The New Neighbor

Chapter 5

An Afternoon Visit

Karen had just changed out of her uniform when the doorbell rang. Normally she would be annoyed by the interruption so soon after getting home from work, but it was Friday and she was always in a better mood than usual on Fridays, knowing she didn't have to work for the next two days.

It was Lorelle Dupree. "I hope I'm not bothering you,” she said.

"Not at all," Karen said. "Just got home from work. Come on in."

"Thank you. Where do you work?"

"Redding Medical Center. I'm a nurse. A very fortunate nurse because I’ve managed to get weekends off. That means Friday is actually my Friday.” She chuckled.

Karen led her into the kitchen and Lorelle sat at the breakfast table. "I was just going to put on some coffee. Want some?"

"Sure."

Karen filled the coffee maker, remembering the discomfort she'd felt with Lorelle Dupree and wondering what it was about the woman that had unsettled her. It could have been any number of things – the fact that she was beautiful, she was a stranger, or because, in spite of what George said, it was odd (at least, Karen still thought so) that she'd invited Robby to come over and help her with the furniture and have a cozy little dinner for two. Or perhaps it was just that Lorelle Dupree was a new neighbor. Karen was naturally cautious around new, unfamiliar people. Perhaps she was even more so when she knew that person would be living across the street. Whatever it had been, she didn't feel it now. Instead, it was rather pleasant to have another woman to visit with for a while. Aside from Lynda, she had no female friends, and Lynda was as occupied with her family as Karen was with hers.

She pulled up a chair at the table as the coffee began to gurgle lazily. She looked much better than she had the night she arrived, much healthier, with some color in her face. Karen asked, "What about you? What kind of work do you do?"

"I'm an artist."

"Really? An artist? What are you doing in Redding?"

Lorelle laughed. "That's the reaction I've been getting from everyone. I didn't think Redding was that backward."

"It certainly seems like it sometimes.”

They talked for a while about Redding and Karen made the standard hick town jokes, then did the standard backpedaling and said it wasn't all that bad after all – even though it really was.

She told Lorelle about the local points of interest – interesting to newcomers, anyway – like the dam and Shasta Caverns. As they talked and laughed, Karen became much more comfortable with Lorelle until her previous uneasiness was forgotten.

"So, what do you do, Lorelle, paint?"

"I paint, sculpt. But I make my living from my jewelry."

"You make jewelry? Oh, I'd love to see some of your work."

Lorelle held out her hands and Karen looked closely at the rings, impressed.

"They're beautiful," she said quietly. "You make these?”

"You like them?"

"They're gorgeous."

"Tell you what. Why don't you turn off the coffee and come over to my place. I was just unpacking all my pieces and I bet there's something over there you'd like."

"Oh, you don't have to – “

"No, really. That's why I came over here. I like to know my neighbors, and I was going to invite you over for a cup of hot spiced wine so we could get acquainted."

"Mmm, that sounds good. But really, my husband'll be home in a couple of hours and I haven't started dinner."

"Order a pizza. Or better yet – “ Lorelle stood and gave Karen a conspiratorial wink, “ – let him cook it. You work, too, remember."

Laughing, Karen went to the coffee maker and switched it off. "We're gonna get along well, you and me," she said, grabbing her coat in the hall as they headed for the front door. "I like the way you think."

Robby stared at his English lit test as he hunched over his desk, but did not see it. Neither did he hear the occasional weary sighs of the other students laboring over the questions, nor the rustle of papers and tapping of pencils that punctuated the silence. Instead, his mind re-examined the events of the night before, going over them again and again.

He vaguely remembered waking in Lorelle's arms, in front of the fire, feeling weak and helpless as a newborn infant. She smiled, stroked his face, and told him he should dress and go home. But before he left, she gave him a gift – a silver neck chain with a sterling wolf's head pendant that held two tiny ruby eyes. At the door, she gave him one more kiss – a long hungry kiss that sucked his tongue into her mouth so hard it hurt – then he staggered across the street, unaware of the time, but hoping it wasn't too late. In the house, he closed the door quietly when he heard the television in the living room, quickly ducked down the hall and went straight to bed.

Getting out of bed that morning had been a chore and his mother had insisted he stay home from school because she didn’t think he looked well. But, not wanting to miss the test, Robby assured her that he was fine and managed to shower and dress in time to catch the bus.

