Ladybugs in November by Brittany Johnson

Author:Brittany Johnson [Johnson, Brittany]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-01-04T00:00:00+00:00

As Boyd entered the house in his timid-curious way, he wondered why any kids would possibly want to come here. This place, this awful, awful place gave him the spooks, the full-body heebie-jeebies, goose pimples and all.

Cold fear wrenched him. It felt like a hand had grabbed his little guts and squeezed and twisted and pulled.

What if Momma and Daddy find out?

And…and I get in trouble?

Then, a much colder thought.

What if…something bad happens?

You were all alone out in these woods, no other houses nearby, no roads, no smiling mailman, or sweet schoolteacher, like Mrs. Davies.

He didn’t understand this idea seemed like perfection to a sixteen-year-old, who wanted nothing more than to escape the authoritative eye of every adult in town.

Against all uncertainty, Boyd stepped farther inside, led by the hope in his now pounding heart.

He called for Janie, but his voice cracked, and his cheeks flushed a bright fuchsia, rapidly transitioning into a deep plum. Janie didn’t answer and that hope in Boyd’s heart waned but did not flee—not yet.

He kept going, the old floors creaking beneath each step.

After several moments that seemed to pass like eternities, he called again, stepping carefully from the foyer toward the long set of stairs, this time a little stronger, but still hoarse.

“I’m up here!” a high-pitched, almost jocular voice called to him.

A voice that was not Janie’s.

But Boyd was blissfully ignorant of that fact. A smile gushed from his rounded face as he charged up the steps, nearly skipping them.

“I’m coming!” he shouted, just a tad too loud, a tad too eager, and was filled instantly with embarrassment.

“In the bedroom, on the right, the pink one!”

Boyd trod down the hall to the last room on the right—what he hoped was the correct one—cautiously pushing open the door, stepping inside.

“Janie? You in here?” It was almost a whisper. And that whisper shook terribly. So did his damp hands. All he was now was a puddle of electrified nerves that kept making his voice break, kept making his chest hammer, kept making his heart swell with a promise that sang so beautifully to him.

Janie didn’t respond. Because Janie wasn’t there at all.

She never had been.

The sweet rush of blood that had filled Boyd’s cheeks drained out of him and pooled in his wide, flat feet when he saw Shorty Polk appear from behind the window curtain.

“Hey fat boy,” he said.

Boyd couldn’t render speech of any kind.

Martin emerged slowly from the closet, greasy fingers slipping over his knife.

“You really thought Janie Price wanted to see you? Out here? You must be dumber than we thought,” Martin said.

Boyd whipped around to face him. He thought he might puke, or faint, he wasn’t sure which one would come first. Those two hadn’t left him alone since the second grade and something in Boyd told him it had all been leading to this.

“You thought Janie was gonna what? Suck your little dick? A fat boy, like you? Huh, fat boy?” Martin continued pressing in on Boyd. Shorty started in on the opposite side, smacking his lips to make gorilla-kissing sounds.

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