Key to the lock, Bel hesitated. A shiver up her spine, picking up the hairs on the back of her neck. That pre-warning, that primal response to danger.
Bel checked over her shoulder, searching through the darkness, eyes catching on the trees across the street, their dancing shadows, shaping them into looming faces. But her eyes were wrong, the danger wasn’t coming from that way, it was behind the door.
She slotted the key in and shoved the door inward, opening onto the waiting war zone.
Laughter and warm voices, the smell of something buttery and sweet.
She hadn’t expected that.
“An-Bel, is that you?” Rachel’s voice rang out, finding her around the corner.
Bel dropped her bag, kicked off her shoes, leaving them in the way. “Honey, I’m home,” she said darkly, to herself, following the sounds of
the TV into the living room.
“Hi, sweetie.” Rachel’s eyes shone in the dark room, settling on Bel. The television threw light on her face with each frame, flashes of bright white into a green afterglow.
She was on the sofa, legs tucked up under a checkered blanket. And she wasn’t alone.
Carter was on the other end. Legs hidden beneath the same blanket. A bowl of popcorn between them, half empty already.
Rachel took another handful. “We’re having a movie night. Come join, there’s plenty of space.” She moved the popcorn to her lap.
Bel’s eyes darted to Carter, her face flashing the same colors as Rachel’s. “We’re watching Knives Out,” Carter said, even though she must know
that wasn’t the question in Bel’s eyes.
“I told you I was out tonight.” Bel stood dead still in the same spot.
“I know.” Carter’s hands disappeared under the blanket too. “By the time you replied, I was already here. Rachel said I could sleep over. She didn’t have anything to do either, so we decided to watch a movie. Have you seen this one, Bel? I think you’d like it.”
Bel didn’t care if she’d like the movie, she didn’t like this at all. The two of them together, without her. A churn of acid in her gut, the knot paddling around in it. This was a calculated move somehow; Rachel shifting the pieces on the board, trying to take Carter onto her side.
Bel wouldn’t give her up that easy.
“What’s it about?” Bel brightened her voice, moving toward the sofa, blocking the TV for Rachel, throwing her into full shadow.
“It’s a murder mystery,” Carter said, “about a fucked-up family.” “I like it already.”
Bel took the middle seat, between them, her body a barricade between Carter and Rachel, reclaiming her cousin, who couldn’t see what Rachel truly was.
She tucked her legs under the blanket, pulling until one of Rachel’s feet was exposed.
Rachel offered her the popcorn.
Bel hesitated, then took a handful. The pretense of it all: mother and daughter, and Carter.
“Its’s definitely him.” Rachel pointed at the screen, trying to catch Bel up, or showing her that she was better at this kind of thing.
“No news vans outside.” Bel spoke over the character.
“They packed up earlier,” Rachel said. “Guess they have to sleep sometime.”
“Or they don’t care as much about Dad disappearing as you reappearing,” Bel said, eyes ahead, because she wouldn’t be able to hide which one she cared about most, and she was trying to keep Rachel close, study her to work out how to destroy her. Look how well she was doing; so close that she could hear the way Rachel’s breath rattled gently.
“He’ll be back, Bel.” Carter pressed the underside of her foot against Bel’s, matching them up. “Cops in Vermont will track him down soon, and he’ll come home. Won’t he?” She leaned forward to speak across Bel, looking to Rachel.
Rachel’s hand paused above the popcorn, eyes darting between Carter and Bel. “Yes, I’m sure he will,” she answered. Bel could read Rachel better now, could tell Carter had put her on the spot. Maybe Carter wasn’t lost after all. And maybe Dad wasn’t either.
“He better be,” Bel added, like a threat, because it was.
Rachel returned her gaze to the television. “It’s your grandpa’s eighty- fifth birthday next Friday,” she said, not a question. “Carter said your dad hosts a family dinner here every year. That mac and cheese is the tradition. We can still do that, you know, even if he’s not back by then.”
Bel swallowed. She tried not to move her head, eyes straining to study Rachel side-on. The flicker of the TV against the glass of her eyes. What had she meant by that? Had Rachel given something away; did she know Dad wouldn’t be back next week? Wouldn’t ever be back, because she’d made sure of it?
“Yeah.” Bel sniffed. “That would be nice.”
Rachel reached for another handful of popcorn. Bel flinched at the bone- crunch sound of it in her mouth.
“Does Yordan ever take your grandpa out for walks?” Rachel asked. Bel was too close; could smell her buttery breath. “Not good to be inside the house all day.”
Bel was about to answer but stopped herself. It wasn’t the first time Rachel had asked about Grandpa and Yordan, about their routine. Bel
noticed things like that, now she wasn’t avoiding Rachel all the time. Was there something in that, or was Rachel just trying to make it look like she cared?
