Don't Forget to Breathe Read online

  “Stop with the twenty-one questions, girl. Let’s get back to Becket.”

  She flipped the conversation to get my mind off the murder. Sounding meek, I said into the cell, “He kissed me.”

  “What’s that? I thought it went downhill at Earl’s? Now you’re saying Becket kissed you? You’re holding back on me.”

  “I was as shocked as you are. He looked mad like my meltdown totally ruined his afternoon. He called himself an ass.” Nona yiked into the receiver. “He really did. I think he blamed himself for making me cry, bringing up Mom and all. He walked me to the door, and…and then…kissed me.”

  “He kissed you. That’s all you’re giving me. No spicy details?”

  “It was…it was sweet, gentle…perfect.”

  “Oo-o-o-o…” she cooed. “I knew it. I knew it. He knows how to reel in the ladies.”

  “That doesn’t make me feel better. And it won’t happen again.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “He won’t ask me out after today’s debacle. Not after my nuclear meltdown. He felt sorry for the lunatic, that’s why he kissed me.”

  “Leo, stop that nonsense. I’d come over there to straighten you out, but Reggie’s taking me for ice cream.” Then she said as an afterthought, “Hey, you can come with us.”

  A pat sounded on my window. “Nona, someone’s knocking on my window.”

  “Hey—do you think Becket’s come back? Check it out.”

  I peeked through the levered blinds. “It’s Henry.”

  “Shoot, why’s that boy coming to your window?”

  “I don’t know.” Drawing open the blinds, I gave Henry the wait a minute signal. He nodded. “I got to go. Enjoy your ice cream.”

  “Hey, don’t forget,” she spoke breathy like she was moving around. “Mrs. Zweigler wants us at the school an hour before the game starts tomorrow to practice that new routine. I’ll have Reggie pick you up at six o’clock, okay?”

  “Sure, see you then.” Before scraping up the casement window, I tossed the cell on my bed. “Why don’t you come to the door and ring the bell like a normal person?”

  “’Cause your father loathes me.”

  “He does not.”

  “Yes, he does. He practically told me.” Gripping the casement with two hands, he scrambled up and over the sill, tumbling onto the floor. Not as athletic as Becket and I tried not to snicker.

  “Did my father say he didn’t like you?”

  Henry brushed down his jeans and readjusted the cockeyed glasses on his nose. “He said it to my face over a week ago.”

  “No—My father wouldn’t—”

  “I’m not lying. Exact quote, ‘I don’t like you, kid. If you hurt my little girl, I’m gunning after you.’ End of quote.”

  Pinching my lips, I squashed laughter. “He was being fatherly.”

  “You call that fatherly?” His pockets bulged as he unzipped his gray hoodie. “I call it a threat.” He checked to ensure the door was locked before making himself comfortable on the chair. “Hey, it’s Friday night, let’s go out.”

  “Your sneakers are filthy.” I scowled, spotting muddy tracks on the floorboards.

  “What do you expect, your backyard is mucky.” He glimpsed his sneakers, and hitched up his shoulders.

  After a significant tsk, I asked, “What’s up? Where do you want to go?”

  “I have a couple of beers and some weed.” He buried his hands in his pockets and produced a goodie bag. “Let’s go to the Lucien place. We can discuss strategy for a Halloween blast.”

  My brain couldn’t handle much more provoking the dead. Especially after the dream last night and then morphing into a raving berserko in front of Becket. I decided to go with my original plan. “Marcy and Blair invited me to Cheryl Ritter’s for a party.”

  “Sounds decent. I’ll go with you.”

  Not what I wanted to hear. Getting him off my tail without hurting his feelings could be detrimental. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” His whole body wilted looking disparaged and rejected.

  “Why?” He sniffed, and wiped a finger under the frame of his glasses.

  Henry needed someone to lean on, someone to love, and I wasn’t strong enough and, I didn’t love him.

  He surmised on his own. “Because Kane will be there and see us together?” He stowed the goodie bag into his pocket. “I saw Kane’s car in the driveway. Your coffee date ended rather quickly.”

