The Wishing Well

Chapter 3

It was impossible to leave this community just yet. She didn't have anywhere to go seek shelter—as far as Olivia knew, they didn't have any family in Maine. Her mother seemed to have chosen this place for no reason at all, since there was nothing here for them. Her escape plans were entirely for the sake of procrastination now, and even as she came up with them, a voice in the back of her mind whispered that she could be spending her time with something else that mattered. Perhaps survival.

Although she could not leave the town entirely, Olivia could work some other things to her advantage, albeit small things. Somehow, she convinced her mother to let her stay home on her first day of class. Grudgingly, Mom made some phone calls to ask which pages Olivia should be reading, so that she would at least get that done. Olivia watched her from the dining room, pleased enough that she endured the speech about how it was just this once, agreed that she was almost an adult, and promised try and get over these silly fairy tales.

She was in a good mood now, so the scolding bounced right off. After seeing her mother off to work with more cheer than usual, Olivia closed the curtains and got out her textbooks. She didn't mind doing math today, checked her work three times because she could, and drank hot chocolate on the side. In between subjects, though, it was hard to forget that this couldn't last forever—it was just a miracle she managed to pull off. Her days as a real homeschooler were numbered.

“How am I homeschooler if I'm going to a schoolhouse?” she muttered, shutting the algebra book after there was nothing to work on for today's subject. “It doesn't make sense.” She put her books aside and gazed at the shut curtains, turning the empty cup of hot chocolate round and round with her hands.

Olivia glanced at her old friend, the clock. Just like her, it looked resigned to its new home. After all, it was stuck to the wall—it couldn't exactly go anywhere. The clock announced to her that it was past school hours, almost five. She'd lost track of time trying to make sure her numbers looked perfect. With a little smile, she got up to put the mug in the kitchen.

Then the doorbell rang. Olivia stiffened, nearly dropping the mug. So much noise after a whole day of silence. She glanced at the door, rubbing away goosebumps on her arms, and wondered who it may be. There practically wasn't a soul in this neighborhood, so she dismissed her suspicion that it might be a kidnapper—then snorted at her own paranoia. It was probably just Averil, and how much harm could she do?

I don't know yet. “One second!” she called to the door, then hurried to the kitchen, leaving the mug safely in the sink. It seemed to glare at her for nearly dropping it. “This is what happens to me after a whole day alone,” she muttered, turning and hurrying for the door. “Inanimate objects get their own voices.”

The doorbell rang again, more tentatively. Olivia straightened her hair in the hallway mirror, seeking to kill more time. Of course it would have been too easy if she could just stay home, and thus avoid these people forever. Of course they would wonder why she hadn’t come to school, and then remember to be neighborly. They would seek her out to try and persuade her that it wasn't that bad, that it was actually lots of fun—but she wasn't avoiding the place because of school itself. She was avoiding it because of them and their secrets!

The doorbell rang again, so Olivia gritted her teeth and went to answer. Smile, she reminded herself, wrenching it open with more strength than necessary. Smile, and try to act like you mean it... When she saw who it was, though, she knew there wasn't a false smile on her face, but rather confusion—because it wasn't Averil. It was one of the other boys who had been at the schoolhouse that day—the one who brought out the chair for her.

Olivia blinked, puzzled. For the past two minutes she'd been getting ready to face Averil, and wouldn't have guessed that it was him. “Hi,” she managed at last, sounding pathetic like the first time. Then she tried urgently to remember his name.