But he did look ill: pale and exhausted, with gray rings beneath his heavy eyes. His chest, shoulders and neck were spotted with light bruises where Lorelle had chewed on him and the ruby eyes in the snarling wolf's head looked an even deeper red against his ashen skin than they had the night before.

As he stared blindly at the test, he wondered why it had happened, what she had seen in him when he was so obviously below her standards. She was – how old? Thirty? Thirty-five? Older? It was hard to tell. He was just a clumsy teenager who couldn't drink, drive or vote, and whose experience with women did not extend beyond sucking on one of Janine Flugel's nipples and slipping his fingers down her panties while she jerked him off through his undershorts behind the gymnasium, during the autumn dance, a couple of weeks ago. He didn't understand it, but the more he thought about it, the more it seemed that understanding it was not necessary.

"Robby? Robby?"

He blinked as he looked around, fingering the sterling wolf's head. He was surprised to see everyone leaving their desks, slapping their books together and complaining about the test. Miss Weiss was leaning over his desk, frowning.

"Are you all right, Robby?" she asked.

"Huh? Yeah. Fine. Is… did the bell ring?"

"Yes, and you haven't finished, have you?"

"Well, um… " He looked at the test. Not only had he not finished, he'd barely even started. The first question was half answered and the rest of the paper was blank except for the doodles in the margins. The doodles…

Robby moved to slap his hand over one of the scribbled pictures, but knew he was too late when he saw Miss Weiss looking at his crude drawing of Lorelle's sculpture.

She turned to him slowly and he wasn't sure if she was going to smirk or frown.

"You don't look well, Robby," she said. She was leaning close and he could see the light sprinkle of freckles on her chest, but that – even combined with the smell of her perfume – did not elicit the usual blushing response. He just didn't have the energy to find her attractive.

"I guess I… haven't been… feeling too well today. But I didn't want to miss the test."

"Well, it didn't do you much good to come to school, did it?" She took the paper and stepped back from his desk. "Go on home and get some rest."

"I've got two more classes," he said.

"They'll still be there next week. Go see the school nurse and I'll let you make up the test on Monday."

He quickly gathered his things. "Thanks, Miss Weiss."

"But next time you're sick, stay home. Okay?"

He didn't look back as he hurried out of the room.

Dylan was waiting for him in the hall.

"What the hell's the matter with you man? You look like you fell out of the back of a hearse."

"Flu, maybe," Robby said without slowing his pace as he went to his locker.

"So how'd you do on the test?"

He said nothing.

"You do okay? I'm not sure if I got that question about – “

"I don't want to talk about the test, okay?" He didn't want to talk at all.

"Maybe you’ve got the swine flu, 'cause you've been a real pig's ass all day, you know that? What're you, on your period?"

“Sorry, Dylan. I just don't feel well." Actually, he didn't feel sick, just exhausted, and he only wanted to go home and sleep. He'd slept as if in a coma the night before, but still felt as if he would never get enough sleep again.

After about half an hour of conversation over wine in Lorelle's kitchen, Lorelle went to her bedroom to get her jewelry. Karen seated herself on the sofa and gasped softly when she saw the sculpture. She gawked at it for a few moments, then turned away when she heard Lorelle coming, acting as if she hadn't even noticed it. But each time Lorelle turned away to open a new box of jewelry, Karen stole a look at the sculpture and wondered if it was Lorelle's work. If Lorelle had done it, she hadn’t given herself the credit she deserved when she'd said earlier, "Oh, my art is nothing more than a hobby, really. I just happen to make a living at it." Still, there was something about the sculpture that made Karen squirm. It was not the deliciously sinister look on the woman's face or the look of anguish on the man's, and neither was it the leathery wings sprouting from the woman's back. It was…

… the penis. It looked so real, black as coal, but shiny as if it were wet, generously leaking the clear viscous fluids that penises seemed to produce in abundance. Each time Karen looked at the sculpture, it was the man's stiff penis to which her eyes were drawn.

She was admiring a pair of sterling crescent moon earrings when Lorelle turned away to open the fourth box. Karen looked at the sculpture again, at the fat penis clutched in the winged woman's fist.

"Does it bother you?"

Karen jerked around toward Lorelle. "Pardon?"

"My sculpture. Does it bother you?"

"Oh, no. It's… beautiful. I was wondering if you'd done it. I think it's… wonderful."

"Ah. Well, some people are offended by it. And you were looking at it with a sort of distasteful grimace."

