House at the End of the Street Read online

  “Yeah, I’m gonna need a ride, jerk,” she yelled. He reached over her shoulder, yanking the phone from her grasp. They were perched at the edge of the stairs. A few people looked up from the living room, trying to see what was happening. “Give me my phone, Tyler!”

  He held his hand high in the air, teasing her. There was a sick smirk on his face and she realized then that she hated him. Whatever first impressions she’d had of him—that he was a little bit of a goody-goody, that he was entitled, that he was a snob—were so much better than what she thought of him now. She’d never been so repulsed by someone in her entire life.

  She pushed him hard, knocking him into the wall. Then she jumped up, yanking the cell phone away from him. It was in that moment that her arm flew back, swiping an antique lamp behind her. She turned just in time to see it fall over, smashing into a hundred pieces as it fell down the stairs.

  Tyler lunged at her again. She kneed him hard in the crotch until he doubled over in pain. A crowd had gathered at the bottom of the stairs, watching. Caitlin, a short girl with an obvious nose job, pushed through some kids, noticing the broken lamp.

  “My dad’s going to kill me,” she screeched, picking up one of the larger teal pieces. “Who did this?”

  Tyler pointed at Elissa. “I’m sorry,” Elissa started. “He was—”

  “Get out of my house!” Caitlin yelled. The crowd fell back, some laughing. “Now!”

  Elissa gritted her teeth. She pushed past them, grabbing her backpack from behind the couch. “No problem,” she said, narrowing her eyes at Caitlin. “I could use some fresh air.” She slammed the door behind her as she started across Caitlin’s massive front lawn.

  Dammit, Elissa thought. The point of moving here was to get away from this crap. Outside, the road was pitch-black. She could barely see beyond the trees. She pulled out her cell phone, scrolling through her list of contacts. Every single name was someone from her old school, her old group of friends, her old life. Her mother was still stuck at the hospital. Her house was miles away, and not a single person inside the one she’d left was sober enough to drive her home—not that she would’ve resorted to begging. She started up the road, moving in the direction of her street. The first droplets of rain hit her bare shoulders.

  She hadn’t walked more than thirty feet when a car flew past, a thin spray of mud covering her legs. She scrolled back through her contacts, hovering over Sarah’s name, wondering if she should try her. Hadn’t her mom said to call her whenever she was in trouble? Didn’t this count as trouble, standing on this unlit road, a strange car just up ahead?

  The car stopped several yards away. More rain fell, soaking Elissa’s tank top. The reverse lights came on as the old teal sedan sped backward, screeching to a halt. The passenger window rolled down and the driver leaned over. It took Elissa a moment to realize he was just a little older than her, with short, dirty blond hair and dark brown eyes. “Do you a need a ride?” he asked.

  Elissa turned, taking a few steps back toward the house. Wasn’t this the equivalent of hitchhiking? She couldn’t just get in some car with a stranger. “No, this is my driveway,” she called over her shoulder, trying to sound convincing.

  “No, it’s not,” the boy called through the open widow. “You just moved in on Sycamore Lane. I live next door.”

  Elissa glanced back at the car, taking in the guy’s flannel shirt, the stack of books in the passenger seat, and the golden stubble on his chin, as if he hadn’t shaved in two days. He looked so…normal. “You’re Ryan Jacobsen?” she asked.

  The boy put the car into park. He ran his hand over his forehead, trying to hide a smile. “I’m sorry.…” He half laughed. “I didn’t mean to scare you. What’s your name?”

  Elissa looked down at her cell, unsure whether to press send. Her mother could be there within twenty minutes. Out of all people, wasn’t this boy—who lived in the same house where his parents were murdered—the last person she should be getting a ride from? “I’m Elissa,” she said. “I’m cool walking, though—thanks.”

  She started back out, and the car rolled alongside her. Ryan laughed. “You’re ten miles away from home. Let me give you a ride.”

  Elissa glanced at the long, winding road ahead. Just then there was a loud, rippling crack of thunder, and the rain came down much harder then before. Within seconds she was completely drenched. She glanced into the car, where Ryan was still waiting. His head was tilted to one side, as if to say, Really? You REALLY want to walk?

