AN: The plot bunny that bit me in the ass, all mine. The rest is SM's.
Look at that you're back for more. Awesome.
Once again a big thanks to my beta team: I2want2knowu and Lynz.
Chapter 2
~*Crackle~*
"Mrs. Bellhouse needs to get laid." Alice's high voice rang across my yard and carried up the stairs.
"Or take up day drinking. Either way, she's way too uptight," Kate declared, giggling.
I pulled my keys from my backpack and twirled them on my finger as I jogged up the front porch. The key slid home with a rusty click.
"Speaking of getting laid …"Kate said. Tact was never her thing. "Christen the house yet?" Her pointy fingernail poked me in the back.
I opened the door, turned on my heel, rounding on them and offered a saucy glare. "Wouldn't you like to know?"I pushed the door open with my butt and backed into the house, the pretty red door creaked.
We filed in and kicked off our shoes, leaving them in a messy heap by the door. "Is Natasha coming over after practice?" I asked, leading the girls to the kitchen.
Kate and Tasha had been going hot and heavy for nearly a year now, and I liked her, she was cool beans and an insane violinist; but did I think she was my BFFs ever after? Nope. The pieces seemed to fit, but there was an intensity in Kate that seemed to die out when Natasha was around.
"Yeah, around four," she murmured, no doubt texting away.
I nodded. "Large pizza it is then." Mom was elbow deep in some dead body at the hospital and dad was working on a case out of town. The trial was due to begin tomorrow morning, so it was a fend-for-yourself kind of night. We reached the kitchen, tucked in the far corner of the house, and stopped dead. It might have been comical if I wasn't so freaked out. "What the …"
Every drawer and cupboard was wide open. My eyes flew around the room and I called out, "Mom? Bree?" No one answered.
"Well that's fucked up," Alice said, sauntering past me in cut offs and black fish nets I'd never have the balls to wear. She began closing the cupboards.
"What's fucked up is that ISU in AP English. Bellhouse is hell bent on killing our social lives," Kate complained scoping the note and money Mom had left. "Vegetarian for Bree." She waved the note in the air and opened her phone dialling the only edible pizza joint in the town, Denato's.
We ate, listened to music, and Bree rattled on about some snobby chick in her class and her new found hatred for pudding thanks to a lunchtime incident.
Alice, Tasha, and Kate left just after seven and Bree headed to her room to do her homework while I started in on the dishes. The music playing in the living room sucked away the empty feeling the house took on, and I hummed along happy to be doing anything other than biology at the moment. Suddenly the music cut off. I let go of the cup I'd been washing and let it drift to the bottom of the sink, landing with a muted thud.
"Bree, I was listening to that!" I shouted, pulling my soapy hands out of the water.
Nothing. Not a sound.
"Bree Ana-Lynn, turn it back on!" I middle named her, expecting a response, but all I got was more silence. I turned and reached for the tea towel, wiping my hands. The silence made the house seem so much bigger. I took a tentative step forward, inching toward the den. Maybe a circuit blew?
I padded down the hall on bare feet, the wooden floors cold. My mind struggled to recall the whereabouts of the circuit box. Steps from the living room, sound blasted through the house. My heart throbbed and a screech tore through me. I threw a hand out, steadying myself on the wall. "Fuck." My voice came out shaky.
Marilyn Manson's Sweet Dreams piped through the sound system. I stepped into the room and looked around. No bratty teenaged sister anywhere. I walked over to the stereo and turned the volume down a little. My eyes followed the cord to the outlet and back up again. "Huh," I said, hands on my hips and my heart still racing. Just a short, I figured and made my way back to the kitchen on steadier feet. My cell phone dinged on the centre island, and I quickened my pace knowing it was Edward. My bare feet touched down on the kitchen tile, and my heart kicked hard in my chest. I froze.
The dishes were stacked in a precarious tower next to the sink. Dishes I'd already washed and sat to dry in the rack. For a moment, I could only stare. My hands trembled at my sides and the instinct to bolt from the room grew the longer I took in the odd sight.
