Nature witch thingy

chapter one

“Autumn,” my mom gracefully swept into my small, nature themed bedroom without so much as a knock. “I’m-“

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” I interrupted witheringly, not even bothering to glance up from the book I’m reading. “I’ll take care of Issac.”

Out of the corner of my eye I saw her hesitate in the doorframe made of old, weathered logs. Was she thinking of apologizing for leaving me with Issac ever since he was born? Was she going to apologize for forgetting our birthdays? Was she going to apologize for never cooking dinner for us, never spending time with us, never asking us how our day was?

I froze, holding my breath.

We stay there in silence for a minute.

I dared to glance up from my book. Time seemed to slow down.

My mother turned and left me lying in my room feeling like I’d just watched someone die.

I stared back into the book I was reading, the words blurring into little black blobs on the paper. My eyes burned.

No, I told myself, She’s not worthy of my tears.

I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand before the tears hit the pages of my book and smeared the words. I ignore the lump in my throat, and in a swift motion I slammed my book shut and roll off my dark green bed sheets and onto the hard wooden floor.

“Issac!” I called. “We’re heading out!”

The three year old toddled into my room. “Leave!” He squealed softly.

“Yes,” I agreed, smiling. I flattened his blue plaid romper and took his hand. “Are you ready?”

He nodded and grasped my pointer finger with his tiny, chubby hand.

I blew out all the tall, melted candles that lit up our cottage on our way out the door. Still hand in hand, Issac and I walked toward the little stone bench we have in our garden. Oh yeah, did I mention that my family lives in a small cottage in the middle of a forest? Well, we do.

I peeked under the bench. Sure enough, there was my little skateboard. It was your classic wood skateboard in need of repair. The edges of the rough black top were peeling. The wheels were no longer shiny and black from years of use. I crouched down and ran my fingers over the worn wood. It held many memories, most about the countless hours spent skating through life. Skating, skating, skating.

I picked up the skateboard and brushed dirt off my jeans. I grabbed my helmet from behind a small plant my mom didn’t care about and clipped it on.

“Ready, Issac?” I asked as I clipped the small, blue helmet I fetched on his head. Sure, it was old and weathered after years of sitting in the back shed like a piece of junk, but it works just fine.

We started walking down the trail I found. Our cottage is so hidden it takes forever to get in and out of it. I guess that was my moms plan when she made us live here.

I glanced up at the canopies the trees were making above us. Their leaves were making music with the wind to background a barred-owl’s soft hoot.

I looked down from the canopies and at Issac to make sure he was doing all right. He walks for less than a quarter of our journey and always calls for “uppy” sometime soon.

“Oh! Look, Issac! You’re green!” I giggled, looking at my skateboard, which I was hauling behind me. It was also tinted green from the sun shining through the leaves.

As we continued our journey through the peaceful forest trail, Issac soon tapped my leg and said, “Uppy!”

“Alright, buddy,” I picked him up in one swift motion and, still lugging the skateboard behind me, positioned him on my hip. I gave him a little kiss on the forehead and asked, “Is that better?”

Without waiting for an answer, I continued down the trail, comforting him as the sounds of nature enveloped us both. I had done this countless times before, and I knew that he first wanted me to keep him in my hip, then about ten minutes later will want to be on my back for the rest of the journey. I didn’t mind carrying him, anyway. I’d been doing it since he was a baby. With every walk, almost every day, he got a little bigger, and I got a little stronger. Really, it was a win-win situation.

After more minutes and a repetitive amount of walking, we finally arrived at the nearest neighborhood. I gently prodded Isaac off my back and onto the concrete sidewalk.

“Here we go,” I said, pulling my skateboard onto the concrete and putting my foot on the front of it. Even though we’ve been doing this for ages, we Issac is still wary of my skateboard. He’s usually fine when he gets on it, though.

A minute later, we were zooming through the neighborhood the fastest we could go, which wasn’t really that fast because I had to keep Issac between my legs, move the board, and change directions.

Even though it was a challenge, I wouldn’t have it any other way. Skating is part of me. It’s like the roots of a plant- it keeps me on the earth instead of letting me fly away with the harsh wind of sorrow and worry.

I leaned down slightly to grab Issacs shoulders as we made our last turn into the driveway of my best friend’s house.

Clara Foster lives in a small, creamy colored house with a brown roof and spotless white shutters with a red trim around their light blue door. It has always remind me of a gingerbread house with whipped-cream for the shutters and chocolate for the tiles on the roof. It was always warm and homey with the scent of honey lingering in the inside.

Issac and I slid to a stop before stepping off the skateboard and leaning it on a potted plant next to Clara’s front door. Before I could ring the doorbell the door flew open and there stood Clara, looking as optimistic as always.

“Hi, Autumn! Hi, Issac!” She said in a sing-song voice.

“Hi!” I said, trying to match her enthusiasm by making my green eyes wide and putting a smile on my pale face.

Clara flashed a dimpled smile. “Come in! I was thinking since last time you taught me how to skateboard,” she said as she ushered us in and towards her room, wasting no time to say what was on her mind, “that this time I could teach you how to surf! But only if you want to. We don’t have to. We could stay here if you want!” Clara added quickly.

“Cool! I’m all for it!” I reassured her with a grin. Clara is my best friend, and I’m hers, but sometimes she gets really nervous when she makes a suggestion. She thinks it makes her seem super controlling.

“Awesome!” Clara swiftly closed her bedroom door and started to look through her drawers. “I should have an extra swimsuit in here somewhere…”

I reached down and picked up Issac. He twirled my wavy black hair as I placed him onto my hip.

“Aha!” Clara startled me, being so loud she sounded like she was an army exclaiming a battle cry.

“Gosh, Clara, you scared me,” I exhaled, giggling a bit.

“Sorry, sorry!” She apologized. “Here! Do you like it?” She held up a one piece bodysuit. It had a black base with purple polka dots. Clara checked the tag and nodded. “It’s your size, too!” Because best friends just know that sort of stuff.

"Wow, it’s perfect!" I praised her choice, admiring the style and the vibrant color.

She grinned and took Issac from my arms. Anyone else I would’ve batted away, but her I would trust with my life. She gave me the swimsuit and exited the room so I would have the privacy to change out of my skinny jeans and yellow t-shirt.

After I finished changing I sat on Clara’s fluffy brown couch and gave her a chance to change herself. Issac squealed as I sat him on my knee and played “Horsey,” with him.

“Oh no! The horse is getting faster! Hold on Issac!” I bounced my knee up and down a little bit faster, making Issac giggle.

“Ready, Issac?” I lifted my knee high off the ground, tilting him back and catching him in my arms. “The horsey bucked you!”

Issac grinned and I smiled back.

“Swimsuit? Waiting on the couch? Do you kids plan on heading somewhere?” A voice said from behind me. I froze and turned around. Clara’s mother was standing in the doorframe that led from the kitchen into the living room.

“Oh, Clara was going to take me surfing, that’s all.” I said, feeling guilty for some reason. Clara’s mother has deep green eyes that seem to stare into your soul. Whenever she was around me, it made me feel uncomfortable and even kind of scared.

“Sounds cool. I’m going out with Justin in a little bit, so tell me when you’re leaving and call me if you need me, okay?” Clara’s mom was dating a man named Justin, and as far as I knew, he was nice enough and treated them both well.

“Mhm. Thanks!” I said as Clara’s mom disappeared into her large bedroom, ending our short interaction.

Clara emerged from her plant-themed bathroom. I felt bad, as I had changed into her lovely, large bedroom while she got into her swimsuit in her cramped bathroom.

“Ready to go?” My best friend practically bounced around in joy. The energy radiating off her was so strong that I stood up and grinned. Issac wrapped his little hand around my pointer finger again. I smiled down at him, realizing just how much he had grown since my mother brought him to me unexpectedly three years ago.

Clara led us out of the cozy home and into the scorching hot sun. We started down the sidewalk, Clara humming cheerfully.

“Uppy?” Issac questioned me, who looked down at his pale little face. I ruffled his short dark hair and promptly lifted his small body.

The sun beat down relentlessly as we made our way to the nearby beach, Clara leading the way with excitement. Words couldn’t explain how happy I was that we were friends, and had been able to continue our striving friendship. I really did like her a lot, and wouldn’t want our friendship to end for the world. As we walked onto the sand, I thought about the memories we had made together and the adventures that were still to come.

“Okay, listen up,” Clara stood in front of me, playfully pretending to be menacing. I shifted Issac to my other hip. “Here’s what you do.”

She started to walk toward the water.

“Wait!” I called. She paused her feet, still protected by her green shoes, in the soft sand. “Shouldn’t we get situated first? I mean, you’re still wearing your shoes.”

“Oh,” she giggled, “right.”

She returned to my side. “Oh, shoot,” she smacked her hand to her freckle covered forehead. “I forgot to bring a chair, or even a blanket.”

“Hmm..” I thought for a moment. “We could take turns, and Issac can sit under that tree-“ I pointed to a green palm tree a few feet away-“and we can let him sit on my surf board and just take turns with yours.”

Clara shrugged, seeming unsure. “I dunno. Would that be safe?”

"It should be fine; we'll keep an eye on him," I said, feeling confident that we could make it work.

I took my first glance out at the ocean since we arrived on the hot beach. Suddenly, I doubted my ability to keep Issac safe while out on those hungry waves. Thousands of mysterious things lived in those violent waters.

“How about-“ Clara said as if she were reading my mind. “I call a friend and she can look after Issac! She babysits all the time; I’m sure Issac will love her!”

I hesitated. The idea of a random girl Clara made friends with looking after my baby brother made me sick. I quickly pushed the throbbing nausea deep down, imagining it flying far away from the beach and quickly put on my best excited face to cover up my fear and concern. It wasn’t like I had any better ideas, unless I wanted to put Issac in the middle of the sleepless ocean on a surf board.

“Sure!” I replied, not knowing what to expect next.

chapter two

Me and Issac played four games of tick-tack-toe, built a sandcastle and pretended to save it from imaginary enemies (a bunch of leaves), gathered a bunch of seashells to bring home, and sat through an on-land demonstration (taught by Clara) about how to ride the surf board before the girl who would be babysitting Issac finally arrived.

Clara ran up to her friend and gave her a huge hug that must’ve squeezed the wind out of her. I quickly grabbed Issacs hand as if the girl would snatch him up and take him away as soon as Clara let go.

“Okay, so Autumn, this is Ophelia,” Clara said, gesturing to the pretty girl next to her. I gave a polite smile and received a small wave in return. “And Ophelia, this is Autumn!” Clara continued cheerfully with a clap of her hands.

There was a small silence as I studied Ophelia, trying to decide if she was trustworthy or not. I judged Clara wasn’t lying when she said Ophelia babysat often. She held herself confidently but seemed more muted then Clara was. I could see a spark of playfulness in her hazel eyes followed by patience and understanding; which I learned is essential around toddlers.

I looked away before the silence got too awkward and started rambling on about Issac and how he was scared of dogs and has never been on the beach before and how he could change his emotions in seconds. Ophelia nodded kindly. She probably experienced lots of worried parents—or in my case, teenagers—who were afraid to leave their kids at first. Finally, Clara was the one to interrupt me.

“Ophelia’s got this!” She said, grabbing my arm and pulling me out of the sand before I could protest. She shoved an old yellow surfboard in my arms and dragged me off to the ocean.

We trudged against the repetitive waves and attached a Velcro cuff to our wrist so our surf boards wouldn’t get swept away like pieces of kelp.

Whenever I thought of oceans I always pictured romantic sunsets and calm blue waves with silver dolphins jumping in the distance. What I didn’t imagine was getting gritty sand in my swimsuit and salt water up my nose.

“Almost to the good spot!” Clara said as she gracefully held onto her surf board, a small wave carrying it up and back down. I copied her with a less graceful result. Clara was born for these waves, unlike me who preferred solid ground where I knew nothing could float away or pull me under water.

Clara stopped and hung onto her board. I could keep my entire head above the water if I stood on my tip-toes but I decided Clara probably knew best and copied her floating-but-standing position.

“I think you should start by riding the board on your belly.” She said, immediately jumping to business. I nodded and remembered the position she showed me and Issac on our land-demonstration. Suddenly, I was grateful I didn’t drag Issac out here to do this with us. The ocean wasn’t the most pleasant place. I turned and squinted, managing to make out Ophelia and Issac digging some kind of hole in the sand.

I felt a small pang of jealously that Ophelia was so good with kids that even my little brother liked her. But also, immense relief that he was happy, and that hopefully I had just found a reliable person to care for him in my absence. Clara turned back to me.

"Okay, let's give it a try," she said, flashing me a reassuring smile that brought my focus back onto the surfing we were about to attempt. I gripped the board, feeling the ocean's sway beneath me, and summoned all my courage to ride the incoming wave.

I immediately fell backwards and was promptly swept away to shore. Clara giggled in a friendly manner.

“Don’t worry, it takes time and practice!” She said in between snorts of laughter.

I scrambled to my feet, still a bit embarrassed, and tried to brush the wet sand off my legs and arms. I don’t like sand. It gets everywhere and it takes ten showers to get out of your hair. But I like the beach, generally speaking, and I like Clara, so I come here frequently anyway.

I pulled my wrist, pulling my board back to me. Thank goodness these things have straps.

I trudged back to Clara who was still waiting for me at our spot. My eyes started watering and Clara picked up the reason.

“Feels good, doesn’t it? Salt water up your nose?”

“I love it.” I replied sarcastically.

“You’ll get used to it. Try again!”

The last thing I wanted was to try again. I looked at the waves coming towards us and back at the beach. People were lying in the hot sun on beach towels, Issac and Ophelia were sitting next to a big pile of shells with smiles on their faces, a couple was taking a stroll with melting ice cream in their hands.

“Hey, look at that.” I said, trying to stall getting back on the board.

Clara looked where I was pointing and laughed. “Birds here are crazy aren’t they?”

A white seagull was stealing food right from a persons bag without them noticing. The bird ran off as if its loot were gold.

“And look at that!” Clara exclaimed. I followed where her finger was pointing. My blood seemed to freeze up when I found what she was pointing at. “A dress at the beach? That’s crazy!”

