I didn't know what I was going to do. Mom expected me to only stay at Mort's house a few days and she would be angry if she knew I had lied. I had been there a week and hadn't dared to call my mother. There would be too many questions if I did.
There were more things on my mind than how my mother was going to react. Shooter and Clover seemed to be hiding something from me and I guessed they were hiding it from Mort as well. If he knew what they were up to he would have told me for sure. Neither of us liked to be in the dark about what our alter-personalities were planning.
Mort and I hadn't had sex yet. We were getting closer and closer but it just hadn't happened. Half of me didn't feel right about it but the other half wanted it more than anything in the world.
The day had been there a week Mort told me that he was going to the dentist. The reason he was going was because of his jaw. It had been hurting him pretty bad and I had finally talked him into going to get it checked out. That meant I was going to be alone at that house with Shooter and Clover.
I didn't mind but Mort didn't want me alone there with them. He kept asking me to go to the dentists with him. I would have but I have a little fear of dentists. In the end and I won. He left me at the house around noon.
Most of my day was spent in the living room. There were plenty of books to read. I had the goal of reading them all and I wasn't anywhere near my goal. I had been reading about half an hour before I heard the whispers from upstairs.
"This isn't a good idea," Clover hissed. "You idea will never work."
I raised an eyebrow sitting the book down on the coffee table. I got up from the couch and started to creep up the stairs. Their voices were getting louder.
"You might not believe in it riat now but you havta ta trust me," Shooter urged.
The bedroom door was closed so I put my ear to it.
"I don't know John..." She muttered.
"You'll see," he said. "Come on now. We have work ta do."
I pulled opened the door to find the bedroom empty but I was sure Shooter had been there. His large black hat was sitting on the bed. I had a sudden urge to put the hat on. I glanced around the room.
No one was there. There couldn't be any harm in giving in to the urge and putting the hat on. I walked over to the bed and picked up the hat. It looked a bit big for my head but it wouldn't be that bad of a fit. I picked up the hat and placed it on top my head.
As soon as I put it on an odd feeling over came me. I felt like I was being watched. I turned and looked around the room. To my surprise Shooter was standing a few feet away.
"Hello missy," he smirked at me.
"What are you doing here?" I asked.
"The last person who put my hat on killed folks," Shooter explained. "Are you fixin ta kill folks Shadow?"
That meant Mort had to have been the one who put on the hat. After all he was the only one who could see Shooter. But the hat was real. Anyone could have put on the hat. It couldn't have been Mort. He wasn't a killer. I tried to force those thoughts out of my head.
"I don't have any reason to kill anyone," I explained at once.
"I know you'd like ta kill your mom," Shooter said.
"What?" I asked in a near scream. "What makes you think I'd like to kill my mother?"
"She acts liake she's better than you doesn't she?" He asked. "Does she take credit fer thangs you've done? Act like you're a baby? Make your life hard?"
What he was saying was true but out of context. She made my life hard but all mothers make their kids lives hard. They don't mean to it. It just happens. They only want what's best for you. But what's best for you isn't always what you want.
"She'll never let you stay up here wif Mort," Shooter said. "We both know that."
"Leave me alone Shooter," I snapped. "I don't need to kill her. I'll just tell her that I'm not interested in going home."
This idea was better than killing her but it didn't seem to make Shooter happen. He frowned and cut his eyes at me.
"It's better ta have trouble makers out of tha picture," he explained.
"You said that the last person who wore you hat killed people," I said. "Who was it?"
The question made the smirk return to his face.
"Mort," he whispered.
I didn't want to hear anymore of this nonsense. I pulled the hat off my head and tossed it on the bed. When I looked around Shooter was gone. I shook my head as I sat down on the bed. Maybe Shooter was right about mother. She was terrible person and needed to die. But he was wrong about Mort. Mort was no killer and either was I.