Chapter 5
On Monday, Nancy bumped Miley's shoulder in the hallway, knocking her books out of her hands and they thudded to the floor. She and Mikayla carried on as if nothing had happened.
Lilly knelt next to Miley and helped her in picking up the books. "What a bitch."
The next day, Chelsea snorted a nasal laugh as she passed Miley's seat. "Did you run out of tops, or why are you wearing a curtain?"
Miley jerked her gaze away and drew the sleeves of her cardigan over her trembling hands.
Good question, but screw her. Lilly dipped her chin at Chelsea's pink cardigan and skirt. "How about you? Took a dip in Lake Hillier?"
The innuendo seemed to fly over Chelsea's head as she simply tilted her head to one side before settling into her seat.
Jesus, they were so fake. These… these freaking Fakettes.
Lilly scoffed at the posters adorning the school's hallway walls. On a poison-green background, neon-pink lettering read Bully the bullies away and Let's bulldoze those bullies and in smaller letters below, Mrs. Dawson and Mikayla Michigan will lend a sympathetic ear to every bullying victim. Please contact us at… Two bullies advocating against bullying with… bullying. It couldn't get any more absurd.
Shuffling of footsteps drew nearer and Miley stopped next to her, a stack of books and folders in her arms and a toothy smile on her face.
Lilly couldn't keep her own smile off her face. "What's up, Hannah Montana?"
Miley's face dropped and she pressed the books against her chest.
Jezz, could she say anything at all without Miley looking like she had just been told the color pink was banned from all fashion stores? "You look like her. Especially your smile. It's crazy."
Miley drew a deep breath, and her smile returned a second later. "D'ya think so?"
"Don't tell me you haven't noticed."
Miley adjusted the books in her arms and giggled. "I actually get that a lot."
So where was the problem? If Lilly didn't know any better, she would think Miley was a hater.
They set off to their respective lockers, Lilly's in the middle and Miley's near the end of the hallway. Lilly ripped the locker door open, and a stack of folders and notebooks rustled to her feet, followed by an empty juice box. With a sigh, she bent down.
Your locker looks messier than your side of the room, Miley had once said.
I can change that if you want.
Miley had wrinkled her nose. Change what? Your side of the room or your locker?
Lilly had gaped at her. How much of a pig do you think I am?
Miley had been right though, she needed to improve her tidiness. Lilly glanced at the schedule taped on the inside of her locker door and banged it shut.
Jake's voice came from behind her, "Is this yours?"
Lilly jerked around, pressing the books against her chest and her back against the locker.
Instead of his usual megawatt smile, deep lines stretched across his forehead. He handed Lilly the empty juice box.
Mikayla must have told him about physical education, but if he was a decent guy, he would understand that she had to help Miley regardless of what had happened between them. "Thanks."
"I'm concerned."
"I'm going to stay out of Mikayla's way."
"I'm talking about you."
"Me?"
"Mikayla told me that she tried to warn you about Miley, but you didn't listen. You usually can't tell if someone is mentally ill. Ask Wade. He can confirm Miley is being treated for mental stuff."
"What?"
"He is a friend of mine." Jake fixed her with a hard stare. "His mother knows a woman who works as a receptionist in a Nashville psychologist's office, and Miley is a regular client there."
"Wait a minute. Slow down." Lilly shook her head and pinched the bridge of her nose. "You're losing me here."
"Listen, I don't know you, but still, I can't just stand by and watch you putting your life in danger." Jake leaned forward and rested his hand on the locker beside Lilly.
She caught a whiff of aftershave—cedarwood with a fresh lime top note, and her cheeks warmed. "Danger?"
"They say she sneaks around in the woods at night."
The beginnings of a laugh bubbled at the back of Lilly's throat, but it spluttered out as a cough. "You're telling me Miley's a dangerous wackadoodle, and you're justifying it with psychotherapy and night hikes?"
Jake's fingers rapped against the metal door. "Not the wandering per se, but what if she is dressed in blood-stained animal fur while doing it?"
"You're kidding."
Jake leaned back and thrust his jaw forward. "My father is into night fishing. He saw her. Her face and hands were covered in blood, and she was carrying this strange urn."
"That's-that's mental."