  She clenched her fists together, annoyed at Sarah for having to work tonight, at Tyler for groping her, at Caitlin for throwing her out of the party. Now she was here, standing in the pouring rain, trying to decide whether or not to take a ride from an orphaned loner. Without thinking, she pulled open the door and slid inside, pushing the books out of the way.

  They drove in silence for the first minute or two, the windshield wipers providing the only soundtrack. The old car was actually pretty cool, with wide leather seats and a deep dashboard. A few cassettes were stacked up on the seat, as if it were still 1989. A thin gold locket hung from the rearview mirror, and there was a yellow lunchbox on the floor by her feet.

  He had a few Hemingway novels beside him, half spilling out of a knapsack, along with a massive biology textbook. She studied him, his small brown eyes and chiseled features. He couldn’t have been older than twenty-one. As she watched him he kept his eyes on the road, not saying anything. Had the Reynoldses been right? Was there something wrong with him? How could he stand to live in that run-down house alone, knowing his parents were murdered there?

  The silence was unbearable. The windshield wipers squeaked; the rain came down sideways, pummeling the car. After a few minutes, Elissa couldn’t take it any longer. “So why do you still live in that house?”

  Ryan let out a long breath, and Elissa immediately felt guilty. “I guess I shouldn’t have said that,” she tried, hoping they could erase the last minute, just pretend it had never happened.

  “You just said what you were thinking,” Ryan offered. “That’s all anybody can think about when they’re around me anyway. My family sent me away when I was seven, and at first that house was all I had left of them. But actually living there has been too hard. I’ve decided to fix it up and then sell it.”

  Elissa ran her fingers over the seat, pushing them down into the leather. Why did she have to go there? One minute they were driving in perfect silence, the next they were talking about how his parents sent him away. Still, it made her feel the slightest bit better than he didn’t enjoy living there. He wasn’t the strange loner the Reynoldses painted him as, lurking about, sleeping in the bed where his father was bludgeoned to death.

  Ryan turned to her and smiled. “I heard you singing this morning. It was nice. Are you in a band or something?”

  She let out a breath, relieved they were back on track. Her looked different—kinder, sweeter—when he smiled. “Yeah, I played guitar a lot back in Chicago,” she explained. “My dad is in a band too, though I hardly ever see him. He’s always on tour.” She rifled through the cassettes in the center console, seeing if he had anything worthwhile.

  “Man, these are old.” She laughed, looking at the worn labels, some from the 1980s. “You gotta get some new music.”

  Ryan smiled. “This car was my dad’s. Those were his.” He looked at her for a long beat, noticing her the way Luca had all those months before. His eyes ran over her lips, her soaking wet tank top, the curly blond tendrils that were now stuck to her wet cheeks.

  “So, are you and your mom here in Woodshire to stay?” he finally asked.

  She looked away, noticing the Magic Eight Ball key chain dangling from the ignition. She reached for it, her hand just inches from his leg. She turned it over and smiled. “All signs point to yes.”

  Ryan laughed, and for the first time she wondered if there was something more to him, this boy who everyone described as a loner. He kept glancing sideways at her, then
back at the road, until the car rolled to a stop in her driveway. They sat there for a minute before either of them spoke.

  “It’s so quiet here,” Elissa said, rolling down the window to get some fresh air. The rain had finally stopped. Ryan cut the headlights and they sat alone in the dark. “Not like where I used to live.”

  “It’s even quieter at dawn,” Ryan said. He adjusted himself in his seat, moving just the slightest bit closer to her.

  “What are you doing up that early?”

  “I sit out back, and I just write. Mostly stories. It feels easier. I like that time of day, because everyone is still asleep, it’s like all the best thoughts haven’t been taken yet.” He turned to her, his dark eyes meeting hers. “Do you know what I mean?”

  She watched as he studied her, his eyes falling for a moment to her collarbone, then to her tank, the wet fabric clinging to her skin. “Life’s good when the rest of the world sleeps,” she said. She looked down, noticing that their fingers were just a few inches apart. “Thanks for the ride, Ryan.”