All I could do was nod, my gaze fixated on the woman. She was wearing a long, green, ankle length dress. Her corset was black and laced up the front. Her long, wavy black hair perfectly complemented her pale skin. Her boots were the color of a fawns silky coat.

In other words, minus the outfit choices, she looked just like me.

I faked a laugh when I turned back to reality. Turning my face away from shore where my mother stood.

“I should probably take Issac home soon, he tires quickly.” I lied. Clara gave a face of pity and slight confusion. We just started surfing and I wanted to go home? Mighty suspicious. I searched my mind for another lie. A backup. “Besides, I’m starting to come up with a cold. I don’t want to get you sick anymore than I have to.”

“That’s okay.” Clara said, though confusion still lingered in her tone.

We caught a wave back and surprisingly I didn’t fall off the board this time, which was a big achievement even though I was on my stomach the whole time. I smiled as Clara did a happy dance and pulled me to my feet.

“You did it!”

“Sure did!” I said, hiding behind my hair cautiously. I tried to reassure myself in my head. It’s not like my mom would care I went to the beach and left Issac with a stranger, right?

Me and Clara walked over to where Issac and Ophelia were sitting, lugging our boards behind us.

“Time to go home, buddy!” I said, grabbing his hand and pulling him up. I brushed the sand off his clothes and made him a little wet in the process.

“Well that was quick!” Ophelia commented in her cheerful tone.

“Yeah, Autumn isn’t feeling too good.” Clara said as she handed me a towel. I took it gratefully and started drying off.

“Time to go, Issac.” I said.

“No!” He squealed. I could feel my heart hammering in my chest. I told Clara that Issac tired easily, didn’t I? This sure didn’t look like it.

I reached for Issac but he scrambled back to the pile of shells he and Ophelia found.

“We have to get home, Issac.” I said in a stricter tone. His face grew red.

“No! Stay.”

“Buddy, I know you wanna stay but we have to go home now.” I crouched down next to him.

“Maybe he wants to take a shell home.” Ophelia popped in. I couldn’t help but resent her for putting herself into me and Issacs business.

Issac grabbed one of the biggest shells and started playing around with it. After a little while and some fake-leaving, I finally gave in.

“Take the shell. Let’s go home.”

We stopped by Clara’s house to change back into our regular clothes and then we took off on the skateboard back home. About halfway there me and Issac stumbled off the board and landed heavily on the ground. Isaac landed on top of me and tears welled in his eyes. I cringed as he started wailing.

Loudly.

The whole neighborhood could probably hear it.

“It’s okay—“

“And I thought you and Issac were playing with toys at home.” A familiar voice interrupted.

It couldn’t be.

I glanced up.

Uh oh.

chapter three

“Well we were—well—but I thought we needed a change—of scenery!” I stuttered, helping Issac up and trying to calm him down before angry people started sticking their heads out their doors.

It was hard to use a calming tone when above me my mother loomed, her eyes angry and harsh. Her facial features were jagged in anger. I could almost imagine smoke coming out of her ears.

“Home. Now. Grounded.” My mother fumed. She picked up Isaac, who started resisting and wailing harder, and grabbed my shoulder, her nails piercing into my skin.

I quickly grabbed my skateboard and dragged it behind as she marched us home. It must’ve been a sight for the neighborhood watching us parade down. I felt relieved when we dissolved into the forest, away from the eyes and judgmental faces.

“What. Were. You. Thinking.” My mom growled.

“I told you. We wanted a change of scenery. Something different than that boring old house.” I said, my brain seeking for ways to build around my lie. To strengthen it. To make it more believable. “Maybe if we had more things to do we wouldn’t leave.”

“Don’t twist the blame on me, young lady. I give you more than most people do.”

“I don’t doubt it, but most people at least let their kids explore. Let their kids make friends!”

“That’s why you have Issac.” She said simply. A lump formed in my throat. She wanted a 13 year old to be friends with a 3 year old? How would that even work out? Issac can barely speak sentences!

“You wouldn’t understand.” I mumbled. The rest of the walk was in silence. Just the leaves crunching beneath our feet and the sound of the wind blowing through the leaves above. All animals seemed to disappear from sight. I heard not even a cardinal, but it’s not as if I was listening.

A 13 year old.

Best friends with a 3 year old.

A teenager with a toddler.

Stuck in the same house.

Everyday.

All day.

No break.

Only each other.

That’s what my mom wanted. Innocent, angel children that love each other so much, who to play and have fun while she runs off and does what? What does she even do while we are stuck in that prison? Something more important than watching her kids grow up? Surely not. She is selfish. Selfish.

Every thought in my head made my heart heavier and made it harder to breathe. By the time we got to our house I couldn’t even swallow. Maybe it was because I was trying to hold back tears, but either way it wouldn’t disappear. I knew I couldn’t speak or everything would just dump out. It felt like the weight of my resentment and frustration had settled right in my chest, making it difficult to move or speak. I wanted to cry, but it’s not like my mom would hold me in her arms and kiss my head and tell me it’ll be alright. No, she’s likely just frown down at me, maybe even tell me to suck it up.

Maybe if I’d spend a little more time with her I’d know. No, if she spends more time with me.

As soon as my mom unlocked the cottage door I grabbed Issac from her arms and stomped upstairs, handing him a toy horse of mine to play with as I flopped on the bed. Tears started streaming down. Tears that I’ve been holding back every time I heard the front door close.

What did my mom have in mind? Was she thinking about our future, or were we just obstacles she had to deal with? Was I an obstacle she had to deal with? I cared for Issac my whole life and he never caused any problems. I practically raised him.

An obstacle.

I had probably made her want to kick me out of her house, mind, and life.

But keep Issac.

Because I'm the problem. Not her. I make all the stupid mistakes and will always be a failure in her mind.

I lay on my bed and stared up at the wood ceiling, trying to control my racing thoughts. Did I really mean all of this?

"Autumn!" I hear my mom call out. I don't respond and she yells for me again, in a stricter tone. "Autumn. Come here." I hesitated, not wanting to face another lecture, but eventually decided I was in no place to argue and rushed down the stairs.

"Yes?" I tried, testing the waters, holding on to the wood doorframe and leaning into the kitchen.

My mom turned toward me, lifting her sharp jaw in a regal manner. "We need to talk, Autumn."

I clenched my jaw, my own frustration bubbling to the surface. "What do you mean?" I shot back, trying to keep my voice steady despite the rising anger I felt.

My mom thrust her arms toward me, her eyes flashing with irritation. "You went out of this house," she snapped. "You've been gallivanting around outside of the forest, taking Issac with you, and you speak like you've just been playing around here, all innocent!

"So what if I've been taking Issac out?" I retorted, my voice rising with each word. "He deserves to see more than just the stupid forest, Mom! He deserves to have some fun for once in his life!"

My mom's scowl deepened, her eyes flashing with anger.

"Don't you dare talk to me like that, young lady," she spat, her voice low and dangerous.

But I was beyond caring about her threats. "You don't know anything about us!" I yelled, my voice echoing off the walls of the cottage. "You don't know what it's like to be cooped up in here all the time, with no one to talk to but each other! You don't know what it's like to want more, to want to see the world beyond these dumb trees! You don't know my favorite book," My voice was shaking with anger as I held out a trembling arm, slowly approaching my mother, "You don't know my favorite color. Heck, you don't even know Issac's favorite food."
 "Close your mouth right now!" Mom demanded.

No. She's my mom.

Not Mom.

My mom.

"I do so much for you!" She continued, shaking her head furiously.

"No, you don't." 

"You have a roof over your head. You have food. You have a little brother. You have all the books you've ever asked for!"

"I barely even know your name. In my head, I don't call you Mom. I call you my mom because that's what you are. You weren't here for me when Issac was just an infant." The words are spilling out of me now and I can't even stop them, along with the tears, "I taught myself how to change diapers. I taught myself how to change baby clothes. I taught myself, as a ten year old, how to raise a whole baby, a whole freaking human being. The least you could've done is been there and helped. So go ahead, my mom, tell me that I have the basic necessities of life. And answer my question while you're at it. What is my favorite color?"  

Silence. My mom looks stunned. "Pink?" She guesses. Wow, she has more nerve than I thought. 

"Wrong," Tears drip down my face and I hear Issac wailing upstairs, no doubt awakened from the noise, "It's green. Do you know why, May Brooks?"

"I... No."

"Because it reminds me of you. All these years of you abandoning me and I still looked up to you. But now I see you are selfish." And with that, I turn and race out of the room as fast as I can, wiping tears away and running to get Issac.

I opened my bedroom doors to see him crying on the floor. I left him. Just like my mom left me.

I crouched on the floor, soothing him. Making sure he will never feel like me.

“Let’s go to bed, okay?” I said, calming down as I carried him down the hall and into his room.

I set him down in his crib and hand him a stuffed animal from the ground. I lit a candle and sat on the floor next to his bed, rocking the crib back and forth.

He fell asleep first, but it didn’t make me long after to softly cry myself to sleep.

A few hours later after I’ve woken up I head downstairs, praying my mom left. That’s a change. I rub the sleep from my eyes and gingerly head into the kitchen. I pour myself a glass of water and try to compose myself as I lean against the counter, the events of the morning still lingering in my mind.

It went from fun with Clara to my mom yelling at me. I still couldn’t believe it.

I take a sip of my water before setting it down on the counter a little harder than necessary. It makes a satisfying clank against the wood. As I swallow, I stare at the swishing water inside, so close to spilling over the edge yet able to settle before it goes too far.

Maybe that’s what I need to do.

Settle and take this in before I go too far and do something I might regret.

I take a deep breath and sort through all the searing questions in my mind, trying to find the one most important one to answer.

What now?

“What now?” I repeat out loud, my voice shaky.

Am I supposed to stay here with Issac the rest of my life? Am I supposed to protest? Am I supposed to secretly sneak out anyways? It’s not like Mom would notice.

Yet that was the exact thing I said to myself all those other times.

And somehow she found us.

So what if I do keep us in here forever? How will we get food? How will we keep busy? There was only so much cleaning I could do. How would we learn? No books from the library, no Google. How would— I cut myself off when I started asking the next question. No. Staying wasn’t a possibility.

So? What if I go? There was only so much my mom could do to punish us.

Punish me.

I imagined myself being pushed into the street by my mother, holding Issac and marching off into the forest.

No.

I couldn’t let that happen either.

I sighed and took another sip of water.

Would my mom come to her senses if I proposed a good enough argument?

Maybe.

It was the only plan I had.

Before I could stop myself I walked outside. The cool breeze gave me goosebumps but I didn’t care.

I slipped on my boots and walked down the creaky steps of the house. I needed a distraction. Something to keep me from doing something I’d regret.

I wasn’t supposed to go outside, that’s what the note my mom left me said. I was supposed to stay inside and wait for her to come home. And when she comes home? More time inside! I walk around the house to the backyard. There were lifted pathways made by large bricks pushed loosely together. Pots of overgrown plants and weeds were everywhere, growing up poles and tangling together. I carefully walked down the path until I was in the middle of the garden.

Old, overgrown. My mom had a tendency to somehow acquire a bunch of plants and leave them to do as they want. In my eyes, it made a mess. In hers, it was ‘natural.’

My eyes burned. Maybe she thought it was ‘natural’ to leave her kids alone just like she left her plants.

I crouched down, balancing on a wobbly brick and ran my hands across the soil. Soft and earthy smelling.

I twisted my finger around what I hoped was a weed and yanked it out with much more force than I needed to. Dirt caught in the roots and flew everywhere. I grabbed another weed and pulled. And another. I made it my goal to clear out this garden. I don’t know why, but I promised myself that it would be cleared out. As a reason to be outside, or maybe to prove to my mom that sometimes things are better well kept and neat.

I worked for a while, tugging on chunks of grass and getting a fair amount of dirt in my fingernails during the process, but it was worth it. I kept working until Issac let me know that he was awake by wailing and calling my name.

I cleaned my hands off on the grass and jogged inside.

I lifted Issac out of his crib and knelt down on the floor with him.

“Do you wanna play outside?” I asked, grabbing him fresh clothes to change into.

“Play!” He repeated and I gave him a smile.

There’s no way my mom would get me in trouble for taking Issac to a garden right outside our house. As she would word it, we would be ‘spending quality time with the great outdoors.’

I took Issacs hand after getting him changed and led him outside. I didn’t bother step out of my boots coming inside so there was a trail of dirt on the hard wooden floors. I’d clean it up later.

“Have you been to the garden, Issac?” I asked. He was too distracted by a bird in the distance to respond, pointing and imitating its call. “I’ll take that as a no.”

I helped Issac up on to the brick path so he wouldn’t trip and he immediately toddled over to a patch of clovers growing in between the cracks.

“I’m going to be just over there.” I pointed to the section I started clearing out. “How about you try to find a clover with four leaves? It’ll give you good luck.”

He sat down on his bottom and started digging up the clovers, which wasn’t really what I asked of him but I suppose I would’ve cleared them out later anyways.

I pulled out weeds and gathered dirt, keeping an eye on Issac to make sure he didn’t get near any of the broken glass. He seemed perfectly fine digging up clovers and making dirt-mountains.

We ‘played’ outside for hours. Every now and then I’d identify a bird in the distance for Issac and sometimes he would come help me pull up weeds. The task eventually got quite repetitive, but it was better than behind stuck inside playing Candy-Land all day. Besides, I had a goal. I wasn’t going to leave this garden half-done. As the sun began to fall below the horizon, I decided to take one last look at our progress.

The path was still as awkward as ever, even though I tried to straighten to stones. There was still a lot left to do, but I couldn’t do anything more today. I was already risking it by being out this late. Who knew when my mom was going to comes back?

“Come on Issac, let go in to clean up.” I suggested.

Issac frowned up at me. “Play!” He cried.

I gently smiled at him. “How about,” I knelt down and took both of his hands in mine, “we play inside? Or I can read to you?”

“No.” Issac said, pulling away from me.

“You don’t want to get caught by momma again, do you?” I asked, picking him up. He squirmed in my arms.

I wasn’t quite sure if he’s old enough to realize what happened. Issac was squirming and began trying to remove my grip from him. Tears rolled down his soft baby face. As soon as I had completely dragged him in, I put him in the ground and held his little hands again.