"Well, I'm sure she is into all sorts of witchy things. I can't force you to believe me, but I had to warn you because I'd blame myself if something happened to you."
Throughout the day, Lilly kept her distance from Miley. So far, she had only had the Fakettes' words, and none of them seemed particularly trustworthy. The more Lilly thought about Jake's story, the more it sounded like something out of a corny B horror film. But then there was Oliver, who was clearly a friend of Miley's but still avoided them. She caught him staring at her again in geography class.
The other day, Lilly texted Wendy, saying, I totally forgot what homework we got today. Help me, Obi Wendy Kenobi. You're my only hope. ;) She had yet to receive a response. Maybe girls didn't get the Star Wars reference, or Wendy ignored her on purpose. Lilly had a sinking feeling in her stomach.
The next day, her foreboding was confirmed. Wendy responded to Lilly's greeting with a tight-lipped smile and sat at the opposite end of the classroom. Was it her? Were her clothes considered uncool in the south? Did she smell funny? Lilly lifted one arm and sniffed. That couldn't be it. Thinking about it, others weren't exactly lining up to hang out with her either, and Miley didn't appear to be talking to anyone other than her.
Later that evening Lilly called her mother on the phone. When her mother asked her how she liked the student exchange so far, she answered, "Everything's hunky-dory," but her mother didn't know what that meant. "Hikish for everything's fine." Maybe she should have told her the truth: school sucks and she had no idea what to think about Miley, but her mother wouldn't take her problems seriously anyway. For her, everything was just silly teenage problems that she explained away with hormones and such.
See, you're getting used to the country life. I'm glad you and Miley get along so well.
"Yeah… " She shouldn't have told her at her last call that she thought Miley was kind of cool. Now she would never allow her to return home unless the Fakettes' warning turned out to be true.
When the hang-up signal beeped throughout the room she made the decision to find out whether Mikayla and Jake's accusations were true.
The next day, Lilly decided to stay up all night. She stared into the deep blackness of a moonless night as she fought to keep her eyes open. Cool air flowed through the tilted window, carrying in a concert of chirping crickets, and in the middle was Miley's snoring—the recorder playing of an elementary school student in a concert of professional violinists.
A harsh beep-beep-beep tore through Lilly's body, and she bolted upright to find the room illuminated in dim morning light. A scratchy giggle rose from the bed beside her.
Miley lay on her side and cuddled Beary to her chest, her vibrant eyes studying Lilly. "Someone seems to be lookin' forward to goin' to school."
Lilly drew her knees up, lowered her head, and let her eyes slip shut. "Yeah, no." Not only had she stayed awake half the night for nothing, but it was also a school night. Stupid. How often did these night hikes happen in the first place? If at all, Miley might only do them once a month. She couldn't possibly stay awake thirty days in a row.
On Old Mill Road, Lilly tipped her head back, and sun rays caressed her face and flickered behind her closed eyelids. She struggled to stifle a yawn. The chugging of an approaching tractor grew louder, and Lilly stepped behind Miley to let it pass. Three successive honks ripped through the air. Lilly swung to the side of the road, grabbed Miley's arm and dragged her along.
A burst of booming laughter mixed with the rattling of the tractor's engine. Dark eyes, set in a face with high cheekbones and a ruddy complexion, twinkled with amusement. A gust of wind blew the Native American man's grey ponytail over his plaid shirt-clad shoulder. "Didn't I scare ya girls real good?"
Lilly's heart rapped against her ribs.
Miley took a step toward the humming tractor and looked up. "Not me. I knew it was you, Mr. Baker."
"Good to see ya out in the open in daylight, an' with a school bag."
"Ain't it a cute one?" Miley twirled around to show him her backpack.
"Flowers have always been yer thin' as far as I can remember. I heard from yer Daddy that you're back in school?"
"Yes, sir."
"Real nice, real nice."
Miley merely shrugged her shoulders.
"I reckon that is Lilly." Mr. Baker leaned forward, his forearms propped up on the steering wheel.
Lilly and Miley nodded in unison.
"I'm glad ya made a friend."
"Me too." Miley smiled over her shoulder at Lilly, her tongue poking out between her teeth.
Lilly remained silent.
"All right, then." Mr. Baker pressed his horn in a long honk, and Lilly flinched. "Say hello to yer Daddy for me."
