AllFreeNovel
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“Yep.”
“They don’t park in here.”
“Not that I can see, no.”
I make a loop around the barn. It has a weird, dusty smell, but there’s nothing in here—no animals. No hay. If I had a barn, I’d probably store all kinds of shit in there, but this one’s empty.
“Look.” Lily points. “A shovel.”
There is indeed a shovel propped in one corner. You don’t need a whole barn to store one shovel, and the sight of it makes my chest get tight. I have no idea why.
“What are you doing?”
“Checking it out.”
“Like, to see if there’s a trapdoor?”
“Sure.”
It doesn’t look like there’s a trapdoor in the light of my phone. The shovel has some chunks of dirt on it. There isn’t a more normal shovel in the world.
I take it by the handle in case it’s really the trigger for a trapdoor. The second I touch it, ashockgoes through my hand and spreads all across my chest. A completely involuntary gasp comes out of my mouth.
“Jameson.”
I drop that thing like it’s on fire and step away, knocking into her in the process. She puts both hands on my elbow, which is about when I realize I have both hands on my chest.
“What happened? Did it cut you?”
“No, it—” Itfelt.It sent something into my chest. Which is not possible for a shovel to do. “I had a weird feeling when I touched it.”
“What feeling?”
A heavy one. I can still feel it now. It has the weight of holding back tears and trying to breathe through snot and swallowing even though your throat’s closed up. Like having to dig a deep hole even though it’s the middle of the night and you’re so tired you can’t stand it. Like knowing that nothing is ever going to get better.
“Like heartbreak.”
Her hands tighten on my arm. “We should go.”
“Not yet. It’s not a magic shovel. It’s just—” I try to shake it off. “I must’ve been thinking about something else.”
The only other thing we find in the barn is a small wicker basket tipped on its side. We stay clear of it while I shine my phone light on it.
“Are those raisins?” Lily whispers.
“I don’t think you have to whisper.” I nudge the basket with my toe. It rolls over, and dried fruit spills out, along with a single, round blueberry. “I think it’s dried blueberries.”
“How did that one stay like that if most of them are raisins?”
“Raisins are dried grapes.”
She elbows me.
“I don’t know. Maybe…” Maybe this single blueberry was just picked today. That’s what it looks like. “I don’t know.”
We leave the barn.
The farmhouse has a big wraparound porch. We circle around the whole thing, looking for signs of life.
