Chapter 3

Melinda was quite chipper the next morning, barely saying a word of contention to Heather. In fact, her only reaction to her older sister's usual jibes and teases was an increasingly smug smile.

After Melinda had dressed and was heading out the door, Heather came up from behind her and laid her hand on the edge of the door, pushing it back closed.

"What?" Melinda demanded, looking up at her older sister impatiently.

"What are you up to?" Heather said, narrowing her eyes.

Melinda smiled sweetly. "Me? Up to something? Whatever do you mean?"

Heather opened her mouth, pausing a moment and glancing up when she heard their mother walk past the room. As the footsteps faded down the stairs, Heather spoke again, but in a softer and more urgent voice. "You better not have any ideas in your silly little head to tell Mom about..."

"I have no intention of telling her anything," Melinda said indignantly. "I said I wouldn't and I meant it."

"Because I'll tell her what you've been doing, too."

Melinda just gave her another maddening smile. "I know."

"Then why are you acting so weird? Weirder than usual, anyway."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yeah, right."

Melinda grinned. "Maybe I just like freaking you out like this."

"I'm not 'freaking out'."

"Now who's lying? By the way, did you enjoy boinking Brad?"

"Shhh!" Heather hissed. "You little turd."

Melinda just stuck her tongue out at her big sister and yanked the door hard, forcing Heather to release it. She turned and rushed out before Heather could think otherwise.

Heather took a half-step over the threshold and watched her sister bound energetically down the stairs. There was a muffled conversation between Melinda and their mother, another pause, and then the sound of the front door opening and closing.

Heather frowned and rushed over to the bay window. She bent back a few of the slats of the blinds with her fingers and peered down to the street below. She watched Melinda emerge from the house and turn with definite purpose towards the right and continue on to the intersection.

The slats snapped loudly back into place as she drew back from the window. Her little sister was up to something, she was sure of it. She just could not figure out what.

Melinda waited on the corner with a mixture of excited anticipation and trepidation. She so wanted to get her hands on those pictures and have a weapon to wield against Heather.

As time crept by, her trepidation turned to annoyance. Jason was late.

The initial relief she felt at seeing Jason approaching her was fleeting, as Richie was with him. The stray dog was with them as well, making mad dashes in circles around them, broken by occasional leaps into the air and punctuated by sharp, attention-seeking yips.

Jason gave Melinda a forlorn look as they neared, his hands thrust into his pockets. Richie was talking in a rush, words tumbling out of his mouth so fast he seemed to stop one sentence before finishing it in order to start the next thought. Richie had corned Jason the moment he had stepped out of his house, and began to regale him with a play-by-play of what to Richie was the most exciting baseball game of his life.

Melinda folded her arms in frustration as they came within earshot.

"... and then he had me down two strikes, two balls, we had a guy on base. The pitcher kept tryin' to pick 'im off, over and over, until finally I start yelling at him 'hey, fuckhead! To scared to pitch to me, huh?' Shit, dude, you shoulda seen the look on his face! Man, he threw that ball and I just nailed it! Then..."

Melinda sighed and rolled her eyes, giving Jason a sharp look. Jason just shrugged.

Melinda did not care much for Richie. He was too brash, too full of himself, and way too much into sports for her liking. She had no idea why Jason was even friends with him.

Jason finally came to a stop a few feet before Melinda. Richie just stopped with him and did not seem to notice. "So it goes way, way, way out there!" he said excitedly, pointing into the air over Melinda's head without looking. "You see the guy go back, back..."

He turned around and began stepping backwards, looking up, holding his hands up like an outfielder preparing to catch a fly ball.

"And the ball hits his glove... he drops it!" He pantomimed a ball hitting the imaginary glove and fall to the ground and started to laugh. "Oh man, you shoulda seen this dweeb try to pick up the ball, it was like it... Oh, uh, hi, Melinda."

Melinda shot Richie an angry glare.

"When did you show up?" Richie asked innocently.

Melinda shook her head. "Boys," she muttered.

Jason cracked a small smile.

"Anyway, where was I?" Richie said, proceeding as if Melinda was not even there. "Oh yeah. He dropped the ball. So then..."

He fell silent again when there came a low, menacing growl from behind them.

They all turned and looked at the dog, who was facing the street to the cul-de-sac. He was low to the ground, ears back, tail down. The growl turned to a series of loud, explosive barks, teeth fully bared.

"What the fuck?" Richie cried. "What's with Tramp?"

"Buster," Melinda corrected.

"No, he's Tramp."

"Tramp's a dumb name."

"Yeah? And what would you know about it?"

Before Melinda could retort, Tramp (or Buster) whined pitifully, swinging his head away from the street. He tried to stand his ground one more time, giving a single half-hearted bark, but the next moment he let out a yelp and bolted. He dashed back the way Jason and Richie had come.

Melinda's mouth fell open, and she looked up at Jason. Jason just looked back, wide-eyed, and said not a word.

