hurriedly grabbed another book without looking and rushed for the door.
“Don’t tell my father. Please.”
“Tell him what?”
“Anything.”
I pushed through the doors and scurried back to my room, praying. Don’t let him see me. Don’t let him see me. Don’t let him see me. Only when I was back inside and the door locked did my heart stop pounding.
I was curled up in a side chair reading when a piece of lined notebook paper, folded in half, slipped up under my door.
Widow’s Walk. Two AM, it read.
I opened the door and looked both ways, but there was no one there. I locked it again, looked at the clock.
Time for dinner.
Chapter Nine
Evelyn
I thought I was going to throw up.
The staircase to the widow’s walk was in a closet. I’m sure it was just a door at some point, but it was converted to a closet, with the winding spiral staircase itself behind a false wall the swung open with a touch. It was dark inside, but clean. I was surprised. I expected a mouldering secret passage filled with cobwebs and critters. Three turns up, and there was another door that led out onto a long path that crossed the entire roof of the main house, lined with a tall wrought-iron railing tipped with wicked looking spikes. I touched one, and felt the sharpness of the edge, like a spear point. To my left was the big round cupola over the office, a room belonging to Victor’s father that I never entered, having only seen it once when his mother gave me a tour. To the right, the woods and the road, further off.
Cicadas buzzed in the night. It was dark up here, but the moon and stars were out. More stars than I’d ever seen, so far away from the city.
Then, there was Victor. He leaned against the railing, arms folded over his chest.
I walked over, glancing either side, terrified someone would spot me. Victor was all in black. I wore a long, demure nightgown of heavy cotton. Would someone looking up think I was a ghost with bright blue eyes?
He looked over at me and stood up, towering over me.
“What’s with you?”
I swallowed. “Nothing. I shouldn’t be here. I’m sorry.”
As I turned to leave, he grabbed my wrist.
Shock melted on his face when I looked back at him, trembling with fear. He let go immediately.
“I didn’t mean to… wait!”
I stopped, gripped the horizontal part of the railing, and looked down. I could pitch myself off the roof. Maybe then I would be a ghost.
“What do you want?”
“I want to know why you’re acting like this. You jump at shadows, you hide in your room all the time or follow my mom around. Something’s not right.”
“Everything is fine.”
He studied me.
“You’re lying,” he said. “You lie a lot.”
My lip trembled and I tucked it under my front teeth to stop it, and hugged myself. It was hot and muggy outside, but I was shivering.
“I have to go back to bed. I can’t be seen…”
“Seen by who?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“You’re a big girl. My mother doesn’t care what you do. So that leaves your father.”
I didn’t say anything, but he went on.
“He put his hands on me that day I took you for a ride. Does he ever put his hands on you?”
I tried not to, but I flinched with a shocked expression.
“I see,” he said.
“No, he doesn’t, he never. He’s just protective of me, that’s all.”
“Mom said you were homeschooled.”
“That’s right.”
“Why?”
“I… I couldn’t go to regular school. I wouldn’t fit in there.”
“Why?”
“Because he said so.”
Victor folded his big arms. The flexing of muscles stretched and distorted the feathers incised on his arms
“I like your tattoos,” I blurted out.
“Thanks,” he said, sounding slightly confused. “Does your father ever hit you?”
I tried to say no, of course he doesn’t , but nothing would come out. My throat just went dry.
“I need to go. Please.”
“There’s nothing between you and the door.”
I turned and rushed back, down the
“Don’t tell my father. Please.”
“Tell him what?”
“Anything.”
I pushed through the doors and scurried back to my room, praying. Don’t let him see me. Don’t let him see me. Don’t let him see me. Only when I was back inside and the door locked did my heart stop pounding.
I was curled up in a side chair reading when a piece of lined notebook paper, folded in half, slipped up under my door.
Widow’s Walk. Two AM, it read.
I opened the door and looked both ways, but there was no one there. I locked it again, looked at the clock.
Time for dinner.
Chapter Nine
Evelyn
I thought I was going to throw up.
The staircase to the widow’s walk was in a closet. I’m sure it was just a door at some point, but it was converted to a closet, with the winding spiral staircase itself behind a false wall the swung open with a touch. It was dark inside, but clean. I was surprised. I expected a mouldering secret passage filled with cobwebs and critters. Three turns up, and there was another door that led out onto a long path that crossed the entire roof of the main house, lined with a tall wrought-iron railing tipped with wicked looking spikes. I touched one, and felt the sharpness of the edge, like a spear point. To my left was the big round cupola over the office, a room belonging to Victor’s father that I never entered, having only seen it once when his mother gave me a tour. To the right, the woods and the road, further off.
Cicadas buzzed in the night. It was dark up here, but the moon and stars were out. More stars than I’d ever seen, so far away from the city.
Then, there was Victor. He leaned against the railing, arms folded over his chest.
I walked over, glancing either side, terrified someone would spot me. Victor was all in black. I wore a long, demure nightgown of heavy cotton. Would someone looking up think I was a ghost with bright blue eyes?
He looked over at me and stood up, towering over me.
“What’s with you?”
I swallowed. “Nothing. I shouldn’t be here. I’m sorry.”
As I turned to leave, he grabbed my wrist.
Shock melted on his face when I looked back at him, trembling with fear. He let go immediately.
“I didn’t mean to… wait!”
I stopped, gripped the horizontal part of the railing, and looked down. I could pitch myself off the roof. Maybe then I would be a ghost.
“What do you want?”
“I want to know why you’re acting like this. You jump at shadows, you hide in your room all the time or follow my mom around. Something’s not right.”
“Everything is fine.”
He studied me.
“You’re lying,” he said. “You lie a lot.”
My lip trembled and I tucked it under my front teeth to stop it, and hugged myself. It was hot and muggy outside, but I was shivering.
“I have to go back to bed. I can’t be seen…”
“Seen by who?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“You’re a big girl. My mother doesn’t care what you do. So that leaves your father.”
I didn’t say anything, but he went on.
“He put his hands on me that day I took you for a ride. Does he ever put his hands on you?”
I tried not to, but I flinched with a shocked expression.
“I see,” he said.
“No, he doesn’t, he never. He’s just protective of me, that’s all.”
“Mom said you were homeschooled.”
“That’s right.”
“Why?”
“I… I couldn’t go to regular school. I wouldn’t fit in there.”
“Why?”
“Because he said so.”
Victor folded his big arms. The flexing of muscles stretched and distorted the feathers incised on his arms
“I like your tattoos,” I blurted out.
“Thanks,” he said, sounding slightly confused. “Does your father ever hit you?”
I tried to say no, of course he doesn’t , but nothing would come out. My throat just went dry.
“I need to go. Please.”
“There’s nothing between you and the door.”
I turned and rushed back, down the
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