Insidious(62)

Reese ducked back out of the kitchen, offering me one of the soda cans he had in hand. “No, she’s not,” he laughed. “Mom, this is Kat. Kat, this is my mom.”

I politely extended my hand to her after she fixed her hair, only to squeal as she suddenly yanked me forward and ensnared me into a massive hug. I hadn’t exactly been raised in an affectionate household, so random hugs clearly caught me off guard.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” I choked out, awkwardly patting my pinned-down arms against her sides.

She finally released her grip and gave me a proper once-over. “Well, now. Just look at you. Sweeter than a honey bun.”

“Minus the toothache,” I half laughed.

“Is this the girl you were telling me about?” Reese’s mom asked, turning her attention back to her son.

Redness suddenly flooded Reese’s cheeks. “Kat’s my lab partner. We were just going to work on a project.”

Based on the peculiar smile she was sporting, Mrs. Blackburn seemed to be in on some kind of inside joke. Considering all the things Reese had said to me over the past year, I could only imagine what he had told her about me. She checked the watch on her wrist, and her eyebrow ticked up. “A bit early for school to be out. Early dismissal?”

“…Sure.”

“You’ve always been a terrible liar,” she laughed, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “Dinner’s in the oven. Instructions are on the counter. Don’t ruin your appetite on sweets.”

“Will do.” Reese returned her kiss and walked her to the laundry room. She gave me a wave before heading out into what I realized was the garage. A moment later, the house rattled as metallic workings clanked and shuddered. Everything suddenly fell quiet as the garage door slammed back shut upon her departure.

“Peanut, aye?”

Reese gave me a warning glare, but a hint of a smile still tugged at his lips.

“Should I ask?”

“She’s called me that since I was little. You know, like Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups,” he mumbled.

I laughed. I couldn’t help it.

He gave me a light jab with his elbow. “Shut up.”

“That’s kind of adorable, actually. The only thing my mom calls me apart from my own name is ‘smartass,’ and I’d hardly consider it as a term of endearment.” I looked out the front window, watching dust kick up into the breeze as Reese’s mom drove down the gravel driveway. “So…she really doesn’t have a problem with you ditching class…or leaving you here alone with a girl?”

“She trusts me,” he simply shrugged, ushering me towards the basement stairs.

I eyed him, then the pitch-black oblivion at the bottom of the stairs, and then looked back to him again. “Ah…is this the part where you hack me up with an axe and shove my body into the crawlspace?”

“Don’t be silly.” He moved around me and headed down, casting me a teasing grin. “There’s no room in there.”

“That’s reassuring.” I reluctantly followed after him, seeing yet again another surprising motif.

Countless strings of golden Christmas lights were hooked all across the perimeter of the basement ceiling in wave patterns, illuminating the collage of punk rock band posters and logos consuming every inch of wall space. Speakers were positioned in the corner alongside an electric guitar, countless printouts lay stacked across a small computer desk, and there was a sketchpad sitting on top of the…bed?

“Do you live down here?” I asked uneasily.

“Most of the time, yeah. My mom used to do laundry down here,” he said, pointing to a door on the opposite side of the room. “That is, until she wound up breaking her ankle when she fell down the steps. Since then, she kind of has a fear of coming down here, so she let me do with the space as I wished after I brought the washer and dryer upstairs for her.”

“Is she a nurse?”

“Yeah, she’s working the second shift at the hospital. Won’t be home till at least eleven.” Reese pulled out the small paper bag Dr. Fritz had given him earlier from inside his book bag, dumping the contents onto an old fold-out card table. Little black cylinders rolled out across the cracked leather surface. “Turn the computer on,” he instructed before disappearing through the doorway he’d just pointed to.

I did as he asked, taking a seat in the chair parked at the desk.

“I still have a traditional bedroom upstairs, but since I put in the darkroom, I spend most of my time down here anyway. Hence the bed,” his voice echoed out to me.

“Darkroom?”

He poked his head out, a rare, natural smile tugging at his lips. “Come in here.”