one to do … whatever it is that you need. And in your dreams, she keeps saying you need to help her. It sounds like Dorothy’s in no condition to do much of anything for you. So I think that’s where you need to start, by trying to help her.”
“Okay, yeah.” At least I had a task to focus on. “I’ll try to help Aunt Dorothy.”
He took my hand and pulled me up. He held onto me for another half block, probably to make sure I wasn’t going to keel over. Another two blocks, and we’d reached my house. I knew Mason had to leave, but I was extremely reluctant to let him go. His presence was the last thing between the reasonably-calm me and the hysterical, howling-at-the-moon me.
He ran his hand through his hair, disheveling the waves, and gave me a troubled glance.
“I’m sorry I have to go, Corinne.” He folded me into his arms, and for a second, I felt safe, surrounded by his warmth and the earthy scent of his soap. “I’ll text you soon.”
I nodded, and he headed toward his street. Hoping no one was home, I trudged up to the door and pushed it open. I really needed a few minutes to compose myself before I had to face my family.
“In here,” Mom called from the kitchen, and I slumped a little. I’d hardly seen her in the past couple of days, so I couldn’t just breeze by her. I pulled my lips into a smile and squared my shoulders. I held the letter and envelope in one hand flat against my thigh.
“Hi!” I said, trying to match her tone. “What’re you up to?”
She looked up from the dishwasher, and I tried to hold my face in a cheerful, relaxed expression. “Just dishes and laundry. Puttering.” She looked past me. “Did Mason leave? I was hoping he’d come in. How’s he doing?”
The poor guy probably wished he’d never returned to this continent.
“He’s great,” I said. “Definitely happy to be home. I’m sure he’ll be by again soon. He, uh, said to tell you ‘hi.’ I’m going to put Grandma’s key back in Dad’s desk. We went by to make sure the house was okay.”
I edged toward the doorway so I could make my escape.
“Okay, come up in a couple hours and help me with dinner.” I nodded and kept sidestepping. “Oh, and let’s take the car out first thing in the morning.”
Crap. I had forgotten that I’d asked my mom if she’d take me to practice driving before my big test next week. I was a total pro; I could practically parallel park with my eyes shut, but I didn’t have to drive much around Tapestry, so I wanted to make sure my skills hadn’t rusted.
“Great!” In my haste to get to my room, I spoke with way more enthusiasm than my norm. I reined it in a little. “I’ll come up to help you later.”
I skipped down the stairs two at a time, tossed the key into my dad’s desk drawer, and locked myself in my room. I realized that my hand was still clamped around Grandma Doris’s letter, and I dropped it like a hot cookie sheet. The pages drifted to the floor. I left them there and sat on my bed with my back against the wall and my knees drawn up.
My phone buzzed in my pocket, a text from Mason.
I’ll come by around 9 tonight, ok?
I wrote back: I’ll be here. C u then.
Thank God he was coming back. I wasn’t sure how much time alone with my thoughts I could handle. I suddenly remembered Ang, and I hit her speed dial on my phone. I told her about Mr. Sykes, and I read her the letter. I asked her to come by when she could, but she was helping her mom at church, so she didn’t think she’d make it over.
I shoved my earbuds in, and, hoping that something upbeat would make my life feel less bizarre, flipped to my 80s mix. The opening bass line to “Thriller” started bumping. I hit skip . A song about ghosts or zombies wasn’t really what I needed at the moment. Social Distortion? Better.
I pulled a strand of hair in front of my face and examined it for split ends. More than anything, I wished I’d never discovered the pyxis . Maybe if it’d
“Okay, yeah.” At least I had a task to focus on. “I’ll try to help Aunt Dorothy.”
He took my hand and pulled me up. He held onto me for another half block, probably to make sure I wasn’t going to keel over. Another two blocks, and we’d reached my house. I knew Mason had to leave, but I was extremely reluctant to let him go. His presence was the last thing between the reasonably-calm me and the hysterical, howling-at-the-moon me.
He ran his hand through his hair, disheveling the waves, and gave me a troubled glance.
“I’m sorry I have to go, Corinne.” He folded me into his arms, and for a second, I felt safe, surrounded by his warmth and the earthy scent of his soap. “I’ll text you soon.”
I nodded, and he headed toward his street. Hoping no one was home, I trudged up to the door and pushed it open. I really needed a few minutes to compose myself before I had to face my family.
“In here,” Mom called from the kitchen, and I slumped a little. I’d hardly seen her in the past couple of days, so I couldn’t just breeze by her. I pulled my lips into a smile and squared my shoulders. I held the letter and envelope in one hand flat against my thigh.
“Hi!” I said, trying to match her tone. “What’re you up to?”
She looked up from the dishwasher, and I tried to hold my face in a cheerful, relaxed expression. “Just dishes and laundry. Puttering.” She looked past me. “Did Mason leave? I was hoping he’d come in. How’s he doing?”
The poor guy probably wished he’d never returned to this continent.
“He’s great,” I said. “Definitely happy to be home. I’m sure he’ll be by again soon. He, uh, said to tell you ‘hi.’ I’m going to put Grandma’s key back in Dad’s desk. We went by to make sure the house was okay.”
I edged toward the doorway so I could make my escape.
“Okay, come up in a couple hours and help me with dinner.” I nodded and kept sidestepping. “Oh, and let’s take the car out first thing in the morning.”
Crap. I had forgotten that I’d asked my mom if she’d take me to practice driving before my big test next week. I was a total pro; I could practically parallel park with my eyes shut, but I didn’t have to drive much around Tapestry, so I wanted to make sure my skills hadn’t rusted.
“Great!” In my haste to get to my room, I spoke with way more enthusiasm than my norm. I reined it in a little. “I’ll come up to help you later.”
I skipped down the stairs two at a time, tossed the key into my dad’s desk drawer, and locked myself in my room. I realized that my hand was still clamped around Grandma Doris’s letter, and I dropped it like a hot cookie sheet. The pages drifted to the floor. I left them there and sat on my bed with my back against the wall and my knees drawn up.
My phone buzzed in my pocket, a text from Mason.
I’ll come by around 9 tonight, ok?
I wrote back: I’ll be here. C u then.
Thank God he was coming back. I wasn’t sure how much time alone with my thoughts I could handle. I suddenly remembered Ang, and I hit her speed dial on my phone. I told her about Mr. Sykes, and I read her the letter. I asked her to come by when she could, but she was helping her mom at church, so she didn’t think she’d make it over.
I shoved my earbuds in, and, hoping that something upbeat would make my life feel less bizarre, flipped to my 80s mix. The opening bass line to “Thriller” started bumping. I hit skip . A song about ghosts or zombies wasn’t really what I needed at the moment. Social Distortion? Better.
I pulled a strand of hair in front of my face and examined it for split ends. More than anything, I wished I’d never discovered the pyxis . Maybe if it’d
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