“Grandpa’s fine,” she said, shutting that down, whatever Rachel was trying. A curveball to throw her off, flipping Rachel’s questions back to her: “Do you like mac and cheese?”
A smile played across Rachel’s lips. “Yeah, I do.”
The movie finished, only crumbs and unpopped kernels at the bottom of the bowl.
“We should do this again,” Rachel said, a sheen across her eyes, matching the sheen across her bared teeth. “If you want? Movie night. Us three. I had fun.”
“Me too,” Bel said, at the exact same time as Carter. They laughed, and Rachel ruined it by joining in.
“Maybe once a week? I’ve got a lot of movies to catch up on.” Rachel stood, kernels rattling in the bowl as she picked it up. “Carter, where would you like to sleep? I can make up Charlie’s bed for you?”
Bel stiffened, and Carter must have felt it, through their feet.
“That’s OK.” Carter smiled up at her. “I’ll go in with Bel, like I normally do.”
“Perfect.” Rachel beamed, and maybe Bel was getting worse at this, because her smile didn’t seem fake at all.
—
Bel ventured back from brushing her teeth, hurrying down the hall so Rachel couldn’t catch her, those eyes glowing in the dark.
“Good night, girls!” Rachel called from the spare room, her door left ajar; not locked, not even shut.
Bel winced, a shiver, even though the house was warm.
“Night,” Carter called from Bel’s room. Bel said it too, half a second later; a deeper, darker echo.
She reached her bedroom and closed the door, leaning up against it.
Carter was already in bed, tucked up on her usual side.
“So?” Bel turned off the top light, climbing in under the comforter. “So what?” Carter replied.
Bel put her cold feet on the exposed skin of Carter’s legs. Carter kicked back.
“So Rachel?” Bel said, voice dropping into whispers. She didn’t trust Rachel or her half-closed door; she could be creeping around outside, listening in.
“So what about her?” Carter said, not following suit, not lowering her voice. “She said she had no plans and how about we watch a movie and wait for you to get back. I didn’t want to be at home. It’s not a big deal. We had fun, didn’t we?”
Bel couldn’t say she did. “Why are you getting defensive?” “I’m not,” Carter snapped, hands crossed over her chest. “Yes you are.”
“Because I know you’re going to find some reason to be annoyed about
it.”
“No I’m not,” Bel said.
“Yes you are,” Carter hit back.
“Not annoyed, no. We just have to be careful around her, OK?” Bel
hissed.
“Why do we have to be careful? Rachel is nice. She’s nice to both of us and she’s been through hell. Why do you always have to do this?”
“I’m not doing anything,” Bel said. “It’s Rachel. She’s doing everything. She’s back for just a week with a made-up story about where she’s been for sixteen years, and then my dad goes missing? Of course she wants you to think she’s nice.”
“Bel.” A warning.
“Carter.” A warning back. “Did she say anything to you?”
“About what?” Carter recrossed her arms the other way, staring up at the ceiling.
“About anything? About my dad? About your parents? About why she chose to disappear and lie about it? Any slipups?”
“Maybe.” Carter chewed her bottom lip. “She told me she was an evil mastermind with a plan for world domination.”
“Carter.” Bel turned to look at her, a final warning, eyes sharpening with
it.
“No, nothing,” Carter sighed. “She asked me questions about school and
dancing and then we talked about the movie. Nothing suspicious, sorry, Bel,” said like she wasn’t sorry one bit. She raised one arm and dropped it against the comforter, a straight line between her and Bel, her own barricade.
Bel turned the lamp off, throwing them into darkness. It was her turn to stare up at the ceiling. Who could she convince if she couldn’t even convince Carter? Had Rachel already won?
No, because Bel still had a plan, a next move. Jeff knew something about Rachel, or he believed that Grandpa did. Uncle Jeff was the way to get what she wanted: Dad back home and Rachel gone, like it was always meant to be.
Bel hadn’t been studying her uncle since Rachel returned, but maybe she should have been.
“Has your dad said anything?” Bel said, treading lightly, something she could only ask in the dark.
“About Rachel?” Carter shifted, the comforter too. “No. Well, I mean, of course he’s talked about her: about her return, about the stress of it all and that’s why he thinks Uncle Charlie took off for some space. But he was happy she came home.”
Bel thought about that. She could play her the clip, what they caught Jeff saying to Grandpa. But what if Carter then told Rachel, took away their advantage?
“Has he been acting strange at all? Since Rachel returned?” A pause, the crackle of Carter’s hair against the pillow. “No,” she said. “Why?”
“No reason, just wondering.”
The whites of Carter’s eyes glowed across from her. One slow blink took them away.
“Well, maybe a bit,” Carter said. “But everyone’s been acting strange since Rachel returned.” Another blink. “Especially you.”
Carter rolled over, turned her back on Bel. “I’m going to sleep,” she said.
