the air.
I wish …
The wish left, as her shadow had, and went on without her.
In the darkness of the hemlocks around the mansion, against the dark shingles of the house, more darkness gathered. Thicker darkness. A darkness both velvety and satiny.
The dark path caught the wish and kept it.
Something bright glittered in the branches of the hemlocks, like a row of tiny silver bells.
Or fingernails, wrinkled like old foil.
The dark path curled around the base of a tree, and waited for the rest of the wish.
Chapter 2
B ACK AT THE BREAKFAST table, nobody had moved. Her mother was still pouring orange juice into the same glass.
The juice seemed to slide out of the cardboard box and into the glass forever and ever, as if her mother was just a hand holding a pitcher.
Her father was still holding a fork above his pancakes, and her brother was still lifting his napkin.
Devnee shivered.
Had she gone outside at all? What had happened to the time she had spent out there? Was it her time only, and had it not existed for the three inside the house? What was happening in this house, that time flickered differently wherever you stood, and fingernails crept out of cracks, and shadows peeled away from your body?
“I want to sleep downstairs in the guest room,” Devnee said, and the family stirred slightly, as if waking up.
“Dev,” said her mother, “no. We have all kinds of guests coming. You know that. Nobody in our family has ever lived in this part of the country before, and they’re dying to visit. The little guest room is the boring room, nobody wants it full-time, and we agreed that’s where we’ll stuff the guests.”
Luke said, “Wouldn’t it be weird if the guests really did die when they came to visit? And we really did stuff them?”
Devnee could not breathe.
“Luke, try to be human,” said their mother.
I wonder which of us is human, thought Devnee. I wonder if I’m human. My shadow isn’t human. But then, shadows aren’t human, she realized.
So why did my shadow make choices of its own? Exploring and wandering? It shouldn’t be doing anything I don’t do.
Devnee said, “I don’t want to start school here yet.”
“State laws,” said her mother cheerfully. “You have to start school today. I’ll drive you, since it’s your first day, and you run down and check in the office and see what the nearest bus route is for tomorrow.”
Her mother made “checking in the office” sound as easy as ordering a hamburger, but it wouldn’t be. It would be strange halls and a thousand strange faces. Doors that were not marked clearly and people who spoke too loudly or not at all, while Devnee shuffled her feet like a broken-down ballerina.
She almost wished that she and Luke were in the same school. Then she would have company on the horrible first day in a new school.
On the other hand, who would want Luke’s company for anything? It was good that he was in eighth grade and still in junior high, while she was safely in tenth grade, and far superior to her dumb brother.
They dropped off Luke first, because the junior high was closer, and Luke bounded in as if he had always gone there, and already had friends and already knew the way to the gym and where the cafeteria line began.
What if I don’t have friends here ever? thought Devnee.
What if it’s a horrible hateful mean place and I’m dressed wrong? And they laugh at me?
When they arrived at the high school, Devnee’s mother came in with her after all. Devnee, who adored her mother, was ashamed: Mrs. Fountain was quite heavy and needed a new, larger winter coat. Instead of taking the time to curl her hair, her mother had just tugged it back into a loose, messy ponytail.
As if taking Devnee to her first day in a new school in a new town didn’t matter.
Devnee swallowed the thought and tried to stay loyal.
She glanced behind her to see if her shadow had come along and it had. It seemed curiously large for Devnee, and too dark for the
I wish …
The wish left, as her shadow had, and went on without her.
In the darkness of the hemlocks around the mansion, against the dark shingles of the house, more darkness gathered. Thicker darkness. A darkness both velvety and satiny.
The dark path caught the wish and kept it.
Something bright glittered in the branches of the hemlocks, like a row of tiny silver bells.
Or fingernails, wrinkled like old foil.
The dark path curled around the base of a tree, and waited for the rest of the wish.
Chapter 2
B ACK AT THE BREAKFAST table, nobody had moved. Her mother was still pouring orange juice into the same glass.
The juice seemed to slide out of the cardboard box and into the glass forever and ever, as if her mother was just a hand holding a pitcher.
Her father was still holding a fork above his pancakes, and her brother was still lifting his napkin.
Devnee shivered.
Had she gone outside at all? What had happened to the time she had spent out there? Was it her time only, and had it not existed for the three inside the house? What was happening in this house, that time flickered differently wherever you stood, and fingernails crept out of cracks, and shadows peeled away from your body?
“I want to sleep downstairs in the guest room,” Devnee said, and the family stirred slightly, as if waking up.
“Dev,” said her mother, “no. We have all kinds of guests coming. You know that. Nobody in our family has ever lived in this part of the country before, and they’re dying to visit. The little guest room is the boring room, nobody wants it full-time, and we agreed that’s where we’ll stuff the guests.”
Luke said, “Wouldn’t it be weird if the guests really did die when they came to visit? And we really did stuff them?”
Devnee could not breathe.
“Luke, try to be human,” said their mother.
I wonder which of us is human, thought Devnee. I wonder if I’m human. My shadow isn’t human. But then, shadows aren’t human, she realized.
So why did my shadow make choices of its own? Exploring and wandering? It shouldn’t be doing anything I don’t do.
Devnee said, “I don’t want to start school here yet.”
“State laws,” said her mother cheerfully. “You have to start school today. I’ll drive you, since it’s your first day, and you run down and check in the office and see what the nearest bus route is for tomorrow.”
Her mother made “checking in the office” sound as easy as ordering a hamburger, but it wouldn’t be. It would be strange halls and a thousand strange faces. Doors that were not marked clearly and people who spoke too loudly or not at all, while Devnee shuffled her feet like a broken-down ballerina.
She almost wished that she and Luke were in the same school. Then she would have company on the horrible first day in a new school.
On the other hand, who would want Luke’s company for anything? It was good that he was in eighth grade and still in junior high, while she was safely in tenth grade, and far superior to her dumb brother.
They dropped off Luke first, because the junior high was closer, and Luke bounded in as if he had always gone there, and already had friends and already knew the way to the gym and where the cafeteria line began.
What if I don’t have friends here ever? thought Devnee.
What if it’s a horrible hateful mean place and I’m dressed wrong? And they laugh at me?
When they arrived at the high school, Devnee’s mother came in with her after all. Devnee, who adored her mother, was ashamed: Mrs. Fountain was quite heavy and needed a new, larger winter coat. Instead of taking the time to curl her hair, her mother had just tugged it back into a loose, messy ponytail.
As if taking Devnee to her first day in a new school in a new town didn’t matter.
Devnee swallowed the thought and tried to stay loyal.
She glanced behind her to see if her shadow had come along and it had. It seemed curiously large for Devnee, and too dark for the
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