Tuesday, 03:14 AM, July 3rd 2012
My phone buzzed me awake just as the truck’s lullaby started again in the distance. I brushed the sleep off my face, answering with a confused and raspy voice.
It was Owen, chirpy and loud like an obnoxious bird on his birthday. “Can you sneak out?”
“What? Where? What?”
“The ice cream truck is here. The street is swamped!”
That weird feeling returned; this time stuck in the back of my throat like the aftertaste of artificial sugar. Something was wrong again.
“I can’t come that far; my dad will kill me.”
“Yeah, thought it was worth a try anyway. Do you want me to get you anything?”
I sat up on my bed, yawning. “What does he have?”
“Ice cream. It’s an ice cream truck.”
“Ha ha, what flavors dumbass?”
“Well, um, chocolate, vanilla, strawberry, all the usual. But they’re named ironically.”
I mulled it over for a second, grinding my teeth. It was a subconscious habit at that point, which I have yet to get rid of, despite my dentist’s protests.
“How about a napolitana ice cream sandwich? Does he have those?”
“Let me check.”
The phone shot an electric shock in my arm the second the words came out of his mouth. Startled, I dropped it on floor, where it bounced twice from. It played loud static, interfered by familiar music.
I panicked, jumping from my bed and stuffing my pillow over the noise, looking at the door and waiting for my parents to bang on it for waking them up. After a long minute of breath holding, there was no movement in the house.
A primal awareness came over me, itching from within my bones. That thing was here again.
From behind my back, the curtain slid open, letting in moonlight bit by bit. Something cold, a finger maybe, reached for my head and slowly pulled a lock of hair away from my face to sit behind my ear.
And just like that, it was gone without a creak.
I turned around and found nothing but the wall. The room’s temperature had dropped significantly and I was shivering in my night gown.
My lungs scrambled for breath. The phone was silent again. Slowly, waiting for something to jump out, I removed the pillow and found it dead. The battery was at 0%.
The curtain was still open, clear proof that it had to be real. At some extent…
I didn’t sleep at all that night.
--- ---
“I’ll buy you a new one.” Dad said, looking at the broken charger. It smelled of burnt plastic, so he wrapped it up in some tissues and threw it down the can.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have left it charge overnight.”
“Don’t worry about it, they don’t make things like they used to.” The lid came down with a snap of abandonment. “Do you want anything else?”
“Um, I was wondering if I could go to the library today instead? Or maybe I could go after I have lunch with you?”
“How far away is it?”
“It’s right around Scanlan Park. I could do some running then? Get some fresh air.”
“Well, alright then. After lunch, before five.”
I hugged him tight, kissing him in the cheek. He smiled back at me. “But get something worth reading, not those fantasy type nonsense.”
“I don’t even like those.” I lied.
We went through our routine just fine after that. I was pretty proud of myself for avoiding any frowned faces, so much so that I completely forgot what had happened until Owen skipped over to keep up with my quick jog.
“Heyyy!”
“Good morning to you too. It’s early for you, isn’t it?”
“I didn’t sleep at ALL last night. Which you would know if you were reachable.”
“I’m sorry. My phone died.” I slowed down to a brisk walk, but the lack of shuteye made Owen more lethargic than usual. His asthma pump was nowhere to be seen.
“Don’t worry about it, he said he’ll be around for a few days if business goes well. And it’s going great!”
“How much did he sell in one night?”
“Twenty-ish? Max ate FOUR Jakob’s one after the other.”
“What kind of flavor is a Jakob?”
“Forest fruit chocolate cake and they feel like a warm hug from your mom.”
“Never heard of that brand before.”
“It’s not a brand, all the ice cream is handmade Italian gelato with all natural ingredients.”
“Were you hired as a marketing manager or something?”
“It’s really good ice cream. So good that I ate yours on the way here.”
He showed his sticky hands without remorse; I guess he knew I wouldn’t be mad at an avoided trip to ‘Fuck your bowels’ town. I shrugged.
“Wait, I missed that first bit. You met Max?”
“Yeah.”
“Is he okay?”
“Yeah? He looked fine to me. Why?”
Why indeed. But I couldn’t shake it off. Something was WRONG but I had no proof of it. I didn’t even know is what happened the night before actually happened.
