waiting for him. She could be crouched on the other side of the door. He tried to calm his fear by reminding himself that he was invisible in the daylight when he walked through the tree house. But she saw him in his nightmare at school, and that was in the daylight. He didn’t understand the difference. He needed the nice man to explain the rules. He needed to rescue the nice man. Now.
If she catches you, she will never let you out of the imaginary world again.
Christopher listened for another minute. Then, he quickly opened the front door, making as little sound as possible. He shut it behind him and stood still for a moment just in case the hissing lady heard him. The living room was silent. The grandfather clock stood in the corner of the room. Precious seconds passing in a tick tick tick.
Christopher tiptoed through the empty living room. The hardwood floor squeaked under his feet. He quickly knelt down and took off his sneakers. He tied the laces together and threw them over his neck like a scarf. He stood on the hardwood floor in his stocking feet. A draft rose through his toes. He could hear the wind picking up outside. A few mailbox people stood at the end of the driveway.
They were little kids playing jump rope with the strings.
With their eyes sewn shut.
Christopher moved to the bottom of the staircase. He stared up at the second floor, waiting to see if she would appear. He was just about to walk up the stairs when a noise stopped him.
“The school is excellent,” the voice said.
Christopher stopped. He knew that voice.
“You picked a great place to raise a family.”
It was his mother.
Christopher quickly moved to the kitchen and saw his mother sitting at a small table with a woman.
Her name is…Jill.
She bought the house with her husband…Clark.
They are trying to have a baby.
“Well, Clark and I have been working on having a family,” Jill said.
“Nice work if you can get it,” Christopher’s mother joked.
Jill laughed and poured Christopher’s mother a steaming cup of coffee.
“Would you like some milk?” she asked.
“Love some.”
Jill and Clark…almost had a baby last year.
She lost the baby. But they kept the crib.
And changed the color of the walls to make it good for a girl or a boy.
Jill brought the carton of milk over to the table. Christopher saw the picture of the missing girl, Emily Bertovich. The little girl sat frozen in a photograph. Smiling with the gap in her teeth. Suddenly her eyes darted over his shoulder. Her smile turned to terror. Then, quick as a blink, she quietly turned and ran away, disappearing out of frame.
Christopher froze.
He looked up at the windows in the kitchen. And the reflection inside them.
The hissing lady was right behind him.
She had walked up from the basement, carrying a dog bowl that smelled like rotten food. The hissing lady stood, the key on the noose around her neck, her ear to the air. Waiting. Listening. Christopher held his breath.
The hissing lady can’t…
The hissing lady can’t…see me.
She waited. Searching with her ears. After a minute, she was satisfied. He watched the hissing lady move to the sink and throw the dog bowl into fetid water. The bowl made a horrible clanking noise.
“What was that sound?” Christopher’s mother asked.
“The house is still settling,” Jill said.
Jill and Christopher’s mother kept talking, completely unaware of what was happening around them. The hissing lady sat right next to Jill as she put a spoonful of sugar into her coffee. The hissing lady touched Jill’s arm. Jill immediately got an itch and started to scratch her arm.
“God, this cold weather. Murder on my skin,” she said.
“Tell me about it. I can’t moisturize enough.”
The hissing lady looked straight at Christopher’s mother. She slowly moved toward her. Christopher wanted to scream, “MOM! GET OUT! PLEASE!” but he knew it could be a test. So, he silently took hold of his mother’s left hand from the imaginary side. He closed his eyes and thought as loudly as he could.
Mom. Leave this place. Now.
The heat began to rise on his forehead. The wind picked up outside. The hissing lady instantly looked up. She knew something had changed, but she didn’t know what it was.
MOM. LEAVE THIS PLACE. NOW.
Christopher’s head began to cook. His fingers and arms felt like they were birthday candles melting onto a cake.
The hissing lady swung at his mother’s right hand, holding the coffee cup. Christopher’s mother suddenly tipped