Watcher Read online

  This page

  inTenTionally

  lefT blank

  Watcher

  by

  L. A. Weatherly

  For my husband

  First American edition published in 2012 by Stoke Books, an imprint of Barrington Stoke Ltd

  18 Walker Street, Edinburgh, United Kingdom, EH3 7LP

  www.stokebooks.com

  Copyright © 2007 L. A. Weatherly

  All rights reserved. International copyright secured. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means – electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise – without the prior written permission of Barrington Stoke Ltd, except for inclusion of brief quotations in an acknowledged review.

  A catalog record for this book is available from

  the US Library of Congress

  Distributed in the United States and Canada by Lerner Publisher Services, a division of Lerner Publishing Group, Inc.

  241 First Avenue North, Minneapolis, MN 55401

  www.lernerbooks.com.

  ISBN 978-1-78112-107-8 (Hard Cover)

  ISBN 978-1-78112-106-1 (Paperback)

  ISBN 978-1-78112-108-5 (eBook)

  Printed in China

  Contents

  1

  The E-mail

  1

  2

  Waiting Game

  8

  3

  I’m Watching You

  16

  4

  Do You Want Something?

  22

  5

  Reality TV

  29

  6

  Mom’s House

  36

  7

  Secrets

  42

  Chapter 1

  The E-mail

  Some people just have really bad luck.

  Maybe they’re fat, or they’ve got acne. Maybe

  they don’t have any friends. Worst of all,

  there’s no one they can blame. It’s just the

  way things are.

  Not me. I’m fat. I don’t have any friends.

  But I know exactly who to blame.

  My mom.

  She’d been gone for more than seven years

  when I found the e-mails.

  1

  I was in my dad’s room, on the computer. I was trying to log on as my dad. I was bored,

  and I wanted to go on the Internet. There are

  only a few sites my dad lets me go onto by

  myself, and they’re all really stupid.

  It was easy to break into his account. His

  password is Sarah. That’s my name, and it

  wasn’t hard to figure that one out. But then,

  instead of going onto the Internet, I looked at

  his e-mails. I don’t know why. He never gets

  anything interesting.

  But I looked at them anyway. And I felt

  sick. I just sat and stared at the computer

  screen.

  The last e-mail he’d sent was to Ann Young.

  I started to shake. He’d sent it last night.

  He’d written to my mom just last night!

  But how? We didn’t know where she was.

  She’d just vanished one day when I was six

  years old. She’d left a note that said, “Sorry,

  but I’m not cut out for this.” She took all of

  her things. She didn’t even say goodbye to me.

  At first my dad tried to find her. Then he gave

  2

  up and told me that it was just the two of us from then on.

  That’s when my life started to go wrong. I

  put on tons of weight. The stuck-up girls at

  school all laughed at me. I hated everyone,

  and they hated me. Now, seven years later, I

  was still fat and I still didn’t have any friends.

  And now my father was sending my mom e-

  mails!

  I clicked onto the e-mail. It said:

  Ann,

  I’m not asking you to come back and be her

  mom. But can’t you just see her sometime? Or talk to her on the phone? She deserves some answers!

  You’re living so close now that it seems sil y for the two of you to never meet.

  I felt cold all over. Mom was living nearby?

  Since when? Then I saw that she’d answered

  his e-mail. I quickly opened her reply.

  Ted, I only told you I’m in Midland in case you

  ever saw me. I don’t want to see Sarah, or talk to her. Don’t ask me again. It’s for the best.

  3

  For the best? My mouth dropped open, and then anger rushed through me. My mom was

  living only three miles away, in the next town,

  and she wouldn’t even talk to me!

  “Sarah?” I heard someone shout. It was

  my dad. He had just gotten home from work. I

  shut down his e-mail. When he came into the

  room I was playing an online game, looking

  innocent.

  “How was school?” he asked.

  “Great,” I said. School is never great, but

  it’s a lot better than it used to be. I used to

  get called “blimp” and all kinds of stuff, until I

  fought back a few times. Now everyone just

  ignores me.

  “Is everything OK?” asked Dad. He took his

  jacket off. He looked tired. He’s the manager

  of a big supermarket, but I don’t think he likes

  it very much.

  “Fine,” I told him. I didn’t look up at him.

  Inside, I felt like shouting. Or crying. Or both.

  My own mother didn’t want to see me.

  4

  A spaceship floated past on the screen, and I blasted it. It exploded into a million pieces.

  ********

  Midland is only a few minutes away on the

  bus. I went there that Saturday. It was a cold,

  sunny day in October. I wore my dad’s old

  coat. It’s the only coat I have that fits me, but

  it makes me look like a whale. I told myself I

  didn’t care. At least it was warm.

