Fic: The Uninvited
Title: The Uninvited
Disclaimer: Same old song and dance. Rob Thomas/UPN hasn't suddenly decided that I can have Veronica Mars.
Word Count: 3028
Summary: Written for the Ask Questions Later ficathon. My scenario was “How to fend off a ghost.” Veronica has a bad day.
Characters: Veronica, Backup, Keith, Logan
All spoilers are so minor, it seems pointless to even warn about them. (Donut Run, Nobody Puts Baby in the Corner, basic knowledge of characters.)
AN: I can't resist awkward/un!comfortable situations sometimes. Any mistakes are my own since backup!betas don't always work out.
----------------------
Today was not going to be a good day.
Veronica could feel that much, even if she couldn't pinpoint exactly why. More than likely, it was because she somehow found herself agreeing to babysit Mrs. Hauser's demon-child again. Why did she do these things to herself?
She tried to open her eyes only to find herself blinded by the early morning light. With a groan, she pulled her green blanket over her head, and snuggled deeper into her bed. Maybe if she ignored the threat of being late for school, she could freeze time and put it off for hours. She desperately needed to catch up on sleep, and at the moment she vowed to never go on a late-night stakeout again. Ever. Well, maybe on the weekends.
Sighing softly, she peaked out from under the covers. If she got up now, she would still have time to take a shower and not smell like cigarette smoke. Then again, she could be lazy.
Before she knew it, twenty minutes had passed, and her father was standing outside her door with an expectant look. “I'm awake,” she declared, struggling to sit up.
“This is the third time I've tried to get you up. You don't want to be late for school.”
“You're right.” She pushed back her covers and stood up.
He nodded and closed the door. His voice was muffled as he called back in, “Don't make me take you to school in your pajamas.”
Laughing, she crossed the small distance to her closet. At least her clothes were clean.
She looked around, frowning and mumbling under her breath, before she found her favorite jeans beside the bed where she'd thrown them last night.
She pulled her jeans over her legs and contemplated shirts. Was she feeling band-y, flower-y, or plain? Her hand closed over the bottom of a dark pink T-shirt, and she tugged it off the hanger.
She sprayed her neck and torso with papaya-scented body spray before putting on her shirt.
Two minutes later, she was out the door with her bag and keys. She just couldn't shake the feeling that she was forgetting something.
His coffee cup paused on its way to Keith's mouth, and he stared at her questioningly. “Has Neptune High decided 'no shirt, no shoes' is a bad policy?”
Glancing down in horror, she was happy to note that she was only missing shoes. Not that walking out without shoes wouldn't have been a bad thing. There was broken glass and rocks all over the parking lot, plus it was against the law to drive without shoes. And she was pretty sure she would have realized she didn't have any on by then.
Veronica dropped to the floor and tentatively pushed her arm under the couch. As soon as she triumphantly produced a pair of decent tennis shoes, Backup whined and pawed at the front door. “You didn't take him out?” She asked, tying the laces into a bow.
Keith finished his coffee before he answered. “When I tried to put his leash on him, he growled.”
She frowned. “That's not like him.”
“Really?” Keith asked dryly.
Sheepishly, she picked up Backup's leash. “I get a sign for that, don't I?”
He chuckled. “Luckily, I'm fresh out.”
Slinging her bag over her shoulder, she moved to the door and reached down to attach his leash. He growled faintly, but offered no other resistance. “This is just a pit-stop,” she reminded him.
A few minutes after she stepped out the door, she ushered Backup back through. “Bye, Dad!” she called.
In her peripheral vision, a bright light flashed through the glass panes on the door before quickly fading. She shook her head. Must have imagined it.
.:.:.:.
School officially sucked, she decided as she walked into her home. Ms. Hauser was as much of a bitch as always, and Veronica seriously wondered why someone who hated teenagers would want to teach them. Aside from masochistic/sadistic tendencies, she was coming up blank.
The feeling of off-ness she felt when she woke up had disappeared when she pulled into a parking space at school, but came flooding back now. Veronica tried to shake off the feeling of being watched as she walked into her room. She dropped her messenger bag on her bed, and changed into her bathrobe to indulge in that shower she didn't take when she woke up. Humming softly, she walked into the bathroom. The shower dial turned easily, but for several long moments, nothing happened. “Don't fuck up now,” she mumbled under her breath and twisted the cold water dial. Great.