The tractor chugged off and Miley waved after him.
Three days later, a coughing fit startled Lilly awake. She swallowed, trying to get rid of the scratchiness in the back of her throat and fumbled around on the nightstand for her glass of water, but her hand only brushed against the veneered surface. Flipping back her comforter, she swung her legs out of bed. A sliver of moonlight slipped through the slit where the curtains didn't quite meet, casting an icy glow on Miley's smooth pillow and neatly folded comforter. Everything appeared to be the same as when Lilly had gone to sleep.
Before Miley and Mr. Stewart had left at noon, they had told Lilly they had some horse-related business to attend to. As far as Lilly knew, that was Jackson's job, not Miley's. And then so late in the night. Only the mafia did business under the cover of darkness. Lilly had a mental image of Miley standing in a dark alley, holding open her coat to every passing man, a horse's head peeking out from under it. Psst, want ta buy er horse? Ridiculous. Lilly had a different hunch.
She slid out of bed and pushed the curtain back. Even if Miley was on her infamous witch walk, Lilly could hardly track her down in the woods. A black shadow about the size of a turtle crept across the dark lawn and Lilly closed the curtain. Hell no, she wasn't going anywhere. The scratchiness in her throat intensified. She needed something to drink.
Her fingers brushed against the rough wallpaper, steadying her steps down the inky stairwell. Light spilled in a rectangle across the russet flooring through the open kitchen door. What if Miley was back? She might still be wearing the blood-splattered fur. Lilly stopped at the bottom of the stairs and hesitated. Plastic rustled, as if a package had been ripped open. The refrigerator door thudded shut, and heels clickety-clacked on floorboards. Not the best footwear for a walk in the woods. Lilly balled her hands into fists and turned into the kitchen.
White trousers hugged slim legs, while a fuchsia leather jacket topped a black v-neck top. Touseled blonde locks framed chubby cheeks, plump lips, and large cobalt eyes. Lilly's heart made one big leap into her throat before speeding up its beat.
Hannah Montana remained rigid, a chocolate bar between her teeth and a water bottle, a hot dog and a tortilla chip bag clutched to her chest.
"Hann… " Lilly's voice came out as a whispered croak, and her breath hitched.
Hannah's eyes twitched in her eye sockets to a point somewhere behind Lilly. She leaped forward, straight for the door, and tripped. She smacked into the wooden floor boards, grunting. Her grip on her water bottle loosened, and it rolled in front of Lilly's feet. She picked it up in a daze.
"Ouch." Hannah staggered upwards and pressed the palm of her hand against her forehead. "Goodness, that hurt."
Their gazes locked again and Hannah froze as abruptly as if she was a robot whose power had been cut. A steady trickle of blood poured from her nose to her chin, where it drip-dropped on the floor at regular intervals. The pulse rushed in Lilly's ears as she reached out to touch Hannah's cheek. Hot breath brushed against her hand. Her fingertips traced smooth skin down to the soft curve of her chin. How… ? This… could… not… be real.
Hooded eyes softened, pressed shut, and Hannah snapped her head away.
This… a dream… right? Lilly rubbed her finger against her thumb, where the blood felt sticky on her fingertip.
Hannah yanked the bottle from her grip and snatched the squashed hot dog and the other two snacks from the floor, but instead of heading towards the kitchen door, she dashed for the table and stuffed the items into a coral handbag. She ripped paper towels from a holder next to the sink, fell to her knees in front of Lilly, and scrubbed over the drops of blood that speckled the floor.
One hand wrapped around Lilly's leg, pushing her backward. She retreated until the counter's edge pressed against her lower back.
Blood dripped down and splattered every cleaned spot anew. Hannah groaned and pressed the back of her hand to her nose, a choke escaping her mouth. She ripped the entire roll of paper towels from its holder, pushed a crumbled paper against her nose, and wiped the floor until it gleamed clean. She stuffed the bloody paper into her bag and stumbled out of the kitchen. The front door slammed shut, and a blanket of silence descended upon the room.
By the time Lilly's muscles relaxed and she unclenched her hands from around the counter, the drone of a car leaving the farm had long faded into the distance. She swallowed. Did that really just happen? She squatted and grazed her fingers across the floorboards. A pale pink streaked her fingers. Was this Hannah's blood or… ? She felt her nose and came back with clean fingers.
