The Ballad of Aramei Read Free Page B

you smell it?”
    I look at him confusedly, wishing he would start elaborating his questions more.
    “Coming from that room,” he says, “do you smell the detergent?”
    I inhale deeply and shut my eyes, thinking only of that room and I do smell detergent strongly, along with fabric softener and dryer sheets. Normally, stuff like that always gives me intense headaches, but not this time. It’s as if I’m immune.
    “Yeah, I do smell it,” I say and I’m starting to understand what his plan is.
    “Come on,” he says, taking my hand again.
    My heart is pounding in my chest as I follow him out into the open and toward the back of the house where the laundry room waits for us. We duck behind a large tractor, stop to look around to make sure no one is outside and then when Isaac feels it safe to continue, we dash across a long stretch of yard and make it to the high deck. I hear the cat purring inside more clearly now and I look up to notice a white fluff-ball curled up inside next to the window, sleeping. We inch our way around the deck and make it to the laundry room. He tries the knob, but it’s locked. I hear both the washing machine and dryer humming inside.
    I start to say something about needing a key, but just before the suggestion leaves my lips, the doorknob cracks and falls into Isaac’s hand, broken.
    “Isaac!” I whisper harshly. “Why’d you break it?”
    He turns at the waist to look at me. His gaze strays up and down my naked body, the grin on his face getting bigger. “As much as I like what I see,” he says, “if we don’t hurry and get dressed we run the risk of being found like this.”
    “Oh, right,” I say, now wanting to speed this theft up.
    The laundry room door creaks open and we slip inside the tiny room barely large enough to contain both of us at the same time. Isaac pulls open the dryer and a mound of clothes tumble round and round before coming to a full stop. A few pieces of clothing fall out and onto the floor. We both crouch low and start sifting through the items, which I’m glad are fully dry already.
    Isaac jerks out a pair of tan slacks and holds them up, but he doesn’t examine them long before he’s slipping his naked legs down into them.
    “Hurry up,” he says, motioning toward the dryer.
    Gah! It’s mostly old lady clothes! One by one I pull out something hideous and flowery, not to mention oversized by at least two sizes. Holy shit, is that a moo-moo ? Embarrassed to even be holding something so un-sexy in front of Isaac, I shove it deep into the dryer.
    “Someone’s here,” Isaac says peeking around the door. “Hurry up!”
    My heart beats even faster now and the nervousness is starting to make me a little nauseous. I’m not sure which scares me more: getting caught stealing someone’s laundry, or getting caught butt-naked stealing someone’s laundry.
    “Adria,” Isaac says from above, still watching from the door, “this isn’t a fashion show. Doesn’t matter what it looks like, just grab something, quick.”
    Without thinking about it, I reach inside and yank out whatever my hand touches first, hoping like hell it’s not the moo-moo.
    A cream-colored granny slip-gown. Great. Just great. It’s almost as bad as the moo-moo, but Isaac’s right, there’s no time to be picky.
    I practically throw the gown over my body and feel how it literally engulfs me, falling past my hips and stopping just above my ankles.
    Isaac glances back at me. “Damn, you’re sexy,” he says, trying to hold in the laughter.
    I glare at him, letting him know I won’t forget that and he’ll be paying for it later.
    As we go to leave, the back door opens up onto the deck and an old lady with bluish-purple hair steps out, looking right at us. I sort of freeze and so does Isaac.
    “What—Hey! What are you doing with my clothes?” The woman’s eyes dart around the deck and then she waddles quickly over to the mop and takes it into her hand.
    “Time to go,” Isaac