Cursing loudly (and taking advantage of the empty apartment), Veronica stomped down the hall and into the kitchen to get the phone. The fucking supervisor could at least make sure the water was on since that was the only utility he had to pay for. As soon as her finger pressed the 'on' button, Backup woke from his nap and proceeded to rush to the bathroom to bark. The sound of pipes groaning and liquid splashing into the ceramic tub followed quickly, and she placed the phone back on the charger. Relieved, she retraced her steps and found herself facing the drawn shower curtain she really didn't remember moving.
Cautiously and hesitantly, her hand reached to draw the fabric back. “Oh, ew!” she exclaimed at the growing pool of rust-colored water rising in her bathtub. Leaning over the side, she quickly turned the water off. “That's disgusting,” she commented more to herself than Backup, though he whined in agreement.
It was during times like this that she really missed her old house. Hot water was normally a luxury, but clean-looking water shouldn't be considered one, no matter how bad the place was. Mind made up, she rushed to her room to change back into her school clothes and plucked her cellphone from her bag. Pressing the arrow key on her phone until she found a suitable number, she snapped Backup's leash onto his collar and left. The desired caller answered on the third ring, and her head unconsciously tipped to the side. “I need a favor.”
.:.:.:.
For a split second, she questioned the wisdom of being there. She looked down at her furry companion. “What am I doing here?”
Backup stared expectantly, still except for his wagging tail.
Before she had time to turn around and leave, her body decided it needed to be clean far more than it cared about how awkward things would be.
Silence met her knock, but she could hear shuffling on the other side of the door. A second later, the door was cracked open and the occupant retreated. Rolling her eyes, she unhooked the leash and let Backup push the door open and barge in.
“Hey, Mankiller,” she heard him greet the dog.
Had she not known Logan as well as she did, she would have thought he looked completely bored by her presence. But, there was no one she watched as much as Logan, and she quickly spotted the restrained smirk and gleeful gleam in his eyes. He enjoyed awkwardness far too much. He glanced at her as he scratched the pit bull behind his ears, and she knew how uncomfortable she had to look just standing there. “How'd you get him in?”
“I'm a detective. You really think I can't get past such lax security?”
He accepted that with a nod. “Why here?”
Whirling around, she closed and locked his door. “Because my pipes are rusted or something.”
He shook his head. “A, that's too easy. B, that's not what I asked.”
Scowling, she shrugged off her jacket and dropped it on the couch beside him. “Only you would make everything dirty.”
The corners of his mouth tipped upwards the slightest bit more, but otherwise he didn't respond.
“Fine. I couldn't ask Wallace since his mother probably hates my entire family - and all future children with the last name 'Mars' - and he had practice today.”
“You picked me over his mother? I'm touched.”
“Don't be. I only chose you since I can yell at you.” She looked around the suite. “It's five in the afternoon and you're not drunk?”
Logan smiled wryly. “I didn't know you cared. I'd love to be, but Dick shanghaied everything decent last night.”
“Poor you.”
He shifted uncomfortably. “I almost hate to tell you this, but you smell like Hypnotiq, sweat, and whatever they were serving in the cafeteria today.”
“Hypnotiq?” She raised an eyebrow.
“It smells and tastes like alcohol flavored with cigarettes for a touch of class.”
Tightening her grip on the change of clothes she brought, she turned suddenly and walked towards Logan's room. “I hope you don't mind keeping him busy.”
“Nah.” He waited until she was out of sight before tacking on, “Bossy.”
.:.:.:.
She emerged clean and fully dressed from Logan's bathroom ten minutes later. She had half-expected to find him gone or warping Backup's innocent mind, not sleeping on the floor while her dog watched cartoons. Today was a very strange day indeed.
She turned the TV off as she passed and tried to ignore the look Backup gave her. Bending over, she nudged Logan. “I'm not asleep, and I was watching that,” he stated.
She nodded and straightened. “Thanks. I should probably get home.”
He ran a hand through his shorter hair and rose. “I'll go with you.” Off her look, he elaborated, “You can show me your problem, and I'll use one of the many connections I have left to get it fixed.”
“You don't have to do that.”
He scoffed and gathered her things. “If I want to avoid having a new roommate, I think I do.”
She shrugged, and followed him and Backup out the door. “I just hope Dad's not there.”