“Issac, do you trust me?” I asked him, gently wiping away his tears.

He just kept crying and looking behind him. I reached over and held his chin.

“Hey, look at me,” Finally we made eye contact, “We can read a book? How’s that? Maybe tomorrow we can try to go to the bookstore and pick out a new book, huh? Maybe they’ll have a game we’ve never played! Or we can invent our own again.”

Issac finally stopped crying, and, when I opened my arms, he stepped in and hugged me back.

I knew it was a risk going to the bookstore tomorrow, but I promised Issac so I pretty much had to do it.

As I walked upstairs to give him a bath I brainstormed ways to make the trip a little less risky. My mom would probably be gone doing who knows what again, but even with that the trip would have to be short.

Unless…

chapter four

The next day my mom left early. My eyes opened immediately after I heard the house door creak shut. I got dressed and sneaked into Issacs room, praying he wouldn’t throw a fit.

“Hey buddy.” I said, “you ready to get some new books to read?”

I quickly changed him, fed us both a quick breakfast, and got ready to go. I took a deep breath as we stepped out the door and into the cold breeze.

“We’re gonna go to Clara’s, okay?”

We walked over to the stone bench and I peeked under, luckily, my skateboard was still there. Part of me was worried my mom would’ve thrown it in a fire, or worse, destroy it piece by piece in front of me as a punishment. It was a good thing “destroying” wasn’t really my mother’s nature, unless you count destroying your kids childhood.

Then she’s pretty much an expert.

We went through our usual routine, walking through the forest, skateboarding to Clara’s house. To Issac, it must’ve felt like a normal day.

But it wasn’t.

At least not to me.

I went slower on the skateboard than I usually did, considering I still had bruises on my knees from when we fell and my mom caught us. It felt good skating again. It just felt right bumping down the concrete instead of being stuck inside the cottage.

I turned the corner into Clara’s house and unbuckled Issacs helmet. My plan was for Clara to take Issac to the bookstore, and me to stay in her room. My mom wouldn’t recognize just a toddler with a girl, especially if the girl is tan and blond, opposite of her daughter. She had raised me and could probably recognize me from a distance, but she never comes around to see Issac and I bet she’s never changed a diaper of his in her life.

I grabbed Issacs hand and knocked on Clara’s door, getting up the nerve to explain my plan to her. I would need an excuse, wouldn’t I? Clara didn’t necessary know about my house in the forest, and telling her about my mom would raise a lot of questions, and I just wanted to get through this as fast as possible. Could I just say I was grounded? But then how would I have gotten here?

I bit my lip as Clara opened the door. Wait… that wasn’t Clara.

I stared up at the woman looming over me. Her eyes seemed to be reading my mind, studying me all over.

“Hi, Ms. Foster,” I said nervously, “I’m here to see Clara.”

“Yes, of course, Autumn. She’s in her room.” She said, letting me by. I could feel her eyes burning into my back as I turned down the hall towards Clara’s bedroom. I suddenly felt so exposed, though no one knew anything. Or did she? Could my mom have possibly ranted to her? Does she know?

I knocked on Clara’s door and she answered immediately.

“I thought I heard you out there! Come in!” She greeted, as excited as ever. I hoped she wasn’t going to suggest going surfing again. “Whatcha up to?”

“Hey, Clara,” I exhaled and entered the room, glancing around. She had rearranged the furniture recently, probably yesterday. Now the wardrobe was under her windowsill instead of her bed, probably because the heat from the window would warm her bed, which, she lays in a lot during the day. “Could I ask you a favor?”

“Yeah, sure, anything, you know that.” Clara takes Issac’s hand and walks him to the fluffy daybed. She leans down and sets him on it before taking a seat next to him. She pats the spot on her other side, and I walk over and sit down.

“So, I have a, uhm, strange request,” I stutter.

Clara gives me her ‘I’m here for you but I know you don’t need a shoulder to cry on but I’m still here for you because you’re my best friend and I love you’ look, when she tilts her head to the left slightly and widens her eyes a little, not breaking eye contact. It’s a creepy, but it’s also her being supportive so I don’t have the heart to tell her.

“Autumn?” She pries.

“Yes, sorry,” I snap out of it and smile at her. “Yes, so I have some uhm.. errands- well I’m going to the bookstore- but- no- you- you are.”

Clara blinks. “What?”

“I’m grounded, but I promised Issac a new book from that bookstore downtown he likes- you know, I’ve taken you there- so I was wondering if you could take him instead?” I cringe as I await her answer.

My lovely best friend just shrugs. “Sure, why not?”

I don’t know why I’m so worked up. She’s Clara. I’ve known her seven years. She’s my only friend, my best friend.

Maybe I should just tell her what’s really happening.

She can help.

“Autumn?”

I’m so lucky to have her.

“Are you okay?”

For the first time in our seven years of friendship, I throw my arms around her and embrace her tight.

“Okay, got it.” Clara and I say in unison, then nod and shake hands.

Here’s the plan.

Clara, Issac, and I walk out the Fosters’ front door. Then, Clara and Issac continue to the bookstore without me. I sneak out back and enter Clara’s room through her now unlocked window. Since she has a walk in closet, I’ll turn off the bedroom lights and stay in there until I hear a knock on the window. I’ll open it and run out front before entering the house with my two buddies.

If all goes well, Ms. Foster will never suspect anything!

“Come on, Issac buddy,” Clara takes my little brother’s hand and leads him next to her, me following closely behind.

As we enter the parlor, Clara calls out, “Mom, we’re going to the bookstore downtown!”

“Okay! Stay together and stay safe, please.” Ms. Foster yells back.

Our mission is ago.

As soon as Issac closes the door, (he insisted) I hug him and turn to the left. We had explained the plan to the toddler, but only time will tell if he was able to completely comprehend it.

I crouch and continue, staying below window level in case Ms. Angela Foster took a quick glance outside.

I open the bedroom window as quietly as I could, which, fortunately, wasn’t too loud. I clumsily hop over. My foot smacks into the newly arranged wardrobe which I had forgotten existed.

“Ow, dang it!” I whispered quietly. Continuing, I try my best to slide over the wooden furniture, hoping the clothes inside would weight it down enough to not move.

Finally, the pain had eased and I was successful. I tiptoe over to the light switch and flip it down, turning the lightbulb in the chandelier above off. I open the closet door, cringe as it squeals, and shut it behind me.

The closet has all of Clara’s jackets, long pants, her shoes, dresses, and just extra storage as well. I guess it never occurred to me that the Foster mom and daughter were doing pretty well in the money department.

Or I’m just neglected.

Probably both.

I grab a pillow off a high shelf, along with a blanket, and settle them onto the floor. The light’s off. I can’t read. I can’t sleep, in case I don’t hear the knock. There’s a little digital alarm clock, I know, but I just need to plug it in- assuming I find it, anyway.

I get on my knees and feel around, hoping my eyes will dilate a little more and let some light in.

Finally I find the right shape to be an alarm clock and locate the cord, find the end, and plug it into the wall.

A red 12:43 A.M fills the dark space. I guess that I’ve been on here for about seven minutes, based on my internal time clock. Do humans have those? I’ve always felt like I could accurately predict the time, even surrounded by nothing but forest all my life.

As I watch the time tick, I think back on my life.

Even as a young child, my mom would disappear at random times. She used to be gone for three hours, twice a week. Then five hours three times a week. Then all day every other day. Finally, I barely saw her.

Around the age of five, I tried exploring the forest. I was scared, but sometimes I just needed stuff, like when my mom would come home too tired to get more groceries. I would wake her up, crying, telling her to please get more food.

As I explored more of the outside world, I realized my mom wasn’t normal. One, she didn’t dress like the other people. Her dresses and corsets just weren’t modern. Two, families ate supposed to stick together. I would be walking down the streets, alert and wary, watching moms buying their children candy. I used to create stories in my head of when my mom would finally come back for good.

The library had computers. I would search stuff up, trying to figure out how to thrive.

At six, I met Clara. I was trying to play at a park, and annoyingly, she kept coming back and asking questions.

“What’s your name?”

“Where’s your mommy?”

“Do you like pink?”

“Have you watched Peppa pig before?”

Eventually, mostly just to get rid of her, we agreed to meet up the next day. Then, I felt too bad to turn her down, so I came back the next day. Then the next. And the next.

Best decision ever.

When I was ten, I was playing outside in the dirt when my mom came home earlier than usual.

She was holding a baby.

The next day, I for some reason wasn’t expecting my mom to leave again. But she did. I didn’t know what to do. I awkwardly brought my baby brother to Clara’s house. She was home alone when she answered the door. I explained everything, which confused her, but she was able to find some old diapers in her garage. We changed the baby and put him to sleep in Clara’s closet. Then we went to the grocery store and got baby formula.

Now, when Issac was a baby, he had very, very large eyes. I didn’t know what to name him, so I just called him Eye-Eye. Eventually my mom found out and actually laughed, because his birth name was Issac. She was going to change it to Augustus, so the whole family would match, but she changed her mind because she thought it was so funny.

She’s really weird like that.

Another thing that’s odd is that my mom was never pregnant. Once my ten year old self really thought about it, it didn’t make sense. I had seen my baby photos. Even as a newborn, I had thick, black hair. Issac was (and still is) blond with thin, fluffy hair. My mom wouldn’t have worn corsets if she was pregnant, right? And what did she mean by “birth name”?

So just to seal that deal, I’m 100% sure Issac is adopted, and I have zero clue who his real parents are, or if the whole thing was even legal.

chapter five

I had zoned out. The time was now 2:18 in the afternoon.

Where was my brother? This was such a bad idea, what was I thinking?

Frantically, I get off the floor and open the door. What if they had gotten kidnapped? I sat up and thought through what I should do.

911 wouldn’t likely appreciate a false alert, if it was false.

If I went out, i has the risk of my mom, or Clara’s mom catching me. But imagine how much trouble I would be in if I returned to the cottage without Issac. Even worse of Ms. Foster opened the closet for whatever reason she had to see me, staring at an alarm clock with my eyes wide in fear. She’d think I was burglar or something.

‘Former friend broke into house for no apparent reason.’

Definitely not a likely headline, but nothing should be considered impossible. I bit my lip and stalled for a minute, two, three.

What if they just came back and I was worrying for nothing?

Four.

Five.

Six.

I shook my head and stood up. I couldn’t take it anymore. I did trust Clara, but she should be back by now either way.

I slowly opened the closet door, thankful to see the light was still off and no one came into the room during my staring-into-space session.

I pushed the window open and slipped out, tumbling into the bushes. As I dusted off my clothes I heard a noise coming from inside.

Oh no.

In my panic, I slammed the window shut and dashed down the street, ducking behind a neighbors darkly-painted house. It almost looked haunted if you threw in some cobwebs and spiders. Definitely matched the mood I was feeling. Spooked, scared out of my skin-

I shook my head. None of this was important. Issac and Clara could be in trouble.

I dashed down the neighborhood, turning down corners and streets until I was finally in front of the bookstore, breathing heavily. I threw the doors open and walked straight to the kids section, where all the picture books were.

There were only a couple people in the room, most near the adult section.

A grey-haired cashier, two adults, one with black hair one with blonde, a man who—-

Wait.

I did a double take.

That was my mom.

And Ms. Foster?

Wasn’t she at home, walking into Clara’s room?

I figured it would not be a good idea to curse under my breath at the library, considering how quiet it was.

I ducked behind a bookshelf and sank to the floor, trying to think of a way out of this.

They didn’t see me, the door was right there.

I counted, telling myself on three I’d make a run for it.

One…

Two…

“We should get going,” Claras mom said, making her way towards the door.

I watched them leave with wide eyes. No way it was that close. No way. No way.

I closed my eyes, trying to regain a steady heart beat.

“Are you okay, honey?” A soft voice said, making my eyes snap open. The cashier.

“Fine, thank you!” I stood up and peaked out the bookstores window.

There they were, my mom and Clara’s walking down the street and… turning into an alleyway?

My brain scattered in every possible direction.

I didn’t know Clara’s mom knew mine. Did Ms. Foster snitch on me? Where were they going? Why would they be heading down an alleyway that leads no where?

No matter how much the cautious side of my brain argued, the curious side won.

I stepped out of the bookstore and slunk down the street. I peaked down the alleyway to see the forest that backed the whole town. It formed a large crescent around the town, and my house was hidden somewhere in there.

But my house is north, not south.

And why would my mom want to go with Angela Foster into the forest?

I took a deep breath and ran to the nearest tree, ducking behind it. I could hear a conversation going on between the women. I crawled into the bushes for better cover.

“Are you sure they said 2:35 P.M, not A.M?” Angela asked, “last time you messed that up.

My mother sighed, “Yes, Angela. I wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.”

“We’ll see.”

I crawled after them as they sunk deeper into the green forest. Time. They had to be meeting someone. But who?

I continue through the bushes, knowing I’d regret it later when I saw the scratches on my arms.

When I emerge from the other side of the brush, the parents are already nearly out of my sight.

“Oh, shoot,” I scramble to my legs and take off running, which honestly isn’t that fast, since the curiosity and worry for Issac and Clara are making me feel slightly faint. I promptly trip on a tree root and fall hard, springing my arms in front of me to break my fall. I curse under my breath, but get up Olympic-runner style and continue.

Finally, trying my best to not breathe too loudly despite my thumping heart, I catch up to the curious adults. They’re still talking about this meeting, or whatever it is.

“No, I think Autumn will have this,” My mom replies to something I didn’t quite catch. Wait- Autumn? Me?

“Oh, come on, May,” Ms. Foster snorts, “she’s so old you named your teen daughter after her. I’m pretty sure the only thing keeping her alive is that herb potion you spent days making.”

“Well,” my mom thinks for a moment, “perhaps if I ever tell my daughter the truth, she could carry on this legacy the old witch has created.”

Witch? Tell me what?

“So pick off where you failed to leave off?” Clara’s mom retorted.

“No- I mean, yes, but,” I’ve never heard my mom so taken aback. “Autumn… I don’t give her enough credit.”

