Property of the State by Bill Cameron

Author:Bill Cameron [Cameron, Bill]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Poisoned Pen Press
Published: 2016-02-11T23:00:00+00:00

2.3: I Never Use It

All evening, faces swirl in my head. Courtney and Duncan. Reid. The detectives. Even freaking Bianca. Mrs. Petty makes an appearance, though she’s been so quiet the last week it’s only a cameo. I try to concentrate on covalent bonds at Kristina’s desk. Failing that, I scratch at a sheet of paper with my pencil, notes for my Crucible paper. Reading back over them, they make less sense than my feelings about Trisha.

It’s after ten when the solution hits me. I need food. I haven’t eaten since lunch. After Reid, my stomach was too knotted. When I arrived at the Huntzels, I watched through the kitchen window as Philip and his mom slurped soup before I crept to the other end of the house to Kristina’s door. I haven’t risked coming out all evening, but they have to be in bed by now. Mrs. Huntzel is such a grandma about crap like school nights.

Silence follows me down the north stairs through the living room and into the rec room, the only sound the faint tap-pad of my feet on the slate floor as I pass under the glass eyes of the animal heads. But halfway across the landing between the rec room and the utility basement, I hear a voice.

“Philip?”

Mrs. Huntzel stands at the head of the spiral stairway. Acid surges into my throat. The basement landing is dark. My first instinct is to dart back into the rec room. But she moves before I do, descending and calling out again. I hesitate, then slink into the darkness under the curving stairway. Halfway down, she pauses, one foot a step lower than the other. Her slipper is inches from my nose, visible in the gap between the stair treads. She’s close enough to hear my heartbeat. The scent of Gold Bond sucks fluid from my eyes.

The scuff of a footstep draws my attention to the utility basement door.

“What are you doing, honey?”

“Nothing.”

Philip materializes in the dark doorway. He’s in his underwear, feet bare. His violin hangs loose in one hand, bow in the other. I press back against the wall, crouch into a tight ball. If either of them hits a light switch, I’m looking at jail time.

“Philip, you need to be more careful with your violin. It’s too valuable to sling around like that.”

“It’s fine.”

“Think about your future. If you take care of it—”

“Who cares?”

She draws a sharp breath. For a second, no one moves.

“Honey…why do you do this to yourself?”

“Leave me alone.” He reaches around and scratches his back with the end of the bow.

“You’re only making it worse.”

“It’s the only thing I’m good at.”

“That’s not true. You’re good at lots of things—”

“I hate chess.” The venom in his voice is chilling.

“Philip, please.”

“She—”

“We all agreed.”

“I didn’t.”

“You were so young.” Her long sigh seems to fill the space around me. “You’ll understand someday.”

I can hear him breathing, but the shadows are too deep for me to make out more than his form. Pallid skin, the dark hollows of his eyes.

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