They made it down the hall, out of the elevator, and past the front desk without anyone commenting on the illegal animal. Once they were in the parking lot, he turned his head in her direction. “Was that how you got him in? Flashed your Echolls card and prissed in?”
She laughed. “The only person I've ever heard say 'priss' was my eighty-year-old grandmother, and she was using it ironically. I never give away my secrets.”
“Ah. Never reveal the true secrets of your trade: the one thing PIs, magicians, and actors all have in common.”
They passed his obnoxious X-Terra without stopping.
He seemed to feel her questioning look. “An awful lot of people want me dead,” he reminded her. “Besides,” he continued, “this way we don't have to worry about splitting our assets evenly.”
She rushed ahead of him to unlock her car, and opened the backseat. “C'mon, boy!” she called to Backup, and repressed her grin at the way he pulled Logan along behind him.
Logan glared at her and threw her things in haphazardly. “That was below the belt,” he told her, rubbing his sore arm.
“I never said I played fair.”
He nodded thoughtfully. “No, you didn't.”
.:.:.:.
The ride back to Veronica's apartment was silent except for Backup's panting, and she mentally revised her statement. The scene in the suite was somewhat uncomfortable; this was full-on awkward. Not only were neither of them talking, but every time she turned the radio on for noise one of Lilly's favorite songs would play. Or worse - a song they'd made out to and jokingly declared their song.
The five minutes felt more like twenty, and when she finally pulled into her parking space, she was a very happy camper.
As soon as she cut the engine off, Logan was out of the car and following Backup on the very familiar path to her front door. He could move fast when he wanted to.
She followed at a much slower pace and when she was almost past the pool, Logan's worried voice met her ears. “Uh, Veronica? Your door's open.”
She ran the rest of the way just to confirm that yes, it was in fact open. “I know I closed it.”
Backup whined and lived up to his name as he moved as far from the door as his leash would allow. Logan glanced down at him, then looked back at her. “Yeah, so do we. It just ... opened.”
“Wait here with him, I'll go look.”
He grabbed her arm and spun her around as she tried to pass him. “Are you crazy? Do you really think I'll let you go in there by yourself?” His eyes flashed angrily. Except for his expression, this situation was a little too similar to one that happened about the same time last year. She looked away and tried to seem unaffected. “Fine.”
Logan loosely tied Backup's leash around the post outside her door. When he was sure the dog wasn't going anywhere, he led the way. “Fuck,” he whispered.
She echoed his statement and stared in amazement at the disaster that was her living room. The couch cushions had been thrown in the kitchen
and, apparently, knocked over all the glasses on the kitchen island. Her father's chair was on its side beside the smashed remains of the end table and lamp that had been between the couch and the wall. All
the picture frames were in various degrees of glasslessness, and several pictures had been turned around so the film information showed. Her eyes drifted over to the walls, where paint had been scratched off in several spots. The television was the only thing that remained intact, but someone had turned it on. The white noise accompanying the static was nerve-grating, but they unspokenly decided it wasn't worth the effort to try to turn it off.
Together, they navigated through the debris covering the floor. The phone in the kitchen had been completely torn apart. “Who do you think
did it?” Logan asked.
She ignored how stupid the question was and sighed loudly. “I don't know.”
“Maybe we should call the police. Or at least your dad.”
“I will once we finish loo-” Veronica abruptly stopped. “What are you doing here?” she asked Mrs. Hauser's son. She gestured towards the destroyed room and walked closer to her own incredulously. “Did you do this?”
He shook his head quietly. Quiet. They didn't have any ice cream, and she didn't have a TV in her room anymore. Now that she could see him
closer, she realized he looked more than a little frightened.
Her voice softened. “Who did?”
His mouth opened, but before anything came out, the front door closed loudly, followed quickly by Veronica's door. The kitchen cabinets banged opened, then closed, repeatedly. “What the fuck is going on here?” Logan spoke louder than he intended to and barely ducked out of the way when a large chunk of table flew at him.
Veronica pulled Logan to her door, and he barely had time to register the red-tinted bathroom and shredded shower curtain before the door shut in his face. Snarling and growling from outside carried easily over the other noises, but Veronica ignored that in favor of the screaming child. “Albert!” she called out and tried to force the door open. She turned to the frozen Logan. “Can you help me out here?”
He snapped out of his daze and backed up a foot, then threw all his weight into her door. “Thank God for cheap wood.”