"Bree?" My voice quivered and refused to push past a whisper. I swallowed the lump in my throat and tried again. "Bree," I said a little louder this time, but nowhere near loud enough for her to hear me over the thrum of the music.
The sudden ding of a bike bell startled me and my body jerked; my hands clenched into small fists. My eyes broke from the tower of dishes and found my phone on the island.
Not a single cell in my body wanted to take those few steps to the counter, but I pushed forward on careful feet, my eyes darting around the room. I grabbed my phone and tore ass out the way I came in. Taking two stairs at a time, I shot up the stairs. At the top of the stairs, I ducked into my sister's room.
Fuck knocking, she'd forgive me.
"Um?" Bree said, watching my chest heave. Her face was painted in confusion.
Still half breathless I said, "Either your big sister's cracked or this house is fucked! Well, at least the kitchen. The kitchen is for sure not right." My words came out quick and kind of crazed, and I realized I was rambling.
"The kitchen? What happened? You're all …" she gave a weird little wave and her lip curled "… uppity."
"Yeah, you'd be uppity too if the dishes rearranged themselves on you." I slid down the door, giving Bree a no-shit look. When my cell phone chimed again I nearly chucked it across the room.
Bree's head cocked in befuddlement. "Whatdaya mean they rearranged themselves?" She turned fully in her chair, highlighter still in her hand.
"Like, one minute they're making like good little dishes, the next they're stacked like the leaning tower of Pisa." I slid my thumb over my phone's screen and see two messages from Edward and one from Mom.
"No." Bree sounded completely incredulous and the single word got all warped and drawn out.
"Yep." I checked the text from Mom first.
~How are my girls doing?~Mom
I almost laughed reading it, but reined that nervous shit in, and typed:
~Fine. How are you, big Momma?~Bella
I looked back to my quiet sister and nodded. "The music went off in the living room, so I go back there to check it out. Then, wham, shit just turns back on. So I shrug it off, thinkin' old house, old wiring, ya know? I get back to the kitchen and then fucking shit twice and die right there, because the stupid dishes are stacked!"
Her big brown eyes that were so much like mine, bugged out. "No? That's so cool!" she gushed, sounding stupidly excited.
I tossed her a what-the-actual-fuck look. "No, not cool. Dead things playing in our kitchen is not cool, Bree. It's messed."
"Pft. Whatever." Bree flipped her dark curls over her shoulder and rolled her eyes. "You're a pansy." Her voice was light and joking, but I was a little miffed by it, not gonna lie.
"Eat a dick, Bree." I shot her the finger and checked the messages from Edward. She laughed at me, shaking her head. Brat.
~Whatcha up to? ~Edward
~No Answer, huh? I'll assume you're masturbating. ~Edward
Pervert, I thought, snickering.
Bree stood up, drawing my attention back up. "I gotta see these dishes."
"Seriously, can we just wait it out up here?"The idea of being in that kitchen sent a quicksilver chill racing up my spine.
"Uh, no. I need to see this crazy for myself. Move your sorry ass." She made an impatient gesture with her hand and stepped forward.
Taking a breath, I pushed to my feet and side-stepped my dumb sister, allowing her passage. As we made our way down the stairs I fired off a text to Edward.
~Not masturbating, sorry, babe. But there is some freaky crap going on over here. ~ Bella
Sliding the phone into my back pocket, I followed Bree down the long hallway, stopping in the living room to turn off the music. We reached the kitchen and I was stuck.
My eyes ping-ponged around the room. The dishes were sitting as I'd left them … pre-tower. Two plates sat by the sink, waiting to be washed, the rest of them were in the dish rack. One cup was no doubt in the sink swimming in cold, soapy water.
"So maybe it's option number one: big sister's flipped." Bree turned to me, her eyes half hidden by her bangs. She looked at me like I'd licked one of the funky toadstools in the backyard.
"No, no," I said, taking quick steps forward. "Bree, I swear that shit was stacked one on the other."
