Some Laneys Died: A Skipping Sideways Thriller Page 3

  Unless Khannan put the screen back and flipped the lock. What’s the point of that? Is he trying to make me believe I didn’t come home today?

  I growl in frustration. Khannan will get away with his cheating by making me look crazy!

  Ropes. Where are the ropes?

  I run to their bedroom and snap open the door. Of course, the bed is made. Another of Khannan’s endearing traits.

  I walk through both of their closets. His is immaculate, but he certainly doesn’t clean hers. Dirty underwear litters her floor, and several garments hang precariously on tilting hangers.

  The nightstands!

  All I find in his are some books, a pistol, and a few bottles of pills.

  But Mom’s bottom drawer contains the ropes. Lots of them. More than I saw this afternoon.

  And a half-opened box, revealing two vibrators. Carefully lifting the box lid, I find fur-lined handcuffs, a blindfold, and two ball gags. My stomach sinks, but for some reason my heart races. Vibrators?

  Footsteps coming down the hall!

  I shut her drawer then see the vibrator in my hand. Khannan opens the door, and I whip my arm behind me.

  He stops and stares, clinching his eye muscles.

  My chest won’t stop heaving. “I . . . I needed something.”

  He holds a shopping bag from Barnes and Noble. “That’s OK.” Gracious. Pleasant. As always. “Did you find it?”

  “Yeah. I’m so embarrassed.” I know my face is blood red. My brain is frantically searching for a reason to give him. My hands slowly move to my stomach, my right grasping the vibrator. His eyes widen and he smiles.

  “Mom said I could borrow one of hers.” I know he’s blushing, but his dark skin won’t show it. “I should’ve waited until she was home instead of searching through her drawers.” I look to the floor. “Maybe we could keep this to ourselves?”

  Almost too quickly, he says, “Sure, Delaney.” He strides to the dresser and sets the bag on top. “I won’t tell anyone.”

  “Thanks, Khannan. I appreciate this.” In our first version, he also said he wouldn’t tell anyone about me and Eddie. Earlier, I was trying to decide whether to tell Mom about him and the girl.

  “Never tell anyone” seems to be my refrain.

  He turns his back and opens a drawer. “Not a problem.”

  I move toward the door, trying to decide if I should ask about earlier today, but I’m not sure I want to hear the answer. “Were you in the house at lunch today? I came home to get my calculator, and I thought I heard footsteps. Kinda freaked me out.”

  He turns around and smiles.

  My mind flashes through scenes like I’m channel surfing. I swear I hear Khannan say all this at the same time: “No, but Eddie stayed home.” Then, “Yes, I was, and I thought I heard footsteps too. But when I checked, no one was there.” Then, “No.”

  I stare at him. What did he really say? My chest cramps. “Weird.” I turn to leave.

  “Delaney?”

  I stop and jerk around. “Yeah?”

  “Maybe you should put that . . .”

  I see the vibrator in my hand and gasp. “Right.” I shove it into my shirt. “Thanks.”

  I half-run to my room and shut the door. Sagging against the wall, I pull the vibrator from my shirt and look at it. Why did I take this? I don’t even remember picking it up.

  I’ve never seen or held one of these, but for some reason, it seems familiar. Bright pink with buttons on the end.

  I can’t believe my mother has this. Or that she would use it with him. My stomach flips, and I can’t get enough air into my lungs. I clutch the toy to my stomach and look to the ceiling.

  What about the girl? And the chair? What’s going on with me?

  I close my eyes and see Kaitlyn squirming on the floor, moaning, as Marissa laughs, pointing her phone at her.

  “Your turn, Delaney.” Kaitlyn holds the vibrator in her hand. “You’ll love it!”

  Marissa laughs and yells, “Wait!” She moves closer to me.

  My legs twitch and shake as a jolt of electricity shoots through me. I feel pressure building . . . building. I scream. I hear applause and laughter.

  “Delaney!” Mom calls from outside my door.

  I find the vibrator pushed between my legs, pulsating, one hand clutching my neck. What the hell? My body convulses in sobs. I want to scream Stop! But my throat feels squeezed. I can’t breathe! I can’t breathe!

