Read Online Amity by Micol Ostow - Free Book Online

to be talking to herself as much as to me now—“I’m you’re first visitor. And you just moved, don’t know the area. You haven’t met the neighbors yet, I’m assuming.”
    “Neighbors? We’re out in the wilderness.” The house sat alone on a hill, after all.
    Ro’s spine stiffened briefly, her fingers tensing against the banister. At the landing, she turned to me, her features arrangedtoo cautiously to be entirely sincere. “Well, I hope you’re not too isolated out here. It’d be nice if you could make some friends.”
    Nice . Because relationships were hard for me, connections were sometimes difficult, due to my
    (hysterical)
    sensitive nature, which so many of my peers found off-putting.
    I stood beside Ro at the top of the staircase, taking in the twists of the house from above. It felt less surreal to see the sharp, unexpected angles of Amity from this vantage point, a little calmer.
    “Have you tried the phone yet?” she asked.
    I sucked in my breath. “No,” I said shortly. “Why?” There would be check-ins, updates with the doctors at some point, but not yet. And I was
    (slept like the DEAD!)
    fine right now.
    Wasn’t I?
    I squeezed my hands into tight fists, dug my fingernails into the healthy, unmarked flesh of my palms.
    I was fine .
    I am fine. I am .
    “Oh, it’s nothing, really,” Ro said, speaking slowly, thoughtfully. “Just that I tried to call yesterday, to see how things were going. But I kept getting a busy signal, like there was something wrong with the line. I wasn’t sure if the problems were on my end, or on yours.”
    “Huh.” Had I used the phone yesterday? Had anyone? Had it rung at all? I wasn’t sure. “Maybe the phone serviceisn’t hooked up yet. Sometimes things take longer than you expect, I guess especially, you know, out here in no-man’s-land.”
    “Right.” Ro shrugged. “But, still. I thought your parents made a point of getting those things taken care of,” she said. “For … your …”
    (slept like the dead)
    “I’m fine ,” I insisted. Fine .
    Her eyes darted toward my palms, then back to my eyes.
    “Okay,” she said. “I’m glad.” She tilted her head. “But you could tell me if you weren’t, you know. You can always tell me.”
    “I know.” I swallowed. My hands pulsed, unseen, throbbing with a ghosted tinge of pain. I shoved them into my back pockets. “But I’m okay. I promise. Come on. I’ll show you the rest of the place.”
     
     
     
     
     

THE SECOND STORY BEHAVED ITSELF for Aunt Ro. The bathroom Luke and I shared betrayed none of the eerie images I’d seen last night, though the mirror was still cracked jaggedly through the middle. If Ro noticed, she didn’t mention it. The bedrooms, though still storing pockets of unexpectedly cold air, were unremarkable. Ro commented on the closet space and the original detailing of the claw-foot tub, but beyond that, she was subdued.
    As we wound our way to the third floor, a familiar sense of vertigo crept over me. The dimensions of the stairwell seemed to morph and shift the way space had expanded and folded over for me down in the basement. I was woozy as we approached the third-floor landing, and—though it may have been my imagination—Ro appeared to teeter, too. At the top of the staircase, I grabbed the knob of the banister and shut my eyes, willing the floor to steady beneath me. When I opened them again, I painted as bright an expression on my face as possible.
    “So. Ta-da .” I pretended to curtsy, ignoring the dizziness.
    “That was a climb.” Ro’s face was pale, her upper lip beaded with sweat.
    I nodded and winced. “I know, sorry. There’s not even much to see up here anyway.” The sewing room was behindme, and I gestured to it. “This is the only room we’ve really used, and just for storage, you know. Stuff we won’t need to unpack for a while.”
    Ro pressed her eyes shut tightly and swayed, leaning against the wall for support.
    I moved toward