Chapter 7
Lilly ripped her eyes open. Another crow echoed across the farm. This was the second time that Mr. Baker's rooster had wandered onto the Stewart's farm. Miley rolled over in bed and pressed her pillow against her head.
When Lilly entered the kitchen, Mr. Stewart stood in front of the burbling coffee machine, empty mug in hand. The familiar tobacco stench of over-roasted coffee pervaded the air. Lilly couldn't understand how anyone could drink this brewed dishwater.
"Alzheimer's. That has to be it." Mr. Stewart made a huh sound. "The beaked fellow looks pretty spry for his eight years, though."
Lilly fetched a glass of water.
Mr. Stewart turned to her. "Are you still not feelin' like goin' to church today?"
On Sunday mornings, the Stewarts went to church whenever they were home. "It's just not my thing." Lilly didn't deny that there was life after death (dying and then ceasing to exist was simply too ridiculous an idea), but she didn't believe in the churchy God who sent everyone to Hell for every little misstep. That was nonsense.
Mr. Stewart opened a cabinet to reveal an overflowing trash can, his soaked coffee filter dripping onto the floor boards.
"Please let me." Lilly took the trash bag and circled the cottage. The lid clanged against the trashcan as Lilly lifted it off and tossed the coffee filter into it. At the bottom of the can lay a newspaper. Wasn't that… ? Lilly pulled out the crumpled paper smeared with a foul-smelling substance and drenched in coffee. A familiar rush spread through her.
Teen Pop Sensation Hannah Montana Spotted Boozed-up
On september 12, Hannah Montana (15) and Taylor Swift (19) were spotted at Santa's Pub on Bransford Avenue, Nashville. Rumor has it that they allegedly met to plan a collaboration on an upcoming country song. During their meeting, shocked guests at the bar witnessed an underage and drunk Hannah Montana jump on stage to take part in a karaoke song. According to the bartender, several customers fled when Hannah began to perform. Was it the influence of the alcohol or couldn't Hannah truly carry a note in a bucket? Another witness expressed shock that a young teenager was allowed to go clubbing alone. We are wondering: where had her parents been? Does Hannah lip-sync at her concerts? And what was the true purpose of Taylor's and Hannah's meeting?
The article below read:
Tennessee Murderer Continues Killing Spree
The still unidentified killer has claimed their fifth victim. At Fall Creek Falls State Park, fourteen-year-old Amy Jenkins was discovered near the boat dock at Fall Creek Lake by a group of tourists. She lay in a circle of animal figures made out of sticks and chestnuts. The chestnut figures were surrounded by an "unsettling aura," according to tourists who discovered the girl. As with the previous victims, she had a prominent scar on her body. Her blood had been drained, and the carvings on her body suggest a ritual murder. According to police, the killer kidnaps the victims for a few weeks before murdering them…
Lilly curled her lip and rolled the newspaper up.
When she returned to the kitchen, Miley sat at the kitchen table in her pajamas, downing a handful of pills.
She drank several large sips from a water glass before placing it back on the table. A smile stretched across her face. "Good m—"
"—take a look at this." Lilly shoved the newspaper in Miley's face.
Miley wrinkled her nose. "If you were trying to spoil my appetite for breakfast, you succeeded."
What appetite? Miley never seemed to eat anything. "Read this."
Miley pushed the newspaper away from her. "I already did. That's why it was in the trash can. Those stupid magazines."
"Yeah." Lilly slid into the seat next to Miley. "The press is always looking for some scandal involving Hannah."
"Don't tell me." Miley puckered her brow. "How is anyone to know they put alcohol in Pina Colada?"
"Because isn't that kind of the point? What made you think of Pina Colada?"
"Well, it tastes sweet and creamy and nothin' like alcohol." Miley paused. "At least, that's what Jackson told me."
"Okay." Lilly leaned forward. "Taylor Swift at Santa's Pub. Does that ring a bell?"
Miley shook her head.
"You told me you were at Santa's Pub with Taylor the night I dreamed Hannah was in your kitchen. Isn't that kinda freaky? Like we were both channeling Hannah Montana or something."
Miley picked a lint from her sleeve. "Yes, freaky."
Lilly zipped up her hoodie and stuffed her hands into the side pockets. A gust of wind whipped her hair back and carried the musky-sweet aromas of damp grass, rotting leaves, and pudding across the front porch. In the middle of the front yard, a white tablecloth flapped on the long stretched table, held in place only by the lavishly set punch basins, plates stacked high with pies and cakes, several baskets full of fruit, and a giant turkey in the center.