Ms. Foster looks at her companion curiously, as do I. I’ve never heard my mother express any affection for me, except for that one little moment of sympathy the day she caught me. “Which Autumn?”

By this time I had to scoot closer to hear. I silently lift my foot up and…

SNAP!

I stepped on a twig.

“Did you hear that?” My mom suddenly whips around. I duck into the shadows just in time. I carefully spread open some branches and peak through the gap.

She’s looking right at me.

“I know you’re there,” my mother starts walking toward my bush at a rapid pace, her boots thumping into the ground as she walks. Clara’s mom is staring at my spot with her piercing eyes narrowed.

Slowly, I back up. My heart’s beating so fast I’m surprised I haven’t yet suffered from a heart attack.

“Show yourself.”

Suddenly my fight or flight instincts kick in. I sprint faster than ever before, out of the woods, tripping over roots and vines. I sprint into the neighborhood, rushing past confused pedestrians, all the way to Clara’s house. I can feel tears in my eyes, but I won’t let them fall. I’m not even sure what emotion they come from, I’m so confused right now.

I run across the side of the gingerbread looking house my best friend lives in. I use all my remaining strength to open the window and crawl inside.

“Autumn?” Clara looks up from her bed, where she’s seated with Issac in her lap, asleep.

“Clara,” I stumble over to her bed and flop down, “I have to get home.”

“I know, I’ve been waiting for you. Issac was crying and I think my mom went to the store or something, and I was really worried when you didn’t immediately open the window, I had to figure out a way inside while holding your brother, and are you alright?”

“Yep,” I curl up on the bed and reach for my brother, but Clara pulls him away, tucking him close to her body with both arms. “Hey!”

“Alright, stand your booty up, I’m taking you home.” Clara tugs on one of my arms and exhales quickly.

That got my attention. I sit up quickly, resisting the urge to rub my eyes or forehead.

“No!” I exclaim, “I mean, I got it-him, I got him, thank you, just give me the book and I’ll be on my way!”

Clara looks absolutely puzzled. I feel awful, but she can’t- CAN’T- know about my little cottage. I seize Issac and gently beat away Clara’s worrying hands.

“I got this.”

chapter six

No matter how hard I tried to sleep that night, I couldn’t. Maybe it was the light shining through the window keeping me up. Issac has a bedtime of 6:00 P.M and I usually go to sleep only a little while after him. Sometimes it feels better just the sleep through the time. Not tonight.

I padded downstairs and poured myself a glass of water. I checked Issac before heading downstairs and he was sleeping soundly, so I didn’t need to worry. I sat down on a cushioned armchair. The stuffing inside seemed to prick at my legs. My mom had some weird stuffing she put in her pillow and all the cushions downstairs. I couldn’t tell if she put in pine-needles, hay, or something else.

I took a sip of water and played with my dark hair. I stared at the orangey light flooding through the windows and projecting on the floor.

Witch. My mom and Clara’s mom. Them somehow knowing I was in the bushes. Did they know it was me? And I forgot to ask why Clara and Issac were gone so long. Does it really take almost 2 hours to buy a book and walk back? I bit my lip. And Clara had to be suspecting something after I freaked out like that. My cheeks burned. Why did I have to be such an over-reactor? Why couldn’t I just say ‘no thank you’? I knew that moment would haunt me whenever I tried to sleep.

“Autumn?” A voice said from the doorway. My head snapped away from the windows light. A familiar yet dreaded figure stood in front of me.

Mom.

“Autumn? Are you okay, honey?” She said, her voice dripped with worry. If confusion could speak, it would be screaming at the top of its lungs. Though, instead of speaking, confusion had something called facial expressions to express itself.

My mother’s eyebrows crinkled as she studied my face, “What’s wrong? What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing,” I said. I decided to keep it vague in hope I wouldn’t leak anything about today, unless she already knew that is.

“There has to be something. You only look like that when something’s on your mind,” She said, taking a seat near me.

“Just thinking about… uh…” my brain searched to find an excuse that wouldn’t sound like it came from Pinocchio. “What me and Issac should do tomorrow. I’m debating between a Candy Land championship or Dominos and Marbles.”

“Dominos and Marbles?” My mom asked.

“Issac and I made it, it’s where-“ I started rambling on and on about Dominos and Marbles, though it was the simplest game to exist. You roll a marble to knock down a line of dominoes, if you miss, it’s the other persons turn.

It felt weird to be saying more than a few sentences to my mother. The conversation about Dominos and Marbles did seem genuine, though it was awfully strange. “So yeah, I’m leaning towards Dominos and Marbles at the moment. Maybe we could upgrade it where it’s like a marble track out of dominos and we roll the marble and see how far it goes. I think Issac will like that, don’t you?” I said.

“It sounds like something he’d like,” My mom answered. “Is that all on your mind? You looked pretty intense.”

“That’s it. Big stuff, you know? Dominos and Marbles,” I gave a nervous laugh. Why was I so bad at communicating? And why was I even calling this a conversation? It was pretty much one-ended!

“Well we both should probably get some rest,” Mom said, standing up and heading towards her room. I looked out the window. It couldn’t be later than 7:00. I guess Dominos and Marbles wasn’t a particularly interesting conversation. I stood and walked over to the sink, slowly pouring the rest of my water down the drain. I knew my mother would immediately confront me if she knew I went out again. I let out a small sigh of relief.

She didn’t know.

Though she did now know quite a lot of things about Dominos and Marbles.

The next day I wasn’t feeling quite as risky as yesterday. I didn’t want to bump into my mom in public today, so we stayed home and played games. The nice little children my mom wanted us to be. I can describe the day in three words: it was boring. Issac only wanted to play Candy Land that day, and he would always cheat when shuffling the cards so he would win. During his nap I tried to settle down and read a book, but my brain wouldn’t let me. It’s like my brain was chanting skate, skate, skate, but my heart was chanting too dangerous, too dangerous, too dangerous. Not a nice feeling, by the way. Arguing with yourself is worse than arguing with a three year old that they don’t need that toy car from a shady looking gas-station.

I wish I had a phone. Then I could just call up Clara to fill my time. She loved talking, but even just sitting there in silence would be better than being all alone downstairs.

The words on my book blurred into an inky mess if I didn’t constantly blink my eyes. Finally, I ave up with a groan and stood from the armchair I was sitting in. It was too warm in the house, a bug bite on my arm wouldn’t stop itching, the cushion kept pricking my legs. Nothing was right.

I stomped up stairs, loud enough to express my frustration yet quiet enough so that Issac wouldn’t wake. My bedroom door creaked as I opened it and I threw the book on my bed, flopping alongside it.

There was nothing to do. Playing it safe really sucks. I rolled off my bed and opened a notebook lying on the floor, flipping to an empty page.

Then I stared.

And kept staring.

The pencil I snagged from nearby was itching to move, yet I couldn’t make it.

“Oh. My. God,” I whisper-screamed. Would this be my life for the next fifty years? I sure wished I had a TV or anything a normal kid had to do. I would’ve gladly taken school right then, even though Clara complained about it all the time and that it was summer. Honestly, summer school sounded amazing right now. Or a summer camp. Even better.

My mom never took us to school or camp. I told Clara I was homeschooled with Issac when she asked. She used to try and get me to ask my mom if I could go to her school instead, but she dropped dropped that only a little while after.

I rolled over on my back, praying for someone to help me.

Then the door unlocked.

And I thought either my prayers were answered or there was some crazy burglar wandering deep in the woods. Not likely. The only time I’ve seen burglars were on Halloween, but those were fake and walking down the sidewalk of Clara’s neighborhood. So I wasn’t necessarily scared as I crept out of my room to see who it was.

“Angela, please! Stop being so loud,”

“It’s your own house, May!” A voice argued. I pressed my back against the wall.

“The kids are in here somewhere!” A voice hissed back.

My mother, but who was Angela? My wild brain threw out every person I knew into a big whirlpool, until finally it clicked. Ms. Foster! My boredom must be affecting my thoughts or something. But wait, why was she at my house?

“Honestly, you should just tell them at this point,” Ms. Foster said, exasperated.

“Like you’ve told your daughter,” my mom shot back.

“At least she goes to school and has friends! She’s not shoved in a cottage all day with no explanation.”

“We are not here to discuss my parenting choices, Angela. If you don’t remember, we are kind of time-pressed.”

There was a sigh and some shuffling, I inched away from the stairs and towards Issacs room.

“Ow!” Someone cried, I froze. “May, you need to clean this place! Why are there loose marbles on the floor?”

I held my breath.

“Dominos and Marbles. It’s a game the kids play. They’ve got to do something, don’t they?”

“Okay, so where are the real games?”

My mom sighed, “I bought them Candy-Land a few years back.”

“Oh my lord. Candy-Land? A few years back?” I almost laughed at how similar Ms. Foster and Clara sounded.

“It’s not like I’m rich in this human money stuff!” My mom argued.

“If you tried to give your kids and actual life maybe you would be!”

My mom groaned and I heard stomping up the stairs. I dashed to Issacs room and silently closed the door, pressing my back against it as the two women wandered down the hall.

“Speaking of your kids, where exactly are they?”

“Probably in their rooms. Come on, they won’t be in there for long.”

A closet door squeaked open and I heard rummaging of my mother moving hangers and coats aside. “There it is! Now let’s get going.”

I peaked out the door and snuck down the hall after them. My mom was holding some sort of object that I couldn’t identify, and there was a black creature following Clara’s mother. I watched as they made their way to the door.

“Angela, get your cat out of here!” My mother said as the creature, who looked more like the shadow of a cat, refused to follow them out the door. He jumped up on a piece of furniture and hissed when Clara’s mom approached, his bright red eyes flashing violently.

My mother sighed, “oh, just leave the cat! The kids will deal with it.”

The door slammed shut behind them. I heard quiet wails follow from Issacs room shortly after.

“I think we have a new friend Issac,” I said, leading him downstairs. “I hope he’s nice,” I added under my breath.

The cat wasn’t particularly nice. He mostly avoided us, but didn’t show any signs of true aggression like he did when Clara’s mom tried to pick him up. He watched from a distance as we finished our final round of Candy-Land and we invented a new Dominos and Marbles game. (with the odds entirely in Issacs favor.)

I kept an eye on him as he settled down on a shelf across the room. It still felt strange that my mom and Clara’s were friends, considering how many times I went to Clara’s house. Her mom knew me, yet after all those years I don’t think she snitched. From all her complaints on how my mom was raising us, I suppose she was on my side, despite how creepy she could be sometimes. She always let us in the door, even the day after me being grounded. I guess I liked her for that, unlike the cat. The cat seemed to despise her.

When I put Issac in bed at 6:00, I crept downstairs and sat on the floor. I tried to use my knowledge from books I’ve read to make the cat come over to me. It wasn’t particularly working. I sighed and rest my head on my hand.

The cats fur was so dark that you could barely make out its features. Only its silhouette against the wall and it’s striking red eyes. They settled down to a maroon-color after a bit and only flared up if Issac made a surprising noise or if the cottage creaked in a suspicious way.

I found it a little bit weird how my mother mentioned the word ‘witch’ and there was a random black cat following her and Ms. Foster around, but it must’ve been a coincidence. If witches were real, they’d have likely raided our house and turned me into a frog. I wouldn’t have blamed them either, considering someone build a cottage in their precious woods and wanted to live there for the rest of their lives. Actually, on second thought, I would blame them. Eating bugs for the rest of your life as a slimy-long tongued creature would be a horrible punishment. I’d rather be something cute and fluffy like a rabbit, or maybe—-

I stopped breathing as I glanced up to see the cat stalking towards me. His eyes a pale red. He didn’t seem aggressive.

He walked up to me and started butting his head against my arm, I slowly reached down to pet him.

Was thinking about being turned into a frog essential for cat-whispering? I sure don’t remember that in the books.

“Hi, buddy,” I said softly.

The cat started purring.

“That’s very nice of you.”

I smiled down at the cat.

I like to think the cat smiled at me too. It chirped happily.

Suddenly the cat lifted its front two paws and almost stretched up my body.

I think it wants to be held.

I tentatively reach under where I’d imagine its armpits would be (though I’ve read that isn’t the most comfortable way to pick up dogs, perhaps it’s the same for cats) and the cat settled into my shoulder with ease. Me and the cat sat there for a little while until the front door rattled open and a figure wearing a familiar green dressed strutted in.

“Made a new friend?” My mother asked.

“Can we keep him?” I asked, sounding a lot like Issac whenever I’m he caught glimpse of a bird in the forest. He wanted to keep everything. Rocks, squirrels, toy cars from gas stations. (I don’t think I’m ever going to get over that time he had a huge fit on the side of the road over that red car.)

“Him? That’s a her, Autumn.”

“Sorry. Can we keep her?” I repeated.

“Sure. You should be getting to bed soon.” My mother stalked off towards her bedroom and slammed the door as if she were mad, but her face showed no sign of any anger. On the second thought, her face had no emotion at all.

I knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep just yet, but I stalked up to my room anyway, the cat following at my heels.

“This is my room,” I said, spinning in a circle before I plopped on the floor. “My mom said you can be my cat, so you’re going to need a name.”

I stroked the cats back.

“Any ideas?” I said after at least five minutes of silence passed. “I don’t know, I guess it’ll just come to me. I stood up and walked to my closet, careful not to trip over the cat weaving between my legs.

“You’re going to need a place to sleep, aren’t you? And cat litter? And food? My goodness, you need a lot. We’ll deal with that later though, right now you need a bed.”

I searched through the random things I shoved in my closet. Of course there were clothes but there were also… a lot of other things.

Tiny trinkets I didn’t want sitting out in my room, a random armchair that used to be in the corner of my bedroom until I decided I liked tucking myself in the closet at midnight and telling spooky stories to my dolls. That was when I was seven, so I didn’t do that concerning activity anymore. Suspiciously, my nightmares stopped after doing that as well.

Avoiding my dolls unblinking stares, I pulled the chair out of my closet, calling quite a bit of ruckus as things fell. I help my breath, waiting for Issac to start wailing.

One…

Two….

After ten seconds past I released my breath and pulled the chair the rest of the way out of the closed. No angry mom stomping up the stairs, no wailing toddler.

