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“The big deal is…” He shook his head. “I think I saw her try to kill a squirrel.”
I was pretty shocked that Carter thought my sister would be capable of attempted squirrel murder. But what could I say? No, it wasn’t Kasey, it was just the shadowy beast lurking in the trees.
“No way,” I said. “There’s no chance of that. I know my sister.”
His head jerked up. “Do you?”
“Yes! Of course.”
“I saw something out there,” he said. “I know I did.”
“It was probably a raccoon,” I said archly.
“Don’t get mad at me, Lex.” He raised his hands helplessly. “It’s not an accusation. I just thought it was weird. The whole thing was really…weird.”
“Maybe it’s a full moon,” I said.
“There’s no moon tonight,” he said.
I sighed and leaned on my door; Carter leaned on his—and we were as far apart as we could be while still sitting in the same car. A shadow came to the front window of the town house and paused for a moment before disappearing.
“Parents are stalking,” I said. “Better get inside. Thanks for driving.”
He turned and looked at me, and his jaw finally relaxed. He reached for my hand and ran his thumb across my palm. “Of course,” he said. “I’m glad we found the dog.”
“Yeah, me too.”
“Oh,” he said. “That girl left her cane in the backseat. Can you give it to Kasey?”
We smiled at each other shyly, like a pair of seventh graders parting after a school dance. I gave him a quick kiss and walked up to the front door, the cane hooked over my arm, thinking that this would all blow over soon. Maybe it already had.
The next morning, I awoke to the sound of the gardeners mowing the grass in the median. The buzz of the leaf blowers and the sun streaming through my window made it impossible to get back to sleep, so I went to the living room. But Kasey was already sprawled out on the couch, watching TV. She moved over to make room for me, but I shook my head and went to the fridge instead, making a mental note to be the first one out to the living room on Saturdays.
Kasey and I hadn’t talked at all about what had happened in the woods.
It wasn’t a conversation I was dying to have, to be honest.
Best-case scenario, Kasey thought what we saw was an animal, and she wanted to hide me from it. Worst-case scenario…I don’t know. I’m sure there was a whole range of mid-grade scenarios, too. But where my sister was concerned, I’d gotten pretty used to the worst.
Finally, after sitting through two hours of cartoons, I gave her a soft kick. “So…”
She stood up. “I need to take a shower.” And then she trudged off down the hall to the bathroom.
After her shower, she locked herself in her room for another hour. I finally gave up and took a shower myself, only to find her door wide open and bedroom deserted when I emerged.
In the kitchen, Mom was shuffling through the mail. “Morning, hon,” she said.
“It’s afternoon,” I said. “Where’s Kasey?”
Mom glanced up at me. “Dad drove her to a friend’s house. The girl you used to hang out with—Lydia?”
“Oh,” I said.
“Didn’t she used to live in Riverbridge? In that big house with the little stream in the front yard?”
“Yeah,” I said. All the yards in Riverbridge had bridges. Imagine that.
“They live over west of Crawford now,” Mom said, making a sympathetic face. “It’s not a very good neighbor- hood. I’m surprised she’s still in the same school district.”
Lydia’s parents had been serious go-getters. Her dad drove a sports car, and her mom owned a high-end salon, which made Lydia’s sloppy home hair-dye jobs all the more offensive. It was hard to imagine them in a dumpy house on the outskirts of town.
I was about to turn and leave when Mom tossed an envelope to me. “Young Visionaries?” she asked. I took it back to the sofa, deliberately ignoring her curiosity.
So this was it. My form rejection, with a request to come collect my portfolio. I slid my finger under the corner of the flap. All week, the contest had been bugging me—the thought of being ranked somewhere in the middle of that giant stack of entrants.
CONGRATULATIONS! was the first word I saw, and I felt the oddest combination of emotions—happiness and apprehension at the same time. Like my heart inflated and then ran away and hid under the bed.
The letter went on to say that I’d survived the first cut and was now one of twelve semifinalists. At the bottom was a scrawl in a thick, black permanent marker: Your work stands up well against the competition.—FM
And there was a note about an interview session being conducted the following week.
“What is it?” Mom asked.
“Nothing.” I shoved the letter back inside its envelope. At some point I’d be forced to tell my parents. But for that moment, I wanted it all to myself.
Dad and I arranged the Chinese take-out containers on the counter while Mom got plates and silverware.
“So…” I said. “I have some news.”
In about four milliseconds, bustle turned to dead silence. Dad froze and looked up at me, and Mom came around the counter.
Wow, that worked.
“I’m not pregnant or anything,” I said, and Dad exhaled. “Seriously, Dad? You think that’s how I would tell you?”
“What is it, honey?” Mom asked, setting down the plates.
“That letter I got today,” I said. “It’s for this photography thing. Like a contest. With a scholarship.”
Her eyes lit up. “You’re going to enter?”
“No,” I said. “Well, yeah. I did enter…and I made the semifinals.”
I couldn’t decipher their expressions. Mom looked pensive. Dad looked blank.
“That’s the news,” I said, pulling out a bar stool and reaching for a fried wonton.
I would have given my parents credit for having more self-control, but they immediately started carrying on, Mom hugging me and saying, “I’m so proud of you! I’m so proud of you!” and Dad cuffing me on the arm like an old college buddy.
“All right, that’s enough,” I said, peeling away. “It’s not that big of a deal. There are twelve semifinalists.”
“But Alexis, this is wonderful!” Mom said. “It is a big deal. Wait until Kasey hears!”
I looked around. “What time is she coming home, anyway?”
“Not until tomorrow,” Mom said. “She’s sleeping over. I guess they all are. Since she had to miss the party last night, I thought it would be all right. I actually have to take her some clothes.”
“I’ll take them,” I said.
“Really?” Mom asked.
“Yeah,” I said, forcing a smile. A chance to drop in on Kasey and her friends, possibly learn more about these “meetings” they were holding? I couldn’t pass it up. “I can tell her about the contest.”
Right on Crawford, left on Morrison, right on Baker.
This was an older section of the city, a grid of tiny houses packed together like eggs in a carton, not a fancy subdivision in sight. Lydia’s house must have been cute once, but its glory days were long gone. The siding peeled like a bad sunburn, showing multiple layers of old paint, and the upstairs window was blacked out with aluminum foil. In the driveway was her father’s red sports car, his baby. But the whole length of the driver’s side was dented, and the bumper seemed to be hanging on for dear life.
I grabbed Kasey’s overnight bag and Adrie
A few seconds later, Adrie
“Here,” I said, holding out the cane. She took it and bounced through the house, without even using it. She was as hippity-hoppy as a toddler.
As we entered the kitchen, all activity stopped. The four of them were sitting around a small breakfast table with arts and crafts supplies strewn everywhere. Each girl worked on her own poster board. To my left was a stack of yellow flyers.