Prologue ~ Once Upon A Rainy Night
Mason
Ten years earlier
Pellets of rain bombard the roof. Elsewhere in the house, it may sound like a soothing patter fit to lull a baby to sleep. Not here in the attic. Here, the sky has just declared war on the house. Its chance of winning? The same as that of my father becoming a senior partner at his accounting firm before he turns fifty. Or of my mother missing an episode of Modern Family or a speck of mold on the bathroom wall. Or of anyone in Eastport forgetting the fact that my older brother scored the goal that won the country the FIFA U-17 World Cup five years ago. Or of my little sister ever liking crabs even though we live in the state famous for them. Zero.
This house has stood for more than half a century. Or so I’ve been told. It has withstood freezing, sweltering Maryland, home to raging snowstorms, equally unforgiving summers, and deluges of rain just like this, which can go on for days in summer or winter. The age and the strength of this house is most apparent here in the attic. Above my bed, thick wooden beams that have lost the gloss of their varnish support the equally drab ceiling. Nothing but the flimsy remnants of cobwebs for me to see up there. The bare walls creak when assaulted by strong winds but don’t budge an inch. The glass windows are filmed with a permanent haze and stuck to their sills. They rattle, too, when gales blow, but show no signs that they’ll shatter anytime soon.
That’s probably why I like it up here. It feels safe. And quiet, when it’s not raining like this. I don’t hear my parents fighting from here. My nosy little sister is too scared to come here. And if I often have the bass guitar of my favorite rock bands screeching out of my earphones, well, that’s not noise. That’s music. And adrenaline. It makes my fingers go faster on the keyboard.
I tap my fingers on the mattress. They itch. Oh, what I’d give to have a keyboard right now, to have my music, to have my laptop back. Without it, I feel like a vampire, without a heart or a soul. But Mom has been holding it hostage since finding out I hacked into the computer of the insufferable jock at school and then posted the video of him singing a Shakira song on the school’s social media site. Not a bad song, and his singing was decent, too. His dancing? Less remarkable. Still, it was pretty harmless. Leaking it only did damage to his image of being the alpha dog at school – a misdemeanor compared to the crime he and his friends committed last week of leaving used condoms in Ed’s locker. Ed, the school nerd. Weird, true, but brilliant. Helped me with an algorithm I was struggling with once – not the kind of stuff I forget.
Too bad high school is like a pack of wolves. Make that fickle, fragile wolves dizzy with hormones, drugged by social media and driven by one thing – the need to be liked. Show one weakness and they all turn against you. Alpha one day. A potential meal the next.
Poor Payne.
Anyway, no one could prove I did it. I left no trace, of course, wiped out all my fingerprints. Payne said he knew I did it, that he’d make me pay. I told him if he tried, I’d leak something else I’d found. Something… less decent. End of conversation.
So why don’t I have my laptop? Simple. Giselle tattled. She told Mom about it and Mom didn’t give me a chance to explain. Nope. No presumption of innocence in this household. At least, not for the rebellious middle kid. No trial, even. She just told me to surrender my laptop. End of conversation.
Lesson? Never trust your little sister to keep her mouth shut.
At any rate, I’m a vampire now. I’ve got no purpose. Nothing to do. Nothing to keep the noise of the rain away.
The bombardment continues. No sign of retreat or surrender. Shit. Has it always been this noisy?
I decide to take cover. I’m not going to play the civilian casualty here.
I get out of bed and head downstairs. Usually, the creaky steps announce my descent throughout the house. Right now, though, the rain is so strong I can’t even hear them. Good. My mom won’t know I’m on my way to raid the ref.
She’s nowhere in sight here on the second floor. I can see light from under her door, though. I have half a mind to go in there and ask for my laptop back, but the other half shuts that notion down. Asking won’t be enough. I’ll have to beg, puppy-dog eyes and all. Then I’ll have to put on a charming smile, make her laugh, and if that doesn’t work, I’ll have to promise her I’ll be good, that I’ll even do the dishes twice a week. At least, that’s what my brother does. And it usually works. Then again, that might be just because it’s him doing the whole routine.