“It’s not the best bed, is it?” I said, poking the prickly cushion with my fingertip. “How can we fix that…”

I bit my lip and scanned the room.

A blanket.

I grabbed an extra sheet from the corner of my bed and threw it over the chair.

“Just don’t lean back, okay?” I said, positioning the chair in the corner of the room. I turned off my main lights and lit a candle as I got ready for bed.

I sat with the cat for a little while until it was dark out, repeating names out-loud.

“Ivy? Candy? Marion?” I whispered into the cats ear. I sighed. “Georgie?”

The cat flicked its tail.

“I don’t know what that means,” I admitted. “Though I do kind of like that name.

“Georgie. Georgie,” I repeated in different tones.

“I think it’s perfect,” I said, gently picking up the cat and setting her down on the chair—bed.

“Goodnight Georgie,” I said, blowing out the candle. His red eyes followed me as I crawled into my bed. I couldn’t help but feel like this would be the next few years of my life, falling asleep with wide-red eyes staring at me. Not like I didn’t have a whole shelf of unblinking eyes watching me when I was younger. Dolls really are the creepiest things to fall asleep to.

At least Georgie blinked.

chapter seven

“So,” my mom appears at my doorframe as I woke up, like she somehow just knows my awaking times. “What are you naming the cat?”

I rub one eye tenderly. “Georgie.”

As if she already recognized her name, the black cat chirped happily from across the house, which, granted, isn’t very far away. Within moments she had brushed past my mother’s dress and hopped onto my bed.

“Hello,” I blink, surprised, and pet her skinny body.

“You have my permission to go into town today. Get Issac and take this money and buy Georgie her stuff.” Mom turned and left, but not before dropping a thick wad of money on my bedside table.

“Oh… wow, thanks,” I’m shocked at her actions, but she’s already left.

“Issac,” I yawn sleepily. Remarkably, Issac is up, but he’s not wailing. He’s just standing in his crib/bed/structure I made waiting for me. His bed, basically, is just a bed. It has raised white rails, yellow sheets and pillow, and an elephant blanket I made when he was young.

I lift up the little guy and place him on the floor. Georgie purrs and butts her soft head against my brothers chunky leg.

“Dollie,” he looks at me with his little blue angel eyes and points at the cat. “Dollie!”

“No, Issac,” I correct, “Georgie.”

“Dollie.”

“Okay.” I just don’t feel like arguing. I grabbed Issacs hand and pulled him downstairs while he chanted, “Dollie!”

That might be a problem.

I fed Issac and poured myself a bowl of cereal, which I ate quickly.

I planned on stopping by Clara’s house so she could help me find all of the pet-necessities. I doubt i would be able to remember—much less carry—everything on my own. Except… then she would find out about my home. Would that be such a bad thing? I mean, she’s had to have wondered. I’ll do it, I decide.

“Alright, buddy, let’s go.” I say after changing both our clothes and doing a quick combing of the hair.

We start to leave, except Georgie is following us. Okay, whatever, Autumn, just keep a close eye on her.

I decide not to skateboard for the sake of the cat. Maybe I’ll try it someday, but not when I’ve got a new cat outside happily trotting next to us.

By the time we make it to Clara’s, I’m exhausted from carrying Issac all the way down the neighborhood. Yes, I carry him in the forest and I’m used to that, but usually we skateboard once we get on smooth sidewalk.

Georgie isn’t fazed by any of it. How curious.

I knock on the door, and Clara, as usual, answers immediately.

“Hi!” She’s cheerful as ever. “Oh my gosh, you have a cat! Hi cat!” She leans down and pets Georgie, who of course accepts and embraces the attention.

“Dollie,” Issac states firmly, pointing at our new pet.

“No, it’s Georgie, but… ugh, fine,” I laugh a little, “I need help. My mom gave me this cash,“ -I hold the wad up- “and told me to go into town and buy Georgie litter and whatnot. Wanna come? I’ll need help carrying stuff.”

“Sure. Mom!” Clara calls, “I’m going with Autumn!”

“Oh, bye! Hi, Autumn! Or, bye, not hi.”

As we start our descent into town, I get curious and try asking Clara questions. Sometimes it’s hard to have a deep, meaningful conversation with her because she’s so silly all the time and makes most things into a joke.

“Hey, Clara, I have a weird question for you.” I committed- no going back now.

“Sure, what’s up?” She responds, waving to some girl across the street. She really is friends with everybody.

“Does your mom ever, like, dress weird? Like, corsets and boots or whatever?”

“Nope, not really. How much money do you have, anyway?”

“Uhm, o-okay,” I’m a little surprised about her subject change, but that’s probably genuine curiosity, since that’s kinda something she should know. As I’m flipping through the cash, I find a strange bill I’ve never seen before. “Hey, Clara, what currency is this bill?”

She studies it closely. It has no pictures, just the word and number ten written repeatedly, like a background you’d find online. “I’m not sure, must be a misprint.”

“Huh,” my mind is trying to piece this together, but now isn’t the time. “Hey, could you hold Issac? There’s too much going on. Or you can hold Georgie, she likes being held.”

“Uh, cat, please,” she says in a sassy, joking way. Once we have Georgie safety resting on her shoulder and Issac on my back, I continue the questions.

“Does she ever, you know, go out at random times?”

“I mean, her work hours are pretty irregular, and you know, I’m not quite sure what her work is exactly, but other than that, no?” Clara gives me a suspicious look.

“Okay.”

“Why are you asking me this?”

“No reason, just.. for school.” I lie, looking anywhere but my best friends face.

At the pet store, we find everything we need and enough money to pay for it and get ice cream on the way back. The only problem is, we’ve used our space very efficiently but we still have our arms full.

Here’s what we got.

A harness and leash (mostly to make me feel better), a vets card, an automatic food dispenser in case nobodies home, food and water bowls, a book on how to keep cats, some toys, food, treats, more used toys they were giving out for free (though that’s a bit nasty) and a cranky Issac because he wasn’t allowed to get hamster, or a bird, or a guinea pig, or a snake, or a lizard, or a fish, or any additional pet.

It was a lot to carry a very long distance. Oops.

We stopped for ice cream on the way back. Issac got chocolate, which he promptly got all over his little chubby face, Clara got lemon, and I got mint chocolate chip.

I led them all to the forest entrance, where I head in and come out every single day.

“Where’s your house?” Clara gives me an odd look.

“Uhh…” I trail off. “It’s… a very short walk, just go home, I’ll be fine!”

“Autumn,” Clara looks very suspicious. “You can’t carry all this plus Issac. Let me help.”

“Nope, I got it.”

“How come I’ve never even seen your house?”

“It’s just… never clean, with a toddler and whatnot.”

“What about your mom? You were asking me all those questions earlier, plus the weird bill… what was that?” Clara crosses her arms and glares at me, but more in a concerned manner.

“Stop questioning me! I’ve got it from here, I can handle it, just go home!” I explode. It’s not Clara’s fault, I know it isn’t, but the pressure and isolation of taking care of a child, a cat, a mom who barely helps out, the trees making me feel trapped, Clara’s concerned face, I can’t do this anymore.

“I’m just saying, Autumn, I don’t even know where you live! Seven years of friendship and I don’t know anything about you!” Clara snaps back.

“Maybe if you weren’t so nosy all the time, I’d feel more open to talking!”

“Maybe I’m nosy because you’re clearly hiding something! You know what,” Clara rubs her forehead with a disbelieving look on her face. “I can’t believe this. Teachers are right, it’s always the quiet ones.”

The trees are closing in on me- or is that just me? I can hardly breathe now. I feel the bags slip out of my hands and fall onto the ground in almost slow motion.

Clara continues.

“I mean seriously, I’ve done everything for you! I’ve kept all my promises, I don’t ask you questions, I help out with Issac, I teach you surfing, I carry all this- this crap around for you!” She thrusts her bags into my hands. “Am I just a maid to you?”

I can’t argue anymore. I just need to get out of there. I pick up the bags from off the ground. Tears flow out of my eyes. “If that’s what you think…” I gulp and sniff, “then here’s your tip.”

I toss her a quarter wrapped in a one dollar bill, nudge Issac with my leg, and slowly and sadly make my way into the forest. I managed to carry everything through the forest without dropping it too often. I strangled the harness on Georgie (which he wasn’t too happy about) and let Issac carry the bag of toys, which he insisted on doing. Bags were lined all along my arms, making it hard to unlock the cottage door. I managed to kick it open and felt relieved when I dropped all the bags in the floor.

I still wasn’t sure what to think of my argument with Clara. To her, my argument probably didn’t have any points. Just a desperate attempt of a reason. From my view she should respect my decision of not wanting her in my house, though I suppose she wouldn’t see it that way. I unclipped the leash that Georgie was waiting on and he bounded over to the toy bag. I walked over to a chair and plopped down, nearly missing the cushion. I flipped through the extra money and pulled out the strange bill. Clara was right about one thing, what was this?

It was pretty standard, but I didn’t recognize it from any books I read. I sat and stared at the bill, ignoring the fact that Issac was opened every bag and dumping the contents on top of Georgie.

I felt kind of bad over the argument me and Clara had, but I couldn’t just tell her about my forced-to-stay-in-a-cottage-because-my-weird-dress-wearing-mom-that-is-friends-with-your-normal-mom-wants-me-to predicament.

Being friends with her was the one thread of normal I had in my life. And now, that was probably over. I wouldn’t want to be friends with the weird girl who always shows up at your house but never lets you go hers.

I sighed, thinking through the conversation. At the time I thought the house-is-always-messy excuse seemed pretty solid. Looking back, it definitely wasn’t.

I sighed and stood. I’d think more about this later, right now, I had to break up the pet-toys waterfall raining on Georgie.

After I put Issac to bed that afternoon, I went to the living room and sat to think about life for a while.

I seemed to be doing that a lot.

This time I had a ball of fluff sitting on my lap to make me feel better. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do about my Clara-problem, but I could at least ask my mom about the dollar bill. Maybe she’d have answers, considering the fact that it was her own money.

For a tiny moment I considered hiding the extra money and telling my mom we spent it all, but I doubt she would believe that. You could never seem to lie to her. She would always push you until you had to spill out everything. Sometimes it would take a minute, sometimes days. She would never let it go.

I sighed and held the dollar up to the light. I assumed it was worth ten dollars, considering the mass amount of tens printed all over it, but where it was worth ten, I didn’t know.

My head was running through a mental check-list of places that had a different currency than the U.S. I bit my lip so hard I didn’t realize it was bleeding until the front door started rattling and my mother swooped in, her dress was torn at the ends and mud caked her corset.

“Mom?” I asked before she could disappear into her room. Now was probably not the best time to be asking questions, but I didn’t want to forget about this dollar.

“Yes?” She said, her voice sounded impatient as she stopped just before opening her bedroom door. She kept her back facing me.

“What’s this?” I asked, forcing her to run around. Her hazel eyes widened but she quickly recovered, returning to her slightly bored gaze.

“Where did you get that, honey?”

“It was with the money you gave me,” I said, careful not to say any of the reasons I suspected she would give. I wanted to see what she would tell me on her own, without being able to easily agree with one of mine.

“Must be a misprint, honey. I’ll take it,” she reached out her hand and I gave the doller to her. I don't believe my mom for one second. It just couldn't be a misprint. All the clues... I don't know if they've been around before and I just didn't see them, couldn't see them, refused to see them, or if they've just started being there, and that’s how I just started to notice all these strange things. Or is my mom truly just trying to tell me something?

That night, I couldn't sleep. My brain was filled with confusion and, to be honest, hurt. I couldn't understand what sort of big secret my mom would want to hide from me so badly. All these hints, all these clues... what do they mean? Is she doing them on purpose, or am I just now noticing? Was I too oblivious before?

The next morning, after pulling an unintentional all-nighter, I got up. I stretched. I yawned. I put cold water on my face, anything, really, to stay awake. I went over to Issac's bedroom door, opened it, and picked him up. He wasn't asleep, but he wasn't fully awake. I fed us a quick breakfast and then just stood at the front door for an entire minute, debating whether to open it and step outside.

My argument with Clara... I just wanted to apologize. I wanted this to be over, but I wasn't entirely sure what I was apologizing for. I thought about it quite literally all night. I couldn't figure out whose fault it was. I just gave up. I tried to sleep and I couldn't, so I just decided it was both of our faults. I got a little carried away, but so did Clara. If I'm being honest, she had more reason to. I mean, who’s best friends with somebody for seven years, comes over to their house every single day, and doesn't even know where they live?

Issac looked confused at my contemplation. He glanced up at me and said, "Uppy? Outside?" and I couldn't do much but look down at him and say, "Not today, Issac. We're staying inside all day."

And sure enough, the entire day, we just continued to play dominoes and marbles. Dominoes and marbles, dominoes and marbles, dominoes and marbles. In each round, Issac won because the odds were entirely in his favor. We added some sort of new level. All of them, of course, Issac had to win because he's a toddler. No matter how much I tried to trick him into changing the rules so that the odds would slightly be in my favor, he did not fall for it. I don't understand how a three year old is this smart. He doesn't even have a proper education. He barely has a mom.

But hey, what can I do about that? It doesn't look like she's going to come around anytime soon.

Every 10 minutes or so, I would glance at the front door as if hoping Clara had somehow found it. In my daydreams, she went back to the entrance of the forest where we had our argument and followed the little path that was clearly visible.

I'm pretty sure it was my mom who had put up the "Not a trail. Do not enter." signs because if not, we would have a lot more questions. We would have a lot more people finding the house. The police would have probably found us already, and that's one of my biggest fears. If the police find us, what if me and Issac get separated? Since the whole thing with Clara happened, he's the only person I have, really. I guess we have Georgie now, but she's a cat. She's not going to be taken into child protective services, though I wonder if we would even go to child protective services. This isn't exactlyyy legal, is it? Child endangerment, maybe?

Anyway, Issac kept winning. He was clearly cheating. I was getting annoyed. I was getting annoyed at myself. I was getting annoyed that at some point I would have to go downtown, and every time I went downtown, I had a higher chance of stumbling upon Clara. I don't want to because then I'll have to apologize, or she will have to apologize. Both would be equally awkward, and just... I don't want to see her hurt. I don't want to be the one causing the hurt. I don't want to see her hurting at all.

