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I couldn’t sleep after Lewis had left me at my door, which was why, at six in the morning, when it was still dark, yet the morning birds could be heard, I made my way down the hall where I’d seen the blonde girl and Sam disappear. For some reason, this close to dawn, the house wasn’t as intimidating. I stuffed my hands into the pockets of my hoodie.
Home. Lewis had said I was home. But this massive mansion didn’t feel like home. Not yet. I turned the corner, expecting… I don’t know what. But I wasn’t expecting more silence, more emptiness. A short corridor, two doors and a narrow staircase that went down to the first floor and up. I looked behind me, making sure I was still alone. Had the children gone down the steps, or up? A few hours ago, it had been too dark to see. It was an old house with one of those massive attics, or so Lewis had said. What could possibly be up there? But it was still too dark and my nerves got the better of me. Maybe Aaron was awake. I swore I could smell the scent of pancakes coming from somewhere below.
I started toward the first floor steps, but something made me pause. An invisible line that practically pulled me toward those stairs leading up to the attic. Slowly, I turned. At the top of those steps was a door. Aaron had told me that his home was mine. Still, I doubted that was a pass for snooping. But what was the harm in looking in an attic? I started up the stairs, each step creaking so loudly I thought surely someone would hear, but no one came running.
When I wrapped my fingers around the ancient looking porcelain handle, I expected the door to be locked, but it opened easily under my touch. As Lewis had said, the attic was huge, running the length of the house. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the dark light. Windows lined both long walls, gray squares allowing the dull, morning light to enter. It was your typical attic with boxes and trunks stacked like small mountains around the room. I wondered why Aaron would have so much junk. He didn’t seem the hoarder type. Although half the room was in shadows, I felt oddly comfortable here.
Not ready to return to my room, I moved across the creaking floorboards and to the windows. The ocean sparkled below under the quickly fading moonlight. Dawn was turning gray skies a brilliant orange. A few gulls hovered in the air, their screeches high pitched, but comforting in their normalcy. Everything was as it should be, so why couldn’t I shake the feeling that something was off?
I started to turn when a whispered warning caressed my skin. Someone was here. My heart slammed wildly against my ribcage. “Hello?” my voice quivered.
A shuffle interrupted the quiet, like mice scurrying from a cat. From behind a pile of boxes a small form stepped into the light. Golden hair glinted under the rising sun coming in through the windows. The girl who had come for Sam. “You,” I said, realizing how stupid I sounded, but I was too surprised to care. “I didn’t get your name.”
She wore a blue woolen dress that came to her knees and white tights. Her hair was pulled into a lopsided ponytail, her long bangs hiding her eyes. My fingers curled as I resisted the urge to reach out and fix her hair. She’d obviously done it herself. I wasn’t sure how old she was, maybe seven or eight. Too young to be without a mother.
She didn’t look surprised in the least to see me and settled down again, hidden behind her box. “I’m Caroline,” she whispered.
I moved around the boxes to see her better. She had an entire little world set up here in this dingy, dusty attic. An old, stuffed bear sat in the corner, his button eyes hanging on by loose threads. She’d propped a box up for a doll house. I supposed most kids would have loved their own little hiding place, but for some reason this just felt sad.
“Hi Caroline, I’m Cameron.”
“I know,” she whispered, not looking at me as she picked up a little doll. She smoothed its hair from its porcelain face.
“What’s your dolls name?” I settled on the ground beside her.
“She’s not mine.”
“Oh.”
“I… found her.”
Was she nervous I’d take the toy away? “Well, I’m sure no one will care if you play with her.”
“Maybe not.” She held out the doll and looked at me expectantly.
“Uh, thanks.” I took the toy, cradling it close. I’d never played with toys much as a child. Maybe because I’d had to grow up too fast. I realized, as I held it close, that the doll was old. The lace dress was stained yellow with age. Her pale, porcelain face was crackled, the paint flaking.
“It’s the mother and this is the child.” She picked up another doll, as old as the first.
“Neat,” I said, handing her back.
While she settled them down near their house, I studied her little area. Under the rising sun it was easier to see and I was startled to notice a blanket in the corner of her nook. “You don’t sleep here, do you?”
She shrugged, glancing at me through her lashes, as if judging my reaction. “Sometimes, but only if I need to be alone.”
“Alone?”
She sighed, her narrow shoulders sinking. “There are so many. Sometimes they cough, or sneeze and they wake me up.”
“They? Who?”
“The other’s like me. Like you.”
Her gaze was so sincere I didn’t dare doubt her.
Others? Dear God. I knew there were others, but I figured two, three at the most. “And how many are there?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know.” She tucked her dolls into their house. “He’s awake, you should go.”
“He?” I stumbled to my feet. Nervous, although why, I wasn’t sure.
“Lewis, he’s looking for you.”
“Oh.” I looked back at the door. I didn’t exactly want to be caught snooping. “You know because…”
“I’m like you.”
That didn’t really explain, but I didn’t have time to ask more questions. If I didn’t want to get caught snooping, I needed to hightail it out of there. “Well then, I’ll see you around.”
She nodded, watching me as I made my way to the door.
“Cameron,” she called out.
“Yeah?”
“You won’t tell? About my secret hiding place?”
I shook my head. “No, promise.”
She nodded, looking relieved. Pausing, I rested my hand on the wooden railing, worn smooth with age. I couldn’t help but wonder why she didn’t want me to tell. Merely because she didn’t want other people stealing her hiding place, or because she’d get in trouble? She turned back to her dolls and began to hum some song, dismissing me.
I felt odd leaving her alone, but she’d lived here longer than I had. Maybe Aaron didn’t care if she was there. I glanced back one last time, seeing her placing her dolls in their house, then made my way down the steps.
I was out of breath by the time I’d made it to my room. As if sensing me, just as I reached for the handle, Lewis’ door opened.
He was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, his hair no longer messy. He looked perfect, too perfect, and I realized I preferred him rumpled and warm as he’d been last night. His guard down.
“Hey! There you are.” He smiled, that dimple flashing and my insides warmed. “I was looking for you.” He was watching me curiously.
“In the bathroom,” I blurted out. “I…didn’t hear you knock.”
It was a lie, obviously.
He nodded. “We’ll have breakfast, then do some more meditating, if you’re up for it.”
“Yeah, sounds great.” I smiled too and followed him down the hall toward the front of the house.
“Did you sleep well?”
I nodded, but the entire way down that impressive front staircase, I couldn’t help but wonder why I’d lied about being in the bathroom. I was only in the attic, it wasn’t as if I was working on a plan to take over the world.
Lewis chatted amicably beside me as we made our way toward the breakfast room.
He was cute. He was kind. He cared about me.
Yet, something niggled a
t the back of my mind, something that made the smile on my face quiver.
I trusted Lewis, didn’t I?
The Mind Readers, Book 1 Page 16