Cursed Hadley, Page 4

  Bailey and Payton high-five each other, and I shake my head.

  “You’re not even sixteen yet. You don’t need a boy toy,” I lecture. “You should be focused on getting good grades and pursuing your dreams.”

  “Hooking up with a hottie is on my bucket list,” Payton remarks as she shoves her phone into the back pocket of her torn jeans.

  I roll my eyes. “That should not be on your bucket list. Cool things should be. Like going to Paris and seeing the ocean. Shit like that.”

  “That stuff is on my bucket list, too.” Payton pulls her curly brown and red streaked hair into a messy bun and secures it with an elastic that’s around her wrist. “But hooking up with the hot next-door neighbor is more doable than being able to afford to fly to Paris.”

  I cross my arms. “With that attitude, you won’t.”

  Payton sighs, tugging at the bottom of her oversized worn Nirvana T-shirt. “You sound like Mom.”

  Bailey nods. “She really does.”

  “That’s not a bad thing,” I utter quietly, hugging my arms around myself.

  “I didn’t mean it as a bad thing.” Payton offers me a small smile. “It’s just that … Don’t you ever get tired of being the responsible one? You’re seventeen, but sometimes, you act like you’re thirty.”

  “Someone has to be the responsible one,” I say with a shrug. “And besides, I don’t always act responsible. I do a lot of stupid stuff all the time.”

  Payton deliberates, nodding. “Yeah, you’re probably right. Mom would’ve told our next-door neighbor to go fuck himself, and that she was going to kick him in the dick.”

  “That’s not exactly what I said,” I argue. “And besides, that guy deserved it. He was an ass. And you should realize that right now in case he is our neighbor. No flirting with him, okay?”

  “We’ll see,” Payton says with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

  Lovely. That more than likely means she’s going to go after blondie baby douchebag—my nickname for him from now on. And Bailey will probably flirt with him, too, although she’ll back off before Payton does.

  Between the two of them, Bailey is more loud and outspoken, except when it comes to guys. Payton is the flirt and has already had her fair share of boyfriends. She assured me a while ago that she is still a virgin, but I still stuffed a cookie jar full of condoms and put it in the bathroom. So far, none of us have used any, but my money is on Payton being the one to stick her hand into that cookie jar first.

  “Oh, my God, you’re thinking about the condom cookie jar, aren’t you?” Payton groans as she heads toward the trunk where Londyn has begun to stack boxes and bags. “Just because we like to talk about sex doesn’t mean we’re actually having it.”

  “I know that.” I follow her. “But when you do start to be sexually active, I want to make sure you’re careful.”

  “I feel like I’m in health class right now.” Payton picks up a box from off the ground. “You want to go get a banana so you can give me a demonstration on how to put one on?”

  “That’s actually not a bad idea,” I joke with a smirk. “I think a cucumber’s closer to the right shape, though, unless his dick is really crooked.”

  Londyn snickers as she drops a box onto the ground beside her feet. “Like Donny Dapierfield.”

  I make a face. “Ew. You saw Donny Dapierfield’s dick? When?”

  “When he took me to prom and asked me to give him a handjob.” Her face twists in disgust. “He didn’t even wait for me to answer; just pulled out his thing and looked at me expectantly.”

  I lean against the open trunk. “Please tell me you didn’t do it.”

  “Hell no. I laughed at him. I couldn’t help it. His dick looked like this.” She holds up her hand with her index finger curved in.

  I snort a laugh. “I would’ve hit him in his crooked dick and made it even more crooked.”

  She grabs a bag out of the trunk and sets it on top of a stack of boxes. “I might have, but my laughter must have wounded his ego because he zipped up his pants and drove me straight home without saying another word.”

  “Um, Hadley,” Bailey interrupts. “Where are we supposed to put all these boxes if we can’t even get in the house?”

  Crap. I almost forgot about the key situation, thanks to blondie baby douchebag distracting me.

  “Stack them on the front porch for now. I’m going to take a look around again, without distractions this time, and see if I can figure out how to get ahold of the landlord.” I start up the driveway, sending my dad another text.

