets, so I threw my jeans and top into the pool where the chlorine could eat away at any evidence. The cold air on my wet body made me shiver.

  As I headed to the sliding glass doors of the house, the guitar I used that night came into view. Now that was one thing I wouldn’t leave out by the pool. Our guitars meant more than food to me and Mack. He would never forgive me if something happened to my guitar. It was the acoustic guitar I used to write my music. It was the guitar I used when Mack and I practiced alone. He loved that old thing and said we would still use it when we were famous.

  He was famous now. He was the boy who hung himself in his parent’s bedroom.

  His parents were famous now too, and I guess Linda. Of course, I could imagine Linda loving being part of a teen legend. It was the biggest thing that happened in these parts since Jackie Frimmel wrapped himself around a telephone pole with his motorcycle. The rumors never faded. Now Mack was a legend.

  While I stood there holding my guit
ar, I couldn’t stop the bad thoughts. Like how Mack’s parents quickly packed up and moved away. Who could blame them? I didn’t like that they left before the house was sold, or before the grass on Mack’s grave had a chance to grow. They stayed in a hotel until the funeral, and straight after, left on a plane.

  My mother figured she knew what was best when she tried to force me to go to the funeral. She said I had to face it. Funny, coming from a woman whose medicine cabinet resembled a pharmacy. Maybe she was talking about herself. It didn’t matter, I didn’t go. They say his parents didn’t want the marks on his neck covered up by clothing or makeup. They wanted everyone to see what he had done to himself. I’m glad I didn’t see that, or watch as they lowered him into the earth.

  “Stop,” I cried, wrapping my arms tightly around my guitar. The details were too much for me. I couldn’t make the thoughts stop. Every little second, from the last time I saw Mack, was a loop in my head. I clutched my guitar like I wished I could hold onto Mack. I never got to tell him how I really felt about him. “I wanted more Mack. I loved you. What have I done?” I cried.

  People say they see him walking from the cemetery to the river which connects all the people in his life. They say the rope is still around his neck and that he’ll look into your eyes if he gets the chance. Some kids avoid that strip of road at night, while others look for him.

  Mack was sure we would be famous some day. He was right.

  Chapter Three

  And The House Fell Down

  And I don’t recall who said it at this time

  That your enemies grow strong on what you leave behind

  I built it up and the wolf he came around

  He huffed and puffed and the house fell down

  (Elton John, The Captain and the Kid)

  Thank God for mom’s medicine cabinet. I was able to find something to make the tears stop and sleep come. My dreams were dark since his death, but turned darker that night of the fire. It used to be hard for my dreams to fool me into thinking they were real. But the darker they got, there were fewer clues to bring me back. Maybe the pills didn’t help. That first dream after the fire could have been an omen if I’d been listening.

  It was also the first time in my memory that I dreamed to music. The dream world took one of my favorite groups and frightened me with the song, Helena. It was the group, My Chemical Romance singing, but the song was distorted in a wicked way and aimed at me.

  The music was sick, all around me in a field, as crisp cornstalk leaves rustled in the moonlight. The summer breeze moved like a warm breath to the music; it was alive. Without the light of the moon I wouldn’t have known where I was because I’d never been in a cornfield. I lit a match to try and see, but quickly blew it out when I remembered the match I used for the fire. I thought the action might tell my secrets and give me away.

  There was a presence around me that was deeply familiar but sinister. It felt like it might consume me if I tried to figure it out, so I tried to think of a song that might take me somewhere else. There weren’t any other songs. The mp3 player in my head had been erased.

  One blind step from me stirred the presence as the singing chorus from the corn screamed. My panicked thoughts tried to find an instinct that could be my salvation. I couldn’t find one. Since Mack’s death I was an empty soul; unable to read anything or anyone. So I ran. Deeper and deeper into the corn I ran, not knowing how close I might be to the edge of the field, or how I might have escaped. The corn slapped and scratched at me as if it were mocking. The further I ran from the darkness, the closer it came, calling to me.

  “Sunny, you can’t escape me. Sunny, give in.”

  I couldn’t keep the evil away, so I did what I was learning to do, and pulled my spirit away from the presence, willing my body just enough life to exist. With practice, this skill seemed to help me breathe even though Mack wasn’t breathing with me. My life light inside felt so fragile, but to my surprise it kept glowing day after day. And day after day I waited for either the light to finally go out, or for some miracle to pick up the fragmented pieces of my life. I was in pain.

  Exhausted, I fell to my knees, scraping them on the roots of the corn. My heart felt so large in my chest as it pounded out what I couldn’t scream in the dream.

  I can’t do this anymore. I can’t live without Mack.

