Crystal Grader by Tag Cavello (dark books to read .txt) 📖

candlelight meal over a series of furtive glances and muted conversation. One thing she wanted to know concerned the animals outside. Would they be all right? Jarett responded by saying that he had provided fresh hay in both the barn and the chicken coop. He was also keeping an ax handy in case he needed to chop ice for water.

“Sounds like you thought of everything,” she said, with genuine respect.

“You have to on a farm. Especially when the hired help gets closed off.”

Another fist from outside struck the window, rattling coffee mugs on their hooks.

“God,” Crystal gasped, holding her chest. “Were you really planning to sit this out alone? That would terrify me.”

“This is a very big house,” Jarett agreed. Then, with a smile that shimmered as much as the candles: “And now it’s very dark.”

“Stop it. I’m creeped out enough as it is.”

“You’ve spent some time here alone.”

“Yes. In daylight. With the power on.”

“Will you be able to sleep tonight?” he asked.

Crystal’s eyes roved around the kitchen. Shadows cast by candlelight danced everywhere to the music of cold fingers under the back door. In the archway to the dining room, a single oil lamp burned from a table she’d never eaten at. All the other rooms, without question, were at this moment pitch black.

“I don’t know,” she answered with a shiver in her bones.

“Well I’m sorry I teased you just now. I’ve come to love this farm so much I could never think of it doing me wrong.”

“I saw a man in the window upstairs,” she blurted, as if to cast doubt on his certitude.

Jarett looked bemused. “Oh? When was this?”

“My first time coming here. Well, the second time. I was outside in the driveway.”

“It was probably me.”

“No. This guy was dressed like a general from 1860. All medals and gold buttons.”

“Interesting. Have you seen him again since?”

Crystal shook her head, then asked if he was finished eating as a method to change the subject. Bringing it up had been a mistake. The night promised to be long enough without talk of specters dressed for battle. Jarett pronounced that he was, and they washed dishes together over bulletins from the radio.

Those bulletins carried no surprises by way of grimness. The storm was now officially a blizzard. A level three snow emergency had been declared throughout Huron County. All vehicles not designated as a snow plow were forbidden from the roads. On route 2 near Cleveland a semi truck had turned over into a ditch; the driver, a 38 year-old male, was pronounced dead at the scene.

“And this is almost needless to say,” the broadcaster went on, “but all Cleveland public schools are closed for tomorrow. Check the area you live in for local closings.”

“They should have closed the schools today,” Jarett put in. “I wonder how many kids got stuck on the way home.”

Once the dishes were cleaned there was little else to do but return to the living room and proceed with the day’s writing lesson. With Crystal’s latest story the run-on sentence bug had bitten once more. Jarett patiently showed her how to shorten them, how to make her work more crisp and stimulating for the reader’s brain. Crystal took another gulp of wine, which Jarett had poured from a freshly opened bottle, and explained that the draft lying before him was rough and by no means something she would turn in for publication.

“Always behind on your assignments,” he said, with a playful poke to her ribs.

“Yeah. So much for that New Year resolution. But then bad as last year was I think I’ll just stay under the covers for awhile.”

Jarett refilled his glass as she spoke. They hadn’t talked about anything sensitive since last summer on the back porch. Now here Crystal was, acknowledging a very large elephant in the room. Why? The wine made for an easy target to blame, but there had to be something else.

In the end it came down to this: She’d had enough of the doldrums. Guilty or no, she wanted to put them behind her and do what the rest of Monroeville High was already busy with: move on. And some part of her knew that Jarett was the man to turn to for help. It made sense. Besides Lucy and Miko, he was the only one who knew the truth. Who probably knew the truth. He was the only one who knew why the school janitor had killed himself last November.

“That’s always an option,” she heard him say. “Hiding under the covers I mean. But Crystal?” She tilted her head, waiting for him to go on. The fire danced in Jarett’s eyes as gleefully as it did over her past. Tonight, its fandango carried wisdom instead of pain. “Hiding is not healing. Hiding only lets the trouble grow. And when at last you come out everyone will notice you even more.”

“Maybe I should just stay in then.”

“You can’t do that. That isn’t Crystal Genesio.”

She opened her mouth to rebuke this observation…but nothing came out. He was right. Hadn’t she just chided herself about the doldrums? They didn’t sit well in the hearts of mischievous cheerleaders. Chicanery needed sunny days for inspiration and starry nights for implementation. In the rain you could do nothing but, as a certain author of children’s books had pointed out long ago, sit, sit, sit, sit.

And what about snow? the voice of that cheerleader purred from the back of her mind.

Crystal welcomed it home with an open smile that must have puzzled the man sitting opposite. No matter. He wouldn’t be puzzled for long. Now that the cheerleader had her spirit back, she had some planning to do. Manipulation and seduction. Deviltry to get afoot.

“I’ll come out,” she said, hoping the smile on her lips wouldn’t scare him. “But it won’t happen overnight.”

Like hell it won’t, the cheerleader purred some more. Already she had an idea as to how.