That night, I pondered the events. It had been a remarkably boring, average day. Not average for Issac and I, but average for your regular human being. I mean, just playing with each other all day, never leaving the house. I understand that’s something teenagers do, just being with isolated all alone.

But that’s by choice.

This isn’t.

I mean, I bet most families would have their parents or whatever, but we don't.

On the bright side, Georgie is settling in well. She’s playful, but she's very bitey. She bit Issac chasing after a marble he had rolled, and I mean, it was an accident, but he's a toddler. How much explaining about that can you do? He wailed and wailed, yelling, "Dollie bit! Dollie bit!" I eventually gathered him in my arms and rocked him until he fell asleep for his nap.

During the nap, I sat down in one of those uncomfortable, prickly chairs, and with Georgie in my lap sleeping, I poured over books. I knocked out about three full length novels and a graphic novel in the span of six hours, which, no, is not how long Issac's naps usually are. He sleeps for about two hours. I get him up, I get him changed, maybe get him a bath, I feed him some food, give him a toy or something, sit him down in the living room, and we're good for another four or so. Occasionally, he'll ask for food, or me, or to go outside, and I usually do that. I just don't know what else to do. Sometimes I read to him, but he can’t read independently.

I’ll try teaching him sometime.

chapter eight

On day four of Life Without Clara I finally decided to get off my butt and actually get some things done. There’s little chance I’ll actually run into Clara, and if I do, I’ll have to swallow my nonexistent pride and just apologize, maybe give a little explanation, but vague enough she can’t start to figure it out.

“Hey, Issac,” I said, (almost) confidently marching into his room, “we’re going outside today!”

After a little while, we had the skateboard. We had Georgie (in her harness, which strangely she didn’t seem to mind). We had Issac. We were gonna pretend like we didn’t have a care in the world and our lives were completely normal.

Here’s my plan.

We go to the grocery store. We buy groceries. We go home. No chance of running into Clara. Right?

She lived in this town too, so it was possible for her to be out and about doing who knows what, but why would she be going to the grocery at the same time as me. That would be an awfully weird coincidence.

I bit my lip, praying that we wouldn’t run into her or her mom. That would make things much worse, especially since she knew my mom and might snitch, causing me to get in trouble and— “woah!” I shouted as we skated past the grocery store. I pulled us to a stop and dragged my skateboard back a block and to the side of the store where it would hopefully be hidden. I hesitated before entering the door. I slid open in front of me, but I pulled Issac and Georgie off to the side, scanning for signs in the window.

A lost dog poster, a farmers market happening in a town close to ours, a 20% off sale on ice cream. Nothing said no pets.

I debated my choices.

Play it safe and just take everyone home and come out another day, or risk it and walk them inside, hiding Georgie behind us or in my jacket like those movies or whatever would work.

We didn’t have enough food for dinner. I’ve been so distracted recently the food just slipped away right under my nose. Now all we had was a serving of cereal, some flour and sugar, an apple, and some cat food. I personally did not want to eat cat food and flour for dinner. I took a deep breath and walked up to the door again, watching it slide open in front of me. I tightly wrapped Georgie’s leash around my arm. The worst that could happen was they kick me out and I would just eat some cat food for dinner. It couldn’t taste too bad, could it?

I imagined eating the tiny, dry pieces and scrunched my nose. Then I imagined feeding Issac the dry pieces and full-on cringed. Nope. We were going inside.

I kept Georgie on the side furthest from the employees and walked to get a cart. Georgie follows happily as I set Issac in the build-in seat and pushed the rattling cart into the cold store. I walked down several aisles, grabbing whatever I could as quickly as possible. Issacs favorite meal, some snacks, breakfast foods. Then came my next dilemma.

The cashier.

Like the boss in one of those video games Clara told me about. The major problem. How was I going to check out with a cat near my leg? And how would they not notice the dark shadow following me?

I sighed.

Clara always told me the best strategy when it came to those bosses was to prepare as much as you could and then to just go for it. Test the waters. I wasn’t sure if that way worked well, because she never seemed to defeat the boss no matter how she tried, but maybe that was a skill issue.

Not like I had much more experience. I didn’t even own a video game.

I pushed the cart up to a cashier and readied my money as they started bagging things up. I picked up Issac from the cart and set him on the ground as an employee handed me the bags.

“Dollie!” Issac exclaimed. I laughed nervously, looking for an excuse.

“No, you can’t have a dolly,” I said, looking at the small shelf of cheap toys the grocery store always had. The cashier laughed as they moved on to the next customer. Suddenly, I was glad Issac choose the name ‘Dollie’ for our cat, even though she was still named Georgie, no matter how hard he tried that wasn’t going to change.

I quickly-sprint-walked out of the building, holding the leash and Issacs hand with one arm and all the bags with another. I knew I would be sore the next day.

I sighed, wishing I had help. Maybe I could stop my Clara’s and— I stopped myself short, my mind replaying our argument. Clara called herself my maid. My expression hardened and my jaw clenched.

No. I wasn’t going to stop at Clara’s for help. I was going to carry everything, Issac, Georgie, and my skateboard back to my house to prove I didn’t need her, even though the only one I was proving anything to was myself.

Even after my decision to prove I could handle myself and everyone else, it didn’t stop my mind from complaining after I grabbed my skateboard with the arm the grocery’s were on and pulled it along the sidewalk at a slow pace.

It’s wasn’t going to work.

I only walked a few blocks by the time my arm gave up. I dropped the bags next to my skateboard and sank to my knees. How was I going to do this? Georgie stepped my my legs, reaching up to my face for pets. I rubbed her head with my spare hand.

“How am I going to do this, Georgie?” I whispered into the cats ear.

Then, as if a lightbulb lit up in my head, I had an idea. It would be kind of risky, but Georgie did it once, didn’t she?”

“Stay with me girl, please.” I pleaded as I unhooked her leash. She stayed by my side. I reached down and hooked her leash to my skateboard. I balanced several bags of grocery’s on the board and handed a lightweight bag of bread to Issac to hold, I held the leash tight and stood, grabbing Issacs hand and the rest of the bags. I whistled, “Cmon, Georgie!”

The cat followed me down the sidewalk and I had to sigh in relief. I could do this.

For once, everything was working for me. Issac was walking obediently by my side, Georgie was following me just close enough to feel like she was safe but just far enough I wouldn’t trip on her. The bags stayed balanced on the board, I managed to keep myself together.

Until it fell apart.

I turned the corner and saw something that broke me.

Clara was walking on the sidewalk across from us, walking in the other direction with a girl. She has long, silky brown hair that reminded me of chocolate and her clothes were all perfectly ironed. She was laughing with Clara over a joke as they strolled down the street. I froze for a second, not sure what to do.

Clara replaced me in only a couple days while I was still debating if I should apologize or not. Clearly I didn’t mean as much to her as she did to me. Otherwise she would be sitting at home on her bed, staring up at the ceiling fan and ignoring her moms calls to do her chores, she would be— I couldn’t think of anything else. I spent the last few days picturing how Clara must be reacting to her fight. All the images came so clearly then, but now? Now all I could see was her walking with this other girl, playing games with this other girl, surfing with this other girl.

I took a deep breath and pushed those thoughts away, continuing to walk down the road. I forced a fake smile on my face, and stared down at Issac like he was my best friend in the world. I hoped the act was believable, I hoped she felt the same hurt that I did.

Georgie played the act with me like a champion. She bounced around and chased the seeds of a dandelion that got knocked loose by the wind. She was the cute cat she was.

And I hoped Clara saw that. I hoped she was jealous. I hoped she felt the same way I did.

My smile immediately dropped when Clara was finally out of view. I was careful not to acknowledge she was there, but she had to notice me, right? The friend she used to hang out with, her baby brother, her new cat, her lugging around the skateboard she taught you how to use. She had to notice that.

Right? When I got home I immediately got busy. I was restless from all the days before I spent thinking about Clara. All that for what?

I put away all the groceries and re-arranged the pantry for good measure. Then I strolled into the living room to see what I could do. Keeping my mind far, far away from Clara, I started picking up Issac and Georgie’s toys. I did not think having a cat would be equivalent to having another toddler to pick up after.

Keep busy.

Keep busy.

Keep busy.

Let’s just say, I did a lot of cleaning that afternoon. I even kept Issac up fifteen minutes after his bedtime, needing some sort of distraction. I sat in the armchair I’ve been spending so much time in and counted how long it took for my mother to get home. I was on an incredibly large number as the door rattled open and my mother swooped in. Georgie was sitting on my lap and I was carelessly petting her from the head to her tail.

“Welcome home,” I said, the words coming out slightly more bitter than I meant them to.

My mom gave me a confused look but immediately regained her composure.

“Thank you, Autumn.”

She darted across the room to her bedroom and slammed the door behind her, leaving me in my thoughts once again. A place I did not want to be because it had too many images of Clara.

Clara and that new friend of hers.

I knew Clara had other friends. She was always waving to someone across the street or passing us on the sidewalk. She would tell me stories about her other friends and all the fun they had together. Heck, Ophelia herself was proof I wasn’t the only friend she had.

I knew that.

But I didn’t know that I could be replaced so easily.

Like in a snap Clara could convince one of her friends to come and go and it wouldn’t mean anything. Not to her.

Maybe it’s just a thing for the weird living-in-a-cottage girl. Maybe it was different when you had a real life and had real friends. Maybe it was that way.

But even so, no matter how hard I tried to convince myself, it wouldn’t stop my aching heart.

“Okay, Georgie. Time for bed,” I slowly stood, pushing all of those thoughts out of my head. Just one day at a time.

I could do this.

I focused on every step up the stairs and carefully got ready for bed. Georgie layed down beside me instead of sleeping in his bed and I was glad for the extra comfort.

Tomorrow would be a better day.

I promised myself.

The next morning I immediately got up and got changed.

I made a plan.

I was going to head into town and take Issac to the park for a little while. After that, I was going to buy him a Hotwheels from the toy store with the extra money my mom gave me. That always made him happy. And what made Issac happy, made me happy.

I woke Issac up and we ate a breakfast that had no cat food in it. Despite the Clara encounter, the day before had been very successful. We had plenty of food and all of us got quite a bit of exercise.

I officially decided that I was done with Clara. I was going to be on my own now.

And that was okay.

Because I could do this.

Right?

The doubting word snuck in there as I walked Issac and Georgie out of the door and out on the creaky wooden steps.

I’m lucky to have them.

Oof, I sound like my mom.

“Hey, Issac, guess what we’re doing today?” I slap on a fake smile and tried to distract myself from my thoughts.

As I explained the plan to him, Georgie pounced on a mouse. Blood disgustingly started flowing out of the rodent. Georgie took it in her mouth and started trotting back to the cottage.

What the heck?

That’s when I remembered.

Cats will sometimes deliver unwanted presents for the owners if they like them.

That’s sweet but actually disgusting.

“Georgie! N-no- GEORGIE!” I took off after her, then awkwardly ran back to pick up Issac and ran off again.

By the time I reached the little cottage panting and sweating, Georgie had dropped the mouse on the ground in front of the door and was rubbing her dark body against the doorframe, her tailed held high as she purrs.

“Nope, nope, nope nope nope nopidy no.” I repeated.

Oh boy.

chapter nine

After a few minutes of intense, disgusting, throw-up level cleaning we were on our way again.

Issac happily chanted. ‘Dollie!’ And I didn’t bother correct him after our close-call at the grocery store. Issac and I need money for food and necessities, meaning we don’t often go to the toy store. We make up our own games, like Dominos and Marbles. It’s way to expensive to buy monopoly, and it’s way harder for Issac to cheat.

I pushed away shrub and stepped out into the clear area behind several houses.

“I woke up early to wait for you,” someone said, which would’ve been really creepy if I didn’t recognize the voice almost immediately.

Clara Foster.

Just the girl I wanted to see.

Not.

“I doubt you were up that early.” I said, a tad more bitter than I meant it, but I felt good to get it out of my system.

Clara sighed, “I was here for maybe fifteen minutes?”

I turned to find her sitting against a tree. She stood and approached me cautiously. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” I lied. I was fine before she messed everything up.

“You’re always fine.”

“And that’s a bad thing?”

“I guess not…” she nervously shuffled her feet.

I started walking away from her.

“I’m sorry!” She blurted out. “I guess it’s not up to me if you want me in your house or not, wherever it is. I just wanted to help you and I didn’t mean for all that stuff to happen. Your such a loner, so I thought maybe-”

“Okay.” I said to stop her rambling. “It’s… fine. I guess I shouldn’t have hid things from you.”

Clara nodded and bit her lip.

“I was just… worried.”

“About what?” She asked.

“Come on.” I said, turning around and heading back into the forest. Clara followed in silence for a minute.

“So… where are we going?”

“You wanted to see my house, right?”

“I… didn’t realize it would be in the forest.”

“Um, then why did you wait outside the forest?”

“Well that was where we had our fight, so I figured you might stop there sometimes. I… didn’t consider you living in the forest though.”

I didn’t respond. I couldn’t think of anything to say. This is not how the day was going to go.

Eventually I had to put Issac down so he could walk the rest of the way. I knew he would take a long nap that afternoon.

I hesitated and took a breath before leading Clara into the clearing with the cottage.

“Woah…” she breathed. “This is what you were hiding?”

“Yeah…” I said slowly.

“Why? It’s awesome!”

“Well my moms kind of weird and it’s not really normal to live in the middle of the forest. I’m not even sure if it’s legal.” I added before I could stop myself.

Clara gave me a strange look. “The questions about your mom…”

“Yep! So what are you doing today?” I interrupted, swinging an arm around her shoulders and turning her away from my home. Yes, I interrupted so she wouldn’t ask more questions. I couldn’t handle more today.

Clara struggled and looked back over her shoulder. Clara gave me a strange look. “You were asking me strange questions about my mom the other day?”

“Trying to figure something out,” I muttered, breaking eye contact and leading her to the door. I stepped inside and lit a candle.

“Woah. You don’t have, I don’t know, electricity?” Clara said, staring wide eyed at the half melted candle.

