AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Everyone is quiet. I feel Brant’s muscles go stiff, so I swivel my body to glance up at him. His expression is as white as the ghosts we just spoke of. “What’s that mean, Brant?”
I’m not sure what Monica is talking about, but something in the air changes. Something in Brant changes. He doesn’t smile or laugh. He just stays quiet, wrapping an arm around my waist, almost like he’s trying to protect me from whatever bad stuff Monica is talking about.
Theo throws a piece of popcorn at Monica. “We don’t talk about that.”
“Why not?” She laughs, swatting at his shoulder. “You said you were telling scary stories. Maybe Brant can tell us about what happened to his parents.”
“Will you tell us, Brant?” Wendy adds. She scoots closer to us on the blankets, her eyes glinting with devilish curiosity.
Brant is squeezing me too hard. I don’t think he means to, so I pluck at his hand, entwining my tiny fingers with his until he relaxes and lets out a hard breath into my hair.
“Not with June here,” Brant finally replies, his voice sounding shakier than normal. “Maybe someday I will.”
“She’s just a little kid,” Monica insists. “She won’t even—”
“Not with June here.”
My skin itches with confusion and unease. I’m not sure what anyone is talking about, but Brant sounds angry, and I hardly ever hear him sound angry. When I turn around in his lap again, his face looks pale. He looks afraid.
That makes me feel afraid.
I scamper from his crisscrossed legs, landing on my knees in front of him until we’re facing each other. His earthy eyes seem darker than usual, but maybe it’s because it’s nighttime.
Monica grabs the discarded flashlight and starts talking into it like a microphone, ignoring Brant’s order. “My big brother told me the story of the haunted Elliott house,” she begins, her tone low and frightening. “Once upon a time, on a dark and dreary night, little Brant was woken up by a terrible thing…Gunshots. Death. Blood. So much blood…”
I wince. My eyes flare, terror sinking into my tummy.
“Monica! You’re being a biatch,” Wendy exclaims.
Theo also voices his aggravation from behind me. “Quit it, Monica. Not cool.”
But their words blend together into a blur of nothingness because all I can focus on is Brant, and all I hear is the thundering of my heartbeats. There’s a terrible, awful look in his eyes; I think he might throw up. Even his hands start to shake as he sits there, our gazes locked, my insides curling up like the dying leaves outside. “What does that—” I start to say, but I’m cut short.
“Junebug,” Brant whispers, and he’s still the only thing I hear. Monica prattles on, spewing gibberish behind me, but Brant’s words are what slices through the fog. “Cover your ears.”
He almost chokes on those words.
His voice breaks.
And I’m too young to understand what that means, but I think…
I think it hurts.
I think Brant is in pain.
I’m frozen to the checkered blankets, not sure what to do, when Brant quickly jerks forward and plants both of his hands over my ears. There’s a deep frown between his eyes, wrinkling his forehead. His skin glistens with sweat. His chest moves up and down with giant breaths.
My own hands lift, covering his, and then I close my eyes.
I can’t hear anything.
I feel safe.
I feel protected and loved as Brant holds his hands over my ears, shielding me from the awful story. I’m not sure what Monica Porter was talking about, but it was scary enough to scare Brant, so it must be really bad—especially because Brant is one of the bravest people I know.
I’m safe. I’m safe.
And just like that, noise returns. Brant whips his hands away from my ears and stands to his feet, hurrying away. Giggles from Monica follow him out of the tree house, and I turn to watch as he disappears down the ladder.