  The evil became as thick as it was dark. The chorus of sick voices gave credence to my panic. Breathing became calculated, but I wasn’t about to accept my last breath. The presence offered it but I kept that breath at a distance. I was tired of this dark struggle. It seemed like years when it had only been days.

  “Sunny.”

  The voice was touching me.

  “Sunny, get up dear. Something has happened.”

  “Get- off- me!” I gasped. My lungs sucked in all the air they could, as my body jerked up to bring me back to life. It made me furious to take that breath.

  “Honey, the police are here and they want to talk to you. It’s something about a fire. Do you know what they want?”

  My mother’s face, full of worry and confusion, came into focus. It took a minute to align my spirit with my body, a fit that’s just not the same. It took another minute to understand her concern and that the police wanted to talk to me.

  “The Police? Why?” My heart started to race, causing my face to burn with blood flow. My feet were unsteady on their way to the bathroom, so once there I braced myself on the sink to look in the mirror. Does it show? Do I look like an arsonist?

  “I don’t know what they want. They said they need to talk to you. Is there something you need to tell me? Should I call our lawyer?” She was frantically pacing my room. “I wish your father was home,” my mother cried. “No, it’s probably better that he isn’t.” She was so helpless anymore, like a sack of wet flour, all heavy and useless.

  This was it. There weren’t any tears until last night and now I would find out if I was able to keep my feelings intact. It didn’t matter if the cops saw me in my sweats with my bed head. I was in mourning. What kind of condition was I supposed to be in after everything I’d been through?

  “Mother, don’t start. Nothing’s wrong.” She hated when I called her ‘mother,’ but mom was someone completely different to me. ‘Mom’ was the person she used to be, before her pills and cocktails took over.

  “I knew that band would lead to trouble. What have you done? Please tell me you aren’t involved in whatever they want. First Mack and now… oh Sunny. ”

  Maybe she could really tell that I had done something, or maybe it was just that she knew it was inevitable. My mother was clueless, but she was a mother. Whether or not a mother spaces her day by the pills she takes, I’d lived long enough to know that mothers have powers even if they aren’t aware of them.

  “Mother, stop it. I didn’t do anything.” First lie. “It’s probably about Mack.”

  “No, they said it was about a fire. Oh my God. Someone’s house I think. I just don’t know. I wasn’t expecting the police.”

  “Stop! You’re freaking me out,” I snapped through gritted teeth. “Everything’s fine. I’ll talk to them.”

  My mother grabbed my arm as I started to walk past her, and for one lucid moment she had some good advice. “Tell me right now Sunny if I need to call our lawyer. I’ll send the police away and we’ll let the lawyers deal with the police. Do you understand? You can’t go down there if you know anything about this.”

  I yanked my arm out of her hold, and moseyed down the stairs to show how sleepy and unaffected I was by their visit. My mom let them wait in our living room. They stood when I entered the room; two overweight cops with all the rights in the world to ask me whatever they wanted. I had rights, but to protect them would arouse suspicion.

  Officer Stark, and Perez introduced themselves after I plopped myself on the couch.

  “Is this about my friend’s death? Because if it is, I’m not in the mood. I already told you I don’t know why he did it.”<
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  They looked at each other and then back at me. Perez, the smarter of the two spoke. “No, Sunny. There was a fire at one of your friends’ houses. Linda Cook’s house burned down last night. She’s a friend of yours – isn’t she?”

  “Burned down? Linda’s house? Are you sure? Was she hurt?” I was sure I sounded convincing. “Oh my God no. She wasn’t my friend. She was Mack’s.”

  “Wasn’t she Mack’s girlfriend?”

  “No!” I snapped, “Well, they broke up.” I forgot to control my voice. My words came out too harsh.

  Perez’s eyes widened a little. “Well Sunny, we have to ask you a couple of routine questions.”

  I hadn’t noticed my mother had followed me down the stairs. She was watching my face like she used to when I was younger. There was a time she could tell when I was lying and I think she was trying to conjure up those old powers.

  “I heard the sirens when I was in our pool. Her house burned down? For real?”

  A little smile came to my face. Not so noticeable, but it was there. Perez noticed it. “Is that funny?”

  “Not funny, just unexpected.” I let my chopped hair fall into my face. He was paying too much attention to me. I was supposed to be the last person they would suspect. I had that innocent look.

  “So you were home all night?”

  “No, I was at band practice just after dinner, and then I came home.” My mother gasped. She didn’t know I went out. I flashed a sharp look in her direction. It didn’t matter that these guys didn’t look or act anything like the cops on TV, they could trip me up and it would all be over. Everyone knew that I didn’t like Linda, so I couldn’t pretend that I did. It was a fine line between convincing them and becoming a suspect. Perhaps I already was one.

  “What time did you leave band practice?”