  I go up to the front door and try the knob, but of course it’s locked. I have the same luck with the side door, so I start looking around for a sign somewhere, eventually heading over to the shed/garage. The door isn’t automatic, and the only way to get in is to push it up by hand. Once I get it open, I feel around for a light switch.

  “You shouldn’t have done that.”

  I startle, whirling around toward my neighbors’, and find a girl with light brown, shoulder-length hair, maybe a year or two younger than Bailey and Payton, watching me from the other side of the fence.

  That’s two times in half an hour that I’ve been startled by the neighbors, which makes me question if they’re going to end up being obnoxious.

  “It’s okay. I live here,” I tell her.

  “I didn’t mean the garage door.” She takes a step toward the fence. “I meant, you shouldn’t have pissed off my brother.”

  “Who’s your brother?” I wonder as I wipe my dusty hands off on the sides of my shorts.

  She smiles, but it’s more mocking than friendly. “They guy you told to go fuck himself and that you were going to kick in the dick.”

  “Oh.” So, this is blondie baby douchebag’s sister. I guess I can kind of see similarities in their features. “That’s actually not what I said.”

  “You sure about that?”

  “I just told him the best place to go find a girl who would enjoy his douchebaggery would be on go-fuck-yourself lane and don’t ever call me sweetheart or baby again or I’ll kick you in the dick drive.”

  She studies me cautiously. “That’s pretty much the same thing.”

  “Close, but not quite.” I move to step into the shed/garage.

  “Well, just a little warning,” she says, and I pause. “My brothers don’t take being insulted very well, and he’s probably going to get you back.”

  “Brothers?” I question, glancing back at her with my brow arched. “I only insulted one and only after he insulted me first.”

  “Doesn’t matter. He’s still pissed.” She glances over her shoulder at her house, then looks back at me. “And my brothers are sort of a package deal. Insult one, you insult them all.”

  “Okay.” Why is she warning me? If that’s what she’s even doing.

  She must read the confusion on my face because she sighs. “You’re new around this town, aren’t you?”

  I nod. “We just moved here from Sunnyvale.”

  “Okay, well, here’s a little bit of advice that’s going to put you ahead of the game. My brothers are known around Honeyton as”—she wavers, as if choosing her words carefully—“the town troublemakers. And they more than exceed their reputation.”

  Goosebumps sprout across my arms, but I try to convince myself it’s from the cold. “That still doesn’t explain what you think they’re going to do to me.”

  “I really don’t know, but it’s probably not going to be pretty. Your life is seriously about to become cursed.” She offers me a partially remorseful look then whirls around and jogs back to her house.

  So freakin’ weird, but it’s got me nervous, especially the curse remark. That term has been getting thrown around a lot lately, and I’m starting to feel as though it has some weigh to it.

  Eyeballing their house, I duck inside the shed/garage, determined to find a way to get ahold of the landlord. The space is pretty much empty, so I quickly give up and close it back up, scraping my
hand on something sharp in the process.

  Cursed indeed.

  “What is this?” Londyn holds up the mirror as I approach her.

  “Oh, the storeowner at the pawnshop gave me that.” I trace my finger along the trim and glance at my reflection. Even in the faint light filtering from the porch and moon, my face still looks like it’s glowing.

  She frowns. “Why would he do that?”

  I shrug. “He told me some crazy story about how the lady who pawned it said, if you looked in it and glowed green, you were cursed. I guess it freaked him out enough that he wanted it gone.” I tear my reflection off the mirror and lean into the car to grab the first-aid kit from out of the glovebox. “I’m not sure if he actually believed it, or was just screwing with me because I pissed him off.”

  Turning the mirror toward her, she crinkles her nose as she assesses her reflection. “Doesn’t look very green to me. But if it ever did, I’m sure it’s because the surface of the mirror is tinted green.” She traces her finger along the mirror. “I wonder what it’s made of?”

  I lift my shoulder as I clean off the wound on my hand. “Who knows?” The strangest urge to rip the mirror from her fingers overcomes me, but I resist, shaking my head at myself.