  “I really don’t want to talk about it.” He was probing for info which was raw at the moment.

  “Kane’s an egotistical jock.” He angled forward, looking scorned. “I know the type.”

  “Sorry to burst your hopeful bubble, but he’s not like that.” I started piling up my books that had been strewn over my desk. “He doesn’t seem egotistical to me.”

  “Damn.” He gave his head an efficient scratching like he was thinking something over. “The Homecoming Dance is next weekend and you’re going with me.”

  My fingers had gripped my history textbook and I stopped in mid-air. “I haven’t made plans to go to the Homecoming Dance.”

  “Now you have a date. Me.” His mouth moved, fretful like.

  “I think a group of us are going together, no dates or anything like that.” A complete lie. Worst. Friend. Ever. I crossed my arms in front of my waist. “Maybe you could find someone else to go with.”

  “No.” He sprang from the chair, glasses skid to the tip of his nose. He thrust them back in place. “You’re my date.”

  “I don’t think so, Henry.” His fingers cinched my upper arms.

  “I don’t have anybody else.” The lenses extenuated his round eyes. “You’re the only one in this whole effing world that gets me.” He squeezed my arms like a nutcracker.

  “What’s wrong with you?” I cried. A mottling flush entered his face. “Stop, Henry, you’re hurting me.” He seemed to shrivel. “Maybe you can come with us,” I said, appeasing him. His fingers deceased in pressure.

  Then throwing his arms in the air, they came down on his head. He paced my bedroom like a caged animal. “I need a fix.”

  “Are you strung-out?” His face scrunched.

  “I just need a little something to help with my nerves. I’m balled up so tight, I’m going to…”

  “What have you been using?”

  “Oh…whatever.” He distorted his face by scrubbing it with his hands. “Nobody will deal with me here. I’m so new.”

  “Who were you getting it from?” I knew the answer before he opened his mouth.

  “That Skip guy. Now the pecker is dead.”

  “Did you deal with him the day he got killed?” I guessed.

  He turned to stone and looked like he’d seen a ghost.

  Chapter 13

  “What did you do?” I whispered.

  “Nothing. I did nothing.” He flapped his arms and sat on the edge of my bed. Fixing his elbows on his thighs he dropped his head into his hands. “The only reason they dealt with me was because of you.”

  “Me?”

  “Yeah, I’d been looking for a dealer ever since I moved here.” He ripped off his glasses and squeezed his nose in the process. “At first, I told them I was buying for you.”

  “What the hell!”

  “It was the only way. Star Hallow is such a cow poke village they suspect all newcomers like the friggin’ plague.” Situating his glasses onto his ears, he peered over the rims. “Like—do I really look like a nark, a cop?” His upper body stooped, caving in on himself like his motives had been culpable.

  I dropped into the chair and lodged my hands between my knees. “I guess dealers have to be careful. Look what happened. Someone took them out.”

  “It…it wasn’t me,” his said. “I knew it was them in the graveyard—that night we were there.”

  My gaze flew to his face.

  “They were early. I made you run because I didn’t want them to see us.” Now he trapped his hands between his clenc
hed thighs. “I was meeting them at midnight—”

  “Promise me you didn’t do it!” I barged in. “You were raging at the time and even threatened me!”

  “I never threatened you. I…” His face hardened with the rest of his body. “Do…do you think I could kill? Really…” He trailed off with an obvious tremor.

  Whoa, he’s losing it again. “Relax. I believe you.” I felt sorry for him. He reminded me of myself, could I help Henry like Nona helped me? “I didn’t know you were so addicted.”

  “It’s not exactly a…an addiction.” He rubbed his neck, composing himself. “They help me to acclimate.”

  “You’re acclimating yourself in Star Hallow by using drugs?” Pushing off the chair by the armrests, I began to pace in Henry’s channel.

  “I was pissed when Dad hauled me from the city to this one horse town.”

  Perturbed, I spun on him. “Why’d he do that if you loved it so much?”

  “He needed a job…and…I…I got in trouble.” He stopped and rolled his lips into his mouth like he’d said too much.

  “What kind of trouble?”