"Was I? I'm sorry. It has nothing to do with… I mean, I really do think it's beautiful. I just… well… " She laughed, embarrassed that she'd even considered telling Lorelle what was bothering her, and finished off her wine.

Watch it, she thought. You've had more than a few of those.

"I'll get you another." Lorelle took the cup and was gone before Karen could protest.

So she looked at the sculpture again.

Coming back into the living room with another cup of wine, Lorelle asked, "What were you about to say?"

"Oh, nothing."

"Come on. No fair teasing. You were about to say something about the sculpture."

Karen laughed again. "No, it's nothing. Really, I guess I'm just not used to drinking this much wine."

"Is it the woman? I know she doesn't exactly meet the current standards of beauty."

"No."

"Her wings?"

"No, really, I'm just – “

"The man?"

"No, no, it's just, um… his penis," she whispered suddenly with a wince, surprising herself.

Lorelle lifted a brow, "His penis?"

"God, that sounds awful, doesn't it?"

"Not at all. What about his penis?"

"Well, it looks so real."

"Does that bother you?"

"Well, um, it's very well done and… I just… well, I know this sounds crazy and you'll probably think there's something wrong with me, but… I think they're so ugly."

Lorelle slapped her thigh, threw back her head and laughed. "I don't think there's anything wrong with you, Karen. I know a lot of women who think they're ugly. And – “ She turned to her sculpture, “ – in a way, I have to agree. Aesthetically, there's not a great deal to recommend them, is there?"

Snickering into her palm, Karen shook her head.

"How does your husband feel about your opinion of the male organ?"

"He doesn't know," she laughed.

"You haven't told him?"

"Do you think I should? Seems like most men would be crushed. They all seem so – “ she snickered again, “ – emotionally attached to that part of their body, so sensitive about it."

"Yeah. If you speak anything less than words of praise about it in their presence, they get a sort of hurt look in their eyes, like… like a child does when he shows you his latest finger-painting and you ask, 'What's it supposed to be?'"

"Yes, exactly!"

They roared with laughter, nodding and slapping the sofa cushions. When their laughter began to die, Lorelle said, "But they do sort of make up for their unsavory physical attributes, don't you think? Penises, I mean."

Karen squirmed; her smile fell away and she sipped her wine, staring into the cup. "Yeah, I… I suppose so."

"You don't sound too sure."

"Well, I… yeah. Yeah, they do."

Lorelle frowned and touched Karen's arm with affectionate concern. "Is something wrong? Are you having problems at home?"

"Oh, no, it's nothing like that. George is great. He's different than any other man I've ever been with, or I wouldn't have married him. I mean, we don't talk about it much, but he… well, I guess we've never talked about it. But he seems to understand."

"Understand what?"

"That I… that I don't really… " She sighed and scrubbed her face with her hand. "I don't know. Sometimes I think there really is something wrong with me. That I'm crazy, or something. I'd see a therapist if I thought it'd do any good. But I'm one of those people who believes that psychotherapy was invented by someone who saw a chance to make some major bucks without getting a real job." She laughed, but there was no humor in her voice.

"What is it, Karen?" Lorelle leaned toward her, eyes narrowing with concern. "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. But if you do, I'm willing to listen."

She thought for several long moments. She'd never shared her thoughts on the subject with anyone, not even Lynda. After taking a deep breath, she spoke very slowly.

“I don't just think they're unattractive. You know… penises. I think they're… well… repulsive. All of them. I've never seen one that I wanted to touch. I mean really wanted to touch. Even with George… I love him, I really do. He's been so good to me. He's understanding and accepting, he doesn't make a lot of demands… hardly any, really. And the ones he does make are reasonable. I know that sex is something he enjoys and… he's so different from the other men I've been with. He's a very good lover, very giving. And I love him, I really do, but… even so, I'm… I can't… well, it's hard for me to … do it. I thought I would feel differently with time, but still… it's just like all the others. A stubby, wrinkly, one-eyed worm. And he wants to put it in… side me. I let him, of course, because I love him and want him to be happy. I don't want to lose him. But… I don't enjoy it. Even now, after all these years. I can't get excited about it. And I know that, although he doesn't say anything about it, that bothers him. I know he'd like me to be very… sexual. Like his first wife. But I just can't. Because – “ Karen looked at the onyx erection across the room. " – of that. It has nothing to do with him, with the kind of person he is. It's just that… thing." Smiling at Lorelle, she said, "I guess that's what bothered me about your sculpture. It's very beautiful, but – “ She laughed again. " – it's got a dick."

