"I need to borrow some money, honey."
"Again," Alan Johnsen said absently, flipping through a pile of papers in search of his rent check.
"Yes, again. The girls' tuition is due."
Alan turned to give Kit a withering look. "Again."
"It costs to keep 'em in a Lutheran school," Kit said, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed. "What does it matter? In three months, we'll be married and I'll be free to take your money whenever I want, baby. May as well get used to it now."
He located the check and set it carefully aside, then began to dig in one of his drawers. "Three hundred enough?"
"Bucks?"
"Cents."
He ducked instinctively, causing her to laugh. "Can't hit you from way over here, Alan. You're such a goose."
"Same to you." He pulled his wallet out from underneath a pile of sketchbooks and removed several bills. Kit strode to his side, took the money, and proceeded to kiss him soundly.
"You're such a wonderful man. Love you, honey."
"Yeah, yeah, now get outta here so I can work."
She inspected the mess on the desk. "Are you ever going to clean this off?"
"Maybe. Hey, are you free next weekend?"
She rolled her eyes. "Dear, I own the store. I'm free whenever the hell I want to be free. What'd you have in mind?"
"Take the girls to a haunted house. They're mature enough by now."
"They're seven years old, Alan." She picked up several pencils and dropped them into an empty cup. "Anyway, Halloween isn't for months. The haunted houses aren't open."
"I meant a real one."
"Oh, really?" Skepticism tainted her voice as she swept some loose coins into her hand.
"Yes, really. My brother - Mike, you met him last year, remember? - anyway, he's bringing his girlfiend out from New York to see the place. Our family owns it, but nobody's lived there for decades, because it's haunted."
"Sure, why not. 'Hey, kids, your stepfather believes in ghosts.' I really want to encourage that. God, you're impossible."
"You like ghosts."
"I liked ghosts. There's a difference. I'm not into that stuff anymore. This isn't high school, Alan." She dumped the change into his hands. "We'll come. Just so that I can prove to them once and for all that men are utterly useless."
"In that case, I'd like my ring back."
She rolled her eyes, grinning. "See you, baby."
"Yes, dear." He watched the dark-haired woman leave and then glanced down at his desk, which somehow looked a great deal better. Women just didn't get it. He tossed the coins back onto the desk, spilled the pencils out of the cup, and threw it at the sink, then gazed in confusion at the spot he could've sworn he'd put the rent check.
* * *
Emory smoked, a habit that Jenna strongly disapproved of. Alicia drank, something that Jenna also wasn't fond of. The Others, well, they engaged in certain activities that her Theology class gave dire warnings against. Ah, America, where her best friends could be the kind of people she usually hated.
The new kid stared at them with calm, collected eyes. Jenna smiled; it had been awhile since they'd had one like this. Most of the newbies were also twinks - pompous, stupid, and sure that they knew more about the gang than the members did. This one, though...calm, but not conceited. Prepared for everything, but not sure of anything. Perfect.
"So," Emory said, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "Josh. You know what hazing is?"
"'Course," Josh said. "Kind of an initiation rite."
"Yeah. Well...we don't do that." He exchanged a glance with Alicia. "Not really. See, you've got to do something, but we'll all do it with you. The hat?"
One of the Others held out a baseball hat filled with slips of paper. Another held up several matchsticks of varying lengths. Emory laughed. "This is how it works. You pick a matchstick. There's a little marker dot on the bottom of each. The color you take determines where the hazing takes place...and the slip of paper you pick tells you what we're going to do there. Simple enough?"
Josh nodded and took a matchstick. "Red," he said.
"The abandoned mansion out in the country," Jenna noted, having memorized this long ago. Well, last month, anyway.
He pulled a slip of paper from the hat and read it. "We have to break in and flood the place," he said. "That's not legal."
Emory exhaled again, the smoke causing Josh to cough. "We don't play by the rules, Josh. Alicia is well below legal drinking age...but she does. See Nick? He sells drugs to the little people at the elementary school."