"Bella Marie, I didn't think you were one to get high on a school night. Tsk, tsk." She wagged her finger at me and a big smug grin sat on her round smug face.
"Whatever!" I huffed. "You finish the dishes, then." I stomped out of the kitchen and headed up to my room.
~(LL)~
The rest of the week blew by without anymore incidents, leaving me thinking I'd imagined the whole friggin' thing. Mom was on-call for the county this weekend and sure as the sun sets, around six p.m. her cell went off. She'd barely started in on her dinner.
"Damn. Sorry, girls. Duty calls." She got up from the table and planted a kiss on each of our heads. I got up and began packing up her dinner so that she could bring it to work.
"Thanks, baby," she said, rooting around in her purse for her car keys.
"Momma's gotta eat." I patted her big belly and handed her the container.
She placed it near her purse, huffed, and smacked her palm on the countertop. "Any idea where I put my keys?" Stupid pregnancy brain," she mumbled to herself, looking around the kitchen.
I saw her drop them in her purse when we got home from grocery shopping. She had always kept her keys in her purse; I knew this, but I shrugged. Mommy brain? Maybe. Maybe she moved them?
"Nope," Bree answered with her mouth full of spaghetti.
"Jacket?" Mom teetered out of the room in search of her car keys, and I placed the Tupperware on top of her purse. Hard to miss.
Twenty minutes later, Mom was on her way out the door, hollering over her shoulder, "Don't hesitate to call either one of us if you need to. And Bella Marie, the door stays open." She turned on her heel and delivered a sharp look. She knew Edward was on his way over.
"Yes, Mother," I said as sweet as sugar, tracing a halo over my head. I had zero intention of following through, but I think she knew that. Bree and I finished our supper, excitedly discussing the new horror movie that was set to come out next week.
"Ya know, it's a little funny that you freaked out over the dishes. You watch horror movies like most people watch rom-coms," Bree commented, clearing the table.
"Well seeing that stuff in real life, much more terrifying. And stop looking at me like that!" The little twerp just chuckled and began filling the sink. When the doorbell rang, I turned my back to her and sauntered out of the room.
"Better keep that door open, Bella Marie," she mocked.
I flipped her the bird over my shoulder. The front door creaked open, like, hello-Amityville, creaked, and that was so not helping. I peered up at sea-green eyes that always seemed to be swimming. Edward's hair could only be described as sex-hair—messed up and unruly and so very hot. His hands immediately grabbed for my hips as he stepped into the house.
"Tadpole, you should be kinder to me."
"How's that?" I asked, my brows pinching together.
"Avoid tight sweaters." He pointedly looked down at my chest.
"I could say the same for the, uh, low slung jeans and up-to-no-good hair." I dragged him further into the house, and he kicked the door shut with the heel of his foot.
"Momma Swan's car is gone," he said, toeing his shoes off and placing a quick kiss on my forehead. "On call?" He knew the routine because his own father was an emergency room doctor at the same hospital my mother worked at. They'd actually gone to school together and thought it was a big friggin' hoot when their offspring got together.
I answered with a nod. Friday nights were always rough on both parents. Drunk drivers and general fuckery made for a busy ER and an equally slammed morgue. Sad, but true.
"How's Charlie's case going?" Edward asked as he followed me to the kitchen.
"He called earlier, just before dinner. Said things were looking good and if the trail stays on course, he'd be home Tuesday night."
Moving to the fridge to grab a Coke, he greeted my sister. "Hey, Miss Bree, how goes it?"
Turning away from the sink, Bree wiped her hands on a tea towel. "Deadly boring, Eddie. My chem teacher is a few brain cells short of intelligent and geometry is balls," Bree complained with a curled lip, looking perfectly disgusted.
Popping the tab, Edward leaned against the counter and took a sip. Nonchalance, thy name is Edward Cullen. "Wait, you've got Pinner for chemistry, right?"
Bree nodded, rolling her eyes.
