Page 17 of The Spider & the Storm

I really didn’t like being around people much. Strangers, Luke’s group of crappy friends, the people from Dad’s job who sometimes stopped by for a beer … I could do without ever seeing a single one of them again. But being without Mom and Dad, being without Luke—even if he was a butthead sometimes—it didn’t sit right with me.

Especially not when this urgent feeling of foreboding clenched around my gut, telling me my cozy, safe, sad little life was going to, in some way or another, be set off-balance.

“Dad,” I began, but he ignored the tension in my tone as he pulled on his jacket.

“If you’re worried about being alone, you can always go a couple of houses down and sit with Mrs. Wheeler. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind.”

Despite the anxiety pulsing through my trembling veins, I rolled my eyes at that suggestion. Something would have to beseriouslywrong for me to go down the street to Ritchie’s house and ask his mom to freakin’ babysit me. I’d never live it down.

Mom came downstairs, wearing a dress and high-heeled shoes. Her hair was down and curly at the ends; her eyes were done up in sparkling silver and black makeup. Glittering earrings dangled from her ears—so much different from the little gold balls she usually wore.

I could count on only a few fingers the number of times I’d seen her dressed up like this in my life.

She looked like someone I didn’t know.

“Oh God, it feels so good to look like a human being again,” she gushed, pulling some lip stuff out of the little purse under her arm.

She twisted off the cap and put it on her lips, making them pink, sparkly, and shiny.

“You look great, babe,” Dad said, offering her a rare compliment as his mouth curled up at the ends in a smile I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen.

My parents were always nice people. They were cool within reason, and they rarely complained about life the way other people might. But these were people I didn’t recognize—all dressed up and looking less like my parents and more like people who had fun.

It made me feel guilty, like it was my fault they didn’t look like this more often.

So, even though my pleas for them to stay home were still clinging to the tip of my tongue, I kept my lips shut as Dadheld Mom’s jacket up and open while she slid her arms into the sleeves.

“Okay, Charlie. We left cash for pizza on the counter if you wanna eat,” Mom said, zipping the jacket up and smoothing its front down over her dress.

“Luke said he’d bring something home.”

She eyed him pointedly. “We’re talking about Luke, hon. He says one thing and does another. Anyway, you have our numbers, and Mrs. Wheeler—”

“Yeah, I know. Dad already said this to me,” I muttered, leaning against the wall.

I wasn’t going to ask them again to stay, but, shit, I wished they would. They said it was separation anxiety—that was what a doctor had once said a couple of years ago—and, yeah, that was true sometimes. But that wasn’t what this was, and nobody would listen.

My fists clenched at my sides as my lungs stuttered.

Mom stepped toward me with her arms outstretched, then pressed her palms to my cheeks. Her eyes widened a little with surprise as her hands rubbed against my face.

“Oh my gosh, we gotta have Dad teach you how to shave,” she said with a light laugh before leaning in to press a kiss to my forehead. “You’ll be okay, Charlie. Call me if you need anything, okay?”

I released an exhale and nodded. “Okay.”

She gave me another kiss—this one on the cheek—as Dad groaned playfully.

“Come on, Sue. Let’s leave so Charlie can throw a crazy party.” He reached out and ruffled my hair before heading to the door. “Be good, kiddo.”

“Yep,” I replied, tightening my fists as Mom followed him. “Have fun, guys.”

The door closed behind them, and I watched through the stained-glass window as they got into their car. Then, as they pulled out of the driveway and began their drive down the street, the anxiety continued to build.

***

It was nearly midnight, and I was still alone.

Luke hadn’t called, but Mom had.

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