Under the warm ceiling light, the polished metal surface of the refrigerator gleamed. The clock above the door tick-tocked into the silence. There was no sign that anyone else had been here recently.
Lilly went over to the sink and turned on the tap. Hot water burned her hands. So she had to be awake, right?
The window in front of her reflected the outlines of her blurred face, while the hen house's curtained window emitted a faint, eerie glow a little further behind the glass. When did hens need curtains and lighting? That thought triggered an irrational surge of anxiety in Lilly, driving a chill through her body.
Upstairs, she hid under the covers, and for the first time, she wished Miley was there with her.
A weight pressed against Lilly's comforter-covered stomach, jolting her awake. On her stomach lay a spiky, organic-looking ball. Lilly sat bolt upright, and the ball rolled to the edge of the bed, where cupped hands caught it.
"Ugh, spiky."
"A sea urchin." Lilly rubbed her eyes. "Where did you get it from?"
Miley giggled. "That's a hedgehog." She stood up from her kneeling position next to Lilly's bed and yawned.
"We don't have these in Malibu. Lemme see."
Miley held her hands out, displaying the curled-up hedgehog, and Lilly tapped a spine. "I want to see its face."
"Darlin'?" Mr. Stewart poked his cowboy hat-covered head through the door. He was already dressed in his usual checkered shirt. "D'ya still have the hedgehog up here?"
"Lilly has never seen one before."
"Bring it back outside. She'll have many more chances to see one this fall."
"I want Rose to uncurl first."
"Rose?"
"Because of her spines… like rose thorns."
"You know you can't keep the hed… Rose. She will be unhappy if you keep her in captivity." Mr. Stewart's voice held a soothing edge. "I'll buy you a stuffed hedgehog for your birthday."
"I know." Miley hmphed. "Fine."
Mr. Stewart vanished into the corridor and Miley turned to Lilly. "Sorry, we'll see if we can find some in the fields this evening, all right?"
Lilly stretched her arms and yawned. "Yeah, no prob'."
Miley took a step toward the door, toppled over, and banged her shoulder into the edge of her bed, which squeaked across the floor. "Ouch." She cradled the hedgehog against her chest. "Not again."
The eerie sense of déjà vu rendered Lilly frozen.
She blinked, shook her head, and flipped back the covers. Miley took her outstretched hand and let herself be pulled up. She shook off the faded Jeans that had wrapped around her leg.
Shucks. Lilly bit her lip. "My bad."
Miley rubbed her shoulder. "It's okay. Rose is fine."
"And what about you?"
Their eyes locked for a long moment before Miley shook her head. "I bruise easily, but I'm fine."
Lilly pressed her lips into a thin line and sat down on the edge of her bed. "That was such a freaking déjà vu moment just now."
Miley stroked the spines of the hedgehog for a second before pulling her hand back and rubbing her fingers together. She cleared her throat. "How so?"
"The same thing happened to Hannah Montana in your kitchen last night."
Miley jerked her head up, her eyes wide.
What the hell? Another déjà vu.
"A dream." It was a statement with no room for debate.
"Yeah, yeah, of course." Lilly waved Miley off. "It just felt so real, and it still does. She was pigging out, as in full-on stuffing her face with fast food."
"Darn tootin' no."
"I swear dreams can be hella ridiculous at times." Lilly tugged one leg under her and propped herself on a hand. "So, where were you last night?"
Miley pressed the curled-up hedgehog against her chest. "Where-where I'm always. In my bed."
"Not when I woke up."
"That horse trade show lasted longer than expected."
"Until five o'clock in the morning?"
"Then, in the bathroom."
"Do you always make your bed before you go to the bathroom?"
Miley smiled foolishly.
Horse trade show her ass. Miley had been out in the woods. Lilly's gut tightened. But where did Mr. Stewart fit into all of this? Was he also involved in the witchy stuff Jake mentioned?
"The truth is… " Miley took a deep breath. "I've been hangin' out with Taylor Swift at Santa's Pub."
"Yeah, okay." Lilly shook her head at Miley before picking up her socks from the floor. "Whatever."
