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All three of them went still. Brian felt sweat start on his forehead. His heart was thumping away, like a pheasant in spring. Why were heartbeats so loud? He tried not to breathe. He could feel the girls’ hands sweating in his. Run away? Stay still?
hush.
The knocking had stopped. Now he heard the soft sound of footsteps. Circling the house. Going toward the big front window. Scratch. Scritch. Someone was scraping at the pane of glass. Brian’s heartbeat seemed to rattle his rib cage. None of them moved.
The footsteps went back toward the door. Now they saw the door handle quiver. Very slowly, the handle turned downward. Down and down it went. Brian couldn’t see the dead bolt in the dimness. He’d locked it, hadn’t he? Hadn’t he?
He could hear Coco breathing quick and shallow beside him.
The door handle was down at its very lowest point.
“Run,” whispered Ollie, her hand clutching his.
But before any of them could move, a brilliant light cut through the curtains, like a car—a car coming across the parking lot. The handle stopped moving. They all stood, holding their breath.
The lights flickered. Came back on.
The door was still shut. There was no one there but them.
“I locked the door,” Brian whispered. “I did. I swear.”
“I believe you,” said Ollie. She glanced down at her watch again. Brian looked over her shoulder. So did Coco. The watch was blank now. Just an old digital wristwatch, too big for Ollie’s wrist, with a spiderwebbing crack on the screen. They were all trembling.
The headlights in the parking lot cut out. Next moment, Brian heard his parents’ voices, arguing cheerfully, as his mom and dad got out of the car. He breathed again. They might have imagined the whole thing.
But he was pretty sure they hadn’t.
“What was that?” whispered Coco.
“I—don’t know,” said Ollie.
“Saved by your parents, Brian,” said Coco. “I guess that is your parents?”
“Yes,” said Brian. They were st
ill clutching hands.
“You don’t think anything’s still out there?” said Ollie. “Anything dangerous?”
“The lights came back on,” Brian pointed out shakily.
Neither girl replied. He heard his mother’s footsteps on the front walk. Heard them pause on the front porch. Then she came clattering in, pausing at the threshold to say something, laughing, to Brian’s dad. Just like normal.
Brian’s mom seemed surprised to see them all standing in the middle of the great room. “You look like baby raccoons on walkabout,” she said, smiling. “I guess you got hungry?”
Brian licked his lips and found his voice. “Yeah, Mom,” he said. “Super hungry.”
Brian’s mom had light brown skin and her eyes were just like Brian’s. Like a pond in summer, Brian’s dad would say. When the light shines through.
When the inn was in season, they ate whatever the restaurant was serving. When it wasn’t, they ate a lot of takeout. His mom, who ran the restaurant during the season, got tired of cooking. “A break, please. I beg,” she’d say, and call the Thai place or the burger spot. Everyone in town knew his mom.
Now Brian smelled something yummy. The next second, his dad came in, holding four flat boxes.
His dad said, “We met Roger and Zelda in town.” Roger and Zelda were Ollie’s dad and Coco’s mom. “They’re coming up for dinner. Brian, wash your hands, wash your ears. It’s time to make dinner!”
Coco said, “Mr. Battersby—are we not eating pizza?”
Brian’s dad looked at the boxes in his hands and jumped, like he was surprised. “Oh,” he said. “Where did these come from?”
