Page 56 of Unraveling Charlotte

I look away, allowing a heavy silence to fill the space between us as I mull over his words. Eventually, I break the silence. “You aren’t a cook.”

“No?” he questions, a playful lilt in his voice.

“You look like the kind of man who silently directs a boardroom,” I assert.

“Perhaps I am,” he whispers, though his tone seems distracted, his focus elsewhere.

Following his line of sight, I gaze toward the gate that encloses the school and the playground. A retaining wall descends about ten feet to the street below. His gaze extends beyond that into the distant street. I don’t perceive anything unusual, just homes and trees.

“What’s wrong?” I inquire, turning back to him. He appears relaxed, yet there’s a subtle tension around his eyes that wasn’t present a moment ago.

“In about two minutes, I will move you swiftly to the sidewalk, then into the school. Do not question me, and do not defy me, Charlotte,” he commands, his voice firm and unwavering.

“What?” Fear slithers up my spine as I look around, my senses on high alert. Everything appears normal, but a sense of unease settles in.

A sudden whistle cuts through the air, sending a jolt of shock through me. The sound slices across the schoolyard before the principal’s voice booms out. “Hello! Welcome to trunk-or-treat!” His tone is cheerful, his enthusiasm palpable. He’s a robust, ginger-haired man who always seems to exude happiness. “Looks like we might have some rain, kids! Let’s all head into the cafeteria for the festivities to continue inside. We’ll get started in just a minute!”

I glance upwards, scanning the sky as I murmur, “The skies are clear.”

“Are they?” Desmond turns to me, his fingers gently tilting my chin upwards. I follow his gaze to the sky above, where the once clear blue is now obscured by rolling white clouds. The weather forecast hadn’t predicted rain. “Inside, Charlotte.”

“Lottie!” Milo’s voice breaks my concentration, and I jerk my head away from Desmond’s grip to see my brother running toward me. A sense of unease tightens in my stomach. “My bag.” He swiftly snatches his trick-or-treat bag from my lap and then grabs my hand, tugging me to my feet.

A chill of realization courses down my spine. Something isn’t right, and I can’t shake the feeling that we’re on the edge of something ominous. As Milo pulls me along, a gnawing worry takes root.

What hidden dangers lurk in the shadows?

Desmond rises to his feet beside us, his palm resting on the small of my back, subtly guiding us toward the double doors leading to the cafeteria. The hair on the back of my neck stands on end, and I glance back instinctively.

“Eyes forward, Charlotte,” Desmond warns, his voice carrying a note of urgency that sends a jolt of nerves dancing across my senses.

Ahead of us, Milo and Winston are engaged in animated chatter, discussing their plans for collecting candy and how much they’ll consume afterward. We’re toward the rear of the line, with most people already inside. As we approach the entrance, the principal smiles and greets everyone. However, his gaze lingers on Desmond, locking onto him for a moment before he offers a nod.

Strange.

Upon entering the hall, Milo takes off with Winston, their laughter and joyful conversation filling the air. A small part of me is relieved that he’s found a friend, someone he can connect with apart from Simon, but another part of me whispers that something is unfolding, something I’m oblivious to.

“Stay, Charlotte.” Desmond’s voice brushes my ear as his lips graze my temple, the intimacy of the gesture striking between two strangers. “I’ll know if you don’t.” With those words, he steps back and heads outside.

Uneasiness washes over me as I survey the bustling cafeteria. The noise level is overwhelming, causing my ears to throb with the clamor. Navigating through the crowd, I finally spot Milo. He and Winston are in conversation with a woman who I assume is Winston’s mother. As I approach them, a sense of foreboding tugs at me, the feeling that something significant is transpiring just beyond my grasp.

Winston’s mother looks up at me with a gentle smile as I approach. “You must be Lottie,” she says, extending her hand for me to shake. Her touch is warmer than my chilled one, and she radiates warmth and compassion. “I’m Marion.” She’s dressed as Frankenstein’s bride, her dark coiled hair styled with a single streak of white that stands out. Somehow, she manages to make the costume look alluring, accentuating her curves.

“Winston’s…” I hesitate, not wanting to assume someone’s parental status, especially given that I’m Milo’s sister.

“Mom.” She fills in the gap with a smile. “Was that Desmond Black I saw you with?” There’s a knowing twinkle in her eyes.

I glance over my shoulder, making a quick decision. “It was. Listen, can you keep an eye on Milo? I wouldn’t normally ask, but he wanted to talk to me in the hall.”

Liar.

“Of course.” There’s excitement in her voice, which surprises me. “He’s such a good man. He’s done so much for all of us.”

“Thanks.” I make a mental note to revisit that later. “Milo, what’s my phone number?”

He recites it from memory, earning praise from Marion with a giggle. I plant a quick kiss on his cheek before melting back into the crowd.

My heart races as I step into the quieter hallway on the other side of the cafeteria. The noise from the festivities is absent here, and the stillness is almost unsettling.

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