Hadley awoke to a grinding sound. Wheels, cogs, bolts—all churning and writhing and screeching as they spun and turned and tightened. A blast of exhaust ended the metallic symphony. The garbage truck had arrived.
Hadley made it to the window in time to see the truck trundle on its way. The bins lay upside down at the edge of the drive. Though she only had a narrow view, there was no sign of the dollhouse. She breathed a sigh of relief.
It was over. The house was gone. The eye was gone. Her father’s doll was gone. Maybe everything would go back to normal now. Maybe getting rid of them would break the spell. Hadley’s heart inflated. It floated to the ceiling like a bright pink balloon. Then she turned her head, and with a sharp stab the balloon popped.
The dollhouse sat in the exact spot it had sat for the past week.
“I—I got rid of you,” she said, stepping back. “I put you at the curb … Didn’t I?”
Hadley was lost in a mental maze, and she was terrified she’d never find her way out. Had she really left her room last night? Had she really put the dollhouse by the trash? Or had she fallen asleep and dreamed the entire thing? Her stomach churned. She wasn’t sure anymore.
She heard a long drawn-out rumble. She turned slowly to see the eye rolling toward her across the floor.
Hadley threw on some clothes and raced out of her room. She flew down the stairs, jumped into her shoes, and tugged at the front door. It was sealed tight, as though the house didn’t want her to leave.
She managed to pry it open and dashed out into the open air. She didn’t stop running until she was at the edge of the ravine. But even that wasn’t far enough.
Stones and twigs jabbed into the soles of her feet as she slid down the embankment and into the gully. She rested only once the house was completely out of sight—hidden by the thick intertwining branches and layers of deep green leaves.
Sitting on the trunk of a fallen tree, she closed her eyes. She breathed in the musky odor of decaying wood and damp earth. The slow trickle of water from the nearby creek soothed her mind. Birds chirped. Leaves rustled. She could sort this all out—maybe even come up with some kind of a plan—if only she could stay away long enough.
“Hadley!”
Her eyes snapped open.
“Haaadleeeey!”
The sound of his voice stopped her heart cold.
Hadley dove for cover, pressing herself flat against the rough bark of the old log. She swallowed great gulps of air, but it was as though there wasn’t enough oxygen left in the universe to fill half her lungs. She crouched, prepared to spring into action in case he came after her.
“It’s Daddy, Doll Face. I want to talk to you.”
His voice was distant, as though it were coming from down a deep, deep well. The heady scent of moss and toadstools filled her nostrils as she squashed herself into the damp earth. Using her elbows, she inched along the ground until she was safely hidden behind the fat, gnarly trunk of an old tree. Slowly, she lifted herself and poked her head around it.
Through the tangle of leaves, she could see a figure at the edge of the ravine. She could barely make out the shape, but there was no mistaking it.
“Hadley, honey! I have something I want to give you.”
Hadley ducked back behind the tree. Air moved in and out of her lungs in ragged, wheezing puffs. She couldn’t have seen right, she told herself. She snuck another peek.
“Come home, Hadley.”
His voice remained sweet, his words calm. If she didn’t know any better, she’d have sworn he was looking to give her a hug and maybe some kind of a treat. Her heart drummed a warning in her chest. There was no treat waiting for her there.
Time melted into a dark puddle of dread. Hadley let herself sink into it.
“Okay,” he said finally. “But remember, you can’t stay down there forever.”
Maybe not, she thought. But I can try.
“I’ll be in the house,” he said calmly. “Waiting.”
His last word seemed to echo on and on inside her head until it finally disappeared, taking with it all the sounds in the universe. Nothing around her stirred. The birds had stopped chirping. The insects had stopped buzzing. Even the air stopped circulating and felt heavy and stagnant. It was as though time had frozen and Hadley was encased in its ice.
After what seemed like forever, she gathered enough courage to move. Slowly, she poked her head out and risked another look. The upper edge of the ravine was empty. Only the top of the house was visible—the Cyclops eye glaring at her like the sharp beam of a lighthouse.
“Hey.”
Hadley’s heart leaped into her lungs. She spun around. As soon as her brain registered who was standing there, she lunged for him, grabbed his T-shirt, and yanked.
“Come on.”
Hadley ran as fast as she could, dragging Gabe along with her. He followed without question—as though the look on her face had been enough to tell him something was terribly wrong.
