1.1 | Lost & Found

viii. stranger

I N D I G O

"Indigo! Come down for dinner!", Olivia shouts.

I guess my time in hiding is over.

For the second time today, I climbed down the steps, two at a time.

I entered the kitchen. I took a deep breath and counted five people around the kitchen island counter laughing and jokingly arguing with one another. As soon as I entered, five pairs of eyes fell on me, some with admiration and pride glimmering in their gazes, some with undistilled love and hope and some with sad smiles that shone with a thousand unspoken words.

I half expected dark scrutinizing glares or mocking smiles like all the expressions I've grown used to since the past few years. I wish Mom was here, at least the one who still loved me.

She'll be as happy as I am to know there's a little piece of bright magic still floating through this dark world.

  The flame in my chest pulses so bright that I feel like it's alive somehow. A solid thought settles immediately in my heart. As sure as I know my name, I also know this much is true:

  I am still brave enough to dream.

But I miss Mom.

I miss the person she was before the alcohol.

I used to relax into the sound of her voice. Her speaking voice was wonderful, but my mom's story voice was like nothing I'd ever heard, like something between a summer breeze and a lullaby. she used to read me stories every night. Outside in the front garden, the crickets sing a little louder. The moon shone a little bit brighter. The night air smelled like baking cookies. And my heart drummed steadily.

Good things happen when my heart says yes, especially if nobody else around me is saying much of anything at all. Little me used to love learning about mountain lore. I used to love the view from the trains. I'd imagine being a brave explorer. Climbing every unknown peak. Discovering whatever lies past it. But Little Me, the small, tiny, innocent Indigo, forgot that Life itself was the biggest peak to climb. The climbs are always too treacherous. The way is too dark. Little Me forgot that discovering secrets hurt more than one would like.

Mom's freckles are the reason I'm extra proud of the spray of freckles across my nose. Even when the bullies made fun of them at school. I remember mom taking my face in her hands and saying, "But, Indie, darling ... a face without freckles is like a sky without stars!" Old Mom could make me smile even in the darkest of days.

"Blue...hello?" It's Dakota waving his palms in front of my face.

"Yeah?"

"You zoned for a bit. By a bit, I mean a good five minutes."

"Sorr-" I begin but before I can finish the words Ezra cuts me off.

"Don't you dare say the 's' word, Indie. Stop apologising, honey. No Clarkson ever apologizes to anybody...well, unless they're grounded or in trouble but we'll come to that part in a bit."

I've never been one to get into trouble. I mold myself into the shadows.

"Something tells me you don't have to worry about Indigo." It's Isaac speaking up. He has that same permanent melancholic smile on his face. How can he always see right through me?

We eat dinner together as a family. The moment the pesto pasta is served, the boys dig in quickly, in such swift motions that I'm afraid that if I come in their way, they'll knock me aside. Olivia sits opposite me, glancing at the boys surrounding her, and murmurs something along the lines of 'too much testosterone. It almost gets me to smile.