all, I need a scratcher to deal with the itches under my plaster casts. The worst part is, this really is all my fault. If I hadn't come off my bike last week, I'd be able to go explore the new area, and that would be kind of neat.
Instead I'm stuck here, in this bare little room, listening to the sound of my family unpacking boxes in the room below.
***
“You guys didn't have to eat up here in my room with me,” I tell them later, as I take another slice of pizza off the plate, “but... Thanks.”
“We couldn't leave you up here by yourself,” Mom points out. She, Dad and Scott are sitting on uncomfortable-looking wooden chairs next to my bed, and they've set up a camp table to hold the pizza and soda bottles. It's actually kind of cute. “It would've been sad to be eating downstairs while knowing you're up here alone.”
“It'd be funny,” Scott mutters with a grin.
“Maybe I could get up a little,” I suggest. “I mean, I'm not crippled, I just have these casts on and we have those crutches...”
“You saw the stairs, honey,” Dad replies. “Even with crutches, you'd have trouble maneuvering. Besides, the doctor said you need to stay in bed and let your legs heal properly. That was a condition of letting you out so soon, remember? He actually wanted to keep you in until the weekend.”
“Sure,” I reply, “but -”
“But nothing. Be a good patient.”
“I just don't know what I'm going to do all day,” I reply, looking over at the window. Night has fallen outside, and after just one afternoon and evening of being in this room, I'm already starting to go stir crazy. My laptop is useless without an internet connection, and Mom still hasn't managed to find any of the boxes with my books. “Seriously,” I continue, turning back to them, “what am I going to do tomorrow? I'll be here in this room all day, and you guys are going to be busy, so what am I going to do ?”
“Scott'll come and keep you company,” Mom suggests.
“No,” Scott and I say at the same time, before he adds: “No way. I want to explore the forest. It looks cool out there.”
“I'm going to turn into an old crone,” I mutter. “I'll just waste away in this room and -”
Suddenly there's a loud bang from downstairs, followed by a thud and then another bang. We all turn and look over at the door, and after a moment I look back at Mom and Dad and see the concern in their eyes.
“What was that?” I ask cautiously. “Do I have another sibling you guys have been hiding from me?”
“I...” Dad pauses, before getting to his feet. He steps on the particularly loose, particularly annoying floorboard next to my bed as he heads out to the landing, where he stops for a moment. “It was nothing. Probably just the wind blowing a door shut.”
“I thought we locked the front door?” Mom says.
“A window, then.” He pauses again. “I'll go take a look. Don't worry, it's nothing.”
He walks out of view, and a moment later I hear him making his way down the creaking stairs.
“That was not nothing,” I say finally, turning to Mom. “That was, like, something.”
“It was probably the wind,” she replies, not entirely convincingly.
Looking over at the window, I can just about see the tops of the trees against the dark sky. “There's no wind out there,” I say after a moment. “It's completely still.” Turning to her, I can still see the hint of worry in her eyes as we all listen to the sound of Dad moving about downstairs. I swear, every floorboard in this house seems designed to make the maximum possible amount of noise when it's stepped on.
“What if it's a ghost?” Scott whispers.
“There are no ghosts here,” Mom tells him.
“But what if there are?”
“Don't be stupid,” I reply, before turning to look over at Mom. “Tell him. There are no ghosts here, right?”
“There are no ghosts here,” she says, ruffling the top of his head with her right hand. “Come on, let's not get
Instead I'm stuck here, in this bare little room, listening to the sound of my family unpacking boxes in the room below.
***
“You guys didn't have to eat up here in my room with me,” I tell them later, as I take another slice of pizza off the plate, “but... Thanks.”
“We couldn't leave you up here by yourself,” Mom points out. She, Dad and Scott are sitting on uncomfortable-looking wooden chairs next to my bed, and they've set up a camp table to hold the pizza and soda bottles. It's actually kind of cute. “It would've been sad to be eating downstairs while knowing you're up here alone.”
“It'd be funny,” Scott mutters with a grin.
“Maybe I could get up a little,” I suggest. “I mean, I'm not crippled, I just have these casts on and we have those crutches...”
“You saw the stairs, honey,” Dad replies. “Even with crutches, you'd have trouble maneuvering. Besides, the doctor said you need to stay in bed and let your legs heal properly. That was a condition of letting you out so soon, remember? He actually wanted to keep you in until the weekend.”
“Sure,” I reply, “but -”
“But nothing. Be a good patient.”
“I just don't know what I'm going to do all day,” I reply, looking over at the window. Night has fallen outside, and after just one afternoon and evening of being in this room, I'm already starting to go stir crazy. My laptop is useless without an internet connection, and Mom still hasn't managed to find any of the boxes with my books. “Seriously,” I continue, turning back to them, “what am I going to do tomorrow? I'll be here in this room all day, and you guys are going to be busy, so what am I going to do ?”
“Scott'll come and keep you company,” Mom suggests.
“No,” Scott and I say at the same time, before he adds: “No way. I want to explore the forest. It looks cool out there.”
“I'm going to turn into an old crone,” I mutter. “I'll just waste away in this room and -”
Suddenly there's a loud bang from downstairs, followed by a thud and then another bang. We all turn and look over at the door, and after a moment I look back at Mom and Dad and see the concern in their eyes.
“What was that?” I ask cautiously. “Do I have another sibling you guys have been hiding from me?”
“I...” Dad pauses, before getting to his feet. He steps on the particularly loose, particularly annoying floorboard next to my bed as he heads out to the landing, where he stops for a moment. “It was nothing. Probably just the wind blowing a door shut.”
“I thought we locked the front door?” Mom says.
“A window, then.” He pauses again. “I'll go take a look. Don't worry, it's nothing.”
He walks out of view, and a moment later I hear him making his way down the creaking stairs.
“That was not nothing,” I say finally, turning to Mom. “That was, like, something.”
“It was probably the wind,” she replies, not entirely convincingly.
Looking over at the window, I can just about see the tops of the trees against the dark sky. “There's no wind out there,” I say after a moment. “It's completely still.” Turning to her, I can still see the hint of worry in her eyes as we all listen to the sound of Dad moving about downstairs. I swear, every floorboard in this house seems designed to make the maximum possible amount of noise when it's stepped on.
“What if it's a ghost?” Scott whispers.
“There are no ghosts here,” Mom tells him.
“But what if there are?”
“Don't be stupid,” I reply, before turning to look over at Mom. “Tell him. There are no ghosts here, right?”
“There are no ghosts here,” she says, ruffling the top of his head with her right hand. “Come on, let's not get