“Can I tell you something? In confidence?”
“Sure.”
I sat down on our spot by the plant, dragging him with me. I told him about the phone, but for some reason, I didn’t want him to know about It. His face scrunched up in disbelief. “Are you absolutely sure your phone didn’t just glitch or has a virus from that pirating site?”
“I’m telling you, that’s not my point! He was out with no supervision, talking to a stranger, at 3 am. Stranger danger, dude! We literally did that at school last month.”
“Don’t you think you’re being a little…” He paused, picking at a green leaf like it was the most interesting thing he’d ever seen. “Homophobic?”
I just stared at him in awe. “What does that have to do with anything???”
“Well, would you react the same way if it was a girl running the truck?”
“Yes! It’s a white van luring kids out of their houses with ice cream, Owen, don’t tell me that’s not weird.”
“The van is blue.”
“It’s white.”
“It’s literally sky blue with a cone sticker on the side.”
“It’s- The color doesn’t matter. He probably changed it so people wouldn’t get confused and call the cops!”
“You called the cops?!”
“No, dammit! I haven’t called the cops. Are you even listening to me?”
“I am listening to you. It’s summer, night time is like, a concept that doesn’t exist unless there’s school tomorrow. The sun sets at 9 pm, so technically, going out at 3am the same as going out at 11 pm when the sun sets at 5pm!”
I threw my hands up in frustration. I couldn’t even reason with him when he was like that.
“Look, just come with us tomorrow. I promise you’ve never had anything like that before.”
The ice cream had to be 50% cocaine for that to be true, but I gave in. I had to see it with my own eyes to make sure someone wasn’t taking advantage of our late-night cravings and if something happened, I would be the only one with enough sense to tell an adult.
“Fine, I’ll figure it out, I guess.”
--- ---
After being informed by my father of the death of Andy Griffith, an actor neither of us had even heard of, he let me loose to browse the library until my feet dropped.
I wanted to pick something with science in it, but all the covers looked so boring and the plots were meh. Inch by inch, I turned to the Young Adult section, where the good stuff always hid between the shelves. Dystopian counts as science fiction, right?
The Selection, BitterBlue, Reached, Enclave- oh that one looked interesting, even if the main character was apparently named Deuce.
I was reading the book blurb in the back when I almost missed it. A light sneeze from two rows further distracted me enough to take a glimpse at the thick rimmed glasses of Max Mulligan.
He was crouching, holding a red book in his hands. I couldn’t see his face, but his sniffling was audible even from far. I approached him from behind, stepping on eggshells so he wouldn’t know I was there.
His shoulders were shaking and he was obviously wiping tears from his eyes. He was trying to be quiet about it, but a few sobs or hiccups escaped his chest. Without thinking about it, I handed him a wet wipe.
Max jumped up to his feet, squealing like a little mouse. He clamped his mouth shut with his hand in horror, but couldn’t breathe from his snotty nose without making some nasty noises.
His left eye was swollen shut, blue and purple. Some sort of cream was applied on it, making it gloss under the fluorescent lights.
My stomach dropped. After some practice, one can get an intuition about intentional and accidental bruises. That one was too sideways to have been from a bad fall.
And Owen hadn’t mentioned him looking beaten up.
“Seasonal allergies?” I asked, still offering it. He took it and blew his nose shyly.
The librarian shushed without ever looking up her computer. Max swallowed thickly.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you.”
“It’s fine. You’ve lived across from me for about five months, right? My name is Olivia Smith, but most people call me Liv.”
I extended my hand for him to shake, but he didn’t get it. Instead, we stood there in awkward silence.
“Um… I-uh. I’m Max. I live across the street from you.” The second he said it, he went pale as a sheet. His remaining eye fogged with tears again.
“Hey, hey don’t cry!” I whispered. Jesus, I was putting the fear of god into him simply by breathing. “How about we sit down, huh?”
“I actually have to- uh- go. I have home-homework to do and a curfew. Yes, I have a curfew. Sorry.”
He practically ran away all the way to the door, almost left, then turned around to get his book checked out first. I watched him try to put on a brave face for the librarian, who, once again, did not look up from her computer as she stamped his card.
If I wasn’t already convinced that I would look into the ice cream truck, that would’ve have been the last straw.
---
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