Crooked Smiles

Don't Answer

Huff, puff.
I throw the door open, quickly shutting it behind me.
Slam.
Delson emerges from his room like a bear waking in the spring. His feet are heavy and blind; he nearly trips over a stray moving box.
"What's wrong?" he croaks.
"Didn't get any food," I throw my bag on our old couch; my keys fly out like a metal dragonfly.
"What?" he voice twists in confusion, his stomach following with a loud growl. "Why?!"
"You wouldn't believe me," I snatch the empty cereal bowl sitting on the freshly constructed IKEA table. I scrub and scrub the yellow bowl as if I could wipe the paint off; water droplets splattering on my cheeks.
"Can you at least tell me why I'm gonna starve?"
He swivels me around.
I zone into his bewildered eyes.
The water is still running.
"Mel," he presses; leaning in with threatening intensity. "C'mon."
I whack off the tap, moan, and stamp my foot.
"What's..." he trails off, looking up with a solemn stare, "... are you finally upset about moving?"
"No!" I bite back, knowing a single bone in my body doesn't miss the city.
"Well, what's wrong then?!" he snaps back into an irritated tone.
I slump down at the kitchen table, rubbing the knot in the wood.
"It was weird, Del... the guy at the grocery was really freaking me out... it wasn't right."
"Who?" He pulls out a chair and throws his phone on the table; ready to listen.
"The cashier."
"Yeah, but there's lots of freaky guys around; you're a girl." His expression is flat, his tone is very matter of fact.
"Alright, wiseass," I growl. "I would've just walked in here laughing if some loser hit on me. I've had enough experience back home, eh?"
He just shrugs with apathy written all over his face; he wouldn't feel the same if he was a girl.
"No. It was freaky, Delson," I slowly release the words, making sure to emphasize 'freaky' for him.
"Okay," he huffs, "just tell me already."
"There was nothing in the grocery store; nothing," I blurt out.
His raises one eyebrow; he'd admit that's suspicious.
"The guy popped up right behind me. He was so close, I could basically smell his dinner..."
In just retelling it, I nearly feel his warm breath caressing my skin again.
"So I asked him to back up."
I pause, finding myself.
"He didn't..."
Delson's expression starts to sour, but his eyes tell me to continue.
"He stared at me like a predator pinning his prey... and he just had this, perverted... crooked smile. I dunno... it's like, it's like he knew something I didn't. Something..." I trail off, our eyes meeting. "...inhuman."
He looks terrified now; his gaze is wide, his frown is deep. He's even got his phone in a death grip.
"B-but you were stoned," He stutters, but then sobers his tone. "You were stoned, right? You were probably just paranoid..."
"Yeah but... why was the no food, Del?"
He pauses.
Then he looks up, reaching for a rationale.
"Low stock...?"
"Del, there was nothing. Nothing but a blueberry pie..."

~

Ring, ring, ring.
My phone sings obnoxiously; the light breaks the darkness of the empty room.
I groan, my blind hand reaching from the warm blankets, just wishing to kill the noise.
My sore eyes focus on the screen.
Unknown caller.
I decide to answer, paranoia biting my tongue.
"H-hello?"
"... eat." A gravely voice cuts through a low static.
"Sorry?" My voice wavers and a chill runs down my spine. This voice is in no way familiar; that hardly even sounded human...
"...eat... eat... eat."
The androgynous voice lowers to a grunt.
Then there is only the sound of white noise and my own panicked breath...
I stay on the phone with shaky hands and a lump in my throat.
I swallow.
"... eat, eat, eat." The voice intensifies with a painful twist in it's tone; as if someone clamped down on their trachea.
"Who is this?!" I release the terror building up inside of me.
The crackling stops.
My heart races.
Silence.

"DON'T YOU WANT YOUR PIE?"

I instantly hang up; my finger couldn't have pressed the screen faster. I hurl the phone on the rug and dive under the blankets.
"No, no, no, no, no."
They're icy now; they can't warm me from my black fear.

~

"This school ain't looking so hot," I report as I pull up to East Queen's High School. A misty haze has rolled in, and the splotchy sunlight really doesn't help this shitshack's case. Some of the red siding is starting to rot off and... there's a couple kids staring at us through a dirty window.
A shiver runs down my spine; I really don't like the looks of this.
"Let's go back home then!" He growls, throwing his checkered backpack off the seat.
The truck shakes in the weight of his throw.
I look into the desolate parking lot; I'd be lying if I said I wouldn't worry about the kid here.
"There's no other option... we don't have the money to go back."
"Mel..! Look at this place! ...can't auntie take us?" Delson whines characteristically, furiously swooshing away his hair.
He probably has zero intention of actually going inside; I guess I don't blame him.
"No... she's not in the right mind to take care of us..." I hang my head and sink back into a gloom I forgot existed.
"Why here..?" Delson cries, pulling down the sleeves of his Henley; he always looks weird when he wears a baggy shirt over those.
"Cause we belong here," I respond, knowing that to be the truth.
Mom was born Nova Scotia. I remember the weeks we would spend here in the summer; Del and I would run around the forest, tossing big rocks of granite just to see how they would crumble.
We were a little evil like that.
But that was nothing compared to the peach evenings on the lake; the singing loons, the rippling water, the crackle of the fire, the faint smell of pine... a light mist every now and then... nothing can compare to that nostalgia.
On return, she would always say:
"Oh, did I ever miss the voices of home."
And her own voice would echo into the evening like it was a piece of it.
"Belong here?" Delson sneers with a choked laugh, "I belong to the city streets, not the boonies. Especially..." he snuffs, "Caledonia."
"Yea, okay."
We both sit in silence; we can feel that same old argument boiling up again, and it never comes to a conclusion.
"You got five minutes to spare," I pipe up, pointing at the foreboding clock at the top height of the building.
"Yea. I know."
"Look, just be careful okay? Call me if you need to." I rub the worm steering wheel, feeling a black anxiety begging to be acknowledged from within. "You're right... this town... something's not right."
He looks up; he seems validated by that comment, but that alone won't alleviate his anxieties.
Then, I remember.
"I trust you, I believe in you, and I know you can handle it... you are listened to you are cared for, you are very important to me."
"North, south, east, west," we recite together.
We know that off our hearts, as if it was written in it's very chasms.
"Hmph," he vocalizes with a light heart, "... you sound just like mom."
We lock eyes, and in my brother I see the loving little boy he used to be.
With that little medicine, it's as though our mother's spirit is with us, cheering us on; guiding us.
"Alright, go get em, tiger!" I clap my hands enthusiastically, tossing his backpack towards him.
"Yeesh," he catches it with both arms and a bittersweet smile.
He cracks open the door and hops out; the gravel creates a satisfying sound under his feet. He shoots me one last frightened look before entering 'the jungle'.
He goes to shut the door but~
"Hey, one more thing," I reach out.
"Yeah?"
"I got a call last night..." I trail off, the fear within twists and contorts. "If you get a call from an unknown caller... don't answer."