“We couldn’t really hire electricians out here. Like I said, I don’t know if any of this is legal. It’s just where we’ve always lived.”

“Wow,” Clara said, turning in slow circles around the room. “It’s so old-fashioned in here.”

“I’ve… never thought about it like that.” I said, setting Issac down and unclipping Georgie.

“I mean, you use candles and look at these cushions! This fabric feels like it was made out of the bags they used to keep grain in! You know, in those country movies?”

I laughed.

“And woah. What’s with the plants? I thought my mom had a lot.”

“My moms not around much. She just kind of leaves them to grow.”

It was Clara’s turn to laugh. She plopped down on a chair. “Unlike my mom. She’ll go crazy if they grow more than a foot tall.”

“Yeah. You know, I’ve seen your mom here before. With my mom.” I blurted out as I sat criss-cross on the floor. I’ve told Clara this much, besides, maybe she could help me.

“Really? She’s been going out with her boyfriend, Justin, for all waking hours these days.”

“I’ve seen her here with my mom before. They were looking for something in the closet. I don’t know what it was though.”

“Well let’s go see!” Clara said, bouncing up and nearly knocking over the chair she was sitting in.

“What?” I asked. Clara didn’t even seem slightly fazed by the fact that her mom might’ve lied to her.

“Let’s go to the closet and see what she took. I bet she returned it after she was done if it wasn’t disposable or food or something.”

“Um, okay.” I said, standing up and leading Clara upstairs. I forgot how much energy she had, bouncing up every step.

I missed that energy.

I pulled open the creaky closet door. I never had a need to look inside it. It was surprised to see the contents.

Tiny glass vials filled with crushed up leaves, different colored liquids, and seeds were lined up in an organized pattern.

“Woah!” Clara said. She took a step back.

I picked up a bottle and twisted it around until I found a label that said, “Morning Dew Droppings,” in loopy hand writing.

“This is… weird.” I commented. Clara nodded her head in agreement and reached for a bottle, examining the contents.

“My mom has a bottle of these leaves in the kitchen. She always puts a bit in whatever food we eat. I always thought it was a health thing.”

I took a look at the bottle. It was halfway filled with chopped green leaves. I uncorked the lid and set a neatly cut square on my finger. “What does it taste like?”

“It’s usually drowned out by the food.” She took a square and put it in her mouth. “You know, it’s kind of spicy on its own.”

I took a bite. She was right. It tasted fresh yet still burned on my tongue like some sort of spice.

“I wonder what someone would need dew for.” I said, placing my bottle back on the shelf. Clara corked the one with the herbs and placed it back as well.

We rummaged through a couple more bottles, some herbs I recognized and some with name so foreign I couldn’t pronounce them.

“You know, the wall is kind of loose over here.” Clara said, poking the wall on her side of the closet. She made room for me to step over. I placed my hand against the wall and it wiggled beneath my fingers. I managed to catch it before it fell.

Me and Clara exchanged a look.

Did we break my moms closet?

“Ummm,” I examined the area. There was a hole where the piece of wall fell out. A hollow cube.

“Is something in there?” I asked.

“I don’t know. Ew, what if there’s a spider? Or a rat?”

I swallowed my nerves and handed Clara the piece of wall, peeking in the far-too-dark-for-comfort hole. It was about the size of a vent. I closed my eyes and stuck my arm in before I could wimp out. Four walls. Cold metal. So much dust that me and Clara both sneezed in unison. And… a book.

I pulled it out, coughing at the trail of dust that fell from it. Clara slammed the wall back on, as if a cougar would appear at its opening to attack us. We both backed up away from the closet, spooked at what we’ve just done.

“Okay…” I said, staring down at the book. Before I could even read the title a rattling came from downstairs. In my panic, I slammed the closet door shut, shoved the book into a wide-eyed Clara’s hands, and pushed her in my room. I closed the door behind her and rushed downstairs, hoping to act casual for my mom.

“Autumn? Are you okay?” She asked as i skidded into the room.

“Uhh—yes. Me and Issac were just playing a… game.” I said, hoping she would ask me to specify. Luckily, she didn’t really care. She brushed beside me, her scent of soil and flowers lingering behind as she made her way over to the kitchen. I followed, hoping she wouldn’t realize how each step wobbled and how bad my arms were shaking. This was why i never wanted Clara over to my house. What if my mom knew we went though her stuff? What if she could somehow smell Clara like a dog and demand for me to spill everything.

No, that was silly.

“Can you help me find something? There’s this pendant around here somewhere…”

She snapped her fingers, as if trying to remember where she put it.

“Uhm, pendant? I haven’t seen anything like that around here?” I said, mentally slapping myself when I realized how much my voice was shaking. This was such a bad idea. Why did I bring Clara here?

“It’s green.” My mom said, as if that would help. This whole cottage screamed green.

“Maybe it’s in a… jewelry box?”

“You might be right.” My mom said, rushing towards her room. I stopped near the door, not sure if I was allowed to follow her in.

I heard her rummaging inside. “There! Found it!” She emerged holding a hollow green jewel attached to a thick chain. She muttered something under her breath and stomped upstairs, I could hear my heart getting louder and louder each step and felt as I might explode when she paused near my closed door. I opened my mouth, ready to blurt out the whole story.

My moms swiftly turned and walked to the closet.

She opened the closet door and stared at the dust on the ground. “I don’t remember that being in here.”

She shrugged and started pulling down bottles, putting them in her satchel.

“That’s a lot of bottles.” I said with a nervous laugh.

“Yes.” My mom simply before turning on her heel and rushing out the front door.

I sank to the ground, suddenly feeling like could breathe again. Clara emerged from my bedroom.

“What was that about?” She asked, and finally I realized she didn’t know her presence had to be a secret.

“My mom doesn’t like visitors.” I rubbed my head as Georgie climbed into my lap.

“Oh. Well that was a close call then.”

“Yeah.” I stood and led her into my bedroom, taking the book out of her hands. “Let’s see what my mom is hiding.”

I dumped to Clara about everything. My moms weird fashion choices, how whenever she came in the house she seemed overwhelmed, how she never let me or Issac leave. It felt nice to not have to hold the burden alone anymore. Clara nodded and showed sympathy at all the right times, sometimes adding in something similar her mom did.

“So,” Clara said, reaching for an empty notebook on my floor and titling it ‘Our Moms Suspicious Actions’ and splitting it in half. She started writing things on my moms side.

“Hordes weird bottles. Has a weird compartment with a book. Pendant thing. Never lets her kids go anywhere. Random dollar bill. Meeting in the forest,” she talked as she wrote. “Now I’ll add my mom’s weird things.”

The room when awfully silent as Clara wrote her list. The only noises were soft breathing and Georgie aggressively chasing around a little mouse toy.

Once she was finished writing, Clara gave a soft exhale and spun the notebook so I could read it.

Here was the complete list.

“Sometimes runs errands and comes back with nothing. Never met her boyfriend. Never met my father. Rarely allows friends over. Found cat stuff in closet. Apparently besties with my besties mom.”

I smiled at the bestie reference. I’m so glad we’re friends again, and that she understands why I protested.

“Okay, so we know both of them go out often.” Clara said. “So should we be trying to figure out where or why?”

“Sure,” I complied. “Maybe- wait, does your mom leave, like, every day?”

“Yeah, pretty much,” Clara shifts to squat in a position that reminded me of a gargoyle.

“You’ve never met Justin?” I questioned, rereading the list.

“Mom’s boyfriend? Nope. Ow, gosh my foot is asleep!” Clara exhales aggressively and tuts.

“She’s never introduced him to you?” I pressed.

Claras eyebrows knit together in confusion then a realization dawned on her. “Oh! What if he is part of this!”

She flipped to another page and wrote ‘Justin’ in her sloppy handwriting. No matter how many hand-writing improvement books Clara went through her O’s always looked like G’s and her U’s never quite made it to the top of the line.

“Oh!” I said, snapping my fingers. “I once saw our moms together at the bookstore. I followed them into the forest and they mentioned some kind of meeting.”

I’d forgotten all about the meeting and the incident in the forest, so caught up in all the Clara-Drama and taking care of a toddler all day.

“Hmmm, a meeting. With who? Well, I guess that partly solves the ‘where’ question. But now it opens a new one. ‘Who’ and ‘why?”

I nodded, rubbing my aching head. Then I caught eye of the dusty book sitting next to me on the floor. We haven’t opened it yet.

I pulled it into my lap. It smelled like when you first walk into an old antique store, causing me to sneeze.

I flipped to the first page and saw detailed notes written in ink.

I flipped into the next page and saw a drawing of a pretty lady in a dress that reminded me of my mother. She had knee-high boots and vines seemed to be growing up her arms.

“I wonder who drew that.” Clara said, peeking over my shoulder.

“‘I wonder who drew that.’ No wonder our population is decreasing.” A sharp voice cut. I shoved the book out of my lap and squealed. “My goodness. You might rip me in half with that behavior.”

“What the heck?” I said, putting a hand on my chest to calm my racing heart. Clara looked equally stunned.

“Hello?” She whispered under her breath.

“Finally! A formal greeting. The last one who came along, what was her name? April? May? She didn’t even bother to say ‘salutations!’“ I peeked over at the book to see the drawing shaking her head in displeasure. I rubbed my eyes, as if my brain was deceiving me.

“Hello.” Clara said again, inching up towards the book.

“Hello, dear. And who are you?”

“I’m Clara.” She said slowly. “And this is Autumn.”

“You’re talking to a book.” I whispered under my breath, my voice squeaky.

“Yes, and my name is Daily Esme. Miss Esme to you.” The picture said, ignoring me.

Clara nodded. “That’s a nice name.”

“Thank you, dear. Now where is your friend? Is she done hiding? This game is getting boring.” Miss Esme said. I inched towards the book and stared at the drawing who studied me with a tilted head.

“S-sorry!” I stutter, still shocked from the magic book.

Miss Esme yawned dramatically, then paused mid-yawn and started studying me closely. “Aye, are you- do you know May Brooks?”

I nod after glancing at Clara, who shrugs. “Yes, I’m her daughter. But please, please don’t mention this conversation to her!”

“Why not? You haven’t exactly been nice to me. Clara here, though…”

So I explain it to her. Not the whole story, but any part that highlights why she shouldn’t mention this conversation. Every now and then, Clara gives me a reassuring smile and a little rub on the back.

“I see,” Miss Esme adjusts her position slightly, or does something resembling that. I couldn’t actually tell because we can only see her top half. “Well. I suppose I can keep my mouth shut just this once.”

Relief flooded through my body, and I felt my face relax. “Thank you so much.”

Miss Esme grunted a little, but I could tell she was proud of herself for making someone happy.

A little noise made my heart jump.

The front door knob clicking.

I wasn’t sure if my companions heard it, but I quickly grabbed the magic book along with Clara’s shirt sleeve and jumped up.

“What the-“ Clara exclaimed, but I covered her lips and mouthed “mom”. Her eyes widened and she quickly glanced around before grabbing Miss Esme’s book from me and shoved it into the closet we found the it in. I shut the dark door as Clara runs off to my room.

I held my breath, straining to listen as footsteps approached. I hoped I looked natural.

My mom walked into the hallway I was standing in. “Hello.” She said calmly. “I’m staying home today.”

I felt my eyes go wide and had to manually fix my expression. “Oh, cool,” I deadpanned. Dang it- more emotion or she’ll think -know- something is wrong. “Why?” I said eagerly.

“Want to spend time with my children while I can.”

And then I got a look at her face.

She’s a slight bit tanner than me and her black hair is even longer, though mine reaches my waist and has never been cut.

But today, her complexion was pale and her eyes were red, as though she’d been crying. I’ve never seen her cry before.

Perhaps it was just the lighting.

“Sure,” I shifted my weight. “Hey, can I ask you something strange?”

My mom inhaled sharply- or was that a sniff? “Hm?”

“Well, I uh, I made, well, I was- could I get a phone?” That was not what I meant to ask. I meant to ask if I could invite a friend over.

“A p-phone?”

“Never mind.” I nervously smiled and inched towards my bedroom door. “How about you grab Issac and we can play a game together? Dominos and Marbles?”

For the first time, my mother actually looked loving. She gave me a warm smile as she agreed and stepped into Issacs room.

I bursted into my own and yanked Clara out of her “hiding spot” behind my bed.

“Okay,” I started as I flailed around the room. “You can climb out the window and run home. Take the book. Hide it. I’ll find you, okay? Okay.”

“Wait, why do I have to take the book?” She said as I pushed her towards my window. All kindness she had towards Miss Esme seemed like a fluke.

Maybe she was smarter than I gave her credit for.

“I can’t exactly keep it here for my mother to find.” I said impatiently, growing frustrated as she dug her heels into the floor to keep me from pushing her.

“Okay, but my mom is a suspect too—“

“‘And she doesn’t know she is one, so it’s a great idea for me to take the book!’ Okay, awesome! Thanks Clara! I’ll talk to you later.”

“But what if your mom goes loo-“

I could hear my mother’s footsteps and almost feel the swish of her dress as she walked down the hall towards my room with Issac in hand. I slammed the window shut and waved.

I knew I was being rude, especially as I pushed Clara out the window, but being friends with someone who has strict parents comes with sacrifices.

She’d understand eventually.

I slammed the window behind her and closed my green curtains as my mother pulled open the door and peeked inside.

“Oh, Autumn. You know it’s not good to have your curtains shut all day.” She scolded with a click of her tongue. I faltered for an excuse as she strode across the room and threw open the curtains as if she was starring in a movie. I glanced out of the window with the corner of my eye and let out a sigh of relief when no Clara was to be found.

“You’re right. That’s a lot better. Natural light.” I gave a strained laugh that probably sounded like an emotionless psycho. Or a serial killer.

I clapped my hands as if to snap myself out of my daze. “Okay. Do you wanna play Dominos and Marbles, Issac?”

He jumped up and down. I found an easier time talking to him than my mother, so I used him to communicate with her the rest of the day.

“How about you ask mom if she wants some milk, Issac?”

“Show mom how to play our new version of Dominos and Marbles, Issac!”

“Go show Mom how Georgie is doing, Issac!”