She ignored him and pulled Damien Albert up. “We need to get out of here!” she shouted over her suddenly blaring stereo. Dimly,
she wondered where the Spice Girls CD came from, but pushed the thought back.
Holding the kid's hand, Veronica rushed through the shaking doorway and Logan lead the way into the living room. He abruptly moved in front of them, and stood still for long moments as splinters of wood and fragments of glass rushed past them. He'd done that before, too, she remembered before ruthlessly pushing that memory back.
He guided her to the door, ignoring everything around them until she tried to pull her arm away. When he turned to look back, he noticed what she had. Everything was still, and more importantly, intact. “What?”
“I don't know.”
Logan opened the door and Backup trotted in and made himself at home in his usual spot on the couch. “Where'd Mrs. Hauser's son go?”
“He's right he-” Veronica looked around. She rushed down the hall and returned moments later. “He's gone.” She reached into her pocket and pulled her cellphone out. “Vibrate,” she explained before answering. “Hello? Hi, Mrs. Hauser.”
Logan looked around and tried not to listen to her half of the conversation.
“Oh, I don't? That's too bad, I was looking forward to it. Next week? I'll have to see what I have planned. Goodnight, Mrs. Hauser.” She hung up. “She called to let me know that I wouldn't be watching her son tonight because he's with his grandparents.” She threw her phone in the direction of the couch. “Am I having a
nightmare? Because I know he was here; he was too fucking heavy to be a mirage.”
“If you're asleep, then so am I. I saw him, too. I saw this place in shambles and now nothing. Maybe Dick slipped us something. He seemed
a little too happy with himself today.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “I'll be going now. I need a drink.”
She waved him away. “I'm not stopping you.”
He almost made it out the door before she stopped him. “Your shirt's torn. How do you feel?”
“Fine. It was probably already torn, right?”
“Yeah.”
“I'll see you at school tomorrow.”
“I'll
try to think of something snarky to say.”
He turned his head a little. “Do you hear... never mind.”
Awkward. Down the hall, a door slammed and they both jumped.
She nervously looked toward the hall before pushing him out the door. “Didn't I drive you here?”
“Right.”
As Veronica walked out the door, she could have sworn she saw Lilly reflecting off the television screen. She really needed to start getting more sleep.
The End
Disclaimer: Same old song and dance. Rob Thomas/UPN hasn't suddenly decided that I can have Veronica Mars.
Word Count: 3028
Summary: Written for the Ask Questions Later ficathon. My scenario was “How to fend off a ghost.” Veronica has a bad day.
Characters: Veronica, Backup, Keith, Logan
All spoilers are so minor, it seems pointless to even warn about them. (Donut Run, Nobody Puts Baby in the Corner, basic knowledge of characters.)
AN: I can't resist awkward/un!comfortable situations sometimes. Any mistakes are my own since backup!betas don't always work out.
----------------------
Today was not going to be a good day.
Veronica could feel that much, even if she couldn't pinpoint exactly why. More than likely, it was because she somehow found herself agreeing to babysit Mrs. Hauser's demon-child again. Why did she do these things to herself?
She tried to open her eyes only to find herself blinded by the early morning light. With a groan, she pulled her green blanket over her head, and snuggled deeper into her bed. Maybe if she ignored the threat of being late for school, she could freeze time and put it off for hours. She desperately needed to catch up on sleep, and at the moment she vowed to never go on a late-night stakeout again. Ever. Well, maybe on the weekends.
Sighing softly, she peaked out from under the covers. If she got up now, she would still have time to take a shower and not smell like cigarette smoke. Then again, she could be lazy.
Before she knew it, twenty minutes had passed, and her father was standing outside her door with an expectant look. “I'm awake,” she declared, struggling to sit up.
“This is the third time I've tried to get you up. You don't want to be late for school.”
“You're right.” She pushed back her covers and stood up.
He nodded and closed the door. His voice was muffled as he called back in, “Don't make me take you to school in your pajamas.”
Laughing, she crossed the small distance to her closet. At least her clothes were clean.
She looked around, frowning and mumbling under her breath, before she found her favorite jeans beside the bed where she'd thrown them last night.
She pulled her jeans over her legs and contemplated shirts. Was she feeling band-y, flower-y, or plain? Her hand closed over the bottom of a dark pink T-shirt, and she tugged it off the hanger.
She sprayed her neck and torso with papaya-scented body spray before putting on her shirt.
