Milayna by Michelle Pickett

my sweatshirt tighter around me.
    “Why are you here?”
    “You should be glad I am,” Chay answered. His tone was neutral, never changing.
    “I am. I mean, I wouldn’t have known what to do with the hobgoblins without help. But, where did you come from and how did you know to come?”
    “I live on the next street.”
    “And?”
    Why can’t he just finish an answer without me squeezing it out of him?
    “I smelled the sulfur and knew something was coming.”
    “Thanks.” I scrunched my nose. “That smell is nasty.”
    “When will someone be here?” He looked out of the window.
    “My dad should be here any minute.”
    Chay nodded and walked outside. I followed. He sat on the porch swing. “I’ll wait.” He leaned forward and rested his arms on his thighs, his hands hanging between his knees.
    “Okay.” I wished he’d just leave. He made me feel uncomfortable. But considering he’d just saved me from two little red men, I was glad he hung around. I was still standing next to the door, my hand on the knob, when my dad pulled into the driveway minutes later. I heard his car door slam shut. “I think my dad’s home.”
    “Later.” He stood and walked away, cutting through my backyard and jumping the fence to get to his street without a backward glance.
    Weird. Very weird.
    Chay definitely had the uncanny ability to set me on edge. He made me feel off-balance. I couldn’t decipher what he was thinking, and he wasn’t exactly forthcoming in his answers.
    I heard my dad come into the house and stood in the kitchen, waiting for him to stow his junk in the mudroom. When he walked into the kitchen, I let loose.
    “What are hobgoblins, and how come you didn’t warn me about them?” My voice came out quieter than I’d expected. I thought I’d be upset because he didn’t tell me about them before they showed up, but I was exhausted. Seeing little demon creatures swinging on my swing set was about enough excitement for one night.
    “Hobgoblins?” He froze in place. “They’ve been here?”
    “Yeah.”
    “And what’d you do?” he asked. He started moving again, going from window to window and looking outside before he pulled the blinds closed.
    “ I didn’t do anything. I didn’t know what to do, because you didn’t mention anything about the fat, roly-poly demons or what I should do about them.” I over-enunciated each word to show my irritation, but my dad seemed oblivious. I turned in a circle and watched as he jumped from window to window.
    “Are they still here?”
    I wrapped the hem of my sweatshirt around my finger. “No, Chay came over. Said he smelled sulfur and knew something was wrong.”
    “Yeah, I know Chay. Good kid. Quiet. He’s acquired a sort of sixth sense through this mess. It’s kind of like your ability, but his is a little different. It only works with you, not with other people.”
    “Me?”
    “Well, not just you. The entire group. He can usually tell when a member of the group is in danger.” My dad waved his hand in the air when he talked as if it wasn’t a big deal. I rubbed my temples, trying to push in all the information I’d gotten the last few days.
    Well, that explains why he was standing outside when I left swim practice today.
    “And just how often is one of the group members in danger?”
    “Until your eighteenth birthday, a lot. Especially since the hobgoblins are already showing up and making mischief. They’re usually the first visitors that come around. Kind of like scouts checking things out and reporting back.” He looked out of the window and tsked. “Your mother is gonna be pissed when she sees her flower beds.”
    “Flower beds? Flower beds. That’s what you think about?” I held my arms out to my sides and let them fall, slapping against my legs. “I just told you little red demons were running around the backyard while you were at work, and you’re worried about Mom’s damned flower beds?”
    Flowers. Thanks, Dad. I’m okay,