pocket and touched something cold, metal.
“Holy shit!” I pulled the key from my pocket as I sat up in the bed. I laid the key in the palm of my hand and stared at it. I rolled it around in my palm. I held it up to the light. There it was. Proof. It was silver and shiny and tangible. Real.
What Dr. Chen and Dad would give for that.
“I’m right,” I said to the empty room around me. “I’m right about it all.” I let out a sad, lonely laugh.
The first day of my last great adventure.
Nine
Morning broke with the sun streaming through the eastern window, glittering and glowing off the frigid-looking waves of Lake Michigan. I stretched and surveyed the landscape out my window. It was truly gorgeous. The lighthouse sat maybe a half mile down the rocky shore, the cabin’s nearest neighbor. I watched for a while, listening to my iPod, as seagulls glided and dove for their morning breakfast.
I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the window, all crazy hair and sleepy eyes. But I was smiling, rested and ready to recapture the feeling that I was here, and this was a new start.
I put some water in the teakettle to boil and opened my notebook at the kitchen table, recording the events of my loop from last night, flipping the key over in my hand the wholetime as I wrote. When I finished, I walked toward the west window, absentmindedly surveying the forest of evergreens across the clearing. And then I nearly dropped my iPod.
“What in the world?” I said.
He was out there. My cabin squatter. Folding a sleeping bag of some sort into his backpack. Turning his work-coat collar up against the wind. It was unmistakably the same guy. He stood up and put on his cowboy hat, and his silhouette against the early-morning sky, it was almost too much. Like a movie star on a set. But when he looked up for a second, I saw the serious clench in his jaw, and I reminded myself that I didn’t know this guy. At all.
“Stalk much?” I let out a laugh, but it sounded nervous, out of place.
The fire pit glowed with now-dying embers. Had he stayed out there all night? And more importantly, why? Wouldn’t he have just about frozen to death?
I was totally annoyed. Why did he think it was okay to stay out in the clearing? A prickly sensation of fear slithered up my spine. Who was he?
I watched him as he started for the evergreens. He took one look back at the cabin, and I shrank away from the window, the breath catching in my throat.
This is my cabin
, I told myself.
I don’t have to hide from him
.
I stood staring out the window after him. There was something … familiar about this cowboy, though. Something I couldn’t quite put my finger on.
I shook my head and forced myself to forget about him, to focus on why I was here. I was here to figure out what to do with myself, how to help my boy, before Dad found me and I had no more choices.
I stepped away from the window and thought of Dad. He would’ve realized what had happened by now. He would be trying to find me.
Could I really do this?
“We can remove a section of skull.…”
The teakettle began to whistle then, and it startled me. I turned the hot plate off.
I gathered my clothes, deciding to take a shower and get started on figuring things out around here. I would begin my day by going into town, maybe to the library. I was determined to find out what this little boy wanted me to know about Esperanza Beach, what he needed from me. I could ask a few questions here and there. I knew that it was a small town. I knew that I would raise some eyebrows, and the last thing I wanted to do was draw attention to myself, but I had to start somewhere.
I made my way to the world’s tiniest bathroom, off to the left of the kitchen. My bare feet crunched onto something on the bathroom floor, little pebbles, gravel almost. I looked down, squatted to see what it was, little and black, almost like bird poop. I scraped my foot clean on the metal edge of the shower, dropped my clothes
“Holy shit!” I pulled the key from my pocket as I sat up in the bed. I laid the key in the palm of my hand and stared at it. I rolled it around in my palm. I held it up to the light. There it was. Proof. It was silver and shiny and tangible. Real.
What Dr. Chen and Dad would give for that.
“I’m right,” I said to the empty room around me. “I’m right about it all.” I let out a sad, lonely laugh.
The first day of my last great adventure.
Nine
Morning broke with the sun streaming through the eastern window, glittering and glowing off the frigid-looking waves of Lake Michigan. I stretched and surveyed the landscape out my window. It was truly gorgeous. The lighthouse sat maybe a half mile down the rocky shore, the cabin’s nearest neighbor. I watched for a while, listening to my iPod, as seagulls glided and dove for their morning breakfast.
I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the window, all crazy hair and sleepy eyes. But I was smiling, rested and ready to recapture the feeling that I was here, and this was a new start.
I put some water in the teakettle to boil and opened my notebook at the kitchen table, recording the events of my loop from last night, flipping the key over in my hand the wholetime as I wrote. When I finished, I walked toward the west window, absentmindedly surveying the forest of evergreens across the clearing. And then I nearly dropped my iPod.
“What in the world?” I said.
He was out there. My cabin squatter. Folding a sleeping bag of some sort into his backpack. Turning his work-coat collar up against the wind. It was unmistakably the same guy. He stood up and put on his cowboy hat, and his silhouette against the early-morning sky, it was almost too much. Like a movie star on a set. But when he looked up for a second, I saw the serious clench in his jaw, and I reminded myself that I didn’t know this guy. At all.
“Stalk much?” I let out a laugh, but it sounded nervous, out of place.
The fire pit glowed with now-dying embers. Had he stayed out there all night? And more importantly, why? Wouldn’t he have just about frozen to death?
I was totally annoyed. Why did he think it was okay to stay out in the clearing? A prickly sensation of fear slithered up my spine. Who was he?
I watched him as he started for the evergreens. He took one look back at the cabin, and I shrank away from the window, the breath catching in my throat.
This is my cabin
, I told myself.
I don’t have to hide from him
.
I stood staring out the window after him. There was something … familiar about this cowboy, though. Something I couldn’t quite put my finger on.
I shook my head and forced myself to forget about him, to focus on why I was here. I was here to figure out what to do with myself, how to help my boy, before Dad found me and I had no more choices.
I stepped away from the window and thought of Dad. He would’ve realized what had happened by now. He would be trying to find me.
Could I really do this?
“We can remove a section of skull.…”
The teakettle began to whistle then, and it startled me. I turned the hot plate off.
I gathered my clothes, deciding to take a shower and get started on figuring things out around here. I would begin my day by going into town, maybe to the library. I was determined to find out what this little boy wanted me to know about Esperanza Beach, what he needed from me. I could ask a few questions here and there. I knew that it was a small town. I knew that I would raise some eyebrows, and the last thing I wanted to do was draw attention to myself, but I had to start somewhere.
I made my way to the world’s tiniest bathroom, off to the left of the kitchen. My bare feet crunched onto something on the bathroom floor, little pebbles, gravel almost. I looked down, squatted to see what it was, little and black, almost like bird poop. I scraped my foot clean on the metal edge of the shower, dropped my clothes
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