Paper Wings and Missing Things

Part 10

At 4:43 on Saturday morning, Anna was awake and making plans for the day, her stomach too knotted to allow further sleep. Getting up, she padded over to her desk and sat down, thumbing through the notebook. She marked an additional entry for the day—MISSION REPORT, in all caps—then left the rest of the page blank. Her hands were already sweating, sticking to the page.

A thought struck her and she ran downstairs, being careful not to wake her parents as she slipped outside. Up above, the black glove dangled limply, scarcely visible against the blackened bark of the tree. She pried it off and found it cold and clammy, yet for a moment, it was like Jacob was beside her, his face illuminated with a strange shine as he crowned himself invincible. Yet he had left it behind—intentionally, Anna hoped to think. It had not protected him, but maybe it could still save her.

The house next door was still and quiet, the blinds pulled down and windows shuttered. Her heartbeat quickened again as she imagined calling Jacob tonight as police swarmed the house next door and sirens rang through the quiet neighborhood. He would tell her she had been brave—everyone would—though her parents might be angry, at first.

Then he could come home.

Even her favorite meal, jerk chicken, did little to ease her anxiety that night. The last hour seemed unbearably long, but at last, 7:00 struck and she raced to the window to watch for his car leaving. Just then, Mom called her into the kitchen.

"You remember it's your night for the dishes, I'm sure," she said, flipping through a magazine.

"Really? Tonight?" gasped Anna, sending a desperate glance toward the front of the house.

"Mmhmm," her mom said. "Better get to it."

Knowing better than to voice her groan aloud, Anna scrubbed the dishes with a fervor rivaling any automatic dishwasher. When she finally finished, she dashed back to the front of the house. Jonas' house looked cold and dark, but she had no way of knowing if he was gone. To be safe, she decided to wait another fifteen minutes. The appointment had to be at least an hour and a half, right?

As the fifteen minutes ticked past, Anna picked up and discarded a book, her notes for a science quiz, and even a page from one of her origami books. Glancing over at the house, she decided, at last, that he must have left.

Slipping downstairs past the TV where her parents sat, half-watching an old program, she went out the front door and into the crisp night. Glad that Mrs. Swift had not installed security cameras, she walked to the door, legs trembling slightly, and scrabbled in the flowerbed for the key.

For a heart-stopping minute, she thought it was gone. Then, her gloved fingers closed around cold metal, and she sat back in relief. Casting a quick glance around, she hastened to the door.

Her fingers closed around the handle, and it bobbed downward, already unlocked, to her surprise. The door squeaked open, revealing the shadowy interior of the house. Pocketing the key again, she walked forward.

The idea of bringing a flashlight flitted across her mind, but Anna suspected that if she turned around now, she would not come back. Taking a deep breath, she walked forward, her footsteps clicking softly on the tile.

The house was still dim and ghostly, the faint light from between the window slits projecting on the walls like long nail marks. Something rumbled, and she froze, but the gusting sound was probably a washing machine or dishwasher, she realized. Already slipping back into her former familiarity, she eased forward and up the stairs.