by Jo Michaels
*****
Sunlight dappled the living room curtains—the destroyed living room. I knew I’d have to “play” if my plan was going to have any chance of working. Each time an ornament shattered, I hid the wince and pretended to be having fun.
At long last, I collapsed on the couch, Hyacant perching her tiny self on my knee.
“Wow. That was a blast!” I was panting, and the words came out in a stutter.
She smiled.
Remembering what I needed to do next, I sat up as if alarmed and cocked my head to one side. “My parents are coming! What do we do? There’s no time to clean all this up. They’re gonna be so angry!” I widened my eyes and waited.
Hyacant urged me to standing, and then took my hand. Strange words—louder than I imagined she could speak—bounced off the living room walls.
Wind rushed at my face, whipping my hair into a vertical cyclone.
I knew it was coming, and I gritted my teeth as I prepared to be taken somewhere else.