pleading with her allowed me to see them. With Jenna gone, her mother, Rachael, had a good reason to hate me, and she seized it. I don't think she'd ever liked me.
I didn't believe that Jenna would leave, but the other options were even worse. Even though I thought I knew her better than anyone, I wondered if I missed what seemed plain to everyone around me.
I turned onto the uphill dirt road I remembered led to the orphanage. The bike tires stuck in the dirt and pebbles, my legs straining to push the pedals. Unlike the main road, only a few cars were parked here, all on the opposite side of where the orphanage would be. As if everything tried to avoid the prison-like structure. The sky was nearly obscured by towering trees. I passed long driveways reaching back farther than I could see, and wondered if houses lay beyond them. I made the only movements in the still air.
I rounded the bend and the orphanage, imposing iron fence first, came into view. I had no idea why I would dream about a place I hadn't seen or even thought of in years. But I was checking every lead, no matter how obscure. I've watched enough TV to know that people's best breaththroughs appear to them in dreams.
Parking my bike against the fence, I stood up and assessed my obstacle. The bars were cool to the touch, despite the persistent sun, as I ran my fingers across them. Odd that I could imagine it in such detail, right down to the color of the bars. From what I could remember, I'd never been this close to the orphanage before in my life.
A large sign hooked to the fence with plastic zipties read COMING IN OCTOBER — HELL'S ORPHANAGE, HAUNTED HOUSE ATTRACTION. I vaguely remembered hearing about Hell's Orphanage years ago. But the sign looked brand new. So much Halloween popped up in Hell come October it would be a full-time job to keep track of it all.
One detail in my dream had been wrong, I realized as I trailed over to the gate. No funny copper symbol. I fully expected the place to be locked up tight, and prepared myself for a disappointing ride home. But when I pushed it, the gate swung open with a lonely squeak. There wasn't even a lock, only a latch that drooped down.
I stood in place, debating my options. Technically, I would be trespassing if I went on the property. But the house looked pretty much abandoned at the moment, future entertainment attraction or not. I didn't see any "no trespassing" signs, either. I looked back and forth down the barren road, reassuring myself that I was alone. The curiosity inside me won out. If I could find even a little sign that Jenna had been here...but something told me that was a highly unlikely possibility. Still...
A cool breeze whooshed through the fence, blowing my hair around my shoulders. I took the hair elastic I always wore from around my wrist and whirled my dark hair into a messy ponytail. Jenna helped me dye it black back in May. Claire was suitably horrified, her dreams of blonde pageant hair atop my naturally-brunette head destroyed. For a month I expected her to sneak in my bedroom during the night with a pair of scissors.
Beer cans, old cigarette packs and dud scratch-off tickets littered the lawn, among other trash. The grass had given up on growing, leaving dry brown patches, looking like they ached for rain. I walked across the ground speedily, not wanting to dwell any longer than absolutely necessary, and up to the building itself.
The orphanage loomed above me, taller than it appeared on the street. Mottled gray stone walls frames four rows high of thin, long windows. Broken glass hung in the frames like teeth. It reminded me of the old factories around Detroit, rotting skeletons of old steel, holding on while everything else around them had crumbled into dust.
Rusty bars guarded the top windows. Long ago they must have kept whoever lived inside imprisoned. The thought made me shudder. I tried to imagine the place ever looking nice at all, or grand, and I couldn't. It was a sorrowful building with miserable secrets. It had never been anything but creepy, probably giving a few turn of the century people the spooks as they passed by in their horse-drawn carriages.
I nudged something on the ground with my toe. I looked down to