"My sincerest apologies. Your sister and I had her, like, twice now. How in the hell she landed a job teaching AP chem, I have no idea. The woman's sweet, don't get me wrong, but she's simple."
We all chuckled. Edward and Bree always got along. She was never the bratty sister type and her age never seemed to be an issue with any of our friends. Not that she hit parties with us. Drunk baby sister, um, no thank you.
"Movie?" I asked, looking from Edward to Bree.
They nodded in unison and it was a little comical. The three of us padded off to the living room armed with Coke and Loaded Potato Skin chips. Edward and I curled up on the loveseat, letting Bree chose. No doubt it would be a thriller, a thinker. I watched her skip over the girly romance section, and smiled. Runaway Bride not even on her radar. Runaway Juror, though …
She settled on a British film, Veronica Guerrin, about a journalist digging through the local drug underground. Stretching out on the couch, she tucked an old blanket around her feet.
About half way through the movie, Edward's hand went roaming under the blanket covering us. My legs were splayed across his lap, feet propped up on the wide arm of the couch. His fingers tripped from my ankle to my thigh and back. Then he got daring, running his hand between my legs. I jumped when his thumb grazed my centre.
"Ew, gross," Bree groaned. "Hands where I can see them, bubb!"
Edward just laughed and put his hands up in the air.
A loud thud suddenly had us all sitting up straight.
"What the fuck was that?" Edward threw the blanket off and stood.
The bang came again, louder than before. Pictures on the wall rattled with the force of it. My scream rose up and met with Bree's. The TV flickered once, twice, and then went black. The room was silent, save our shaky breaths. The house seemed to rumble and the silence between the sounds unnerved me. I grabbed Edward's hand and squeezed, begging him to stay close.
The quiet became a living thing, breathing icy cold air into the room. I pulled the blanket I'd been clinging to up to my neck.
"The air's so … sad," Bree said in a low voice. She was right, there was a sorrow mingling with the chilly air. "Look." Bree held out her hand and pointed to the corner of the room, just above the TV.
Small blue-white lights snapped in the air. It was like watching invisible bugs fly into one of those light zappers. The air around us crackled with energy and the hair on the back of my neck stood. My mouth hung open in both amazement and alarm.
Stacked dishes were fairly innocuous next to this shit.
Slowly, the sullen chill bled from the room. The zaps of light became fewer and fewer, and the silence seemed to hang precariously, as if the tiniest thing would skew the balance and the house would begin to rage again. The TV turned back on, startling us all again.
The shaky feeling of normal returned, and Edward dropped to the couch next to me."You all right, Mini Swan?" he asked, looking distinctly not all right himself.
For a second Bree didn't answer, then a small nod of her head followed a soft sound that might have been a 'yeah'.
"Tadpole?" He turned his gaze to me.
I took a deep breath. "I've seen better days, sir." Huffing out another long, hard breath, I locked eyes with my sister. "They'll never believe us. Mom, Dad… they'll think we're pullin' shit, Bree."
My parents were logical people—hell I was a logical person—but the fuckery in the kitchen, the banging, the little lights, and that disturbing cold kinda took my finely tuned logic and flipped it on its ass.
Getting up off the couch, Bree-Ana Lynn scuttled across the room and wedged herself between Edward and I. "I'm sorry, Bella … about the dishes. I … I thought …" Her voice cut off.
"Hey, I know, I know." I ran my hand over her knee, patting it reassuringly.
"Maybe it was an earthquake or something?" Edward pondered. There was that damned logic again, trying to nose its way in.
"No, baby. No." I sighed and shook my head.
Once we'd gathered our collective balls, we turned the TV off and the three of us headed to my room. Bree didn't want to be alone and somehow the smaller space was comforting, guarded. We him'ed and haw'ed over whether or not to mention it, but untimely, shit was stacked against us, so when Mom came home just after midnight, Edward went home, and Bree and I kept our mouths shut.
End Notes: Had any spooky experiences yourself?
Thanks oodles for reading folks! Should have the next chapter up in 2-3days.