  I jerk up and bang my head against the wall. My other hand grasps my throat. Shit.

  “Delaney, I need to tell you something. Come to the kitchen. Please.”

  I relax my fingers, pull myself up, turn off the toy, and push it into my pack. Sweat covers my face as I see myself in the mirror above my dresser. I swear she smiles back at me.

  I left Marissa’s house. I didn’t do anything.

  And I didn’t have sex with Eddie, either.

  “Delaney!”

  “I’m coming.” I wipe my face and fluff my hair. My legs feel like jelly as I look in the mirror. I did not stay at Marissa’s. When they started FaceTiming, I went to the bathroom for twenty minutes and read the News Alert. When I opened the door, Marissa was chasing Kaitlyn around with a vibrator. I didn’t see her use it. I left the house and drove home.

  Is my imagination filling in the gaps? Am I seeing what could’ve happened if I’d stayed? Why?

  Am I losing my mind? Where are these stories coming from?

  Are they real?

  4

  Mom and Khannan are seated at the table in the kitchen. She’s in the chair where Eddie—or Khannan—was bound. Or no one. I still feel dizzy, and I stub my toe against the corner of the breakfast bar. “Damn!”

  Mom jumps up. “Delaney! Are you all right?”

  “Just tired.” I glance at Khannan who looks away. Do I see a little smile on his face? How can I ever look at him without thinking about the vibrator? And I can’t even imagine talking to Eddie. I try to look excited and give her a big smile. “So what’s the big news?”

  She beams. “I’ve been invited to Fermilab! I still can’t believe it.”

  I try to keep my smile. “What’s that?”

  A flicker of disappointment flashes across her face. “It’s the National Accelerator Laboratory near Chicago. They do research on neutrinos and dark matter.”

  I remember our conversation two years ago about trees falling and different universes. A rush of heat fills my cheeks as an idea bursts into my brain. “Mom, remember when we talked about the two girls? One who stayed inside and one who played in the rain?”

  She wanders back to Khannan, squinting her eyes like she can’t quite figure out where I’m going with this. “Yes, but what . . .”

  “What if the girl outside in the rain is injured or has an accident? Could the effect of that event influence the girl who’s inside? Or the girl inside steals some medication from her parents and becomes addicted? Neither girl can physically see the other, but couldn’t they be linked in other ways?”

  One version of me did stay at Marissa’s. One version may have had sex with Eddie. Is that what’s happening? The choices I didn’t make still happen somewhere and affect me?

  My pulse quickens. I know I’m talking too fast and loud, but I can’t help it. “Maybe the decisions each girl makes are somehow influenced by what the other versions do? You said gravity might leak from another universe. Why couldn’t suffering or pain or joy leak from me to my other selves or them to me?”

  Her eyes widen, and she tilts her head.

  “Wouldn’t all the different versions of me still be connected in some way? I read something about connection at a distance.” My brain races, and I can barely keep up. “Something about two particles still responding to each other even though they’re miles apart.”

  “Entanglement.”

  “Yes! That’s it. Would all the me’s be entangled?” Mom furrows her brows and reaches for Khannan’s hand. “Please, answer me! Is it possible?”


  “I don’t know, Delaney. Why did you suddenly think of this?”

  “It isn’t sudden. I mean the idea is, but the reasons for the idea aren’t.”

  She blinks rapidly. “What?”

  I move closer. “If gravity can leak between universes, can connections between different versions of me leak as well? I can’t see them physically, but maybe I can feel their emotions or see their memories? Wouldn’t we always be entangled?”

  She offers a little smile and lets go of Khannan’s hand.

  “That’s an interesting question.” She walks toward me. “What made you think of it?”

  “My mind has been running all day. I don’t know.”

  She touches my face. “Your skin is warm. Are you sick?”

  “I don’t think so.” I feel really stoked right now, and she thinks I’m sick?

  I take a glass from the cabinet and fill it with water from the refrigerator door. Then guzzle half of it. “I’m sorry, Mom. I’ve had a weird day.” I glance at Khannan who, once again, looks away. How long can I stand this?