Lilly had discovered Miley in her room two days before, holding several rolls of wrapping paper, a broken bottle at her feet, and tears in her eyes. Miley had turned away from her and had wiped her face with the sleeves of her sweater. The overwhelming smell of aftershave had stung Lilly's eyes.
"I can't do it by myself, and Jackson ain't goin' to help me."
Jackson apparently had thought that shoving a hundred-dollar bill into Miley's hand and saying, You'll think of something great, would suffice for his contribution to Mr. Stewart's forty-seventh. Lilly had persuaded him to drive them to the supermarket, where they had bought groceries and a new aftershave for Mr. Stewart—Vincent Wood Eau de Luck for one hundred fifty dollars. Lilly hadn't asked where Miley got that much money. She had also helped her in setting up the table and decorating the front yard.
Jackson took the ladle from a jade liquid-filled punch bowl, raised it to his lips, and dipped it back in.
Yuck. Lilly already knew exactly what she was not going to try today.
Another gust of wind lashed at a group of women's long dresses, sweeping their shrill laughter up to the front porch. Men grabbed their cowboy hats to keep them from flying away. Children danced in the meadow, their tiny hands reaching for the golden and maroon leaves carried through the air.
"Lilly, come quickly." Miley stumbled through the front door and rushed down the front porch stairs.
"Miley!" A rough voice drifted from inside.
She jarred to a halt.
A man in his forties pushed his massive, protruding stomach through the front door.
Miley ducked her head and tensed her shoulders for a second before she relaxed. When she reeled around, a wide, forced smile covered her face. "Uncle Earl. What a lovely surprise."
Uncle Earl spread his arms. "C'mere. Gimme some sugar."
Miley grimaced and walked back up the front porch. She got on her tiptoes and gave him a peck on his stubbled cheek.
Uncle Earl roared a laugh. "Who is your favorite uncle?"
Miley shoved her hands into her pockets and kicked a foot against the floorboards. "You are."
"That's my niece." He rubbed his fingers over his walrus mustache. "You did a nice job plannin' that for my brother."
"Thank you."
Uncle Earl patted her on the shoulder and approached Mr. Stewart, who sat at the far end of the table, surrounded by a group of people.
Miley turned to Lilly with a scowl. "Don'tcha hate it when your kinfolk wants to smooch?"
"My family doesn't."
Miley leaned against the front porch railing next to Lilly, her knit sweater brushing against the cracked paint, white flakes falling to the floor.
Lilly laughed. "Nothing a good anti-dandruff shampoo can't fix."
Miley cocked her head to one side, and Lilly pointed to the flaked-off paint on her shoes. Miley giggled. "Jackson can take care of the painting. We've done more than enough work. Are you hungry?"
"I'd eat a horse."
"I'm afraid horses ain't on the menu, but we do have turkey."
"Did you forget? I'm a vegetarian."
"Sorry, that must've slipped my mind, but I know just the thin' for you." Miley led Lilly to the table and cut her a slice of pie. "Mamaw baked it. She makes it for every party. And don't drink any of the punch. They look tasty, but they're spiked with alcohol, and Daddy wouldn't allow that." Miley turned to face the cottage. "Be back directly."
The pie tasted like autumn—pumpkins and sweet apples with a hint of cinnamon. Just a little dry, though.
A middle-aged woman in high heels, a rhinestone-beaded denim vest, and matching pants stalked towards Lilly. The wind bounced off her bleached and teased hair like it was a concrete wall. "You must be Lilly," the woman cheered.
Lilly uh-huhed through her mouthful of pie and swallowed the still-too-large piece. It scratched down her throat. Her eyes watered.
"I'm Aunt Dolly. How—" She paused. "You certainly chose the bluntest pie possible. Miley's grandmother makes it for every occasion. It's drier than the Sahara." She shoved her glass into Lilly's grip. "My husband gave me the coke, but I haven't drunk from it. He probably gave it to me to keep me away from the wine, but I reckon I'm allowed to indulge a little at parties."
The translucent liquid within the glass fizzled, and Lilly caught a whiff of lemon. "That's not Coke," she croaked. "That's Sprite."
"Honey, here in the south, we call any carbonated beverage a coke. D'ya want me to get you a real Coke?"