Lorelle laughed too, then took Karen's hand and squeezed it.

"There's nothing wrong with you, honey," she whispered. "You don't need a therapist. That's just the way you feel, that's all.”

"Well, if I don't need a therapist, what do I need?"

"You need a nice piece of jewelry." She began emptying the contents of the box onto the table. "And if you can't find one here, I'll make you one."

They went on sipping their wine as they sifted through the many pieces of jewelry Lorelle produced from the boxes she'd stacked on the floor by the sofa; and each time Karen found one she was especially fond of, she set it aside, until she found something she could not resist and had to try on. It was a pair of pyramid-shaped onyx earrings with an eye-shaped sapphire set into all four sides of each one.

"You like those?" Lorelle asked, smiling.

"I love them!" She put them on and ran her fingers over them as they dangled from her earlobes.

"You know, I have a necklace somewhere around here that goes perfectly with those earrings. Let me get you some more wine and we'll go find it."

A moment later, she returned with a filled cup for Karen, then led her down the hall into the bedroom, where a few unpacked boxes were stacked against the walls. She fished through one of them until she found a smaller box, and removed from it a necklace of onyx cubes – each of which sparkled with a speck of sapphire – joined by beads of sterling silver. She seated Karen at the dresser facing the mirror and rested the cubes on her chest, fastening the necklace in the back.

Karen pulled back the collar of her plaid shirt, but it wouldn't stay, so she unfastened the top two buttons and let the necklace rest against her bare skin. Lorelle reached over Karen's shoulders and gently patted the necklace, then placed both palms flat on her chest. They were warm against Karen's skin, smooth.

"What do you think?" Lorelle asked, resting her chin on Karen's shoulder.

"I love it."

"You have good skin," she said, gently stroking Karen's chest. "Perfect for necklaces, because you don't have any freckles or blemishes to draw attention to."

Karen closed her eyes a moment and told herself it was probably the wine that was making her feel lightheaded – she'd had too much, that was all.

"Let's try another." Lorelle removed the necklace and took another from the box, this one of sterling, with bits of onyx and opal.

In spite of the possibility that she'd had too much, Karen took another drink of her wine – a good-sized swallow. Lorelle put the second necklace on her, fingernails brushing her flesh, fingers carefully arranging her blond hair on her shoulders.

Karen's hands itched to pull her shirt closed and button it because she felt her nipples hardening against the material, and wondered if Lorelle could see them from where she stood.

Lorelle removed the pyramid earrings from Karen's ears and fished through the box for another pair.

"Ah," she said, holding up one earring, "this would go with the- oh, no, that won't work. There's only one of these." She set it down and continued looking.

Karen stared at the tiny delicate piece of silver Lorelle had set on the dresser and tried to take her mind off the lingering sensation of tightness in her breasts. She picked it up by its little hoop between thumb and forefinger and held it dangling before her.

"Here they are." Lorelle stepped behind Karen, carefully hung a pair of teardrop opals from her lobes and smiled into the mirror. "They go together perfectly," she said, tracing the edge of the necklace with her fingertips all the way up to Karen's neck, where her hands stopped, fingers squirming ever so slightly against her skin.

Karen's breath caught in her throat like sawdust.

"Don't you think so, Karen?"

"Yes, it's… they're very… yes, I like them. They're very nice." She returned her attention to the tiny piece of silver. Its shape was confusing at first – graceful curves that locked together smoothly.

"Do you like that?" Lorelle asked when she saw her staring at the piece.

"Oh," Karen whispered when she finally realized what all those little curves were. "Yes, it's very… unique."

Two naked female bodies dangled from the hoop, their legs wrapped around one another as they ground their vaginas together. Holding the piece closer to her eyes, Karen could make out the amazingly intricate detail: erect nipples, flowery vulva, fingers, toes and facial features.

"You said there's only one?" she asked.

"Mm-hm. I made that for myself when I got my nipple pierced."

"Your nipple?"

"It was a lot of work, that one. That much detail isn't easy on something so small."

"I can’t imagine having my nipple pierced." Karen frowned at Lorelle's reflection in the mirror.

