Clandestine

fifty three

-diane-

Andrew and Kristy are standing against the walls of my bedroom. My bedroom. It feels ridiculous to call this room that, but it's true. This is my bedroom now. For the next year. And then?

Andrew pleads, "Please, Diane. Can you tell us where you were this morning? If you are going to live in this house, you need to be somewhat accountable. We are just worried about you."

I want to snap that they aren't my parents. They aren't in charge of me. They don't need to know that I was at a meeting with Marcia Quintana, my soon to be murderer.

But I am living in their home. Eating their food. They deserve to know the truth. But do they really want to know the truth? How would they respond if they knew they were harboring an almost criminal? Few people are horrible enough to get a meeting with the Assembly. If they knew that I went to a meeting and have another one Wednesday, would they want me in their home still?

This is their house. They deserve the truth. I'm not about to become a liar.

I say, "I didn't want to tell you because I didn't want to worry you. I had to go to a meeting with the Assembly. I learned about it just this morning. Marcia Quintana contacted me and I had to come. I didn't mean to lie to you, I just..."

Andrew's mouth slips open, "Marcia Quintana spoke to you? You had to go to one of the meetings?"

"Yes. I know that I should have told you."

"What were you at the meeting for?"

"I don't know. I think they were just trying to find something wrong with me. Now that they no longer have my father to harass, I guess they've moved on to me."

Kristy gasps, "That's a horrible thing to say."

Andrew shrugs, "It's probably the truth. Alan Tinsley has told me some of the things they've dragged him to the meetings for. It's ridiculous. It's not enough for them to just kick them out of the Assembly. They have to shove it into their face with every chance they get."

Kristy says, "You should have told us. We might have been able to get you out of it. That's unlawful."

I say, "It was okay. It was kind of nice to finally meet my father's attackers. I was fine."

"How did you get there?" Andrew asks.

"I walked."

"You walked?" Kristy asks. "How far is that?"

"A few miles. It wasn't too bad. I've walked longer."

"Hopefully there won't be a next time, but if you ever need a ride."

"Actually, I might need to go in on Wednesday," I say.

"Why?" Andrew frowns.

"I don't know. They won't tell me. Marcia Quintana became too angry with me. She said we had to reschedule."

Kristy shakes her head at me, "Don't you get Marcia Quintana mad at you. She's not a person to mess with. Don't be fooled by the polite front she puts out. I have a few friends who know her. They say she's sweet on the outside and nasty on the inside. Be careful around her."

She has no idea how careful I should be around Marcia Quintana. But I don't say anything. I'm not cruel enough to tell them that I have someone after my head. I'm not their responsibility. I'm already a big enough nuisance for them.

I say, "I was wondering if I could go back to my home for a few hours. Now that I've settled, I've remembered a few more things that I would like to have here."

Andrew nods, "Of course. I'll drive you over there right now."

I thank them and follow Andrew out to his car. He asks me what I plan on bringing and I make up an excuse about needing a few more clothes and maybe some old knick knacks from my room. I don't plan on telling him that I'm going to bring as many weapons I can find back to his house.

I'm not even sure if my father will have many weapons in his home. He was never for the big guns or sharp knives. He hated hunting because he hated waiting around. He would rather have parties than weapons. It's not as if I'm going to find a bunch of grenades stashed in drawers or several knives sitting in a cabinet.

This may be harder than I expected. I'll call Julia while I'm there and see if she can find any weapons for me to use.

Andrew drops me off at my home and say he'll be back in two hours. I thank him again and unlock my front door with the key hidden under the big faux rock in our landscaping.

My father would probably cry if he saw the state of his front lawn. The grass reaches above my ankles and weeds are sprouting between the cracks in our sidewalk. According to the sheet on his desk, there won't be another party for two weeks. I just need to find his landscaper and call him a day or two before the party.

I step into our house and something feels off. I survive the opening room but nothing seems to be different. Everything is in it's place. I walk through the kitchen and something sends chills down my spine. I open a drawer and pull out our biggest knife.

What if the date on the document was wrong? Does Marcia Quintana plan to kill me today, in my own home?

No.

Someone has been in here. But they've already left.

A note hangs from our normally clean fridge. I pull it off, ripping the thin clear tape securing it to the stainless steel.

The message is handwritten,

There's going to be a party at your house next Wednesday. I've invited everyone and taken care of all the details. The only thing that party needs is the host. You. I thought you would need something to cheer you up. Have a fun time!

Sincerely,

Marcia Quintana.

Marcia Quintana plans to kill me with an audience.