If there’s a stat of what word I’ve said the most, that day would’ve made ‘Issac’ and ‘Mom’ at the top of the list.

For the rest of eternity.

Issac was practically the glue between me and my mother. He kept me from falling too far down the insane-rabbit hole and kept my mom interested in a game that consisted of blue marbles and white dominoes.

What a fun afternoon.

I wish I could say the night was any better.

My mind was swirling with loose questions and information, all twisting together and trying to become a singular rope without knowing how.

I was missing something, but I couldn’t figure out what.

Maybe an instruction manual.

My mother stayed home the next day. And the next. And the next. I knew Clara had to think I ghosted her, so I replayed the apology I crafted up in my head over and over as me and Issac trekked through the forest.

My mom was finally gone. She left with a quickly scribbled note that said “Gone out,” as if I couldn’t figure that out myself.

I noticed my mom erased something at the bottom of the paper. Something I couldn’t decipher. I shoved the paper into my pocket to show Clara, just in case it had some importance to it.

Issac seemed happy to be back to our usual routine, despite soaking up my moms attention for the past few days. Georgie seemed glad too. She pranced over logs and leaves faster than I could keep up. The little cat reminded me of a deer with his big jumps and wide strides.

I did my best to keep her from catching me any… unpleasant gifts. The leash only did so much. I hope whatever animal eats mice liked our sacrifice.

We walked. Skated. Then knocked on Clara’s door. It’s almost like she was waiting for us. You could hear her bound to the door like a little kid and when she pulled it open she greeted me with an excited, “hi!”

I returned a smile as Clara dragged me through her house and into her bedroom. Revenge for the last time I saw her, I guess.

“My mom should be leaving soon.” She whispered, leaning against her shut door like a spy. I had to smile at her routine. “A date with ‘Justin.’ I asked her about him last night and she started going on about this really sappy stuff.”

Clara gave me her best disgusted face before plopping down on the floor in front of me. I unleashed Georgie and sat Issac down next to me. Opening my mouth for the apology I made. “Where’s the book?” Came out instead. Selfish-me won that round. Clara reached under her bed and pulled out the forever-dusty book, along with our notebook of suspicious activity.

“Seriously, under the bed is the best you could do?” I asked her. She shrugged.

I explained to her about my mothers shift in personality and how she suddenly had to leave today. I gave her the note and sat silently as she tried to read the erased message.

“It could just be an ‘I love you’ or something.” Clara said eventually.

“She must really hate us if she erased it then.”

Clara gave a sad smile. “Okay, well maybe-“

A loud “Clara!” cut off her sentence. We stiffened as she yelled her reply.

“I’m leaving to see Justin.” Ms. Foster said in a singsong voice. Clara groaned.

Ms. Foster gave a small laugh and I relaxed as the front door of the house clicked shut.

“Justin definitely has something to do with this,” I deducted. Clara nodded her agreement.

chapter ten

“Okay, let's focus. What do we know about Justin?” I shifted my position on the floor, watching Georgie stalk birds through the window.

“Play!” Babbled Issac, pointing to toys in a clear box on top of Clara’s open closet.

Clara got up off the floor. “Hmm,” she ponders, getting on her wardrobe to reach the toys on the high shelf. “Well, he’s never come over, but they’ve been dating for about a year. He’s some sort of doctor, I think, so he’s busy lots, so I’m not sure why he’s available all day. Come help me please.”

“Maybe he takes the night shift,” I suggested, getting up to help her get the box of toys down. It’s pretty heavy.

“No, he’d be sleeping during the day.” Clara points out, hopping down from the wardrobe as I place the box on the floors.

“True,” I sit and start pulling toys out. Castles, dolls, toy animals, stuffed animals. Issac snatched a dog stuffie from my hand and touched its nose and said “nose.” Clara giggled.

We sat in silence while Issac built an empire out of plastic horses, Barbie dolls, and those little toys of various household objects with faces on them. His imagination is so wild and free it’s hard to keep up with sometimes. Marbles become dragons with their own intricate designs and roles and little fabrics become pet cats and dogs.

“What if we followed her?” Clara asks suddenly. I’d been thinking the same thing but thought it might be insensitive, given it was her mother and all.

I sigh. “A little too late for that, but I can come over tomorrow and we can investigate?”

Clara nodded and smiled. “Deal.”

So the next day, Issac, Georgie, and I trudge down the path in the forest I had cleared, skated down the sidewalk and into the neighborhood, and knocked on Clara’s door. She answered with a familiar smile and practically yanked me in and turned around to face me.

“She just left. Let’s go, let’s go!” She breathed before pulling me back outside. I ripped free long enough to pick up Issac and Georgie before Clara seized me again. It wasn’t in an aggressive way, just excited. She had apparently been watching Mrs. Foster from as soon as she had left, and pulled me eagerly into the woods, momentarily staying on my path before shushing me (like I was being noisy), dropping her grip on my wrist, and continuing through the brambles.

“Wait, Clara,” I whisper, “what about Issac?”

She pauses. “He can be quiet, no?”

With impeccable comic timing, he struggled to get down and when I didn’t let him, he started wailing.

I squat onto the floor and held him. “Shh, shh, shhhhh,” I whisper, not letting the panic flow into my voice. I’m calm and gentle as a hug him and eventually take his hand as Clara bounds back into view and tugs us along. While I was calming Issac, she ran and followed her mom.

Once we located Mrs. Foster again, we also found my mom.

And some kind of village.

Too stunned to move, Clara and I watched our mothers enter the town through a dirt path, chatting like old friends. There was a sign up front, but it was impossible to read due to the ivy growing over it. If I squinted, I could slightly make out the words ‘welcome’ and ‘village’ under the plants. Looking further, all the buildings were more or less the same- thatched roofs made of some sort of firm straw, wooden doors, little log fences around the gardens that appeared tended to but in a natural way.

“Let’s get out of here,” I suggested nervously. It seemed as though my mom really was leading a double life.

“We wanted to find out more, no?” Clara countered, holding up a tan hand to block her eyes from the sun.

I clutched Issac tighter. “True, but…” I trailed off. This whole thing seemed like a bad idea and I didn’t like it.

“Do what you want, but I’m going in.” Clara stated, dropping my wrist and, without further discussion, walked casually into the village.

“W-wait- Clara- don’t- ugh, okay.” I seize Issac’s hand again and clip Georgie‘s leash on. There’s nobody guarding the entryway, so I continue inside, pulling Issac along. Clara is waiting for us with a smirk.

The village is filled with dim chattering of merchants and neighbors. Every single building is a cottage, even the stores. There are some stands selling plants with names that are beyond me. The place seemed friendly enough. Still, a nervous feeling gnawed at my gut. We approached the center of the town, a dirt road with the identical buildings around it and a huge oak tree in the center. I hear whispers and got the feeling I was being watched.

“Clara,” I whisper in her ear, holding onto Issac even tighter and pulling Georgie’s leash closer to my body, “let’s leave. Now.”

She must hear the unease in my voice because she sighs, turns around, and leads me out the same way we came in. Nobody stops us, but I still feel like they want to. Does this place have a prison? Are we technically trespassing?

I don’t want to find out. My heart was acting like a pair of handcuffs, strapping me down and barely letting me move. Caution tape was strewn all over my brain like a crime scene, and let’s not forget the tiny voices that were shouting through megaphones, “Never, ever, ever go exploring again you dummy. That village is gonna run after you with pitchforks because you trespassed.”

That was the reason I decided to say a quick goodbye to Clara and dash right back into the forest like a coward.

I guess I was really scared of pitchforks

Or I really needed time to think.

I wasn’t the only one illegally living in the forest. There was a whole village there. And only a distance from my house.

My brain was still spiraling as I dropped Issacs hand in front of our house and stared at it. The architecture was stocky and there were always birds flapping around and plants stretching towards the sun, but somehow this place that I always called home looked different.

I always thought it stood out against the forest, but now it felt like it belonged nestled in the small clearing.

Like it was meant to be there.

And maybe I was meant to be here too.

Were there more people like me? Distanced from civilization? Could I be a part of something I didn’t know yet?

I stumbled up the porch steps and inserted the key.

I was overthinking. I was sure of it. Tomorrow I’d find a map and the town would have its own label with a cute little name. Dandelion Street or maybe May Fields Village.

May.

That brings me back to my mother. And also Clara’s.

I couldn’t shake that unsettling feeling of stares out of my system. I was going way over my head in all of this.

Georgie scrambled upstairs as if she were competing in a race while Issac plopped on the floor and started rolling several cars back and forth.

Back and forth.

Back and forth.

Back and forth.

It was almost mesmerizing. The way the wheels scraped against the wooden floor.

This was just proof on how far my sanity has gone.

Especially when a hand grabbed my shoulder and I cursed, throwing myself to the ground with a thud.

“Autumn!” A voice scolded. My eyes were wide as I stared up at the tall frame of my mother. Suddenly all of the things I’ve done wrong wanted to see the light of day. Even the time I broke my moms high-heels playing dress up and glued the heel back on using some nature-based gum that had been in my mouth all day. (Maybe I lost my sanity a lot earlier.) “We don’t say that stuff here.” Mom said, bustling into the kitchen.

“Sorry, you scared me.” I got up off the floor and quickly shook my head to clear my thoughts. It did not work. “I have a question.”

“Hm?” My mom started cutting cheese into little cubes and eating some as she went along.

“Where do you go every day?” It was forward and she would probably find out. She was definitely going to the village and probably had a double life there because everyone dressed like she did.

“That’s… if I tell you, you won’t… that’s none of your concern.” She stuttered, clearly cut off guard by the question. I had asked it once or twice every few years, but stopped, figuring that’s all I would ever know.

“Alright,” I agree with my voice but not my heart. I wouldn’t what? Believe her? Now I would. I was about to question her some more when I saw none other than Clara stumble through some bushes looking like she desperately needed a shower.

“Why do you ask?”

“Hm? What?” I glance at my mother and try to figure out what to do. “It’s Issac’s nap time. He would like it if you told him a story. Come on, let’s go!” It did happen to be that time of day, and I pulled my mom along. As she picked up Issac, I swiftly unlocked the front door so Clara wouldn’t try to knock or call my name.

I caught up with them and was shocked to find Mother holding my brother’s hand, picking out a pajamas with him. I leaned against the door frame, smiling at the sight. I watched as she changed Issac nice and gently and put him in his too-small crib. She told him a story about moonlight and dragons and fairies. For the first time today, I was calm.

When Issac fell asleep, my mother stood up. She handed me a thick wad of cash that literally appeared from nowhere. “Go get him a toddler bed.”

“I can’t carry all that.”

“Make Clara help you,” she said, smiling knowingly. I stuttered and took the cash a bit more aggressive than necessary. “I’m friends with her mom. Lovely girl.”

I turn around, my heart beating. I had been so careful that she didn’t find out about my friendship with Clara. How the heck did she find out?

It wasn’t Mrs. Foster, right?

But if it wasn’t, how else would she know?

I left without saying thank you, practically slamming my bedroom door and collapsing on my bed. After all those year of hiding. How long has she known?

I was snapped out of my daze with a tiny knock on my window. Glancing up, I saw the familiar face of my best friend, her face dusted in dirt and hair tangled with tiny twigs.

I gave the ‘shush’ sign and carefully pulled open my window.

“What?” I whispered. “My moms home. She knows about you.”

“She does?” Clara asked, her eyes widening as she seemingly forgot about whatever it is she had to come trampling through the forest for.

“We still should play it safe though.” I said, reading her mind. “Same with your mom.”

Clara nodded.

“Now why are you here?”

“Let me inside please, I fell in a river and I’m cold.”

I looked down and sure enough, her pants are soaked in water. I sigh and lift open the window higher, steading her as she climbed inside. “Shh!” I whispered harshly, even though she didn’t make any sound.

I paused and listened for a moment before holding up a thumbs up. I pointed to the closet and mouthed ‘hide’ and she obliged. I snuck down the hall and grabbed some towels. I returned and quickly handed them to her.

“Dry off,” I said a little quietly, glancing nervously towards the door.

“Thanks. Do you have any extra pants?” Clara requested. Her outfit was pretty cute, ripped jeans with an oversized, off-white crewneck. I felt bad even though it wasn’t my fault the river was there. In fact, I didn’t recall a river, but I guess animals in the forest needed to drink somehow.

I nodded, rummaging through my drawer to find some old sweatpants. Not as cute, but hopefully it would do. I left so she could get changed. I wanted to know what happened and couldn’t tell if she was avoiding the question or not.

"It's not safe out there,” she said, now dressed in my sweatpants. We were sitting on the bed, legs crossed. Clara nervously fiddled with the bedding fringe.

“Why not?” I prompted.

“I fell into the river, but I swear it appeared out of nowhere. I don’t know, I just have a bad feeling about this little habitat of yours.”

“Wait, wait,” I say defensively, “I haven’t been out there any more than you!”

She raised an eyebrow. “Have you not lived here your whole life?”

“Well… yes, but I’ve not really explored.”

Georgie jumped onto Clara’s lap and snuggled in. She started to purr and my friend stroked her fur.

Suddenly Clara got mischievous look on her face. “What if we explore together?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Sounds like a recipe for ticks. Plus, there could be any number of dangers out there,” I stated firmly, trying to sound more rational than afraid. “You said the river just appeared?”

Suddenly, my mom burst into the room. Not batting an eyelash at Clara, she told me, “I’ll be back in… I’m not sure, I’ll try to be back soon. Something’s come up. Bye.”

Clara and I glanced at each other. There’s a pause between us.

“Wanna come to my house?” Clara asks.

“Yeah.”

chapter eleven

On the way out of the forest with Georgie and Isaac in tow, we ran into Clara’s mom.

“Oh!” She exclaimed. “What a lovely surprise. I was just coming to supervise you girls.”

What in the world was happening?

Why were neither of our mothers at least a little curious about… well, all of it?

Mrs. Foster turn us both around and took Issac from me. She was lucky I trusted her. If anything happened to Issac, I don’t know what I would do. Arm slung around my shoulder, the woman started marching me back to my cottage. Clara grabbed my wrist and we looked at each other, shrugged, and mouthed ‘What the heck?’ followed by ‘I don’t know either.’