BIG SIS

7. Two Steps Forward, Three Steps Sideways

The Weavers - demonic spawn included - were gone most of the weekend. There were errands to be run in preparation of Iris' return to school, and Appointments, the latter possibly involving medical personnel and, Collin hoped, a licensed psychiatrist. Collin had been invited along for the mall visits and the back-to-school shopping. He'd declined on account of needing to study for a non-existent exam. Imaginary schoolwork was the best.

Sunday night, the Weavers sat him down to talk about Monday, which was to now include Iris, because apparently they weren't spending enough time together as it was.

"We are so happy you'll be there, to keep her company," Mrs. Weaver told him.

"No problem," Collin said. He'd said those exact words so many times during this one conversation that they rolled off the tongue without conscious effort, unanchored by any meaning.

"If it's an imposition at all," Mr. Weaver began.

"No, no, I'd be happy to, erm," Collin said, and then couldn't find the right words to continue, so he just sort of trailed off, like an idiot.

"So," Iris said, uncoiling from the couch, where she'd been watchfully lounging for most of the after-dinner special, "He's fine. I'm fine. We're all the finest of fine. Can we watch a movie, or something?" She might have been going for reassuring, but ended up sounding apathetic with a side dish of impatient. The Weavers let up, though, so Collin was mostly grateful.

The serious part of the evening ended on that note. Collin stayed through all the family fun planned for the night, out of guilt for having avoided the Weavers' company for most of the past week. Iris went to bed sometime around 11. Collin meant to follow her up, but Mr. Weaver cleared his throat all meaningfully as soon as the girl was out of sight, so he stayed where he was and tried to look as if he wanted to be there.

"Collin, there is something we want to talk to you about," Mr. Weaver said.

"Sure," Collin said.

"It's, well, it's about Iris," Mrs. Weaver said, her words halting. "She has been through a lot. More than we know, very likely, and we just, we want to make sure that she feels comfortable and safe at school."

"I will look after her," Collin promised, and it wasn't even a lie. He wasn't letting Iris out of his sight.

"We know you will," Mrs. Weaver said. "But, oh, there is this one - one problem. We thought you should know, if anything was to happen." Mrs. Weaver hesitated there.

"His name is Derek Wilburn," Mr. Weaver aided.

Collin's surprise was unfeigned. "Derek?" he said before he could think better of it, and found himself the subject of scrutiny. "I've seen him around," he hurried to explain, and then, because he was curious despite himself, asked as innocently as he knew how, "He was in Iris' class, wasn't he?"

The Weavers shared a look. Mrs. Weaver sighed deeply, looking pained. Collin regretted his decision to press.

"He was," the woman said quietly. "We have good reason to suspect he was there the night Iris went missing, as well."

Collin stared. "You don't think," he began, but didn't know what to think himself, so he ended the thought there.

"Nothing was ever proven," Mrs. Weaver said, in the tone that left no doubt as to her own opinion on the matter.

"We would feel better if we knew that she would not be in a situation where she's alone with him," Mr. Weaver said.

Collin nodded dumbly. "Yeah, okay. I'll keep an eye on him."

The Weavers smiled with open relief. The conversation shifted to lighter topics, which unfortunately included brunch with the Legers, which was still on for next week. Collin was invited by Kira's mom personally, which meant that he couldn't ditch.

"Looking forward to it," he lied, and feigned a yawn.

"It's getting rather late, isn't it?" Mrs. Weaver said. "Better go to sleep, dear."

"Big day, tomorrow," Mr. Weaver added.

Collin trudged up the stairs with all the enthusiasm of a man facing the guillotine. It wasn't going to be so bad, he told himself. Things always looked worse from afar. He'd go to school in the morning, just as he'd always done, except this time he would have a one-eyed shadow of questionable sanity. Nothing scary about that.

Iris' bedroom door was closed. Collin opened his own, and flicked on the lights.

"Took you long enough," Iris said.

Collin paused in the doorway. Iris was in his bed, legs propped up on the headboard, staring at the ceiling. She tipped her head back to look at him. Her forehead wrinkled. "Well? Come in."

"I don't want to," Collin said.

"The faster we do this, the faster I leave," Iris told him.

Collin closed the door. Iris turned on her stomach with a fluidity that reminded Collin of a snake uncoiling. A snake wearing fluffy peach pajamas, but still.

"Spill," Iris said.

Collin debated playing daft for all of a second. Iris looked damn comfortable, though, and he suddenly really, really wanted his bed back. "Your parents want me to babysit you tomorrow," he told her.

"And?" Iris pressed.

"And keep Derek away from you," Collin said. In for a penny, and all.

"Why?" she asked.

Collin couldn't tell if she was playing dumb, or really didn't know. "They think he was there, the night that, you know," he fumbled.

Iris said nothing, but something in her face shifted, betraying a spark of uncertainty.

"Was he?" Collin asked.

"I don't remember," Iris said. She got off the bed and made for the door, dismissing Collin entirely, which was just plain rude.

"Hey," Collin called, getting in her way. He had a flashback of their first meeting, and had to chase after his original thought before he could continue. "How come?" he asked.

Iris looked at him with about as much disdain as she had in that 7-11 a week ago. He expected her to push past him again. Instead, she turned so her back was to him, and lifted her hair. Collin blanched. There was a scar there, running in a jagged curve from the base of her skull up to her left ear.

"Who the fuck did that?" Collin asked. Blood beat in his temples, so loud he couldn't hear himself think.

"Not Derek," Iris said.

She let go of her hair, hiding the scar, and turned around. Collin watched her closely.

"You're here to find him, aren't you," he said. "The bastard who did this to you. That's why you came back."

Iris reached over slowly, face unreadable, and flicked Collin's nose.

"Good night," she said in passing.

The door closed behind her with a soft click. Collin stayed where he was, mind whirling. He wondered if the Weavers knew about the scar. They must, he reasoned. They'd taken Iris to see a doctor. The spotty-memory bit was new to Collin, but her parents must know about that, too. It made a hell of an excuse for the girl's two-year absence, in any event.

The bed smelled like Iris. Collin kicked off the covers and stared at the ceiling until his eyes hurt, tracing cracks in the paint that looked like scars.