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I slide my phone back into my pocket. I don’t want to get lost in a text conversation with Liam and have the girls catch me using my phone when I’m supposed to be with them.
“Girls, the popcorn is just about—” The microwave beeps over my last word.
They either didn’t hear me or are choosing not to return. I switch out the bag of cooked popcorn for the popped package and hit the start button once more.
“Madden, Blakely!”
A faint hum of whispers from upstairs sends a shiver down my spine. I head towards the stairs much slower than I should be moving, given my concern about where the girls have disappeared to. The floors creak beneath each step and the hint of quiet laughter, or possibly a cry draws me into Blakely’s dark bedroom. “Girls?” I should sound more confident in case they can hear my nerves.
With no response, I continue through the dark bathroom and then into Madden’s room. I feel around the wall for the light switch, but when the light finally floods the room, I find nothing. I hope they aren’t in their parents’ room. Another shiver ripples through me.
I peek out into the hallway and venture down toward their parents’ room, hesitant to open the door unless necessary. There’s another door at the end of the hallway, so I move to check there first. “Blakely, Madden, I don’t think this is funny. We aren’t playing hide-and-seek. You already know this.” Something metal falls to the ground and I can’t tell which direction it came from. My palms feel clammy as I reach for the door at the end of the hall. “Girls, please…”
Just as I wrap my hand around the doorknob and draw a deep breath in, the two of them bolt out of Blakely’s bedroom with their hands behind their backs.
“Were you hiding from me?” I ask, squinting through one eye while also forcing a small smile so I don’t come off too accusatory.
“We thought we heard something, but it was just someone walking their dog outside.”
“Ah, okay…” I’m suspicious of their behavior, but I don’t want to cause any tension with them after just meeting. “Well, the popcorn is just about ready. Let’s find some bowls and get comfortable on the sofa.”
They both leap ahead of me, grabbing one side of the railing to make their way downstairs. I was sure they were hiding something behind their backs, but I guess not. “Wait, I have to use the bathroom first,” Madden says, returning upstairs. “I’ll be down in one second.”
I watch as she makes her way to the second door on the right side of the hallway and closes the door behind her.
“Are you sure everything is okay?” I ask Blakely, who’s lost the hop in her step. “Yeah, of course. Next door’s dog is one of those sad-eyed hounds and makes a loud whining sound when he doesn’t want to go home. He likes the grass under our trees, but Dad doesn’t want him on our grass because he said we have dog poison there and it’s dangerous for him. He even put a little sign in the grass, but the dog doesn’t understand.”
“Aww, the poor pup. Who can blame him for wanting a patch of nice cool grass?”
“That’s why he doesn’t want to go home. We wish he didn’t have to leave,” Blakely says with a chuckle. “We love him. We want a dog, but Mom and Dad say we don’t have time for more responsibilities.”
I can’t tell if there is more meaning behind her words or if she is mirroring a form of sarcasm she hears around the house.
“Well, dogscanbe a lot of work,” I add, understanding why Mr. and Mrs. Smith might not want to add more to their plate.
“Not as much work as Madden and I are,” she mutters while making her way over to the bottom cabinet in the kitchen where she finds a stack of mixing bowls. She pulls two out, places them on the counter, then pauses as if something’s shocked her. She twists her head over her shoulder and cranes her neck to look beyond the curve of the hallway. “Madden, is that you?”
“I think she’s still in the bathroom. Did you hear something?”
“Oh, um, I guess not,” Blakely says. “Madden likes to sneak up on me. I don’t like it when she does that.”
There isn’t much to see except for the view into the empty living room.
My mind rests with ease when I hear the bathroom door open upstairs, followed by Madden’s bare feet barreling down the stairs.
NINE
FRIDAY, JUNE 9TH 8:30 PM
The girls haven’t said much to each other since Madden returned from the bathroom, but they peer over at one another once every few minutes, almost as if they’re checking to see if the other is still where they should be. They seem nervous, but it’s hard to tell if it’s because I’m new to them or if there’s something else.
At least the movie has distracted them for the most part. Though I can’t figure out why they are so hooked on this copycat version ofThe Little Mermaid.
The grandfather clock gongs from the living room as it has done every half hour and I glance at my watch, realizing Mr. and Mrs. Smith didn’t mention a bedtime, and I forgot to ask. With Blakely restlessly sprawling out and resting her head on the arm of the couch, I assume it’s close to that time. As she shifts, Blakely’s dress crumples up, revealing a few large bruises on the side of her leg. I force myself to look away before she notices. They don’t look like playtime bumps. But it’s always tough to decipher why a child could have bruises, especially when it’s so common, depending on how active they are.
I spot the remote on the coffee table and tap the pause button.
“Hey,” Madden whines. “It’s not over yet.”