Jenna could tell by the look on Josh's face that he didn't approve of that. Well, at least this one would be tolerable...
* * *
Mike Johnsen didn't bother knocking when he entered his girlfriend's apartment. He heard the vacuum and knew she wouldn't hear, and besides, their relationship was based on friendship, and friends didn't lock doors.
Amy was in the middle of a cleaning spree, which happened once a week when her roommate was out of the apartment. "Hello, Mike," she said, without looking up from her vacuuming.
He spotted a melted bowl of ice cream and took it to the sink, then returned to Amy. She finished the job and switched the vacuum off, kissing him sweetly on the cheek. "How's it going?"
"Fine," Amy said. "Just getting ready for this weekend. I can't wait to meet your brother's fiancée, she sounds absolutely delightful...although a bit young to have children."
Mike shrugged. "Alan adores her, that's all that matters. He called me a few hours ago - they're going to bring the girls, so you can meet them, too."
Amy shook her head. "To a 'haunted house'? They'll be scared half to death."
"Not these kids. Hayley is a brilliant little kid, and Anna...well, Anna helps her mother with the taxes, which says something about both of them, I guess."
She shook her head ruefully. "Yeah. I used to have some friends like that - utterly useless at math, I mean."
"Oh, yeah? Lost contact with them?"
"In a way."
They exchanged small talk for a few minutes, and then Mike left. Amy began gathering up the laundry, her mind whirling.
Her friends. Ten years had passed, and she hadn't thought of them. So much for "friends forever."
Kristen was going for a nursing degree, that much Amy knew. The others...well, it had been high school. Plenty of people don't keep their high school friends.
But most of those forever friendships were terminated by, as Mike suggested, loss of contact. Not loss of trust.
* * *
Mari was shocked to get a phone call from Kit. "Hey. I was just thinking about you," she said. "God, it's been, what? Four years?"
"Longer." Kit laughed. "Last time I saw you was at the girls' Baptisms. They're seven now."
"Seven years...wow."
"I'm engaged."
"Again?"
"Why is everyone saying that to me today?" Mari could almost see Kit shaking her head ruefully at the other end of the line.
"Because...well, you've got a reputation, Kit."
Kit snorted. "Oh, yeah. That. Would you just drop that already?"
"No. We said we'd hold it over your head forever, and we will."
"Oh, and who's this 'we' you're suddenly speaking of?"
"You know..."
"No. I don't. Anyway, I didn't call about the engagement. Not really."
"I know." Mari had known that from the moment she'd picked up the phone. It was classic Kit - the master of ulterior motives.
"We're...well, we're sort of having a party at a supposedly haunted house this weekend. I'd like you to come, see the girls, meet Alan...you know."
"A haunted house? That sounds...really nice. But I've got to grade papers. They just finished their science fiction stories."
"They? Who's they? I didn't know you could make seventh graders write stuff."
"I don't teach them anymore. I've moved on. I teach Creative Writing. Mostly juniors."
"Juniors." And though neither spoke for a moment, Mari knew perfectly well what Kit wasn't saying. 'Juniors? Are you crazy? Doesn't that...hurt?'
"It helps," Mari replied. "It really does."
"I see. Well, sci-fi is my speciality. Bring the papers along, why don't you?"
"Okay."
Kit gave out directions, which Mari scribbled on a piece of paper. Then they hung up, both subdued.
Juniors. That was the year everything had changed. Everyone had changed.
Perhaps the two of them most of all.
* * *
Kristen sat on a hill overlooking Vahe-Taline, spelling it out in her head. Anything to avoid painting the place. Vahe-Taline. She'd done her homework. The words were Armenian - literally, Strong Monestary. Well, the mansion was anything but strong now, although it was certainly silent enough to be a monestary, albeit an abandoned one.
"You need to paint with cold colors. You need darkness, and agony, and grief. Otherwise, I'll have to fail you."
So her art teacher had said. And while the grade wouldn't affect her degree, she wanted to do well in the class. She just couldn't paint the pain.