  “You’re welcome,” he said softly, handing over her backpack. Elissa strode across the front lawn, feeling lighter than she had all day. Everything that had happened at Caitlin’s house seemed less painful now. Ryan Jacobsen was normal, nice…even a little sexy. Had she imagined it, the way he studied her, as though she were something to be devoured? He’d looked at her with those brown eyes, leaning in, their faces just a foot apart.

  As she started up the steps, she turned back one last time. Ryan was still there, still leaning across the seat, watching her bound into the house. No, she thought, a smile curling her lips. I definitely didn’t imagine it.

  Inside, the house was quiet. Elissa set her bag down and moved into the kitchen to search the fridge for something edible. The shelves were mostly empty. There was still some leftover spaghetti, a jar of pickles, American cheese slices, and some unidentifiable cold cuts—salami? Roast beef? She wasn’t sure. She pulled the cheese out, rolling it up the way she used to when she was a kid. Even with some food in her, she still felt off. Her stomach was unsettled. She had a slight headache—a reminder of the party, the pink lemonade–vodka concoction, and what had happened with Tyler.

  Tyler. It made her sick, thinking of his hands on her, how he’d tried to pin her down on the bed. He’d been so sure that she wanted him, that he was making her night by forcing himself on her. How many other girls had he done that to? And had she been one of the few to fight back?

  She glanced at the clock: 9:53. In less than twelve hours she would be back at school, alone, trying to make small talk with the goth girl who sat next to her in English. If today had been hard, tomorrow would be worse. Now she had to watch out for Caitlin get-out-of-my-house Aberdeen, or Tyler’s group of stoner friends. She thought of the crowd that had stood by the bottom of the stairs, laughing as she fought Tyler for her phone. She could still feel their eyes on her.

  She was thinking about Tyler, about everything, when her mom came down the stairs. The sound of Sarah’s footsteps startled her. “I didn’t know you were home,” Elissa said. “I didn’t see your car outside.”

  Sarah came up beside her, resting her hand on Elissa’s back. She was still in her work scrubs. “Best thing about the new house—the garage. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  “No…I’m fine,” Elissa said, feeling anything but. Whatever momentary excitement she’d felt about meeting Ryan had vanished, giving over to a sense of dread.

  “Did Tyler’s mom drop you off? I wanted to say hi.” Sarah peeled a piece of cheese from the pile and took a bite.

  “No.…” Elissa looked away, wondering for a second if she should tell Sarah what had happened. “Ryan Jacobsen gave me a ride.”

  Sarah straightened up, a stern expression crossing her face. “You want to tell me how you ended up getting a ride with Ryan Jacobsen?”

  No—she wouldn’t tell Sarah what happened. Her mom couldn’t even hear the name Ryan Jacobsen without getting bent out of shape. How would she feel discovering that Tyler Reynolds, perfect, president-of-the-famine-relieffund honors student, was a date rapist? “No one wanted to give me a ride home. I started walking, and he saw me. He gave me a ride. End of story.”

  Sarah crossed her arms over her chest. “And you just got into some stranger’s car? At this time of night? Why didn’t you call me? I could’ve come and got you.”

  “Yeah right,” Elissa mumbled. When had Sarah ever picked her up before?

  Elissa could see what was happening. It was in the way Sarah said “some stranger.” She’d turned against Ryan Jacobsen before she’d even met him. She’d eaten up every word the Reynoldses had said, bought all their nonsense about Ryan being deranged. What did they know? Who were they to talk about family values? They were helping their son run a charity club based around getting drunk and stoned.

  “So…” Sarah asked, changing the subject. Her lips curled into a small smile. “How was the meeting?”

  Elissa met her mom’s eyes. She wanted to tell her everything. It would be so much easier to tell her everything. But Sarah was looking so hopeful, so determined, Elissa didn’t want to destroy her this-town-will-change-everything dream. At least not until she had to…

  “Tyler’s a jerk,” was all she said.

  “Because he works hard in school and wants to get into a good college?” Sarah looked at her, the sarcasm oozing in her voice.