"Shit, if that dog was any stupider, he'd be elected," Richie quipped, repeating an oft-heard comment from his mother about the stray. He looked back towards Jason, intending to just pick up his story again, but when he looked at his friend, he made a face. "What's with you?"

"Huh?" Jason said absently.

"You look weird. Like you just saw a ghost or something."

"Uh... I just... I just kinda had something to do today. I mean, not that I didn't like hearing about your game, just..."

Richie glanced from Jason to Melinda and back again and grinned, nodding once. "Oh, yeah, I get it. I know what's up."

Jason exchanged a nervous glance with Melinda. "Uh, you do?"

Richie gave the two of them a smarmy smile and threw an arm around Jason's shoulders, steering him off to the side. He glanced over his shoulder to Melinda. "Just a sec, Melinda, I need to talk to your boyfriend here..."

"He's not my... !" Melinda began.

"But she's not my..." Jason started at the same time.

"Just stay there and don't listen in. Strictly guy stuff, you know?"

Melinda sighed and put her hands on her hips. "Oh, honestly!"

Richie drew Jason a short way down the sidewalk. "Well, dude, I hafta admit," he began. "In my opinion, you coulda done a little better than that."

Jason gave Richie a perplexed look.

"I mean, yeah, I guess she's cute, in a kind of, uh, freakish way, but she's no Heather."

"Richie, what the hell are you talking about?" Jason demanded.

"Does she even have any boobs under that shirt?"

Jason's mouth dropped open and his cheeks colored, too shocked to reply.

"I guess if the pussy works, that doesn't matter all that much, huh? She's probably desperate enough anyway, so that should make it real easy to..."

Jason abruptly pulled away from Richie, shooting him an angry and embarrassed look. "Stop it! I'm not... I'm not interested in that with her."

This was spoken loud enough that Melinda caught "not interested in that with her" faintly. She raised an eyebrow and furrowed her brow.

"Oh, I see now," Richie said, grinning. "Using her to get to Heather?"

"What? No! Look, I... " He paused, glancing past Richie, seeing Melinda looking curiously in their direction, turning her head to one side as if trying to listen. He lowered his voice. "I-I'm just friends with Melinda, that's all. Where'd you get the idea about the... the other stuff? I just..."

Jason trailed off when Richie began laughing.

"Oh man, you shoulda seen the look on your face!" Richie cried. "Oh, that was great!"

Jason gave Richie a furious look. "That was all a joke?"

Richie nodded, laughing hysterically.

"I didn't think it was so funny," Jason said flatly.

"No, it was fuckin' hilarious!"

"Yeah? Well, fuck you."

Jason started past Richie. Richie reached out and grabbed his arm and stopped him. Jason spun around angrily.

"Hey, man, lighten up," Richie said. "Jesus H. Christ. Don't be such a tight-ass all the time. You looked like you were going to a funeral or something and I just wanted to have a little fun with you, that's all."

Jason sighed, some of his anger abating, though not by very much. He still did not see the humor in it at all. Richie knew that Jason felt uncomfortable with sexual humor. It was bad enough when he did it about Heather, but this seemed like taking it too far.

Richie shook his head. "Okay, never mind," he said in disgust. "Listen, I'll see you later. I should probably track down Tramp before he runs under a truck or something." He gave a perfunctory wave of his hand and headed back up the street.

Jason bit his lip and watched Richie go before turning around and trotting back over to Melinda. "Um, sorry about that," he said sheepishly.

"Is he gone, then?" Melinda asked impatiently.

"Yeah."

"Good riddance."

"He's not that bad," Jason said, though his voice was flat with little conviction in it.

"What did you two talk about?"

"Nothing. I mean, nothing you'd be interested in."

"Try me."

Jason looked flustered. He hated being put on the spot like this. "Oh, he was just joking around," he said vaguely.

"About what?"

"About... us. What we were doing together."

Melinda gave Jason a confused look, then saw his cheeks flare again in embarrassment, her eyes widening. "Oh," she said in a small voice.

"Like I said, he just does that."

"He thought it was funny?"

"Yeah."

Melinda looked at Jason, feeling a small shudder pass through her body. She managed a weak laugh. "Yeah, I guess that is kind of funny."

Jason similarly curled his lips into a polite smile and gave a single, lackluster "hah".

"Uh, we better, uh, head up to the house."

Jason just nodded, not trusting his voice at that point.

Both of them turned, walking next to each other but not quite together, neither risking a look at the other.

Neither of them felt the chill come over them again, though of the two of them, only Melinda had braced herself against it. Yet both felt a wariness when they stepped in front of the house and saw that its front door was already ajar. To Melinda, it was not open so much as an invitation as a dare. The air grew still and quiet around them, not so much as a single breath of wind to stir the warm and desert-dry atmosphere.

Jason felt it to a much lesser degree, and his thoughts quickly drifted away from his fears and towards his experience the day before. He knew on a very instinctual level that something was unnatural about it. His emotions and his baser desires and needs, however, having already had a small taste of what there was to offer, wanted more.