  I walked slowly up and down the streets of

  Midland. The houses all looked the same.

  I wasn’t sure what I was looking for. I knew

  there wouldn’t be a sign that said, “Sarah

  Young, your mom lives here!” But there had to

  be something. Some sort of clue.

  After a while I felt out of breath. I’m not

  used to walking so much. The tops of my legs

  rubbed together through my jeans, and I felt

  like giving up.

  Then I saw it. I stopped walking, and just

  stared.

  There was a little house on the corner of a

  street. The front yard was messy and

  5

  overgrown. And there was an old red sports car parked in front of it.

  My hands felt cold. I remembered that car,

  I was sure I did! I remembered sitting in the

  back seat and feeling scared because Mom was

  driving so fast. I remembered throwing up all

  over the seats once. I thought Mom’d be mad

  at me, but she was really nice. She wiped off

  my face with a cool cloth and gave me a kiss.

  I went over and peered in the back window.

  I could tell it was the same car. The back seats

  were all cracked, and there was gray masking

  tape all over the cracks. I remembered the

  pattern. I
used to think it was like a spider

  web.

  I looked at the house. There were curtains

  on the front windows. It was the middle of the

  day but the curtains were shut. Maybe the

  person inside the house didn’t want to see the

  sunlight.

  Or maybe they didn’t want anyone to see

  them.

  I touched the car. The doors were locked.

  I looked back at the house again, and I felt

  6

  sick. My mom was in there. I just knew it.

  Part of me wanted to go and bang on her door

  and make her talk to me.

  But then I thought of her e-mail.

  I remembered what she’d written to Dad. She

  didn’t want anything to do with me.

  I felt like I was going to explode. I had to

  do something! I put my hands into my coat

  pockets and felt my keys. I took them out. Did

  I dare?

  I dragged the key across the door of my

  mom’s car. It made a long scratch in the red

  paint. I made another scratch, and then

  another.

  When I was finished, I turned around and

  went home. My heart was pounding hard. I’d

  never done anything like that in my life. But

  she deserved it.

  7

  Chapter 2

  Waiting Game

  The rest of that weekend, I waited for

  something to happen. I thought my mother’d

  call my dad and tell him what I’d done. I was

  sure she’d know it was me. But nothing

  happened.

  I was in a worse mood than normal when I

  got to school on Monday. I kept remembering

  things that I thought I’d forgotten. Like, when I

  was five I lost a doll that Mom gave me. It had

  been her doll when she was little. I was scared

  sick of telling her it was gone. I never knew

  when she might get mad about something. I

  8

  mean, really mad – throwing things and screaming.

  But when I told her, she just laughed and

  bought me a new doll. It had curly dark hair

  and a frilly dress.

  “There,” she said. “That’s a million times

  better than the old one, isn’t it?” So it turned

  out to be OK. But I felt sick and nervous, too.

  It was like waiting for the other shoe to drop. I

  remember that I had that feeling a lot when

  Mom was around. I never knew what to

  expect.

  I had all those memories to think about, so

  I didn’t feel like talking to anyone. But Beth

  Sands came up to me when I was standing in

  line for lunch.

  “Hi, Sarah,” she said.

  Beth is tiny. She’s hardly even five feet

  tall. She has a thin, white face and limp

  blonde hair. She doesn’t have any friends

  either. But that didn’t mean I wanted to talk

  to her.

  I ignored her, but she acted like she didn’t

  notice. She stood next to me in line like we

  9

  were best friends. “I was thinking about our English project,” she said.

  “What about it?” I snapped. I held my plate

  out, and the lunch lady scooped some chicken

  nuggets and fries onto it. The chicken nuggets

  were pale and soggy. The food’s gross at our

  school.

  “Well …” Beth looked down at her feet and

  then up at me again. “We’re supposed to write

  a story with someone, and I thought maybe

  you’d be my partner. It’d be really cool. You

  could come over to my house to talk about

  ideas.”

  I stared at her. Was she crazy? I carried

  my tray over to an empty table. Beth followed

  me.

  “Well? What do you think?” She smiled,

  and I felt a burst of anger.

  “No way,” I said. “What would I want to be

  your partner for?”

  Beth looked as if I’d slapped her. “I just

  thought …”

  10

  “Leave me alone!” I shoved my face right up to hers. “I mean it,” I said in a low voice.

  “Or you’ll be sorry.”

  Beth walked away quickly, looking as if she

  was going to cry. I ate lunch by myself.

  I don’t care if I’ve hurt her feelings, I told

  myself. She’s a total loser. What would I want

  to be friends with her for?