"Well, I love jewelry and I'm always looking for new places on my body to put it." Lorelle stepped in front of her, took the piece of silver and unfastened her dress. It fell open in front like a bathrobe and beneath it, she was naked.

Karen's face burned and she clenched her teeth, angry at herself. Why? She thought. I've been around naked women thousands of times, for God's sake, why am I feeling this way?

Lorelle cupped her left breast, upturned the nipple – which was quite erect – and slipped the hoop through a minute hole in the hard brownish-pink flesh.

Karen touched her own left breast gently, almost protectively, feeling her nipples shrivel even further into solid pebbles beneath her shirt. "Didn't it hurt?" she whispered.

"Oh, not much. If it's done properly, it’s not as painful as you might think."

Karen's eyes widened as Lorelle's hand moved toward her, slipped beneath her shirt, lightly touched her breast, and -

– Lorelle said, "Not much more than a pinch," as she closed her thumb and forefinger together on Karen's nipple, squeezing hard for just an instant, and -

– Karen drew a loud gasp as the pinch sent thin white tendrils of heat through her breast, into her throat and down through her abdomen. Her eyes locked onto the two tiny silver women dangling from Lorelle's nipple, flashing as they caught the light from overhead.

"See?" Lorelle whispered. "It's not so bad."

Karen started to speak, to say she had to go now and probably wouldn't be back, thank you but no thank you, she had a husband and two kids and all that, but -

– Lorelle squeezed again, a little harder, and Karen's back stiffened as she murmured, "Oooh-ooh."

Another whisper as Lorelle knelt beside the chair, smiling: "You like that, don't you?"

"Pluh-please, I-I really…I ruh-really – “

The third time Lorelle squeezed, she did not let go; instead, she rolled the nipple between her thumb and finger

Karen grew weak for a moment, slumping in the chair, gripping the armrests, breathing, "Mmmm… “

Lorelle pushed her shirt open and touched her other breast, squeezed it gently and fingered the nipple.

Karen thought, What am I doing here? She kicked at the floor. The chair scooted back and Karen pulled her shirt together, fumbling uselessly with the buttons and stammering, "Look, I-I can't – I'm not – I really don't – I really just can't – “

"Yes you can," Lorelle whispered, standing and closing in on her again, so close this time that Karen couldn't rise from the chair. "It's all right, you can. There's nothing wrong. Look, it's just this – “

She took Karen's trembling hand and placed it on her breast, just below her pierced nipple and its sparkling silver lovers -

"See? That's all. Just this – “

– passed it slowly over her slightly rounded belly -

" – Just smooth skin, that's all, nice smooth skin… and this -"

– then slipped Karen's fingers between her slightly parted legs, into the dark patch of hair, pressing them hard onto her mound -

" – just nice, soft lips. Feel them? Soft warm lips. Just you and me, that's all.

No one else, nothing else. No fat wrinkly penises, no stiff dripping hard-ons, no balls hanging in their little bags… just this."

“Oh God," Karen breathed. She felt the growing heat and moisture between her own legs, closed her eyes as Lorelle knelt between her knees and unbuttoned her shirt the rest of the way, then kissed her breasts, licked them, sucked on her nipples so… perfectly. Her teeth nibbled with just the right amount of pressure – not too hard, not too soft – then she took Karen's hand and pulled her out of the chair. Lorelle's dress fell to the floor on their way across the room. Karen shed her shirt, sat on the bed and let Lorelle remove her jeans.

The moment Lorelle's tongue touched her clitoris, Karen began to writhe on the bed, clutching the dark blue spread in her fists, breathing in rapid machine-gun bursts, and when her orgasm exploded inside her – more powerful than any other before it, almost smothering in its force – Karen screamed, and -

– Jen's books hit the concrete sidewalk with a resonant slap. She froze in place as the other students just off the bus stepped around her and walked on down Deerfield.

Tara and Dana Crane stopped on each side of her and Tara asked, "Whatsa matter, Jen?"

"Did you hear that?" Her mouth was suddenly very dry and she no longer noticed the icy breeze. They'd stepped off the bus just a moment before she heard the scream and it had been very faint beneath the rumble of the bus's engine, but it had sounded, for all the world, like her mother.

"Hear what?" Dana asked, wrinkling his nose against the cold.

"I thought I heard my mom scream."

Dana cackled. "You watched that Nightmare on Elm Street movie on TV last night, didn't you?"

“No, really, I thought I heard my mom scream."