“No,” Jarett agreed. “You can’t expect it to. A storm like this doesn’t blow over and disappear like a blizzard. It’s going to take time.”

Crystal nodded, then gulped down the rest of her wine so fast it made Jarett bluster.

“Wow,” he said. “You must really like that vintage.”

“Yes,” she replied, “thank you. I’m remembering how to like a lot of things.”

“Like what?”

“Oh,” Crystal said, giving him a wink, “maybe we’ll see. Maybe we’ll just see.”

16

 

She asked him, innocently as she knew how, if he thought the house would still have hot water for a bath with the power gone. Jarett replied that the Jackson Farm’s hot water relied upon the gas company, and that, since he lived alone, there should be plenty for her to use. Satisfied, Crystal rose from the couch. She told him that she would love a bath, but was too frightened of the dark to take one alone. Would he be a dear and stand outside the door while she washed?

“Of course,” Jarett said. “Yes, that’s fine. I’ll get you some candles too.”

They spent a few more minutes tidying up on the ground floor, then ascended the stairs—with Chubby close behind—by oil lamp. Outside, the wind continued to howl, rattling windows all over the house. At the top step a wave of relief swept over Crystal when she saw that both doorways to the empty bedrooms were closed. She had no interest whatsoever in what might be on the other side of them tonight; tonight, anything off the beaten track was to be avoided at all costs.

Jarett led her to the small, neat bathroom at the end of the hallway. He placed the lamp on the toilet seat and lit two more candles while Crystal tried the water. It came out cold at first but soon turned hot enough to scald.

“Great!” she said. “Do you have any bubble bath?”

He didn’t, but offered to sacrifice some of his shampoo. Crystal poured enough of it into the tub to get a good lather brewing, then shooed Jarett into the hallway so she could pee. She performed this act of nature with the door open, staring at Jarett’s back. Being so close to him while undressed made her lips swell and her breath heavy. Surprised by these sensations but ready to explore them further, she took off Jarett’s shirt, exposing her breasts. They had grown pert since the previous summer, and now, with the same rush of blood that affected her lips, the nipples had become sharp. Crystal suddenly felt confident enough—sexy enough—to seek out a pole at a strip club and make some fast money.

But the bath would do just fine in a pinch. She went to it completely nude. Had Jarett decided at that moment to turn around he would have seen the bare butt of a JV cheerleader as she stood in a fervor of steam and candlelight. Exciting as this thought was, the water looked too tempting put off. Crystal lowered herself into the bubbles with a deep sigh. The day had been a long one, full of bad test scores and even worse memories. Tonight, with a blizzard and a bath (and maybe something more) it was being put into the past. Finally and forever.

“You’re right,” she said to Jarett. “The water’s plenty hot enough.”

“Told you so,” his voice called back from the hall.

“You can come in here now, boss. I’m safe from your prying eyes.”

He didn’t obey at first. Crystal began to wash, letting her eye wander to the door at random intervals. A small, frosted window near the ceiling let in a light draft that distressed the candles. Inspired, Crystal changed her command to a plea. Would he please sit nearby with a lighter just in case one of the wicks went out?

Jarett appeared in the doorway, then moved carefully to the toilet seat, never once looking in her direction. That was silly, of course. The water came all the way up to Crystal’s neck. She was covered. Cloaked. Yet to Jarett it didn’t seem to matter. Despite the advice she’d given him last summer, he was still afraid.

Well then.

Smiling, she said: “My writing has gotten better, yes?”

“Yes it has,” Jarett replied, giving her a peek. “You’re not telling me anymore. You’re showing me. That’s a huge step. And your prose has gotten far more concise.”

“Thank you. Practice helps. I’ve gotten better at holding my breath, too,” she added, watching him closely.

Now he looked at her. Really looked. Success.

“Have you?” he put forth. “How much better?”

“Do you want me to tell you or do you want me to show you?”

Crystal filled her chest with as much air as it could hold…and dropped under the surface. As always, the cheerleading lungs felt perky and strong, eager for a challenge. This was a good thing, for Jarett’s tub—an antique clawfoot—was very deep. A surprising amount of pressure squeezed at her ribs and throat. Also, the water was still hot. Her body burned as if immersed in a Jacuzzi.

After twenty seconds Crystal pursed her lips. Her chest was beginning to hurt. Did Jarett know yet? Could he see the discomfort in her twitched brow, her curled fingers? A flurry of bubbles plumed from her nose. And the pain, the tightness, kept coming. Harder and harder. Suddenly she let out an underwater yelp, spewing hundreds more bubbles of air to the surface.

“Come on,” Jarett said as she passed thirty seconds. “Fight it, Crystal.”

Thirty-five seconds. The need to breathe was an agony now. Perky or not, her lungs were about to become water balloons. With a desperate heave—HAAUUUHH!—Crystal broke through the surface. The act put her bare breasts on full display for the man in wait, and it pleased her to see his eyes drop and take the view in. Good boy. Now that she had him interested in the prize it was time to see