Study Buddy

The piercing shrill filled the air, stabbing Meg’s ears like crochet needles. Pressing her palms against her ears, she screamed to the heavens. 

“Seriously?! Again?!”

She bolted from the couch and ran down the hall, bashing her extended elbow against the wall as she went. She didn’t care—all that mattered was the noise.

The white box lay flush against the wall by the front door. Meg quickly flipped open the panel, wailed on the number pad, hit the star key.

The terrible sound, like a massive bird shrieking in rage, continued its symphony. A small display counted down with glowing blue numbers: 8… 7… 6…

Meg swore, thankful her parents weren’t home to hear (not that they could over that racket). She must’ve put the code in too quickly and mistyped. She tried again, methodically pressing each key like a bomb disposal expert.

“Please work,” she said. “Gimmie a break!”

With all four numbers inputted, Meg hit the star key and was rewarded with silence. She sighed, shut the control panel, and gave the white box the finger for good measure before heading back into the living room.

She thought about checking the front door, but decided not to bother. It was locked the first time the stupid alarm went off, so why bother?

Thankfully, Declan Goddard was still on the sofa, right where Meg had left him. He looked up from his English Lit textbook and gave her that warm, inviting smile of his.

“Everything okay?”

His deep voice washed away all her frustration. This was Declan’s gift, the power to soothe, like a tall, dark, living security blanket.

“Oh yeah,” Meg said with a dismissive wave. “It always does that.”

That was a lie. The security system had only gone off once since her parents had installed it, and only because they were testing it. Why did it have to pick that night, of all nights, to start acting up?

Whatever! The fact that Declan Goddard was still on her couch was enough to help Meg forgive the machine.

She sat sideways on the sofa, facing the handsome boy, feeling like she was in a dream. When Mister Ackerman had asked Meg if she wouldn’t mind tutoring some of the students that were behind, she never expected that Declan would be on that list. Under normal circumstances, girls like her didn’t get to talk to someone like him.

“So,” she began, her hand resting on her chin,” where were we?”

Declan cleared his throat and flipped to the middle of his text book. “Well, uh, we were just about to discuss the scene in—”

It came again, the incessant shriek of the alarm. Meg groaned and stood, her eyes fixed on Declan. “I’ll be right back.”

He nodded, that disarming smile etched on his face. Reluctantly, Meg turned and stomped her way back to the alarm. 

She might never have this opportunity again, to be completely alone with Declan. If some faulty alarm ruined it for her, she’d grab a hammer from the garage and—

Meg paused and cocked her head at the little white box. She could’ve sworn that she’d shut the lid to the control panel, but it was hanging open like a slacked jaw, the keypad already exposed, waiting for her.

It hadn’t latched, that’s all. Meg’s mind was so focused on shutting off the alarm (not to mention Declan Goddard), that she didn’t close it properly. That had to be it.

The blue display flashed, catching her attention. It was counting down again: 5… 4…

Crap!

She typed the code, hit the star key, and was once again met with glorious silence. If only Meg could turn the stupid thing off, but she didn’t know how, and didn’t want to risk messing it up. A dozen police cars peeling up to her driveway would definitely ruin the mood!

Still, maybe she should check the doors again. What if one of the windows had been—

“Meg?”

Declan was standing in the hall by the threshold to the living room, looking at her. “You don’t, like, have a burglar in the house, or something, do you?”

She laughed and rubbed the back of her neck. “No, I’m pretty sure it’s just us!”

“Okay.” Declan’s eyes darted from her to the hallway and back. “You wanna get back to it, then?”

“Yes!” Meg said, clapping her hands together. “Lets!”

She closed the control panel, making sure it clicked into place that time. As she and Declan walked back to the living room, Meg was aware of how quiet it was in the house. She was grateful that the alarm was off, but suddenly the silence was unnerving.

“I have an idea,” she said as they returned to their spots on the sofa. “Let’s listen to some music.”

Declan raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t we supposed to be studying?”

“We are,” Meg replied, her voice squeaky. “I was, y’know, thinking something chill.”

Grinning, Declan said, “Okay, as long as it’s not too romantic.”

Meg’s heart leapt. Was he implying what she thought he was implying?

“Of course not!” She laughed and playfully slapped at his textbook. “I just want to make sure we’re focused.”

Declan’s bright eyes dulled slightly. He nodded. “Right. Sounds good to me.”

Meg watched him flip through the pages with a hot swell of panic in her stomach. She’d played it safe, assuming he was just being coy. Was that a mistake?