He glanced at Melinda, and had to fight the urge to tell her to go home, that this was his and his alone. This passed when Melinda turned her eyes to him and he beheld the fear in them.

"I-I'm not so sure of this anymore, Jason," Melinda said uneasily.

Jason hesitated, as if on the verge of agreeing with her, but then chuckled softly. "What's wrong?"

"I don't know, I just..."

"You said you wanted those pictures."

"Why don't you just go in and get it and I'll wait out here?"

Jason almost took her up on this, to the point of taking a step towards the gate. When he looked at the house however, he felt a tingling come over him, the hairs on the back of his neck rising.

Bring Melinda with you, Jason.

Jason's eyes widened and he swallowed.

"What is it?" Melinda asked in an anxious voice.

"N-nothing. Um... come on, Melinda, go in with me. It's... it's a really nice house. You'll like it."

"But..."

She's scared. What a scaredy-cat.

"Scaredy-cat," Jason repeated.

Melinda blinked in surprise. "What did you just call me?"

Jason looked at her and smiled very slightly. "Scaredy-cat," he said more confidently.

Melinda shot him an angry look. "I am not!"

Prove it.

"Prove it," Jason declared. "Come inside with me."

"All right, I will! Come on!"

Melinda practically raced Jason to the door, her indignation momentarily overriding her fear, though her heart pounded just the same. She entered the house ahead of Jason, and looked almost disappointed when her eyes roved quickly around the room and saw nothing at all the least frightening or horrific greet her.

Jason stepped in behind her, brushing her arm, making her jump.

"Sorry," Jason said softly.

"So is this it?" Melinda said, trying to sound casual.

"Is what it?"

"This. The house. Doesn't seem so scary to me."

"Who said it was scary in the first place?"

Melinda glared at him briefly. "And there's no one home?"

Jason paused. Yes, there was someone here. He simply could not see her. He shook his head.

"Well... what are we waiting for? Where are the pictures?"

Jason gestured silently for Melinda to follow him. He moved slowly, unsure of himself, doubt creeping into his mind. He was feeling guilty, as if he were somehow making Melinda do something that would get her into trouble. With a sort of wry amusement he imagined what Richie might have thought had he known where he and Melinda were. He might start thinking they were doing something for real. That was silly, of course.

At the same time, the idea sent a shudder through him as well, and not an unpleasant one.

When he reached the top of the stairs and saw the door ahead of him, already open a crack as it had been the day before, he hesitated. He felt a little embarrassed at showing her what his room looked like, even if she did not know it was his. Would she laugh at it? Would she really think he was as much a dork as her sister thought?

Melinda gave Jason a quizzical glance but he started moving again before she could say anything. "Uh, it's in here," Jason said tentatively as they came to the door.

When Jason appeared to do nothing for another moment, Melinda impatiently pushed the door open and stepped inside. She had barely taken a full step across the threshold when her mouth dropped open in astonishment.

"What the... ? This... how..." Melinda sputtered.

Jason stepped in from behind her and balked. "Wait, this... this is not..."

Melinda was not listening to him. She slowly approached the bed -- her bed -- and lightly placed a hand on the blanket. She looked past it, and saw the bay window, just as she expected she would. This version, however, had a pair of beautiful, lacy curtains before it. The blinds were raised fully behind it, suffusing the room with gorgeous, soft brilliance. It was how she had always wanted to adorn the windows, but because Heather despised curtains, Melinda could not have them, either.

Yet this was not their room. It was her room. Where Heather's bed normally would appear there instead stood a wide bookcase, containing all the fantasy novels that Melinda so loved to read. In reality, she had to keep them stuffed under her bed because there was no room for them otherwise, and Heather thought they were "dumb" and "childish" anyway. Festooning much of the other furniture in the room were all the stuffed animals she had to get rid of over the years because, again, Heather complained about them, convincing their mother that Melinda was too old for them.

It was Melinda's idealized bedroom. It was someplace she could actually feel comfortable and safe.

Jason was totally confused. He stepped back and glanced down the hall. He was sure this was the right room. He distinctly remembered entering the first door on his left.

"I don't understand this," he muttered as he reentered the room, running a hand over his hair.

Melinda's gaze fell on the headboard and she gasped. She reached out and picked up a small stuffed toy in the shape of a fuzzy white kitten. It had been her favorite for many years before it disappeared two years ago, just a day after a huge screaming match with Heather. That had left Heather grounded for two weeks, one of Melinda's rare victories over her sister. A Pyrrhic victory in the end, since Melinda suspected that Heather threw out her prized toy in retaliation.

Melinda sighed with delight and hugged the stuffed kitten to her, smiling wistfully.

Jason stepped to the side and looked over to where the desk had been the day before, except there was no desk, and hence no book. "It's not here!"

Melinda looked up. "Huh?" she said, slightly dazed.

"It's not here, the pictures," Jason said.

"Oh, it's not?" Melinda said. The disappointment in her voice was weak, as if it did not matter to her so much anymore. "Where was it?"