  Dad wasn’t there when I got home that

  afternoon. He works shifts, and a lot of times

  he’s not home until late. Sometimes the house

  feels too silent, and then I have to switch on all

  the lights and turn the TV up loud.

  I went right into Dad’s room and checked

  his e-mail again. There wasn’t anything there.

  Mom still hadn’t written to him about the

  scratches on her car.

  Good. I stood up and turned off the

  computer. I’d gotten away with it, and now I

  could just forget about her. So what if she

  didn’t want to be a part of my life? I didn’t

  want her to be, either!

  But as I did my homework I kept

  remembering more and more things. Like the

  11

  way Mom used to hug me before I went to bed at night, and the perfume she always wore. I

  couldn’t see my homework sheet very well any

  more. I wasn’t crying. I just had something in

  my eye.

  At last I went into the kitchen and grabbed

  a big bag of chips. I ripped open the bag and

  shoved the chips into my mouth in big, salty

  handfuls. I felt myself relax as I gulped them

  down. I know that’s why I’m fat. It’s because I

  eat so much. I can’t help it. It makes me feel

  better.

  When I’d finished the chips, my stomach

  felt like it was going to burst. But I’d thought

  of a plan. I threw the bag in the trash and

  went and turned on Dad’s computer again.

  I logged onto Hotmail and opened a new

  e-mail account. I called it IM.WATCHING.U.

  Then I got my mom’s e-mail address and I

  wrote her this:

  YOU’RE NOT AS SMART AS YOU THINK YOU

  ARE. WE’RE WATCHING YOUR EVERY MOVE.

  YOU’RE GOING TO BE PUNISHED FOR WHAT

  YOU DID, AND IT’S GOING TO HURT! BE VERY,

  VERY AFRAID.

  12

  SIGNED,

  AN ENEMY

  The rest of that week I hurried home from

  school to check my e-mail. Sometimes I even

  checked it at lunch, from the computers in the

  library. My Hotmail mailbox was always

  empty. So after a few days I sent her another

  e-mail, even worse than the first one. Then

  another one after that.

  I knew I could get into terrible trouble. I

  think there’s even a law that says you

  shouldn’t send threatening e-mails. The police

  could have arrested me if they found out what

  I was doing. But I couldn’t seem to stop.

  It didn’t matter anyway. She never wrote

  back to me.

  That Saturday, Dad had the day off for a

  change. He smiled at me as we ate breakfast.

  “Do you feel like going someplace, Sarah? We
/>
  could take a drive up to Traverse City and

  make a day of it.”

  Normally I’d have been thrilled if Dad said

  he’d like to do something with me. Most of the

  time, on his days off, he’s too tired, and just

  13

  wants to watch TV. Most of the time he takes his days off when I’m at school. But going to

  Traverse City today was the last thing I

  wanted to do.

  “Thanks anyway.” I kept my head down as

  I ate so he couldn’t see my face. “But I’ve

  already got plans.”

  “Really?” He looked surprised. “What are

  you going to do?”

  I shrugged. “I’m meeting a friend of mine

  at the mall. Beth.”

  He was so glad to hear that I finally had a

  friend. He asked me a million questions about

  her. I told him all I knew, and made up the

  stuff I didn’t. Beth and me, friends – ha, that

  was hilarious!

  “Well, have fun,” said Dad as I left the

  house later.

  “I will,” I said. I tried to sound cheerful.

  Once I got outside, I hurried to the bus stop.

  The bus was already standing there, and I had

  to run. The doors closed just before I got to

  them. I banged on them with my hand.

  14

  “Please!” I shouted.

  The doors opened again. “Well, come on,

  hon, hurry up,” said the driver. He looked

  grumpy.

  I climbed up the stairs, breathing hard.

  The money clinked as I dropped the coins into

  the slot. “Midland, please.”

  15

  Chapter 3

  I’m Watching You

  Mom’s old red sports car was gone.

  I stood in the road, looking at the place in

  the street where it had been. Had she even

  noticed the scratches? I pulled my coat around

  myself. The sun was out but even so, I was

  cold.

  I hadn’t had a plan. I just knew I needed to

  see my mom. I don’t mean I wanted to talk to

  her. But I wanted to see her face again,

  because it had gone fuzzy in my mind. And I

  wanted her to see me, too. I wanted her to

  16

  look out her window and know who I was. She had to stop ignoring me.

  My hands turned into fists as I stared at

  her house. The weeds looked even worse this

  time. Her front yard was like a jungle.

  Without thinking, I started to walk towards the

  door.

  “Are you looking for someone?” shouted a

  voice. I spun around. An old woman was

  standing in a doorway across the street. She