"Well I didn't hear it."

Tara shook her head. "Neither did I. Maybe it was a cat."

Jen listened hard, screwing her face up and turning an ear toward her house, but heard nothing.

"Better get home, Jen," Dana said. "Maybe Freddy got her!" He clawed one hand, stretched his eyes open wide and crossed them in that ugly way he knew frightened her.

"Stop it," Tara snapped, but Jen had already swept up her books and trotted away, turning and walking backward long enough to shout, "Sometimes you're a real shit, you know that, Dana?" and then hurried home.

Her mom's car was parked outside the garage and the door was unlocked, so Jen knew she was home. She walked in slowly, closed the door and called for her mom, but got no response.

The living room was empty; so was the kitchen. Her mom's car keys were on the counter where she always put them when she got home from work. As Monroe crept through the kitchen, looking suspiciously from right to left, Jen called out again, but heard only silence.

Troubled she went to her room and dropped her books on the bed.

Something moved. Somewhere.

She listened at her bedroom doorway.

It came from the next room. Robby's room.

He’s never home this early, she thought.

Standing in the hall outside Robby's closed bedroom door, she muttered, "Mom?"

More faint sounds of movement.

"Mom?" she called, a little louder. Then, in a voice filled with the panic that had clogged her throat, she shouted, "Muh-therrr?"

An angry voice… the squeak of bedsprings.

Jen pressed her back against the hallway wall and held her breath.

"What?" Robby barked as he opened the door.

She stared at him as she emptied her lungs, relieved, and snapped, "What're you doing home?"

"I was sick."

"You look sick."

He was pale and slump-shouldered and his ribs seemed to stick out a little more than usual.

"Where's Mom?" she asked.

"I don't know. She wasn't here when I got home."

"Well, I thought I heard her scream."

"What? You're high."

"I am not! I heard her! At least… it sounded like her."

"Well, she's probably down at the Cranes'. Now shut up." He slammed the door and Jen heard his bedsprings squeak as he went back to bed.

Still not rid of her fear, she went to the telephone in the kitchen and called the Cranes, but her mom was not there. Neither was she at the LaBianco's house.

Jen flicked on the television in the living room and tried to preoccupy herself with it, but she couldn't. Maybe she hadn't heard her mom scream, but she couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong, something was different about today.

She sat cross-legged on the floor in front of the television and chewed her fingernails until the front door opened. She heard her mom's familiar sigh and dashed out to meet her.

Jen caught up with her in the kitchen and started to ask where she'd been, but only stared at her as she poured a glass of orange juice.

Mom did not look well. Her pretty blond hair was a sad mess and her face looked long and weary, almost as pale as Robby's.

"Mommy?" Jen asked, surprising herself, because she usually didn't call her that. She thought “Mommy” sounded childish.

“What, honey?" She didn't look at Jen, just rinsed her glass in the sink and put the carton of orange juice back in the refrigerator.

"Where you been?"

"Huh? Oh, just… I was visiting with Miss Dupree. Our new neighbor. She invited me over to look at her jewelry. She's an artist.”

Frowning, Jen said, "I… I thought I… well, when I got off the bus, I thought I heard you scream. Dana laughed at me, but I, uh… I thought I heard you scream."

Mom’s head snapped around toward Jen and, just for a second, she looked as if she were about to become angry. Then she blinked, smiled falteringly, and said, "Oh, I'm fine, honey. Really. It was nothing. Maybe a cat."

"That's what Tara said."

"Well, that's probably what it was." She went to Jen and gave her a hug.

Jen felt her mom's hands tremble as they pressed to her back and her breath seemed to be coming faster than usual, rumbling in Jen's ear.

"I'm fine." Karen said. "Really."

"You… look sick."

Her smile crumbled. "I do?"

"Uh-huh. Like Robby. He came home from school early."

"I knew he shouldn't have gone," she muttered distractedly, touching her face. "Probably the flu. It's going around. You'd better take some vitamin C, honey. Go watch TV, okay? I'm gonna… take a hot bath."

Jen watched her mom walk slowly from the kitchen and disappear down the hall, shaking her head as if mumbling to herself. The bathroom door closed and locked and water began running in the bathtub. Back in the living room, Jen plopped in front of the television again, but she paid little attention to

Something’s different, she thought, chewing another fingernail – chewing it all the way into the pink bloody quick. Something's wrong.