  Plain to see he was reflecting if he could trust me, his mouth moved from side to side before answering. “Some slut got trashed.”

  “And that relates to you…?” I swirled my hands wanting more.

  “She got what she deserved.” His sneer twitched up his glasses. “I’m not allowed to discuss it. So drop the subject.”

  He was hiding something. Did I really want to know? Yes and no. “You live in Star Hallow now, not the city. Deal.”

  “Everybody knows everybody since they were born. Have you seen how people look at me?” He whined as his forehead creased. “Like I’m an alien. Some kind of fluke.”

  “No they don’t. People like you.” My stab at cheering him up. “I heard a few girls gushing over you the other day. You’re more popular than you know. Newcomers—at least ones as cute as you are like candy to those girls.”

  “Really?” He added a wry twist to his mouth. “Which girls?”

  “I don’t want to talk about them.” I fetched him back to the night in question. “I want to hear what happened that night in the graveyard.”

  “I was almost one of the causalities.” He exemplified a full body shudder. “Gutted and shredded like lettuce and tossed into a ditch.”

  I grimaced. “Just tell me the facts.”

  “Skipper and Dave saw you run off. They were meeting somebody. Waiting for a big deal they said. They told me to scram or they’d shoot a round of lead in my ass.” Like he’d been imagining it all over again, he shivered, drawing his shoulders up. “I saw this dude heading our way. And then Skipper told me to stay put, it was too late. The guy…he was…was…” Compressing his eyelids, his face crunched like he struggled to remember every detail. “All in black”—like he came up with the right answer, he nodded, reopening his eyes. “Black. He wore a ski mask. Skipper and Dave walked over to him like wearing a ski mask is normal. What dipshits.” A terse chortle bumped his Adams apple.

  “I saw something shiny in the black dude’s hand.” Imitating the killer he swished his arm and poked the air. “The dude jammed this dagger into Skipper’s gut. Man, Skipper squealed like a pig. I can still hear him gurgling.” A mesmerized Henry came down to Earth. “Dave took off and I ran toward home through the Lucien property. I guess the guy caught up with Dave, ‘cause we both know what happened to him.”

  My knees collapsed to the floor and my stomach flipped. “Oh God. What are we going to do?”

  “Do? I’m not going to do anything. Let it blow over.”

  “You have to go to the police.”

  “And say what?” He hopped from the bed, talking with his hands. “Hey, officer dick, I was taking a nighttime stroll through the cemetery and bumped into these drug dealers. I witnessed a big dude dressed in black who decided to play Freddie Kruger and hatchet them to pieces.” He ran a hand over his chest.

  “We should do something,” I stated and glared at Henry. Then I admitted, “I’m the one who dialed 911 that night. It was me. And then I lost my phone.” I didn’t know how to perceive his incredulous gape.

  “The call the police are talking about, that…that was you?” Like rigor mortis had set in, he turned rigid.

  “I was worried about you. I thought…” Noting his palpable frown, I stopped talking.

  “What exactly did you see?”

  “I saw three people.” He was frightening me, breathing through his nose like a snorting bull. “I lost sight of them behind the tombstones and then the scream. That’s all.”

  “You can’t identify anyone, can you?”

  “No. They were too far away. It was dark and foggy, remember?”

  He acted relieved as his hands covered his face. “God. There’s nothing that our testimony can help the police—nothing.” He pointed a warning finger, his face meshed in tangles. “Keep your trap shut. Not one word about this or you’ll get us both killed. Understand?”

  “I’m scared.” The whole thing felt off, his plan instilled a niggling effect in my gut.

  Henry anchored his hands under my armpits and carted me off the floor. Embraced to his chest I didn’t feel comforted in the least. In fact, at the moment, it felt wrong. I unraveling from his hold and uttered, “I’ll be right back. Don’t make a sound. I don’t want my dad coming in here and finding you.”

  Skulking to the bathroom, I spied Dad lying on the couch watching a football game. After flushing my face with cold water, I heard the ring of my cell. I hurried to my bedroom and saw Henry replacing my phone on the end table. “Did you answer it?”