Two minutes later, she was out the door with her bag and keys. She just couldn't shake the feeling that she was forgetting something.
His coffee cup paused on its way to Keith's mouth, and he stared at her questioningly. “Has Neptune High decided 'no shirt, no shoes' is a bad policy?”
Glancing down in horror, she was happy to note that she was only missing shoes. Not that walking out without shoes wouldn't have been a bad thing. There was broken glass and rocks all over the parking lot, plus it was against the law to drive without shoes. And she was pretty sure she would have realized she didn't have any on by then.
Veronica dropped to the floor and tentatively pushed her arm under the couch. As soon as she triumphantly produced a pair of decent tennis shoes, Backup whined and pawed at the front door. “You didn't take him out?” She asked, tying the laces into a bow.
Keith finished his coffee before he answered. “When I tried to put his leash on him, he growled.”
She frowned. “That's not like him.”
“Really?” Keith asked dryly.
Sheepishly, she picked up Backup's leash. “I get a sign for that, don't I?”
He chuckled. “Luckily, I'm fresh out.”
Slinging her bag over her shoulder, she moved to the door and reached down to attach his leash. He growled faintly, but offered no other resistance. “This is just a pit-stop,” she reminded him.
A few minutes after she stepped out the door, she ushered Backup back through. “Bye, Dad!” she called.
In her peripheral vision, a bright light flashed through the glass panes on the door before quickly fading. She shook her head. Must have imagined it.
.:.:.:.
School officially sucked, she decided as she walked into her home. Ms. Hauser was as much of a bitch as always, and Veronica seriously wondered why someone who hated teenagers would want to teach them. Aside from masochistic/sadistic tendencies, she was coming up blank.
The feeling of off-ness she felt when she woke up had disappeared when she pulled into a parking space at school, but came flooding back now. Veronica tried to shake off the feeling of being watched as she walked into her room. She dropped her messenger bag on her bed, and changed into her bathrobe to indulge in that shower she didn't take when she woke up. Humming softly, she walked into the bathroom. The shower dial turned easily, but for several long moments, nothing happened. “Don't fuck up now,” she mumbled under her breath and twisted the cold water dial. Great.
Cursing loudly (and taking advantage of the empty apartment), Veronica stomped down the hall and into the kitchen to get the phone. The fucking supervisor could at least make sure the water was on since that was the only utility he had to pay for. As soon as her finger pressed the 'on' button, Backup woke from his nap and proceeded to rush to the bathroom to bark. The sound of pipes groaning and liquid splashing into the ceramic tub followed quickly, and she placed the phone back on the charger. Relieved, she retraced her steps and found herself facing the drawn shower curtain she really didn't remember moving.
Cautiously and hesitantly, her hand reached to draw the fabric back. “Oh, ew!” she exclaimed at the growing pool of rust-colored water rising in her bathtub. Leaning over the side, she quickly turned the water off. “That's disgusting,” she commented more to herself than Backup, though he whined in agreement.
It was during times like this that she really missed her old house. Hot water was normally a luxury, but clean-looking water shouldn't be considered one, no matter how bad the place was. Mind made up, she rushed to her room to change back into her school clothes and plucked her cellphone from her bag. Pressing the arrow key on her phone until she found a suitable number, she snapped Backup's leash onto his collar and left. The desired caller answered on the third ring, and her head unconsciously tipped to the side. “I need a favor.”
.:.:.:.
For a split second, she questioned the wisdom of being there. She looked down at her furry companion. “What am I doing here?”
Backup stared expectantly, still except for his wagging tail.
Before she had time to turn around and leave, her body decided it needed to be clean far more than it cared about how awkward things would be.
Silence met her knock, but she could hear shuffling on the other side of the door. A second later, the door was cracked open and the occupant retreated. Rolling her eyes, she unhooked the leash and let Backup push the door open and barge in.
“Hey, Mankiller,” she heard him greet the dog.
Had she not known Logan as well as she did, she would have thought he looked completely bored by her presence. But, there was no one she watched as much as Logan, and she quickly spotted the restrained smirk and gleeful gleam in his eyes. He enjoyed awkwardness far too much. He glanced at her as he scratched the pit bull behind his ears, and she knew how uncomfortable she had to look just standing there. “How'd you get him in?”
“I'm a detective. You really think I can't get past such lax security?”
He accepted that with a nod. “Why here?”