Lilly tipped the glass back, the cool liquid slushed the piece of pie down, and she put it down on the table with an ahh. "Sprite's fine." More tears welled up in her eyes. Weird.
"I figured." Aunt Dolly laughed. "I've been wantin' to meet you for quite some time. Miley told me you two are like white on rice."
"Like rice?"
Aunt Dolly let out another laugh. "Like white on rice means you two are close as all get-out."
It sure didn't feel that way. Lilly wanted nothing more than to be friends with Miley, but… She scooped another piece of pie into her mouth. The rumors about Miley had turned Lilly into an outsider at school, and Miley still refused to tell her what was going on. This made establishing trust impossible. Miley was only partially to blame for her current situation, though. If Lilly had paid more attention to her hobbies rather than the fact that she resembled Hannah Montana, she would have probably chosen a different host family. They spent most of their time together, and while it was super fun at times, they were ultimately too different. "Yeah, I gue—" Lilly sneezed all over her plate and blushed.
Aunt Dolly kept smiling, her eyes twinkling with kindness.
Lilly's mouth tingled. It couldn't be… could it? She smacked her lips together. The taste of almonds brushed her tongue, followed by an aftertaste of… peanuts!
She tossed the plate onto the table, where it tipped over the edge and clattered face down on the chair in front. She needed an adrenaline injection. Now!
"What's wrong?" Aunt Dolly reached out, her red manicured hand curling around Lilly's arm, but Lilly tore free.
She whirled around and dashed for the front door. Where did she put the damn adrenaline injectors? Her suitcase? Nightstand? She burst through the front door. Cramps knifed through her stomach, and she pressed a hand against it. She brushed past Miley and caught her whipping her head around before she climbed the stairs two steps at a time. Lilly's throat tightened, and she forced air into her chest with short, flat inhales. No. No. No. She didn't want to die. If there was a God, help. Please.
On top of the nightstand lay only a pigtail rubber. She ripped open the drawer below. Nothing but empty candy wrappers. She dropped to her knees, pulled the suitcase from under her bed, and flipped open the lid.
Empty.
Bile formed in her throat. She suppressed a sob.
"Lilly?" Miley's throaty voice came from behind her.
Lilly flung her school bag onto the bed and struggled with the zipper. It was stuck. Oh, God.
"What's goin' on?" A hand rested on her upper arm.
"My injectors." Lilly ripped the zipper down, dumped the contents of her shoulderbag on her comforter, and spread out writing pads and books. Nothing. "W-where are they?" A volcano of boiling sickness erupted in Lilly's stomach. She groaned.
"What injector? Lilly wha—"
"—Adrenaline in—" Lilly's stomach churned. She doubled over and threw up all over the white hand-knotted rug between their beds. Miley's shoes stumbled backward, out of her line of sight. Acid scorched her gullet, hot tears escaped her closed eyelids, and her hands fisted the fabric on her knees. Her shallow and rapid gasps rattled in her ears.
A hand rubbed her back. Miley's lips moved, but her words couldn't break through the veil of panic.
Lilly, please keep one adrenaline injector with you at all times, her mother's forehead had creased with worry.
Yeah, yeah, of course, Lilly had waved her off.
I'm so sorry, Mom. Dad. Her friends. She couldn't die. She hadn't said goodbye.
As if on autopilot she reached for the closest drawer—the one in Miley's nightstand. Pill bottles clanked against each other, with what appeared to be a clear felt-tip pen in between. Her stomach fluttered. She snatched the adrenaline injector, slid to the floor, pulled the safety release, and plunged it into her jeans-clad thigh. A sharp pain stung her leg and adrenaline burned through her muscles.
She drew her legs up, sank her head onto her knees, and gulped air in shallow breaths. She only needed to wait a few minutes to feel better.
Miley squatted down, her knees cracking. A hand touched her shoulder. "Good God almighty, are you alright?"
Lilly nodded, her forehead brushing against rough jeans fabric.
"I'm goin' to get Aunt Dolly."
"Don't. I'm all right now."
Feather-light fingertips caressed Lilly's burning arm and lingered on her scar. "What is this rash—"
"—Peanuts." Lilly looked up through tear-blurred eyes. "I'm allergic. That pie you gave me… "
Miley's face went slack. She jerked up a hand to cover her mouth, and a second later, her arms enveloped Lilly in a tight hug. She buried her face in her hair. "I-I forgot… " Her voice cracked.