  What the hell is wrong with me? I think I’m seriously too sleep deprived.

  “Hey, so, do you want to stay here with Bailey and Payton and keep an eye on our stuff while I go drive around town and try to find Dad’s truck?”

  “Sure.” Holding the mirror, she starts for the porch, but I capture her arm.

  “Keep an eye on the neighbors, okay?” I say quietly. “The girl who lives there just gave me some weird warning about how her brothers are going to pay me back for insulting blondie earlier.”

  Her lips curve downward. “That’s a little creepy.”

  “Yeah, it is.” I let go of her arm and put a bandage on the cut on my hand. “Just make sure to keep an eye out.”

  She nods then motions for Bailey to follow her.

  As Bailey passes me, she pats me on the back. “Glad to see you’re still good at making friends, sis.”

  “Don’t you know it,” I tease back.

  But all my humor erases as I climb into the car and note that someone is watching me from the upstairs window of the house next door. All I can make out is a hooded figure with smoke circling them. Who the hell knows what from what.

  A chill slithers up my spine. Great, only an hour here and I’ve already gotten off on the wrong foot.

  It’s a good thing we won’t be here for very long, I think as I back out onto the street and drive down the road, hoping I can find my dad quickly.

  Chapter 4

  Searching for my dad ends up being a bust.

  After driving around for over an hour, I give up and head back to the house, convinced he must have left town or something. The area is too small not to be able to find him, and from what I could tell, I looked practically everywhere, except for in the hills.

  When I get back, it’s late and everyone is getting grumpy. I decide to break in through a cracked open window since we can’t afford to crash in a hotel. Or, well, I have Londyn do it since I’ve been on a roll with breaking stuff.

  Once we get all our stuff inside, we dig out some sleeping bags and set them up on the dusty brown carpet of the living room.

  “This is by far the worst move ever,” Bailey mutters as she wiggles around in her sleeping bag, trying to get comfortable.

  Payton sneezes from all the dust floating around. She has her flashlight app on, giving us a bit of light since the place doesn’t have the power turned on yet, even though I called and had it scheduled to turn on. It’s too late to get it taken care of now.

  “I don’t know,” she says, rubbing her nose. “Move six was pretty bad.”

  I fluff my pillow then lie down. “Was that the one where the toilet flooded the basement two days after we moved in?”

  “Yep.” Payton sneezes again, her eyes watering. “Everything smelled like moldy shit for a month.”

  “Move five was pretty bad, too,” Londyn says as she slips into her sleeping bag that’s beside mine.

  “Which one was that?” I ask, setting an alarm on my phone so we can get up bright and early and figure out what to do about our situation.

  “The one with the rat’s nest in the attic.” Londyn rolls to her side, facing me. “Honestly, none of them have been that great.”

  “Yeah, I know.” I wiggle around, trying to get situated on the thin carpet.

  I did a quick walk through when we got in and discovered that only half the rooms have carpet, the other half have linoleum flooring. The kitchen is bigger than what we’re normally used to, but it doesn’t have a microwave or dishwasher, and there’s only one bathroom.

  “At least we have a roof over our heads,” I attempt optimism.

  “One day, I’m afraid we won’t,” Bailey mumbles, curling up into a ball and pulling the sleeping bag over her head.

  “That will never happen,” I assure her, reaching over Payton to give her shoulder a squeeze. “I won’t let it.”

  “You won’t always be here,” Bailey whispers. “You have one more year left of high school, and then you’re going to take off to college and we’re going to be stuck here with Dad.”

  Guilt tightens my chest. I want to tell her everything will be okay, but the words won’t leave my lips. The truth is, I have no idea what will happen once I pack up my stuff and take off for college. I haven’t really thought about it too much, never allowed myself to think about it. Now, though, I realize that leaving is going to affect them greatly.

  “Stop worrying. I can handle things,” Londyn says as if reading my mind.

  “I’m not worrying,” I lie. “Well, not about that.”

  “Then, what are you worrying about?”

  “Where Dad is, the power getting turned on, getting ahold of the landlord, the next-door neighbors.”