  Mom wrings her hands, and I realize I’ve stomped on her big moment. “You’ve been invited to Fermilab. Great!” I flash her my biggest smile. “How’d you manage that?”

  The smile returns to her face. “Another scientist I know was scheduled to participate in research there, but he had a death in his family, so he asked me if I could take his place. I’ve always wanted to work there.”

  She rushes back to Khannan and actually sits on his leg, hugging his neck.

  “We can all go! We’ll spend Christmas in Chicago then you, Khannan, and Eddie will come back here after the holidays. I’ll be working through January.” She jumps up. “We can go to The Field Museum and The Art Institute and go ice skating! We’ll have so much fun.”

  My brain stops working when I hear I will be alone with Eddie and Khannan after Christmas. No way. That is not happening. Not even the tiniest possibility.

  She smiles and almost leaps at me, grabbing my hands. “What do you think?” Her face is flushed. “Much better than staying here where it never snows. It was so hot today! You’ve never even seen an ice rink or real snow.”

  “No, I haven’t.” I need another option. Garrett’s family has asked me to go skiing with them. But that doesn’t take care of January. Run away? Where?

  I think of Dad in Alaska.

  What a choice. Home alone with Khannan and Eddie—maybe my other self would love the chance—or visiting the Dad I drove away—who probably hates me—assuming he’d let me visit.

  I have no other options. I’ll call him.I need to get back to my room and think this through.

  “Hey, Mom, I need to write something down before I forget it. Could you come by in a few minutes? I need to talk to you.”

  Once again, she gives me that “What’s wrong with you?” look.

  “Sure, Delaney.”

  I glance at Khannan, who is staring right at me. Maybe he thinks I’m going to lie about him. Tell Mom that he gave her vibrator to me. Or make up some other story. I smile. “Don’t worry, Khannan. Nothing about you.” I look at Mom. “Just want to talk to her about my dad.”

  She flinches like I’d just hit her. “Your father?” She backs away.

  “I’m thinking about calling him, though he probably wants nothing to do with me.”

  Her mouth opens, and she moves one hand toward her throat. “Whatever you want to talk about, dear.”

  I swear, she’s shaking. “Great. Give me a few minutes.” I turn, walk to my room, and shut the door.

  What would I say to Dad? “I’m having visions of another version of me doing things I could’ve done but didn’t?” Or “I don’t know what’s real anymore, so I need to visit you?”

  “Sure, Laney,” he’d say. “Sounds like you need quality time with Dad. Come on up.”

  Yeah, right.

  Or, “I don’t feel comfortable around Mom’s boyfriend because he caught me going through her sex toys. Also, he may be having sex with teenagers. Or his son did with some version of me. And Mom’s leaving me alone with these perverts while she studies dark matter in Chicago.”

  She should stay here and help me figure out whether all the other Laneys are leaking into my life or if I’m going crazy. Maybe I should tell her everything?

  No, she’d send me back to Dr. Feelings. Or maybe put me into a hospital. Which could be a real possibility if she had any idea what’s been in my head.

  What will I say to Dad?

  “I’m sorry for ratting on you?”

  Maybe I could send him all my versions of that most important day and ask him to pick the one he likes best.

  Maybe he’d like the version where I sit a respectable distance from Gibbs’ tent while they make “the beast with two backs.” (I wonder if all versions of me love Shakespeare?) Then Dad introduces me to Gibbs, and we hit it off right away. Next thing we know we’re all on a plane to somewhere, starting our new life together.

  I wonder how that version turned out. Could it be worse than the one I’m in?

  Sometimes I’ve imagined another version. Mom cheats with Khannan and Dad throws her out. Then I live with Dad and Gibbs. I feel awful for thinking that version might’ve been better.

  The main thing I want is to fix Dad and me. Even if he can’t be with Mom in our house, he can be with me. Somehow.

  “Delaney, is now a good time?” Mom knocks on my door.

  “Sure, Mom. Come in.” I turn around in my chair and see her carrying a glass of wine. Her smile is a little crooked. Maybe this is her second glass.