Whirling around, she closed and locked his door. “Because my pipes are rusted or something.”
He shook his head. “A, that's too easy. B, that's not what I asked.”
Scowling, she shrugged off her jacket and dropped it on the couch beside him. “Only you would make everything dirty.”
The corners of his mouth tipped upwards the slightest bit more, but otherwise he didn't respond.
“Fine. I couldn't ask Wallace since his mother probably hates my entire family - and all future children with the last name 'Mars' - and he had practice today.”
“You picked me over his mother? I'm touched.”
“Don't be. I only chose you since I can yell at you.” She looked around the suite. “It's five in the afternoon and you're not drunk?”
Logan smiled wryly. “I didn't know you cared. I'd love to be, but Dick shanghaied everything decent last night.”
“Poor you.”
He shifted uncomfortably. “I almost hate to tell you this, but you smell like Hypnotiq, sweat, and whatever they were serving in the cafeteria today.”
“Hypnotiq?” She raised an eyebrow.
“It smells and tastes like alcohol flavored with cigarettes for a touch of class.”
Tightening her grip on the change of clothes she brought, she turned suddenly and walked towards Logan's room. “I hope you don't mind keeping him busy.”
“Nah.” He waited until she was out of sight before tacking on, “Bossy.”
.:.:.:.
She emerged clean and fully dressed from Logan's bathroom ten minutes later. She had half-expected to find him gone or warping Backup's innocent mind, not sleeping on the floor while her dog watched cartoons. Today was a very strange day indeed.
She turned the TV off as she passed and tried to ignore the look Backup gave her. Bending over, she nudged Logan. “I'm not asleep, and I was watching that,” he stated.
She nodded and straightened. “Thanks. I should probably get home.”
He ran a hand through his shorter hair and rose. “I'll go with you.” Off her look, he elaborated, “You can show me your problem, and I'll use one of the many connections I have left to get it fixed.”
“You don't have to do that.”
He scoffed and gathered her things. “If I want to avoid having a new roommate, I think I do.”
She shrugged, and followed him and Backup out the door. “I just hope Dad's not there.”
They made it down the hall, out of the elevator, and past the front desk without anyone commenting on the illegal animal. Once they were in the parking lot, he turned his head in her direction. “Was that how you got him in? Flashed your Echolls card and prissed in?”
She laughed. “The only person I've ever heard say 'priss' was my eighty-year-old grandmother, and she was using it ironically. I never give away my secrets.”
“Ah. Never reveal the true secrets of your trade: the one thing PIs, magicians, and actors all have in common.”
They passed his obnoxious X-Terra without stopping.
He seemed to feel her questioning look. “An awful lot of people want me dead,” he reminded her. “Besides,” he continued, “this way we don't have to worry about splitting our assets evenly.”
She rushed ahead of him to unlock her car, and opened the backseat. “C'mon, boy!” she called to Backup, and repressed her grin at the way he pulled Logan along behind him.
Logan glared at her and threw her things in haphazardly. “That was below the belt,” he told her, rubbing his sore arm.
“I never said I played fair.”
He nodded thoughtfully. “No, you didn't.”
.:.:.:.
The ride back to Veronica's apartment was silent except for Backup's panting, and she mentally revised her statement. The scene in the suite was somewhat uncomfortable; this was full-on awkward. Not only were neither of them talking, but every time she turned the radio on for noise one of Lilly's favorite songs would play. Or worse - a song they'd made out to and jokingly declared their song.
The five minutes felt more like twenty, and when she finally pulled into her parking space, she was a very happy camper.
As soon as she cut the engine off, Logan was out of the car and following Backup on the very familiar path to her front door. He could move fast when he wanted to.
She followed at a much slower pace and when she was almost past the pool, Logan's worried voice met her ears. “Uh, Veronica? Your door's open.”
She ran the rest of the way just to confirm that yes, it was in fact open. “I know I closed it.”
Backup whined and lived up to his name as he moved as far from the door as his leash would allow. Logan glanced down at him, then looked back at her. “Yeah, so do we. It just ... opened.”
“Wait here with him, I'll go look.”
He grabbed her arm and spun her around as she tried to pass him. “Are you crazy? Do you really think I'll let you go in there by yourself?” His eyes flashed angrily. Except for his expression, this situation was a little too similar to one that happened about the same time last year. She looked away and tried to seem unaffected. “Fine.”