  “So, the usual things.”

  “Yep.”

  Silence encases us, except for the soft sound of music floating from somewhere outside.

  “Do you think we’ll ever stop moving?” Payton wonders. “I mean, while we’re living with Dad?”

  I want to tell her yes, but I can’t bring myself to lie to her. “I’m not sure.”

  Sadly, I can’t envision our dad suddenly becoming responsible again and taking care of the bills in a timely manner so we won’t get evicted. And honestly, in the back of my mind, where my imagination sometimes runs crazy, I wonder if perhaps our dad does it on purpose. That he moves us around so frequently because he’s running away from something. I heard him babble something like that once when he was in a very drunken state.

  “We have to keep moving, Hadley,” he mumbled as he staggered toward his bedroom, his eyes bloodshot, his breath reeking of whiskey. “If we don’t, they’ll find us.”

  I was in the kitchen, making a late-night snack and ignoring his drunken rambling, like usual, but that caught my attention.

  I glanced up from the sandwich I was making. “What’re you talking about, Dad?”

  He blinked at me, as if just realizing I was there. “Them.” Then he stumbled into his room and shut the door.

  I asked him about it the next morning, but he either couldn’t remember or pretended like he didn’t. And he never spoke of it again. Sometimes, on nights like these, I wonder if he is running away from something.

  Maybe I’m just making excuses to avoid accepting reality. The reality that our father is just a drunken mess and doesn’t give a shit about anyone other than himself.

  “Night,” I whisper to my sisters as Payton turns off her phone. “Love you.”

  “Love you, too,” Londyn mutters sleepily.

  “Love all your crazy asses,” Bailey mutters through a yawn.

  “Love you guys, too.” Payton sneezes. “I don’t love this fucking dust, though.”

  “We’ll clean it up tomorrow.” I roll ove
r to my side, facing the wall Londyn propped the mirror against.

  No one says anything more, and a handful of moments later, Payton starts snoring.

  My eyelids start to grow heavy as dreamland whispers for me to come pay a visit.

  As I’m dozing off with my gaze fixed on the mirror, I swear I can make out a hooded figure standing a ways behind me in the living room.

  Sleep instantly leaves me like a bucket of cold water on my face. I sit up, blinking against the darkness, reaching to wake my sister.

  “Londyn …” I trail off as my gaze lands on where the figure was standing.

  Nothing is there now, except for a window covered by a long curtain.

  Was that what I saw?

  Still on edge, I turn on my flashlight app, climb out of the sleeping bag, and do a quick search of the house, yet I stumble across nothing.

  I seriously must be sleep deprived, I decide as I climb back into my sleeping bag. Makes sense. I’ve been riding on about two hours of sleep in the last forty-eight hours.

  Doesn’t make it any easier to fall back asleep, though, and it ends up taking me half the night before my eyelids lower shut again.

  Chapter 5

  “Hadley, wake up.” Someone shakes my shoulder.

  I wish they’d go away. I’m having the best dream about going off to college. I live in a nice one-bedroom apartment that has a microwave.

  “Hadley, wake up.” They shake me again.

  Ugh.

  No, I don’t want to wake up. I want to stay here in my dream …

  But the apartment fades as Bailey appears in front of me.

  “Why did you leave us?” She pouts, and there is a bruise on her cheek.

  “What happened to your face?” I ask worriedly.

  “Dad hit me,” she says with tears falling down her cheeks. “He smacked me across the face because I told him off.”

  “That happened to me once.” My cheek begins to burn. “Recently actually.”

  “That’s because you’re cursed.”

  “Hadley!”

  My eyes pop open, and I bolt upright, my cheek throbbing in pain. It takes a couple of panicked breaths to get my bearings. I’m sitting up in my sleeping bag that’s spread across the floor of my new home, sunlight trickling in through the grimy windows. On one side of me is Payton’s sleeping bag, and on the other, Londyn’s. Bailey is kneeling beside my feet, already dressed in a pair of black jeans and a matching shirt, her hair pulled into a ponytail, and worry written on her face.