She shook the thought away and pulled out her phone. The house’s speakers were connected to the wi-fi, so all Meg had to do was pick a playlist. She scrolled until she found one called, “Lo-fi beats for studying.”

Perfect. She’d used this one before to help her though her last Algebra test—it was a perfectly chill and non-romantic choice.

But when she tapped the play button, what came out wasn’t what Meg was expecting. Instead of relaxing rhythms, the room was blasted with the deafening roar of a hard-core metal song at max volume. The sound could only be described as the unholy union of a power drill mixed with a herd of angry baby goats.

Meg frantically tried to change the song, but her phone screen would’t respond. She looked at Declan who, despite the fingers firmly in his ears, was smirking.

“Wow,” he said, his voice muffled by the music, “you have a funny idea of what “chill” means.”

“I didn’t pick this!” Meg said. “I can’t get it to— it won’t—”

Meg fumbled her words as she tried in vain to stop the goat-drill song. With panic dulling her judgement, she jumped up, ran to the speaker, and jerked its power cord from the wall, finally killing the song.

Her ears were still ringing despite the fresh silence. As she tried to calm herself down, another, more familiar noise started up again.

Meg threw her hands into the air and screamed like a banshee. “Are you kidding me?!”

She stormed to the front door and back to face her tiny, wall-mounted adversary, fury surging through every inch of her body. She tried to open the control panel, but it was stuck fast, like some invisible force was holding keeping it shut. Meg used all of her strength to rip the plastic plate away from its hinges before flinging it down the hall. There’d be hell to pay when her parents got home, but she’d worry about that later.

Punching in the code yet again, Meg hit the star key held her breath. Part of her expected it not to work that time, but thankfully, in its infinite mercy, the alarm stopped, leaving Meg to the sound of her own ragged gasps for air. 

She slid to the floor and buried her face in her hands, begging herself not to cry. Her night was totally ruined, dead and laid to rest. Her one chance to be alone with Declan Goddard and the universe conspired against it—against her.

Meg looked up when she felt something sidle up next to her. To her utter shock, the boy in question, her study buddy, had sat down beside her on the floor. 

Quickly, Meg sat up and rubbed at her eyes. She didn’t want him to know she’d been crying, though he’d have to be blind not to notice.

“H—hey!” she said with a cough. “I was just, um, about to come back and…”

She paused, her breath hitching. “If you wanna go home I totally get it.” 

Declan gave Meg his most soothing smile yet, but it was tinged with something else she couldn’t pinpoint—regret? Concern?

“Listen,” he began slowly, “I think I know what’s going on here.”

Meg shook her head, her heart about to stop from embarrassment. “It’s not what you think, really! I just wanted to help you with—”

“No,” Declan said, interrupting her. “I mean I think I know why your house is all messed up.”

“Huh?” Meg tilted her head. “What do you mean?”

“It’s just that—” Declan hesitated, frowning. “I have this friend…”

“Friend?” Meg’s chest tightened. “Like a girlfriend?”

“Nothing like that,” he replied quickly. “His name’s Isaac and he’s been my best friend since we were kids.” Declan cleared his throat. “Sometimes he gets a little… jealous.”

Meg blinked, squeezing her eyes shut as if that would somehow help her understand. “You’re telling me this Isaac guy followed you to my house and, what, hacked my stuff to mess with us?”

Declan nodded. “Something like that.”

“That’s messed up!”

“Ssh!” Declan put a finger to his lips, his eyes wide. “He might hear you!”

Meg furrowed her brow. “Are you—are you scared of him?”

“Of course not!” Declan said, avoiding her gaze. “He’s just got a mean streak is all.”

“But he’s just a kid, right?”

“Well, yeah, but—”

“But nothing!” Meg stood and brushed the hair from her face, her nostrils flaring. “Let’s go.”

She held her hand out to Declan. He took it and let her lift him to his feet. “Go where?”

“To find your friend and kick him out.”

His eyes became billiards. “Are you serious?”

Meg nodded. “If he’s in my house, he’s an intruder.” 

She pulled Declan toward the living room, but he resisted. “But, Meg, you don’t know what Isaac’s capable of!”

Meg scoffed. Whoever this guy was, he’d single-handedly ruined her one night alone with the boy of her dreams; he didn’t know what she was capable of.

“You go check the kitchen,” she began, pointing to down the hall, “and I’ll check upstairs.”

When Declan didn’t move right away, Meg jabbed her finger through the air. “C’mon!”

