The BridgeMoss Guardians

BRIDGEMOSS GUARDIANS

Sadie pressed her ear to the door, waiting for the last murmurs of her parents' conversation to die down. The glow beneath her door flickered, and the distant clink of a light switch signaled the moment she had been waiting for. Fifteen minutes later, the house lay in a muffled silence. 

Once she was sure her parents were sound asleep, Sadie slid out of bed and tiptoed to the window, her heart racing with anticipation. She eased the window open, letting the cool autumn breeze rush into her room, bringing with it the scent of fallen leaves and the tang of distant rain. Crisp, chilly, and invigorating — the perfect night for a hunt.

Carefully, Sadie climbed out, her fingers gripping the trellis as she lowered herself down the side of the house. The rough texture of the vines brushed against her palms, but she hardly noticed. She loved this part, the thrill of sneaking out, the rush of freedom that came with escaping into the night. With a final leap, she landed softly on the damp ground, crouching low like a cat, her hands brushing the dew-covered grass. She could have climbed down the last few feet, but where was the fun in that?

Her ten-speed bike was right where she left it, leaning casually against the bins behind the house. She smiled, casting a quick glance back at the house, where her parents slept, oblivious to her adventures. With a swift motion, she swung her leg over the bike and pushed off, the tires crunching on the gravel. The night enveloped her as she pedaled down the street, the houses sliding past like shadowy sentinels. After a minute, she flicked on her flashlight and dropped it into the bike's basket, the beam cutting through the inky darkness.

The streets were deserted, save for the occasional car of high school kids who hadn't yet called it a night. The smell of pot and beer lingered as they cruised by with windows rolled down. Sadie didn't bother to hide from them. What was the point? They never noticed anything but their own haze. Her father always complained about the recklessness of teenage drivers, and if he could see them now, he'd probably say, "I told you so." She grinned, shaking her head at the thought, and kept on pedaling, dodging potholes and the occasional stray branch from overgrown trees.

It didn't take long to reach Lisa's house. Google Maps said it was an 11-minute ride, but Sadie always made it in seven, racing herself against the clock. She enjoyed the competition, even if it was just her against the invisible clock. Tonight, without her phone, she wasn't sure of her exact time, but she could feel it — she'd beaten her best again. Not that she had any intention of checking her phone tonight anyway. A few months ago, her parents had installed a tracking app, and Sadie had left the phone plugged in on her nightstand. Should they check it in the morning, they'd assume she'd been safely tucked away in bed all night. They never seemed to consider that their modern daughter might leave the house without it.

Sadie coasted to a stop beneath Lisa's window, her breath puffing in the cold night air. With practiced precision, she pointed her flashlight up at the window and flicked it three times. On, off. On, off. On, off. She waited, her fingers tapping on the handlebars. The seconds ticked by, and for a moment, she wondered if Lisa had fallen asleep after all. Then, the curtains stirred, and the window slid open with a low creak. Lisa's sleepy face appeared in the opening, her hair a tangled mess. "I thought you were joking about tonight, Sadie," she whispered, her voice thick with drowsiness.

Sadie grinned up at her. "I never joke about hunting! Besides, your mom's working the night shift, isn't she? Perfect timing."