  His eyes crinkled with a confirming nod. “Becket.”

  “What did you say?”

  “I said you were busy.”

  “Why did you answer it?” I groaned.

  “Because—” He intertwined his arms around me. His head came down and his mouth bruised my lips. Excavating his fingers into the roots of my hair, he twisted. “You’re mine, Leo.” He drew me an arm’s length away, holding firm. Aggrieved brown eyes explored my face.

  I lacked desire, I wasn’t into Henry. Using the back of my hand I swiped saliva from my mouth and glowered. “Get out.”

  After his departure through the window, I was wiped and not in the mood for more drama with Marcy and Blair. I dialed Marcy and begged off from going to Ritter’s party. My sight held the cell, should I return Becket’s call? Calibrating a logical excuse as to why a boy answered was beyond me. I hoped for a chance to explain in person.

  Chapter 14

  Sleepless nights had been taking a toll and I planned on staying in bed late on Saturday, only to be awakened by my cell. I groped for the chiming annoyance. “Hullo.”

  “You’re my only friend—” Henry commenced on a contrite spiel. He finished with, “I can’t lose you.”

  Groggy, I registered half of what he’d said. After Mom died, I remembered saying those exact words to Nona. “Okay, okay, Henry.” The memory of pleading with Nona softened my heart. “We’re good.”

  “See you at the game then?”

  “I’ll be there.”

  Weather-wise, it developed into a beautiful October afternoon, and a precursor to a great evening for the football game. Geared in my uniform and leggings, I draped the jacket over my arm and headed for the kitchen. “Hey Dad, are you coming to the game tonight?”

  Seated at the table, he was entrenched in reading the newspaper. “It appears like Detective Dyl isn’t making any headway on his murder case. I wish he’d solve one before tackling another.” He sighed and karate chopped the paper into a fold.

  “Oh, Dad.” My arms wound his shoulders for a hug. “Maybe we should go on a trip or something. Visit Grandpa in California. What’d you think?”

  “We can’t run away from our problems. They’ll follow us wherever we go.”

  “I know. But…” I gazed into his grieving eyes and twiddled with the zipper of my jacket. “I just tho
ught getting away from here…” My head lowered and revolved toward the exit.

  “Leo. Did your mother ever mention anything about moving to California?”

  “Um…I remember her saying before—” My heart hurt. “She wanted to visit grandpa.”

  “I might come to the game later.” Ingesting a breath, his chest puffed out. “Do you need a ride home?”

  “No, Nona will give me a ride. We might stop at Earl’s for something to eat afterwards, okay?”

  “Yep.” He eked out a smile. “Go Panthers.”

  Once outside in the fading daylight, I traipsed to the end of the driveway to wait for Nona and Reggie to pick me up. I’d likely be seeing Becket tonight at the game. Due to ruminations throughout the day I’d concluded a justifiable explanation of why Henry answered my phone would have been better than none. Kneading my brow to repel the stinking headache, I felt miserable.

  Nona had phoned earlier, piqued about Henry’s improper entrance, as she called it. She must’ve figured climbing into my window belonged primarily to Becket. In Nona style, she sounded-off in regards to Henry’s adhesive-like attachment to me. She had continued on her rant, “You know, Leo, Becket voiced his opinion to Reggie about that boy.”

  “When did Reggie tell you that? I thought he wasn’t spilling any info on Becket.”

  “That was before you went on that date. Reggie opened up a bit.” She snickered into the cell. “With some subtle persuasion on my part.”

  “What else did Reggie tell you?” I prodded on a tenacious roll.

  “For one thing, that boy needs to stop tagging you. Maybe we should start picking you up for school or you should go back to taking the bus.” Not concurring with her, but I thought of Henry’s behavior, and promised to think it over.

  Expecting Reggie any minute I swiveled toward an approaching car. Flabbergasted to see Becket, my pulse accelerated. I swept fingers through my hair taming fly-a-ways into my ponytail.

  His car slowed at the edge of my driveway. The windows had been rolled down. “I heard you need a ride to the game. Hop in.” His appeared red and blotchy, doubtless from cold air smacking him in the face.