Out of Breath

Chapter 19

Raven falls out of the locker. Tear lines streak his pail face. The dogs protectively surround him. I lunge for him, but the dogs have to be called off before I can embrace him.

"Raven, Raven, Raven," I say, hugging and kissing him.

My brother!

He is here!

He is alive!

The paramedics are dispatched while I sit with Raven. I can't stop touching him, because I am glad he is alive. Thankfully, the Skitlers hadn't taken him.

"How did you get locked in your locker?" The principal asks after the paramedics leave. Raven won't respond.

"Did someone put you in there?"

My head pops up. I have been so happy to see him alive, that I hadn't stopped to consider how he got in his locker.

My hands grab his head. I pull his eyes up to mine. "Raven, did someone put you in there." He stares at me for a moment, and then he shakes his head yes.

"CLAIRLION!"

He shakes his head yes again.

She has gone too far!

After an exhausting day, the police give us a ride home.

The birds chirp extra loud this morning. I open my eyes and look at the ceiling. My eyes fix on the brown spot on the ceiling. Besides the birds singing, things are quiet. I look at the alarm clock. It is 4:45 am. Soon Terry will be in here to wake us with his awful Bible study morning ritual. I don't hate reading the Bible. I loved listening to Ma when she used to read it to us, but Terry locks us in this room for hours while we are forced to read page after page, mind you, he sleeps the entire time. If the Bible is vital to him, then why doesn't he read it? I reckon Terry doesn't have to read it because he seems to have the whole thing memorized. Maybe he was locked up in prison for five years, and he had nothing better to do than to memorize the Bible.

The hounds wrestle, and I can hear the massive boom of Terry, making his way to our room. Great! I throw the pillow over my head. I can't handle another early morning Bible session. The door handle jiggles. I stop time. Quickly, before I run out of breath, I jump down from the bed. I grab my shoes, open the door, squeeze under Terry's fat thighs, and run outside. I lean against the side of the house to catch my breath. I won't do Terry's stupid games today. Despite the creepy darkness, I sneak to the forest out of the view of the door.

I guess I'll do some early morning fishing.

Mist lingers in the slightly cool air. As I sit at the pound, nothing could be more perfect. I let all my school woes disappear. For once, since who knows when Desdemona isn't here. She must have been up all night sucking the blood of animals and has now just gone to sleep. I'll make early mornings my new fishing time. It is incredible to have this place to myself again. I watch the spoonbills and white ibis peck around the shallow parts of the pond. I lean back and softly cast my line as not to scare them away. As I fish, a treat of treats lands almost next to me. A blue heron. Life couldn't be sweeter than this moment.

A tug pulls on my line. I have already caught a fish, and I didn't have to use Desdemona's witchery bait. Exhilaration fills me. For the next two hours, I pull eight fish out. This is a haul. There really is something to fishing in the morning.

I have Desdemona's magic bag filled. I allow myself to be lulled into sleep because everything is incredibly peaceful. I could have thought about scary things, like the dark Skitler, or awful things, like Clairlion, but I chose to focus on the moment. The moment is something our psychology teacher has been teaching us to appreciate. It worked surprisingly well. The teacher calls it mindfulness.