concrete, I was happy.
A slight breeze carrying the scent of cedars and dry earth touched by starlight brushed my face as I walked over to my bed. Reaching into my bag, I found my cell phone and flipped it open. To my dismay, the brightly-lit display showed that there was no reception in the Hills. I stepped close to the window and pressed myself against the wall, holding my open phone as high as I could with one hand. No luck. I sighed in frustration.
“Communication with the outside world is forbidden,” said Molly, narrowing her green-gold eyes into a mockingly severe expression. “You are our prisoner. ”
“Great,” I replied dryly, snapping my phone shut. “I get to sit around a fire for four hours every night and stare blankly at you.”
“We don’t just stare blankly at each other,” retorted Molly. “We have good conversations. There’s nothing to distract you. Nothing to hide behind.”
“Nothing to hide behind,” I repeated thoughtfully, sitting on my bed. I idly searched through my bag for sleeping clothes. Then I glanced over at Molly’s bed as she pulled off her shirt. “What’s that?”
“What’s what?” Molly glanced down unconcernedly, holding her shirt in one hand. Her whole pale body tensed, and then she shrugged, picking up the envelope from her pillow. “Just a letter I got the last day we were back at school.”
“Who’s it from?” Finally finding a worn t-shirt and comfortable shorts, I stood and peeled off my shirt.
“No one important.” Molly’s voice was muffled as she pulled on her oversize sleeping shirt. “And speaking of unimportant people, finish changing so that Austin can come in. He said he wouldn’t look up in the loft, but you know how boys are.”
As I slipped my shorts up to my hips, Molly strode over to the window and pulled it shut with a definitive snap. I protested. “Hey, I liked the breeze.”
“You just like to complain,” Molly said as she slid under the covers. “If you get hot, just flip on the ceiling fan.” She yawned. “Besides, no bugs can get in now.”
“There’s a great invention called window screens that takes care of that,” I muttered. We settled onto our beds.
“Are y’all decent? Can I come in?” came Austin’s voice from below us, accompanied by the creak of the front door.
I waited for Molly to answer. After a second, I glanced over at her and saw her profile in the half-dark, lit by the soft glow of the moon through the window. She held a sheet of paper in one hand—the contents of the envelope on her pillow—and from the frown on her face I guessed she didn’t like what she was reading.
“Moll?” Austin tried again.
I cleared my throat.
Molly blinked. “Yeah,” she said finally, her voice scratchy. “You can come in.”
Austin noisily prepared for bed, banging things around in the semi-darkness. The one light that illuminated the main room was on the ceiling fan, which shone into the loft as well. I cringed sympathetically as I heard his shin connect solidly with the leg of the table by the couch. His muffled curses drifted up to the ceiling, lingering against the polished wood like bats roosting in a cave.
I closed my eyes and forced myself to stop thinking about how I missed the smooth flat farmland of Pennsylvania among these rocky hills. The mysterious letter on Molly’s pillow drifted to the front of my thoughts, and I let it stay there for a few moments, floating like a leaf on the surface of a pond until I felt the slow heavy tides of sleep catch hold of my mind.
Chapter 2
I n the night I dreamed that there was a tapping at the window. I sat up, holding the quilt to my chest and squinting sleepily. The tapping came again and I slid out of bed, tiptoeing to the window. I peered out into the darkness and saw a small bluish glow hovering level with the window a few feet away, circling. In the peculiar way of dreams, I knew that the little glow wanted me to open the window. I wedged my
A slight breeze carrying the scent of cedars and dry earth touched by starlight brushed my face as I walked over to my bed. Reaching into my bag, I found my cell phone and flipped it open. To my dismay, the brightly-lit display showed that there was no reception in the Hills. I stepped close to the window and pressed myself against the wall, holding my open phone as high as I could with one hand. No luck. I sighed in frustration.
“Communication with the outside world is forbidden,” said Molly, narrowing her green-gold eyes into a mockingly severe expression. “You are our prisoner. ”
“Great,” I replied dryly, snapping my phone shut. “I get to sit around a fire for four hours every night and stare blankly at you.”
“We don’t just stare blankly at each other,” retorted Molly. “We have good conversations. There’s nothing to distract you. Nothing to hide behind.”
“Nothing to hide behind,” I repeated thoughtfully, sitting on my bed. I idly searched through my bag for sleeping clothes. Then I glanced over at Molly’s bed as she pulled off her shirt. “What’s that?”
“What’s what?” Molly glanced down unconcernedly, holding her shirt in one hand. Her whole pale body tensed, and then she shrugged, picking up the envelope from her pillow. “Just a letter I got the last day we were back at school.”
“Who’s it from?” Finally finding a worn t-shirt and comfortable shorts, I stood and peeled off my shirt.
“No one important.” Molly’s voice was muffled as she pulled on her oversize sleeping shirt. “And speaking of unimportant people, finish changing so that Austin can come in. He said he wouldn’t look up in the loft, but you know how boys are.”
As I slipped my shorts up to my hips, Molly strode over to the window and pulled it shut with a definitive snap. I protested. “Hey, I liked the breeze.”
“You just like to complain,” Molly said as she slid under the covers. “If you get hot, just flip on the ceiling fan.” She yawned. “Besides, no bugs can get in now.”
“There’s a great invention called window screens that takes care of that,” I muttered. We settled onto our beds.
“Are y’all decent? Can I come in?” came Austin’s voice from below us, accompanied by the creak of the front door.
I waited for Molly to answer. After a second, I glanced over at her and saw her profile in the half-dark, lit by the soft glow of the moon through the window. She held a sheet of paper in one hand—the contents of the envelope on her pillow—and from the frown on her face I guessed she didn’t like what she was reading.
“Moll?” Austin tried again.
I cleared my throat.
Molly blinked. “Yeah,” she said finally, her voice scratchy. “You can come in.”
Austin noisily prepared for bed, banging things around in the semi-darkness. The one light that illuminated the main room was on the ceiling fan, which shone into the loft as well. I cringed sympathetically as I heard his shin connect solidly with the leg of the table by the couch. His muffled curses drifted up to the ceiling, lingering against the polished wood like bats roosting in a cave.
I closed my eyes and forced myself to stop thinking about how I missed the smooth flat farmland of Pennsylvania among these rocky hills. The mysterious letter on Molly’s pillow drifted to the front of my thoughts, and I let it stay there for a few moments, floating like a leaf on the surface of a pond until I felt the slow heavy tides of sleep catch hold of my mind.
Chapter 2
I n the night I dreamed that there was a tapping at the window. I sat up, holding the quilt to my chest and squinting sleepily. The tapping came again and I slid out of bed, tiptoeing to the window. I peered out into the darkness and saw a small bluish glow hovering level with the window a few feet away, circling. In the peculiar way of dreams, I knew that the little glow wanted me to open the window. I wedged my
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