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I lifted the latch built into the tree house and pushed up until I was crawling through the opening.
The small floor was cluttered with cards and a few board games, like always. I kicked the remnants with my foot, shoving it all to the side so I could create a space for my comforter and pillow. Once it was all ready, I laid down and pulled my arms behind my head.
There was a breeze that drifted over my body, and it felt so nice I closed my eyes and tried to fall asleep.
Right when I was about to nod off completely, I heard the distant sound of feet slapping against the earth and someone breathing hard. I sat up and scrambled to the window, but there wasn’t anyone down on the ground.
I then peered over at the house, trying to see in the dark, but nothing moved.
When suddenly the hatch over the opening to the treehouse lifted, and a head popped through.
I yelled and fell backward.
“Shhh! Stop yelling.” A person emerged through the hole, and suddenly there was a girl my age crawling toward me. Her dark hair hung in two long curtains on either side of her face as she moved.
“I’m sorry. I won’t hurt you,” she repeated, putting her hands up.
I calmed, swallowing the last scream while sizing her up. She was small, thin and scrawny looking. I was bigger than her, so there wasn’t really any reason to be afraid.
“What are you doing here?”
Her big hazel eyes moved over my face until finally she plopped down on the edge of the blanket.
“I’m Callie.”
I put my knees in close on the opposite end of the blanket.
“You homeless?”
Her head swung up.
“No. Just needed to get away for the night. Saturday nights are the hardest.”
Something clicked in my brain…the sound from down the road. The pink bicycle I once saw on our way home outside the Stone house.
“You live down the road.”
Callie stared at me, then slowly nodded.
“What’s your name?” she asked, lifting her head in my direction.
“Wes.”
She tucked her knees under her chin, looking off to the side of the treehouse. She wore a T-shirt that swallowed her body so I couldn’t even tell if she was wearing shorts underneath. Her bare feet were dirty, but her fingernails were carefully painted a soft pink.
“Can I stay here? I’ll be over here in the corner, not bothering you at all. I promise. I just need a place to stay until the sun comes out. They usually stop by then.”
“What did—” I swallowed my words, unsure if I wanted to know.
She didn’t look over at me, but she must have known what I wanted to ask.
“No one hurt me or anything. I just don’t like being there when they open the doors for the other members from out of town. They come from all over and there’s more of them than usual. It’s too loud. I couldn’t hear my cartoons anymore, and I was so tired. I tried to sleep in my dad’s room, but he came in with someone and got mad at me.”
On instinct, I looked over at my house. It was dark and quiet. Mom and Dad had us all in bed by ten, even on weekends.
Something flickered in my gut like a tiny prick from a knife. I didn’t like the way it made me look at her, but I felt bad that she couldn’t even sleep in her own house.
I lifted my pillow toward her.
