Insidious(38)

Three rings passed, and my hopes began plummeting.

“Hello?”

I nearly jumped in elation at the sound of his voice. “Adam!”

“Kat?” He paused, and I guessed it was to check the number. “Whose phone are you calling from?”

“I’m at a payphone-”

“Is everything okay? You don’t sound right.”

I could hear the concern in his voice, and I silently thanked God that I’d gotten through to him. “Honestly, I don’t know where to start. I seriously feel like I’m trapped in The Twilight Zone here,” I blurted with a grievous laugh. Just as the sound escaped my lips, an involuntary cry immediately followed.

“Kat, what’s going on? Where are you?” Music blared on his end of the call.

“Are you at work?”

“Yeah, my shift ends in about forty minutes, but I can take off now if you want.”

I caught sight of the street outside. “No, I can meet you at the record store.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I’ll see you in forty,” I confirmed, hanging up the receiver.

I bolted from the box and ran out of the diner to the other side of the street where a taxi was parked. The guy in back exited the cab, and the driver rolled down his passenger window as I approached the car.

“Need a lift, hun?” the old man inquired.

“Yeah, can you take me to the Deer Park Mall?”

He waved me inside, and I was met with the sickening combination of body odor, spilled coffee, cheap cologne, and an assortment of ineffective air fresheners. Rolling the window down, I tried best to breathe through my nose and touch as little as possible over the course of the ten minute trip. The devil on my shoulder cursed me for not inconveniencing Adam to come get me as I forked over a staggering thirty-two dollars to the cabby when we pulled up to the mall’s front entrance.

With still about a half-hour to kill, I made my way up to the second floor where I took a seat in the food court. My table overlooked the plaza below, so I had a clear view of Sterling House Records. All the delicious scents from nearby venders overwhelmed my senses, urging me to indulge my appetite. I finally caved in and made a beeline to Auntie Anne’s Pretzels. It wouldn’t come as a surprise if I’d broken a world record for how fast I downed three large originals.

“Jeez, nobody at school can ever accuse you of being anorexic,” laughed Daniel, startling me as he suddenly appeared beside me. “Chew much?”

I gave a feeble, close-mouthed smile as I finished swallowing the last of my meal. “I kind of forgot to eat dinner,” I lied.

“Still trying to catch up on schoolwork?”

“Yeah.”

“So what brings you here? Can’t remember the last time you took a break from your studies to do some shopping, especially during the week. Trying to give your mom an ulcer?”

I forced out a small laugh.

“You’re not gonna get a 4.0 shopping at Victoria’s Secret.”

“I’m just here to see someone.”

“Oh?” He looked around, and his eyes homed in on the front entrance of the record store. “No…”

I grimaced.

“Kat, you can’t be serious.”

“It’s not like that,” I assured.

“Try telling that to Car.”

“She’s not here, is she?”

“Yeah, she’s buying perfume or something at Bath & Body Works. I couldn’t take the smell in there, so I bailed. She’s gonna be here any minute.”

“That’s my cue to hightail it to safe ground.” I really wasn’t in the mood for a lecture right now. I collected the pretzel wrappers and headed over to the trash to discard them.

A force collided into my shoulder as I turned around, and I outright gasped, shrieking back at the sight.

“Sorry, you okay?” asked the Goth. The guy was a towering presence. His stilt-high black and blue spiked hair only exaggerated his 6’3” stature. And that wasn’t the only spiky thing that could be found on him. His entire jacket and even sections of his shirt were garnished in small metal spiked studs. That wasn’t what took me aback though. It was the fact that his eyes were black. Not just the irises, but the entire freaking eye! No whites, no color. Pure black!

“I’m fine,” I managed to mutter.

The Goth smiled sweetly, and it only made the sight all the more horrific. He turned and continued on his way across the food court, leaving me to gape mindlessly in his wake.

“What was that?” asked Daniel.

“You saw that? You saw his eyes?”

He laughed. “Yeah, it’s called guy-liner. I know you’re a bit of a stickler for conventionalism, but some folks like to be a bit more eccentric.”