Read Online Crossing by Andrew Xia Fukuda - Free Book Online Page B

her lower lip, frustrated. “This is not the time to be hiding stuff from me, Xing. Did something happen? With all the disappearances, you need to let me know if you see something strange.”
    I nodded. “I will.” For a microsecond I met her gaze before I flicked my eyes away to the side. She had aged so much in recent years, sometimes it caught me by surprise. Wrinkles I had not seen, a new caution in her eyes, a sudden droop at the corners of her mouth. Somewhere along the way she had gone from being my mother to someone else’s grandmother. “I was just having a snowball fight with Naomi. Kind of embarrassed about it; it was pretty childish what we did.”
    Her look softened instantly. “Oh, there’s nothing childish about playing in the snow.”
    “I’m sorry. I’ll try to be back before nightfall next time.”
    “I let you get away with far too much, Xing.” She paused.
    “You’re not supposed to be walking the streets alone; I thought we talked about this already.”
    “We did, we did. Today was just an exception.”
    “Naomi’s parents still driving you home every night, right?”
    “They are,” I lied. “They’ve been really good about that.”
    “And you’re taking the school bus in the morning, right?”
    “Of course,” I said, smiling. With her late hours, she never woke up before I left the house. “Who’d want to walk or bike in this weather, anyway? It’s been crazy—can’t believe it’s snowed so much already.”
    That seemed to appease her. She picked up her teacup and made her way up the stairs.
    “Don’t forget to turn off the lights when you come up,” she said from outside her bedroom. “Don’t forget to do your homework—you make me worry. Dinner’s in the kitchen.” The door closed with a muffled finality. The television turned on.
    On the kitchen counter was a saran-wrapped sandwich, peanut butter and jelly. I ignored it, moving to the stove where I turned on all the ranges. I watched the flames dance before me, a myriad of flickering blue and orange and purple and red. Slowly, the room filled with heat, but I needed more. Cold had settled deep into my bones.
    I sat down at the kitchen table and, using my forearm as a pillow, leaned my head down. I was too tired to walk up to my room. I would sleep awhile here. And I knew that Miss Durgenhoff would come down shortly. I didn’t know how I knew this. But she would be down very soon.
     
     
    The sound of cutlery being laid on the table. The smell of chicken broth simmering. The clink of plates placed on the kitchen counter. The room a toasty warm. I opened my eyes.
    Miss Durgenhoff was at the stove, her stooped back to me. Without turning, she said, “Ah, you’re up now. Was just about to wake you.” She brought me a bowl of soup.
    It was, of course, just what I wanted. The broth sank luxuriously into my stomach, warming my insides.
    “Perfect for this time of night,” she said. “Not too heavy to bloat, but textured enough to fill. Mind you, it’ll help you to sleep, too, not that you’ll have difficulty with that tonight.”
    “What time is it?” I asked, my head slowly spinning.
    “Oh, late enough, I suppose,” she said. Night had fallen outside, turning the window into a perfect mirror. I caught my reflection. My body was slouched was over to the point I was almost facedown in the soup. My hair a frazzled mess. There were sleep lines on my cheek where the creases of my sleeves had grooved in.
    I was drinking my last spoonful when she pushed the saran-wrapped sandwich towards me. “Eat this,” she said. She saw my expression and urged me, “Come now, she at least made the effort. You should eat it.”
    I was too tired to argue. I pulled the sandwich toward me and partially unwrapped it. It looked like a dead rodent to me, cold to the touch and stiff. I poked at it. “Can you turn off the light, please? It’s too bright.”
    In the semidarkness, the purple flames of the stove cast a flickering,