Fake Me To Church

Chapter 9.1 - The Devil Wears Nada

- STEVEN -

"Steven, man, I really don't know about this," my best friend said for the seventh time in the past half-hour.

"Dylan, will you just chill already? You're freaking out way too much."

"Well, that might have something to do with the fact that what we're about to do is punishable by law!"

"Dude, relax—it's gonna be fine."

I heard him gulp as we pulled up to our destination, a semi-vintage one-story house lined with pink bricks and golden lights hanging from the rooftop. The lawn was manicured evenly, not even a single weed sprouting between the summery green blades of grass. A quaintly rounded patio adjoined what I assumed to be the house's front door, and a wreath of plants with blue flowering petals hung at the door's glassed center.

"Gotta hand it to her," I said aloud, "Charity keeps her place nice."

Dylan was shaking now.

"Dylan, for the love of everything that's pure, can you please stop quaking in your boots? It'll be a quick in and a quick out."

"But why? Why do we have to break into her house, Steven? It's a Saturday! Can't we just go to my house and play X-Box or something? I got three new games last week that're sitting on my bookshelf waiting to be—"

"Dude, I already told you. You saw what Grace did to me at lunch on Thursday. Charity was the only one who knew I was on FilmSire, and she's the only one who could've told Grace about it." I stopped, almost tearing up at the memory.

"But, Steven, you don't know that it was her. I mean, maybe someone saw you on FilmSire after school or something—"

"Dylan, just stop, okay? Charity's an old witch, and she's got everybody at the church fooled—everybody but me." I paused, scowling. "I wouldn't be surprised if we found chicken's blood and a freaking shrine to Satan in that house."

Dylan shook his head. "Steven, I really think you're making a mistake here..."

"Come on, man. Ten minutes. That's all I need to find something in there that'll prove she's a kook. Then I can take it to my dad, and he'll kick her out of EdgeWay like the dirty skank she is." I parked my car two driveways down at a house with a For Sale sign sticking up in the front yard.

I clicked off the ignition and then stepped out of my car, Dylan following. I yanked a pair of keys out of my pocket—one for the backyard gate, and one for Charity's house itself.

"I still can't believe your dad had a key to this place in his office," Dylan mused. "And didn't you say the last owners of this house were the ones who gave him those keys? Don't you think Charity would've changed the locks since then?"

I chuckled as Dylan and I walked up to the gate. "Only one way to find out."

The first key slid into the gate lock with ease; I twisted it left and pressed open the metal bars.

"See?" I narrowed my eyes, grinning with triumph. "Dylan, you worry too much."

Dylan and I stalked up to the back door, and I shoved the key in the lock quickly, not wanting to spend any more time than necessary standing outside. Who knew if neighbors were watching?

The first thing I noticed once inside was how bright it was. There were so many white lights, large and medium sized, hanging from the ceiling and fastened to the walls.

The path directly in front of us led to the kitchen and living room, which were separated by a sliding door and a set of fancy wooden tables where I imagined she seated guests—if she ever had any. In the center of each of the tables were bouquets of more sky-blue flowers like the ones on the wreath outside; they sat snugly inside glossy glass vases filled medially with water.