It was a relief to be back in Wisconsin, though, after eight years in New York. The clutter in the city - and in her apartment - had seriously been getting to her. A weekend in the country would be good for her.
If only she didn't have to paint this godforsaken mansion!
Aside from being dark and ancient, it was a masterpiece of twisted turrets, crumbling brick, and sprawling wings. While interesting to look at, it would be a nightmare to paint. She could always try to do it abstract, but that just wasn't her style, and the teacher would know it. Kristen always painted as realistically as possible - it drowned out the surrealism of memory.
A light flickered on in what she assumed to be the main hall. Wasn't it abandoned? Oh, well, probably some teenagers messing around. Not her problem. At least she could now attempt to draw the eye away from the darkness and into the light.
The hope that flared died quickly when the light went out again. Kristen sighed.
* * *
"So, you haven't paid the electric bill in how long?" Kit asked, sweetness and light dripping from her voice.
"Well, we don't use the place."
"Anna, stop it. But you knew we'd be out here. Flashlights simply will not suffice, Alan. Anna, don't."
"It's not the bills," the seven-year-old said simply. She knelt on the floor, fiddling with assorted wires. "These've been cut. If I had some duct tape..."
"No. You'll electrocute yourself. Hayley, that flashlight doesn't help much if it isn't on."
The twins exchanged glances, and Hayley switched the light on. "What's so fun about a haunted house if we don't have all the lights on?" she asked testily. She wandered into the kitchen, and a moment later a roll of duct tape flew through the air, and Hayley returned. Alan caught the tape and took the wires from Anna.
"Shine the light over here, Hayley."
The girl did so, and Kit jumped over the three serious people to answer the knock at the door. She found herself facing a young man with short blonde hair and the sparkling eyes she found so attractive on her fiancé - it had to be Alan's brother, Mike. "Hi," Kit said.
"Hello. Mike Johnsen. You must be Kit." He held out his hand, which she shook. "This is my girlfriend. Amy Cizel."
Kit stepped back to let them enter, her eyes suddenly cold as steel. "Hmm. Where did you go to high school, Amy?"
The woman smiled nervously, sensing the ice in Kit's tone. "Martin Luther High, here in Wisconsin. Why?"
"I'm still not speaking to you," Kit informed her, whirling and crossing her arms in a very juvenile manner.
"Still?...Have we met before?"
Kit broke her vow of silence, whirling to glare at the other woman. "You can't tell me you don't remember the Eight."
"I...wait. Caitlin?"
"Kit," she ground out. She waved a hand toward Alan and the girls, who had looked up from their work. "That's my fiancé and my kids. How've you been?"
"You have...kids."
"Oh, yes."
"Am I missing something?" Mike asked. "You two know each other?"
"We were inseparable when we were young," Amy said. "Cai - I mean, Kit. Wow. It's great to see you."
Kit shook her head. "I'm still mad at you. Don't pretend it's all all right."
"But it is. Isn't it? That was ten years ago."
"What was ten years ago?" Alan asked desperately.
"Daddy was ten years ago," Hayley said helpfully. Anna rolled her eyes, stood up, and flicked the lightswitch, causing the chandelier to blaze into activity, casting strange shadows onto the group.
"Your father is history," Kit said. "Nice work with the lights. I can't believe you didn't pay the bills, Al."
"Have you had any books published?" Amy asked.
Kit snorted. "Books? Don't be ridiculous. I own a pet store, make a modest income, and I've given up on those childhood dreams."
"Just because of - "
"Don't say it, Amy. Just don't say it. You sure as hell weren't interested then."
"In what?" Mike and Alan asked at the same time.
Before either woman could answer, there was a knock on the door. Kit flung the door open and blinked hard when faced with two familiar faces.
"Oh, holy crap," she moaned. "What are you doing here?"
Shannon rolled her eyes. "Aren't you even gonna say hi?"
"Not to you, I'm not. Hi, Mari."
The dark-skinned woman waved, cast a confused look at Shannon, and stepped inside. "What's she doing here?" she asked in a stage whisper.