Deeper and deeper into the woods they fled. Gabe took the lead as they wove around old trunks, avoided low-hanging branches, waded through thick weeds, and jumped over tangled roots.
When they finally arrived at a clearing, Hadley slowed to a jog. The creek wasn’t far ahead. She reached the bank just in time to collapse on the edge, gasping for air.
Gabe dropped down beside her. He sucked in great gulps. “W-what’s g-going on? Are you out of your m-mind?”
“Maybe,” she said, her chest rising and falling as she attempted to catch her own breath.
The sun beamed down from a cloudless blue. A soft breeze blew hot and dry against Hadley’s skin. But instead of making her feel cheerful, it had the opposite effect. She had become suspicious of anything too bright, too beautiful, too clean—or too perfect.
“Gabe?” she said once she was calm enough to speak.
“Yeah?”
A million thoughts battled to be first out of her mouth, but they got tangled and stuck in her throat. She was desperate to tell Gabe everything. Tell him there was no such thing as reality—that reality was a gossamer fabric that could easily wrinkle or snag and tear. She wanted to tell him that life, as she knew it, had been altered, and that everyone around her—even he, Gabe—had been affected by the change. But where would she start? And would he only think she was crazy?
Hadley took a deep breath and sighed. She wasn’t even sure she believed herself anymore. “Forget it,” she said, picking up a rock and tossing it into the creek.
Gabe, who had been observing her all the while, narrowed his eyes. Then he picked up a rock as well and tossed it into the creek. It splashed into the water in the exact spot hers had entered.
They sat there, side by side, not saying a word for the longest time. And Hadley thought about all that had happened. And why it had happened.
Why had she been so unhappy? Ed had been good to her. He had been trying hard to get closer. And Isaac was cute. And it was nice to have a little brother to share things with and teach things to and even argue with. And though Gabe was no replacement for Sydney, he was kind of funny, and only a bit weird, and Hadley had decided she liked bugs—at least some kinds. And the house was big, and the yard was beautiful, and the leafy suburb was much quieter than the apartment in the city. Why had she wished her new life away? Why couldn’t she just have been happy?
As she sat there pondering how it had all gone so wrong, she threw rocks and twigs into the flowing water. She shredded wild grass until her fingers turned a sickly green, tossing the strands into the water and watching them sail onward, imagining them drifting all the way to the Monongahela, then flowing farther toward the Allegheny and on into the Ohio. And from there perhaps all the way to the Mississippi. And all the while the sunshine warmed her cheeks, and the gentle breeze blew the fear from her bit by bit.
“… and of all the invertebrates, they are the only ones that can distinguish sounds…”
Gabe talked about insects and bugs and his berm. She was comforted by the sound of his voice.
The morning stretched on into afternoon. Hadley watched a lone water spider struggling against the slow-moving current. She snapped off a long piece of wild grass and guided the spider safely toward some rocks near the bank.
“I’m glad you moved here,” said Gabe suddenly.
Hadley looked at him and frowned. She definitely couldn’t agree.
“I know this may be really hard for you to believe…” Gabe cleared his throat. “But I don’t have a whole lot of friends.”
Hadley examined Gabe closely—his unkempt hair, his shirt with the stitching on the shoulder coming undone, his filthy fingernails. She knew there weren’t many kids who would appreciate his intense interest in dirt and bugs, but once you got past that, Gabe was a pretty nice guy.
“Promise me something?” she said.
“Sure.”
“If I did … If I was … I mean were…” Hadley struggled to find the right words. “If I suddenly were to leave without saying goodbye … will you promise you’ll come looking for me?”
Gabe frowned. “Why? Are you planning on going somewhere?”
“Just promise.”
Gabe stared at her for a moment. He opened his mouth as if to say something, and then shut it again. He nodded, and then stood. “I gotta go. Grandma’s got a bunch of chores waiting for me.”
Having Gabe around made Hadley feel safe. But she didn’t know what she could say to make him stay. “I’ll help you finish the berm later,” she offered.
Gabe grinned. The grass squashed beneath his feet as he turned and strolled back toward the woods. Before he got far, he stopped and looked back. “I almost forgot. Do you still have that eye?”
Hadley flinched. “Yeah. Why?”
“Remember when we were building the berm and your shovel got stuck? Well, I excavated something from the earth—a real archaeological find!”
Hadley was almost afraid to ask. “What was it?”
“An old doll. I think your eye could belong to it. It only has one.”