He turned slowly and headed down the hall, giving her one last worried glance before disappearing into the kitchen.

Meg stomped her way up the carpeted steps to the second floor, her face flush with anger. She wondered how long this had been going on, this control Declan’s “best friend” had over him. It made her sick, and she was going to tell him that once she found him.

The upstairs hallway was pale blue, bathed in moonlight from the the bay window against the wall. It was still and quit

“Isaac?” Meg called out in a sing-song voice. “Are you up here?”

Meg flipped the light switch, but nothing happened. She tried it a second time with the same result.

“Messing with the lights now, huh?” Meg said with a smirk. “That’s okay, I don’t need them to find you. I can—”

But when she took a step forward, the lights flashed on, blinding her. Meg lost her balance and almost toppled down the stairs, but she threw her arm out and caught the railing at the last second. 

When she recovered herself, she forced a cruel laugh. “Nice one. You’re about as mature as my little brother.”

The first room to check was her parent’s bedroom on the right. Meg tiptoed inside, her eyes narrowed like slits. “If you don’t leave before my parents come home they’ll call the cops, you know.”

The curtains were drawn, blanketing the room in darkness. Meg didn’t bother with the light switch, opting instead to use the flashlight app on her phone. She checked every corner, under the bed, and in the closet, but there was no sign of Isaac. 

Had he doubled back? How? She hadn’t heard any movement.

“Okay, playtime’s over!” Meg yelled. “If you don’t come out right now I’m gonna—”

Something hard hit her between the shoulder blades, knocking her askew. Meg wheeled around, her back throbbing, and aimed her phone at the ground. A paperweight, a plastic rock her mom had bought on vacation last year, sat on the gray rug. As she looked at it, a second object caught her in the shoulder and she dropped her phone. It landed face-up on the floor, covering the light.

A shriek of rage and pain escaped Meg’s mouth. “You psycho! What the heck’s wrong with you!!” 

She ran to the window and yanked hard at the curtains, ripping them free from the wall and shining moonlight into the room. Meg was expecting to see some short kid with a bad posture and oily skin poised the corner with a handful of trinkets at the ready, but she was only half-right: the trinkets were there, but they were suspended in midair, held up by nothing.

The hairs on Meg’s arm shot up like porcupine quills. She told herself it wasn’t happening, that it couldn’t be real.

The first object, a candleholder, grazed the side of her head before she dashed out of the room. She heard the rest of the items crash hard against the drywall after her, but she ignored them, leaping down the steps three at a time.

“Declan!” Meg called as she reached the front door. “Declan, we’ve gotta go!”

She tried the door, but it was stuck fast, the handle frozen as if fused. When she tried the nearby window, the alarmed blared to life, followed shortly by the living room speaker.

Meg spun around and gaped. All the lights were flashing rapidly, like a demented roller rink. She squeezed the sides of her head and called Declan’s name again. Were was he?

Between the flashing of lights, Meg spotted a frying pan as it wizzed through the air at the end of the hall.

The kitchen! Of course!

She ran as fast as she could, hoping Declan was okay. As she passed the threshold, however, an unseen force gripped her wrists and pulled her into the air. 

“Let me go!” She screamed. “Let me go now!”

Meg kicked and flailed, trying with all her might to get free, before she spotted Declan in the center of the room. The kitchen was a total mess, food and utensils dumped all over the floor, but the boy was unharmed, a clean circle bordering him against the destruction. 

“I’m sorry, Meg.” He looked at her with that warm smile, but it didn’t meet his eyes. “I tried to warn you.”

“Declan…” Meg began slowly, her heart slamming against her chest. “What’s going on? What’s happening?”

“I told you Isaac has a mean streak.” Declan’s eyes glanced around the room. “He promised me he’d stay home tonight, but he just couldn’t help himself.”

“Where is he?” Meg’s voiced hitched as she forced back tears. “How is he doing this?”

Declan’s smile become crooked like a cracked mirror. “You haven’t figured that out yet?” He spread his arms wide. “He’s right here. He’s all around us.”

Meg, still gripped by unseen hands, looked at the thrown-open cupboards, their contents spilled out onto the floor. She looked at the oven, the burners flashing on and off like a signal fire. She looked at the pots and pans dancing through the air, marionettes with no puppet master.

Finally, the tears came in a flood. Between gasps for breath, Meg managed to say, “but I thought—I thought you said he was just a kid…”

Declan shrugged. “He is. Or he was, I guess. He died in a car accident when he was six, but we still hang out. He’s my best friend, after all.”

~The End~