"I don't know! I didn't invite her! Damn, is this some kind of reunion or what?"
"Watch your mouth, Aitlink."
"Don't call me that," Kit said automatically. "Who did invite you, Shannon?"
Shannon entered, looking around. "A little bird told me," she said. "Actually, I'm here on business."
"Whose business?" Mike asked. "This house belongs to us."
"I hired her," Alan said. "To see how much it's worth."
"We can't sell it."
"We don't use it."
"You're a lawyer?" Kit, Mari, and Amy all asked, eyes wide.
"Sure. Wow. It's been what, ten years? How unreal is this?"
"Even from beyond the grave, that bastard is haunting us," Kit moaned.
"What bastard?" Mike, Alan, and the twins asked.
Kit quickly turned to her daughters. "That's a very bad word that I shouldn't have used, so forget you ever heard it."
"Mother," they whined.
"We'd hear it sooner or later anyway..."
"You don't have to protect us from the English language..."
"Oh," Kit said suddenly. "Guys, this is Anna and Hayley. My kids. Girls, these are my...for lack of a better word, friends. Mari, Shannon, and Amy."
"'For lack of a better word'?" Shannon asked. "Aren't you over that? God, you can hold a grudge...ten years..."
"I'd really appreciate knowing what was going on," Alan said hopelessly.
There was a knock on the door, which Kit answered apprehensively, revealing... "Oh, for God's sake!" she screeched, stumbling off to the kitchen. "I need a freaking drink..."
Hannah looked around, bewildered. "Are you having a party? Do I know you?"
"Hannah, it's us," Amy said. "From high school."
"You all know each other?" Mike said despondently.
"It's more than knowing," Mari said, gritting her teeth. "It's more like...loathing."
Kit reappeared, a glass of wine held in her hand. "Stop being melodramatic and get over here," she commanded. Mari did so, and the two held a whispered consultation while the others stood there, mixed looks of shock and amusement on their faces.
"So, what've you been up to?" Amy asked finally, addressing her remark to Shannon and Hannah in general.
Shannon grinned. "Well, I got a bachelor's in law, and I'm here at the request of Mr. Johnsen to appraise the mansion. You?"
"Working in the fashion world out in New York. Hannah?"
"Forensic pathologist." Upon receiving the startled gazes from the other two, she added, "It helps...I guess. I keep hoping someday I'll get called on to solve the Case."
"What case?" Alan asked. "No, you won't answer that, just...never mind." He sighed. "No one ever tells me anything."
* * *
Jenna crouched behind the couch in the living room, listening to the murmur of voices from the hall. Shit! No one was supposed to be here! She hoped the Others had the presence of mind to stay put, and that Alicia and Emory didn't let Josh get away. The little newbie was really paranoid about the whole thing, but hey, whatever. Although it would be hard to flood the mansion with people in it...
She put her finger against the earpiece Emory had given her, feeling a bit like a spy. "Em?" she whispered, hoping the mic picked it up.
"Yes?" he asked, voice crackling.
"There's people here."
"No shit, Jen. Okay, you distract them, we'll get in through the back."
"Distract...what?"
"Just...I dunno..."
Jenna sighed, took the earpiece out, and stuffed it into her pocket. She took a deep breath and entered the hall, feeling all those eyes upon her. She zeroed in upon one person in particular and began seriously considering apostasy.
* * *
Kit glanced up from her conversation with Mari and stared at the teen who had come from the living room. Dust had settled on the girl's shoulders and in her dark hair, but Kit would have recognized her anywhere.
"Someone up there hates me," she announced, taking a sip of her wine.
The girl put a hand to her head, as if testing herself for a fever. "You've got to be kidding me," she muttered.
Kit turned to Alan and her daughters, a frown on her lips and fire in her eyes. "Honey, this is your future sister-in-law. Kids, this is your aunt."
Jenna proceeded to bang her head against the wall. "You're engaged again?"
"Why does everyone keep saying that to me?"