Miley left the room to take the hedgehog outside. Lilly dug her nails into the black fabric of her hoodie and yanked it from the pile of clothes. She flinched and dropped it back to the floor.
A brown substance stuck under her nails. It couldn't be… Bringing her hand up to her face, she sniffed, and the distinct rusty smell of blood hit her nose.
Oh, God.
After Lilly got ready, she descended the stairs, and the aroma of pancakes and melted butter swept from the open kitchen door.
Jackson greeted her with a Hey as he wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. "Flippin' work is callin' again." He clattered his plate into the sink. "If I could give you a piece of advice, don't ever become independent. You'll even be required to work on weekends."
"Jackson." Mr. Stewart's voice rang out from the open front door. "Don't rush on my account."
"And there goes even the independence." Jackson walked out of the kitchen, shaking his head and grunting.
Jackson spent most of his time on the farm, and in his spare time, he would hang out with his friends at a honky-tonk—a type of bar that played live country music, as he had explained to Lilly. It sounded like fun, but Miley had made it clear that she would never step foot inside that stinky bar. Lilly doubted Jackson would want to supervise any of them in the first place.
Lilly took a seat at the table. Her stomach rumbled as she took in the stack of golden-brown pancakes with an amber-colored sea of liquid caramel on top, running down the edges in a river of sweet-smelling syrup. Just as Lilly was debating whether she should begin breakfast without Miley, Miley slid into the seat across from her and smiled.
"D'ya still have a bee in your bonnet for Daddy's pancakes?" She reached for the bowl of fruit on the table.
Lilly had no idea what that meant, but she nodded anyway. She chewed on the pancake syrup mixture, which triggered a slight buzz in her head. Mr. Stewart's cooking skills were magical. Magical… like witchcraft. Lilly forced down the suddenly tasteless, chewed-up guck.
With a fork, Miley scraped the whipped cream off her pancake. "I'm glad."
Lilly examined her neatly scrubbed nails. She could have had a nosebleed in the middle of the night and her subconscious had turned it into a dream.
"I was thinkin'… "
Lilly's gaze shifted to Miley for a brief moment before returning to her plate. But she hadn't noticed any blood stains on her sheets.
"I-I don't want to come across as rude or anythin', but… " Miley huffed a sigh. "The problem is that I can't stand it when things are messy. It bothers me to no end."
Lilly made a vague sound in the back of her throat. Miley could have done something to her while she was sleeping.
"Even I dislike cleaning my room, so I-I understand. I don't blame you. It's just that I would prefer if your half of the room… "
Lilly tuned out Miley's stuttering. She knew Lilly was obsessed with Hannah. If she was a witch, she could have influenced her dream. Damn. She didn't believe in magic or the supernatural. It was far too bizarre.
"I-I can clean up for you if it's too much for you."
"Yeah." Lilly scowled down, her knife scraping across the plate, collecting the syrup in a puddle.
Miley sputtered a nervous giggle. "I-I mean… you're my guest, so… "
There had to be a reason for all of this that had nothing to do with Miley or witchcraft.
"You seem absent-minded. Is everythin' all right?" Childlike eyes studied hers.
Lilly let herself fall back against the back of the chair and sighed. "No."
"Oh." Miley clanked her fork and knife down on the plate next to the untouched stack of pancakes in a puddle of melted whipped cream. "Did my request that you clean offend you? If so, I'm sorry. I—"
"—I was talking to Jake the other day, and he was telling me strange things."
"Strange things?"
"Yeah." Lilly tapped her fingers against the surface of the table. You, in a bloodstained fur, in the woods at night. "He told me you were seeing a psychotherapist."
"How does he even… ?" Miley shifted in her chair. "I did."
"You did?"
"But not anymore. It-it was because of the bullyin' in middle school."
Of course it was. Stupid. Lilly rubbed her brow and shoved a piece of pancake into her mouth, tasting caramel on her tongue. It made more sense than Miley being the dangerous type of mentally ill. Witchcraft and blood. Pff. What a load of crap. Miley was far too normal to be interested in such things. Mikayla simply tried to sway her to her side of the feud. "You're still not telling me what happened between you and Mikayla, aren't you?"
Miley bit off a piece of nail, shaking her head.
Yeah, of course not…