  Elissa wanted to scream. She’d spent the whole day alone, been assaulted by some stoned idiot, then been kicked out of a party she didn’t even want to go to in the first place. And now her own mother was giving her an attitude? She couldn’t take it anymore—the day needed to end. The only thing good about this night was that it was almost over.

  She pushed past her mom, not bothering to look back. “Right,” she said, looking away as the tears welled in her eyes. “That’s it.”

  During fifth period Elissa strode out onto the grassy quad, scanning the long picnic tables for somewhere to sit. There was the table of techie kids, their big headphones pulled down over their ears. A few petite girls with nearly identical curly hair sat on a row, picking at their salads. Then her eyes fell on Tyler, Caitlin, Zak, and the rest of the famine relief crew. Tyler waved her over, as if he hadn’t just yesterday tried to molest her.

  She glared at him, then turned the other way, finding a shady spot beneath a maple tree. She settled down in the grass and pulled out her sandwich, munching while she played games on her phone, did some light reading, sent an occasional text to a friend in Chicago so she didn’t look like such a loser. She’d spent all day yesterday alone—this was nothing she couldn’t handle.

  She was just finishing sketching a football for a drawing game, when she noticed someone towering above her. Tyler stood, his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes focused on a spot behind her. “I wanted to make sure you were okay,” he said, his voice slow. “You know, our little misunderstanding at Caitlin’s.”

  Misunderstanding? Did he really just say that? It took all Elissa had not to knee him in the crotch again. “There wasn’t a misunderstanding.” She glared at him until he met her gaze. “They call it date rape. And if you come near me again, I’ll go to the cops. And you can put that on your college application.”

  Tyler just stood there, his mouth half open, looking a little stunned. Elissa tossed her phone in her bag and stood up to push past him, unable to be in his presence even a second longer. Misunderstandings were murmured words, or not realizing someone told you to meet them at nine in the morning instead of nine at night. He had thrown her on the bed and grabbed at her. What would’ve happened if she hadn’t pushed him away, if she’d been too drunk? What if she had frozen, too afraid to fight back? The thought infuriated her.

  She kept walking and was starting across the quad when she heard her name. “Elissa, right?” the person asked.

  It was the girl from Caitlin’s bathroom—the one who’d fallen asleep on the floor. S
he looked different with her red hair pulled back in a sleek ponytail, her crisp button-down revealing just an inch of her collarbone. “I’m Jillian,” the girl said. “Thanks for yesterday.”

  “Anytime.”

  Jillian stared down the sandwich perched in her lap. “I’m not much of a drinker. I got vomit on Caitlin’s bath mat, and she threw a fit.”

  Elissa stared at Tyler’s table, a group of six kids from the party yesterday. They were all huddled together. One boy had stuck straws up his nose to get the others to laugh. “Who are these people?” Elissa asked, disgusted. “Why are you hanging out with them?”

  “I’m not sure, really. I used to go out with Tyler, but he’s kind of a—”

  “Yeah, well, ‘kind of’ is the understatement of the year,” Elissa said.

  Jillian laughed, revealing perfect, I-had-braces-for-sixyears teeth. “How has Woodshire High School been treating you? I bet you miss your friends back home.”

  Elissa lowered her head, thinking about Luca, or Laticia, her closest friend in Chicago. She’d texted them since she’d arrived in Woodshire, but she could already feel them pulling away. It took them longer and longer to respond. How much had they had in common though, beyond smoking pot and going to the woods behind the track to cut class? When she actually thought of it, she didn’t know much about Laticia’s older brothers or the charter school she’d gone to before they met. Elissa had never even told her about her dad and the fight her parents had the night he’d left.

  “Sorta,” Elissa tried. “You should have seen where we used to live. It wasn’t like here at all.”

  She wanted to go on and tell Jillian about the metal detectors in the school lobby, or how there was a whole list of clothing you couldn’t wear because it might signal you were in a gang. Jillian was the first person to really ask her about herself, and she had this strange desire to spill everything. But before she could say anything else, two boys came up behind them. One looked like Jillian’s twin, his short red hair parted to one side.