Lilly locked her muscles and gritted her teeth. "Why was it in your nightstand drawer?"
Seconds passed before Miley spoke, her voice trembling. "I-I found it on the floor… "
Sweet air rushed into Lilly's lungs. "And it never occurred to you that it could be mine?"
"I-I… " Miley sobbed as she tightened her embrace. "I'm real sorry."
"Where are the rest of the injectors?"
"I don't know. I only found this one."
"Stop lying."
"Why would I—? I'm-I'm tellin' you the truth."
Bullshit. Lilly should have taken Mikayla's warning more seriously. She was going to fly home the next day, regardless of what her mother said. Period. For the time being, she needed to find a motel where she could spend the night. Her skin pricked where Miley brushed up against her, and Lilly slid away, plucking her hands from around her. "Leave me the fuck a—"
Miley's chin trembled.
She seemed genuinely distressed. Lilly straightened, a heaviness settling in her chest. If she could find the rest of her adrenaline injectors, she would know if Miley was telling the truth. Lilly leaned her head against the edge of the mattress, gazed up at the white ceiling and let out a long sigh. The sour smell of vomit attacked her nostrils. "I ruined your carpet."
Miley swallowed and shook her head.
"You really haven't seen my other injectors?"
"I swear… to Jesus, to the Holy Mother, and—"
"—stop. This isn't necessary." If anything, it made Miley seem even more bonkers. Lilly would figure out if she was lying, but until then, she would refuse to eat anything she offered her.
They remained seated on the floor, Miley sobbing quietly and Lilly basking in the fact that she was still alive. Miley rolled up the rug and took it outside with her. When she returned, she sat on the bed next to Lilly, uttering another I'm sorry and kicking her legs back and forth, the rubber soles of her shoes squeaking across the wood floorboards.
"Before you… " Miley cleared her throat, stood up, and walked over to the desk. "I wanted to give you somethin'… to say thank you for your help with Daddy's birthday party." Miley fiddled with two purple tickets in her hand.
Lilly's gaze returned to the floor. Whatever it was, she wasn't interested.
"I know how much you adore Hannah Montana."
Lilly jerked her head back up. She hadn't, had she?
Miley sat back down beside her and handed Lilly a ticket.
The gleaming gold letter read, Hannah Montana. No way. And next to it, a hundred and twenty-five dollars. A little much as a thank you for taking Miley shopping and setting the table. What was the catch?
"Do-do you like it?"
Lilly could feel Miley's probing eyes on her. Could she really accept such an expensive gift? Her hands grew clammy. She flipped the ticket over and studied the seating chart. That place was huge. Row five, floor two. Her seat was directly in front of the stage, and with a lot of luck, Hannah would reach out and touch her hand. She couldn't deny it—she was stoked.
Lilly suppressed the grin that threatened to push its way onto her lips. "Yeah." She examined the ticket once more. Bridgestone Arena, 501 Broadway, Nashville. How was she going to get there? Not on her skateboard, for sure. "Is Mr. S taking us?"
"Aunt Dolly is drivin' you. I've already discussed it with her."
"Me?"
"I have other plans for that day."
"What about the other ticket?"
"It's meant for Oliver. He'll tag along if that's okay."
That was more than okay. It was perfect. Lilly couldn't keep the smile off her face any longer.
Miley brought Lilly a glass of water, which she gulped down in one go, relieved to be rid of the sour taste in her mouth.
"Are you feelin' better now?" Miley took the glass from her hand.
"Yeah, but I think I'm gonna crash."
Miley smoothed out a wrinkle in the bedspread. "D'ya want me to stay with you?"
"No." Absolutely not.
"Are you sure you'll be okay on your own?"
"Yeah." Lilly let herself fall backward on the bed before rolling onto her stomach and crawling to her pillow. She buried her face in it, her Vans-clad feet dangling over the edge of the mattress.
One shoe was yanked from her foot.
"What are you doing?"
Two hands encircled her second shoe and froze. "I-I thought you were fixin' to get some rest. I don't want your sheets to get dirty."
Lilly sat up. "I'll take care of it." She stripped the shoe off her foot and let it plop to the ground.
Miley walked to the door, paused beneath it, and fiddled with the handle. "I hope you feel better soon. I… I don't know why I… "
"It's okay. It was an accident." Lilly couldn't believe her own words.
Miley bit a nail, nodded, and closed the door behind her.