Logan loosely tied Backup's leash around the post outside her door. When he was sure the dog wasn't going anywhere, he led the way. “Fuck,” he whispered.
She echoed his statement and stared in amazement at the disaster that was her living room. The couch cushions had been thrown in the kitchen
and, apparently, knocked over all the glasses on the kitchen island. Her father's chair was on its side beside the smashed remains of the end table and lamp that had been between the couch and the wall. All
the picture frames were in various degrees of glasslessness, and several pictures had been turned around so the film information showed. Her eyes drifted over to the walls, where paint had been scratched off in several spots. The television was the only thing that remained intact, but someone had turned it on. The white noise accompanying the static was nerve-grating, but they unspokenly decided it wasn't worth the effort to try to turn it off.
Together, they navigated through the debris covering the floor. The phone in the kitchen had been completely torn apart. “Who do you think
did it?” Logan asked.
She ignored how stupid the question was and sighed loudly. “I don't know.”
“Maybe we should call the police. Or at least your dad.”
“I will once we finish loo-” Veronica abruptly stopped. “What are you doing here?” she asked Mrs. Hauser's son. She gestured towards the destroyed room and walked closer to her own incredulously. “Did you do this?”
He shook his head quietly. Quiet. They didn't have any ice cream, and she didn't have a TV in her room anymore. Now that she could see him
closer, she realized he looked more than a little frightened.
Her voice softened. “Who did?”
His mouth opened, but before anything came out, the front door closed loudly, followed quickly by Veronica's door. The kitchen cabinets banged opened, then closed, repeatedly. “What the fuck is going on here?” Logan spoke louder than he intended to and barely ducked out of the way when a large chunk of table flew at him.
Veronica pulled Logan to her door, and he barely had time to register the red-tinted bathroom and shredded shower curtain before the door shut in his face. Snarling and growling from outside carried easily over the other noises, but Veronica ignored that in favor of the screaming child. “Albert!” she called out and tried to force the door open. She turned to the frozen Logan. “Can you help me out here?”
He snapped out of his daze and backed up a foot, then threw all his weight into her door. “Thank God for cheap wood.”
She ignored him and pulled Damien Albert up. “We need to get out of here!” she shouted over her suddenly blaring stereo. Dimly,
she wondered where the Spice Girls CD came from, but pushed the thought back.
Holding the kid's hand, Veronica rushed through the shaking doorway and Logan lead the way into the living room. He abruptly moved in front of them, and stood still for long moments as splinters of wood and fragments of glass rushed past them. He'd done that before, too, she remembered before ruthlessly pushing that memory back.
He guided her to the door, ignoring everything around them until she tried to pull her arm away. When he turned to look back, he noticed what she had. Everything was still, and more importantly, intact. “What?”
“I don't know.”
Logan opened the door and Backup trotted in and made himself at home in his usual spot on the couch. “Where'd Mrs. Hauser's son go?”
“He's right he-” Veronica looked around. She rushed down the hall and returned moments later. “He's gone.” She reached into her pocket and pulled her cellphone out. “Vibrate,” she explained before answering. “Hello? Hi, Mrs. Hauser.”
Logan looked around and tried not to listen to her half of the conversation.
“Oh, I don't? That's too bad, I was looking forward to it. Next week? I'll have to see what I have planned. Goodnight, Mrs. Hauser.” She hung up. “She called to let me know that I wouldn't be watching her son tonight because he's with his grandparents.” She threw her phone in the direction of the couch. “Am I having a
nightmare? Because I know he was here; he was too fucking heavy to be a mirage.”
“If you're asleep, then so am I. I saw him, too. I saw this place in shambles and now nothing. Maybe Dick slipped us something. He seemed
a little too happy with himself today.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “I'll be going now. I need a drink.”
She waved him away. “I'm not stopping you.”
He almost made it out the door before she stopped him. “Your shirt's torn. How do you feel?”
“Fine. It was probably already torn, right?”
“Yeah.”
“I'll see you at school tomorrow.”
“I'll
try to think of something snarky to say.”
He turned his head a little. “Do you hear... never mind.”
Awkward. Down the hall, a door slammed and they both jumped.
She nervously looked toward the hall before pushing him out the door. “Didn't I drive you here?”
“Right.”
As Veronica walked out the door, she could have sworn she saw Lilly reflecting off the television screen. She really needed to start getting more sleep.
The End