Lucie -- end of chapter 1

I must’ve fallen asleep, because drool is trickling down my chin, and the side of my face is squashed against the window.

Emily looks up from her book.  “Your ponytails are askew.”

“I didn’t ask you.”  I shoot a death-glare at Emily.

“Whatever,” says Emily.  “Mom says we’re almost there.”

Our rolling wreck turns off the paved road and onto a dirt one.  Gravel crunches under our tires, and twisted branches reach out to snare us and carry us off to a monster’s hideaway.  I’ve seen these woods in scary movies.  Something terrible will happen.  Someone will jump out from behind a tree with an axe, or a chainsaw.

“Emily, do you know Uncle George?” I ask.

Emily looks in Mom and Dad’s direction and shakes her head.  Either she doesn’t know or she can’t tell me right now.  If she doesn’t know, she’ll pretend it is a big secret that she has to keep.  If she does know, she’ll tell me because she can’t keep a secret.  Emily thinks she is so clever.

The branches of trees lining the dirt path knit together in a crazy cat’s-cradle, crossing and shadowing the dirt road.  Bony fingers of twisted branches scratch and tap against our doors and windows.

Our old Ford expires outside Uncle Unknown’s two-story wooden house.  The house might once have been yellow, but the paint has faded and peeled, so bare wood shows through.  The front yard looks like the dirt road – dry, red-brown clay adored by an occasional weed or tuft of grass.  My hand tightens on the handle of Oliver’s carrier.  I am never letting go of Oliver at this place.

“Are you sure about this?” Dad asks Mom.

“What choice do we have?  Lucky for us, George is an accountant and can work from home during the summer.  Everyone else we know has summer plans, and Lucie is, well, Lucie.  Irresponsible, irrepressible Lucie.” She sounds tired.

“Lucie is Lucie,” Dad agrees.  He ruffles his already ruffled sandy hair.  “All right.  Let’s go.”

Home.  Yay!  We’re going home! My heart jumps.  But instead of driving away from the old wooden house, he opens his car door and gets out.  Mom follows.  They head to the back of the car to open the trunk.

Emily leans over toward me, and whispers, “I heard them talking last night.  Uncle George used to be married to Mom’s sister.”

“Mom has a sister?” I’ve never hear of Mom’s sister before.

“Shhhh.  Had a sister.”

“Did you know her?”

“No.  Her name was Annabelle or something like that.” Emily’s voice changes as her whisper becomes a shout.  “Lucie, let me help you with, um, Oliver.”  I look up to see Mom standing near my door.

“I have him.  You can take this.”  I dump my overnight bag on her lap.

“Okay,” says Emily.  She slings the bag over her shoulder and staggers out of the car.

Mom, Dad and Emily have gathered next to the car.

I walk up to the trio of traitors and we move as a group toward the house.  The door is dark red and slightly shiny, as if it had recently been painted.  Dad looks for a doorbell.  He doesn’t find one, so he knocks on the door.  Faint traces of red paint bloody his knuckles.  We wait.  Dad knocks again.

“He did know we were coming today, right?” he asks Mom.

“Of course.  Maybe he’s upstairs or out back or somewhere that he couldn’t hear the door very well.  Go ahead.  Knock again.”

Dad raises his hand to knock again, but before his knuckles rap the wood, the door swings open.  In the doorway stands a girl with pale skin, huge green eyes, long dark lashes and super-short, black curly hair.  She’s wearing a black sundress and no shoes.  Mom and Dad are abandoning me at Freaksville!