A Gentle Collision

Chapter 6

Becky sat cross-legged on her bed, her headphones over her ears and her favorite playlist on repeat. Outside her bedroom door, she could hear the distant sounds of her mother’s party preparations—a mixture of clinking glasses, rustling tablecloths, and her mother’s occasional laughter as she worked.

The hum of activity made Becky groan. She didn’t understand why her mother loved hosting these things so much. What was the point? It was just a bunch of people pretending to like each other while swapping stories about their kids or gossiping about the neighbors.

Becky cranked up the volume on her music, hoping to drown out the noise. She buried her face in her hands, her phone resting on her lap. She’d already spent the day running errands for her mother—fetching groceries, setting up the backyard, and delivering those stupid invitation cards.

The thought of delivering the cards made her grimace. Some of the neighbors had been pleasant enough, but most of them had been awkward interactions she’d rather forget. And then there was that one house—dark and uninviting, with the quiet girl who barely spoke a word. Becky didn’t know her name, but she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her.

Why? She didn’t know. Maybe it was the way the girl had seemed so out of place, standing there in the doorway like she didn’t belong. Or maybe it was the strange atmosphere of that house, so different from the other homes Becky had visited. Whatever it was, it had stuck with her, much to her annoyance.

“Becky!”

Her mother’s voice jolted her out of her thoughts. She yanked off her headphones and tossed them onto her bed. “What now?” she muttered, dragging herself to her feet.

She trudged downstairs, finding her mother in the kitchen with a clipboard in hand. Her mother’s hair was tied back, and she wore the familiar determined look she always got when organizing something.

“I’ve been going over the guest list,” her mother said, barely glancing up as Becky entered. “We’re missing two families.”

Becky blinked. “What?”

“Two families didn’t RSVP,” her mother explained. “I gave you twenty invitations to hand out, but only eighteen responded.”

“Maybe they just don’t want to come,” Becky said with a shrug.

Her mother sighed, setting down the clipboard. “Or maybe they didn’t get the invitations. It’s important, Becky. This is a community event, and I don’t want anyone to feel left out.”

Becky groaned. “So what do you want me to do about it?”

“I need you to go back and check,” her mother said.

“Now?”

“Yes, now,” her mother said firmly. “The party’s tonight, and I need to know if they’re coming or not. Please, Becky. It’ll only take a few minutes.”

Becky wanted to argue, but the look on her mother’s face stopped her. Her mother wasn’t asking; she was telling.

“Fine,” Becky grumbled. “Which houses?”

Her mother handed her the list. Becky scanned the addresses, recognizing one as the house that had been dark and empty when she’d first delivered the invitations. The other was… hers.

Becky’s stomach sank. The thought of going back to that dark house made her skin crawl. The quiet girl had already been awkward enough to deal with the first time. What if she didn’t open the door? Or worse, what if she did?

“Do I have to?” Becky asked, her voice small.

Her mother raised an eyebrow.

“Okay, okay,” Becky muttered, grabbing her hoodie from the coat rack. “I’m going.”

She shoved her hands into her pockets as she walked down the street, the evening air crisp against her skin. The first house was on the corner, a modest place with a neatly trimmed lawn. Becky rang the doorbell and waited.

Nothing.

She rang again, shifting on her feet. Still no answer. She peered through the window, but the house was dark. “Great,” she muttered under her breath. “Out of town, probably.”

She marked the house as “no response” on her mother’s list and moved on.

The second address loomed ahead, and Becky’s stomach twisted into knots. She didn’t know why she felt so anxious. It wasn’t like she had anything to prove to this girl—or anyone else, for that matter. But something about the house unsettled her.

When she reached the gate, she hesitated. The house was quiet, just as dark and uninviting as before. Becky swallowed hard and walked up the path, her sneakers crunching against the gravel.

She rang the doorbell, the chime echoing faintly inside. For a moment, nothing happened. Becky almost turned to leave, but then she heard footsteps approaching the door.

Her breath hitched as the door creaked open, revealing the girl from before.