  With a little too much exuberance, she asks, “Where would you like me to sit?”

  “The bed’s good.”

  She saunters over to my bed and straightens out my sheets and quilt before she sits. I haven’t made my bed in weeks.

  She takes a sip and smiles. “You should make your bed in the morning.”

  “I don’t have a Khannan to do it for me.” We lock eyes. I want to say, “I’ve seen your closet, Mumsy.” But I just purse my lips.

  She looks around my room, her gaze lingering on the empty walls, which used to be filled with photos from national parks and camping trips. And our little family. Now bare for the third straight year. She sips again. “What would you like to talk about? We haven’t had a serious talk for ages.”

  “Can you give me Dad’s phone number? I want to call him.”

  She nods and sips. “What put that idea into your head?”

  I’d like to say, “The prospect of living alone with Khannan and Eddie for a month,” but I don’t.

  “The weather today. When I got home this afternoon, I couldn’t believe the heat, so I thought of cold places. And—boom—Alaska popped into my mind. Then when you mentioned Chicago, I thought about Dad. I need to see him.”

  Another sip. “You want to go to Alaska?”

  “If he’d let me.” I quickly bring my finger to the corner of my eye, wiping away a tear before it trickles down my cheek. “Do you think he’d talk to me if I called?”

  “I think he would. He didn’t want to leave you. He was supposed to have you on weekends, but when he showed up to visit, you screamed at him. You wanted nothing to do with him.”

  My breathing stops, and I can barely say, “I know.”

  “I never understood why you wouldn’t go with him.” She raises her brows like she expects me to explain. “He left town soon afterward.”

  I look to the floor. “I was angry. At him. At me. I couldn’t understand why he had to be with Gibbs. Why she was more important than keeping us together.”

  She nods. “I don’t think he saw it in those terms. Gibbs always knew how to push his buttons. Very pretty. Full of fun. Always high on something.”

  I look up. “High?”

  “Yes. She’s an addict.”

  “Drugs?” Why would Dad be with an addict? Did he use?

  “From what your father told me, she took whatever she could
find. Sometimes alcohol. Or pot. Any kind of pill. But on that day she was supposedly sober. Just released from her latest rehab and wanted to show him she’d done it. He was happy for her. They went for a walk, and . . .you know the rest of the story.”

  Yes I do.

  * * *

  Mom was cooking hamburgers on the grill. I came back from fishing in the lake. She told me to find Dad because dinner was almost ready. I hopped on my bike and rode back to our trailer then around the loop. I crossed over to the next loop and the next but couldn’t find him. I found a trail through the woods and pedaled down a ways until I saw a boy riding his bike toward me. I stopped, straddled my frame, and waved him down.

  “Have you seen a tall man wearing a red t-shirt, cargo shorts, and a backwards ball cap?”

  He smiled. “Your boyfriend?”

  I shook my head. “No, my dad.”

  “Don’t you have a boyfriend? Cute girl like you?”

  My face tingled, and I looked down. “I’m just thirteen.”

  “Really? Sure look older than that.”

  He was tall and muscular with curly dark hair. And freckles. He moved his eyes down my body until they stopped at my jean shorts. I looked down and saw that the legs had scrunched up. Even I could see my underwear. I straightened the legs and looked up to see his eyes peering into mine. His tongue lay on his bottom lip as he nodded his head.

  My stomach fluttered, and I felt a tingle on my neck. A warning? “Have you seen him?” I asked.

  “Actually, I did. He was down the trail a ways. Want me to show you where?”

  I almost said, “Sure,” but caught myself. “No, I can find him. Thanks.” I hopped back on my seat and took off. When the trail curved to the right, I looked back and saw him watching me, straddling his frame. I rode faster. Then the trail dropped down over tables of rock, and I crashed. My knee was scraped a little and the seat had jammed hard between my legs. That hurt. I walked my bike over the rock steps until I was back on smooth trail. I saw an odd fluttering through the trees to my left. A dark green tent covered with camouflage netting stood within a small clearing, barely visible from the trail.