Shadows of Yesterday

Chapter 19: Talking to the String People

The rest of the week, the school was buzzing with news of Homecoming. My classmates were going on and on about the people they were asking, what dates they were planning, and how ridiculously expensive everything was, and the morning announcements now routinely started with a reminder to "buy our tickets now at the front office" as if our school was big enough to ever run out of dance tickets. Someone had even started a betting pool about whether the football team would win the game this year. Unsurprisingly, everyone who wasn't on the team had bet against them.

Honestly, the excitement had started a while ago, but I'd been purposely trying to ignore it. It wasn't that I hated dances or dresses or anything like that; I just wasn't planning on going. 

Mat had always thought dance tickets were too expensive to be worth it, and Kat hated the noise and crowds, so if I wanted to go, I would either have to go alone--which felt really pathetic--or I would have to go with Liam--which... I wasn't sure I was ready for.

Besides, my mind had been too occupied with family and the way my house felt like it was full of people walking on delicate wires that were about to snap at any moment.

By the time the following Tuesday had rolled around, I was relieved to go home for once. At least my house wasn't full of a bunch of people gossiping the same things over and over.

It wasn't full of anything, really.

I sat at the kitchen table, trying without much success to focus on my homework. A very healthy snack sat beside my papers on the table consisting of a KitKat, a can of soda, and three cookies. I had a walk scheduled with Liam later tonight, and if I was going to make it through all these assignments before then, I was going to need fuel.

The late afternoon sunlight streamed in through the kitchen windows, sending golden beams dancing around the room. In retrospect, I really should have turned on a light when I entered the room, but I was too lazy to walk over and hit the switch now that I had sat down. The scratch of my pencil and the ticking of the clock were the only sounds.

But then, I heard a dull thump from the garage. Or rather, the floor above the garage. I leaned towards the sound with furrowed brows, trying to figure out if I should call the police or just go back to puzzling through preterite tenses and interest formulas.

After a few seconds of silence, I relaxed, turning back to the papers in front of me and trying to calm my racing heart. 

A quiet creaking came from the floor above the garage, followed by another thump.

But the only thing above the garage is...

I pushed myself out of my chair and speedwalked towards the garage door. I yanked it open and then made a beeline for the attic ladder, not entirely surprised to find it already lowered.

My progress up the ladder was slow, and I suddenly found myself wishing that I had the foresight to bring some sort of weapon or cellular device with me, just in case I was about to find a squatter or attempted murderer in my house.

When I reached the top and peered my head inside the dusty attic, I was relieved--and surprised--to find not a criminal, but my brother sitting on the floor, cradling a bottle of alcohol and leaning his back against the wall. His phone flashlight illuminated the dark space, making it feel simultaneously cozy and incredibly eerie. Didn't he have classes at this time?

"Declan?" I asked quizzically. "What are you doing up here?"

I couldn't stop staring at the bottle in his arms. He seemed to sense that, because his tired response to me was, "Don't worry. I haven't opened it." A pause. "Yet."