Hadley picked up the eye and dusted it off. It was smooth and cold, like a stone long buried beneath ice. It reminded her of a cat’s-eye marble—only instead of being clear with colored swirls, it was white with a pale blue iris that contained a million silver folds. It might belong to a stuffed animal, she decided. Or a doll.
Hadley searched her room, but there were no mysterious one-eyed toys lurking in the shadows of the closet or hiding deep inside the dresser drawers.
The side door slammed. Faint sounds drifted in through the open window.
A tiny voice inside Hadley whispered, I should go out with them. She turned the eye over and over between her fingertips. I don’t want to go. But I should. I should go. But I don’t want to …
The argument whirled inside her mind like a carnival ride until she felt dizzy. She tucked the eye into the pocket of her denim shorts and flopped onto her bed, silencing the voice and steadying her thoughts.
Hadley missed her apartment in Pittsburgh. She missed the white noise of the traffic that lulled her to sleep. She missed the city people who minded their own business. And she especially missed her best friend, Sydney, who’d promised she’d come by just as soon as she got home from Camp Greenly Lake. Hadley even missed Crazy Grace, her mother’s kooky friend from the apartment down the hall.
Grace called herself psychic. Others called her batty. She was always warning people not to step on the gnomes in her front garden. Thing was, there was no front garden in the narrow hallway of the old building, and Hadley could say with a fair amount of certainty there were no gnomes. Still, she always made a point of tiptoeing a wide berth around Grace’s door frame just in case. The last thing she wanted to be accused of was trampling defenseless invisible gnomes.
Grace would get these premonitions. Like the time she’d whispered to Hadley, “Don’t drink the milk.” Hadley had no clue what Grace had meant until three weeks later when she got a carton out of the fridge and poured herself a tall glass of cottage-cheesy lumps.
The day they had moved out of the apartment, Grace had stopped Hadley in the elevator. She’d held her shoulders with a firm, almost frightening grip. “Trojan horses come in many shapes and sizes,” she said in a low, velvet-drape voice. “Beware of chocolate ones.”
Hadley had nodded fiercely. “Chocolate Trojan horses. Gotcha. And hey—say bye to the gnomes for me.”
Yup. Hadley sure did miss her old life. Invisible gnomes and all.
The idea of chocolate Trojan horses made Hadley suddenly regret leaving her lunch behind. Instead of the soy-butter sandwich, she envisioned a plate of chocolate chip cookies straight out of the oven, with the chocolate still warm and glistening.
Whenever she and her mother had an argument and both were too stubborn to apologize, her mother would sneak a few premade lumps of cookie dough into the toaster oven and then leave them on a platter for Hadley to find. It was her mother’s way of saying she was sorry.
“I wish I had a plate of those cookies right now,” she muttered, swinging her legs around the side of the bed. She shivered lightly. The house was always so cold.
Laughter crept in like a thief through the open window. It was Mom and Ed. Hadley’s fingers drummed nervously on the mattress. The tiny voice inside her began niggling again.
Maybe I should take a peek. Just a peek to see what they’re doing. Just to make sure they aren’t having too much fun. Without me.
Hadley’s bedroom window faced out the side of the house. She flattened her cheek against the cool glass and could see the driveway leading to the garage, which was detached from the main building. There was a room above it where a tenant lived. Some old lady Hadley hadn’t yet met.
She lifted the wooden frame higher, stooped, and stuck her head out. Craning her neck as far as it would go, she still couldn’t see the backyard. Then Hadley remembered the attic had two tiny octagonal-shaped windows. One that faced out the front of the house and one that faced the back. From either end, the house looked like a giant Cyclops. The back window was perfect. She could spy on the yard from it and remain unseen.
Hadley slipped out of her room and crept across the hall. Between her bedroom and Isaac’s was what looked like a closet. The old hinges sang a chorus of complaints as she swung the door open, revealing a narrow flight of stairs. She stepped inside.
The air was thick and stale. It smelled of dirty socks and moldy cheese. Behind her, the door slammed shut. Hadley jumped.
“Drafty old house,” she muttered to herself, and quickly climbed the steps.
The attic was small, made tighter by slanted walls. It hadn’t been used for anything other than storage. Dust was thick as a rug and the cobwebs solid as curtains. Boxes containing books, candlesticks, and other ancient-looking things lay half draped in yellowing sheets. A rocking chair, a rusted lamp, and a broken tricycle were among the abandoned treasures.
Hadley sliced at the cobwebs with her bare arms as she waded through the clutter. Her eyes shot daggers in every direction, warning lurking spiders she would not give up without a fight. She made it to the far end of the room a bit grimy, but otherwise intact.
The window facing the back provided a perfect view of the garden. She leaned against the sill and peered out.
The sky was a lazy shade of summer. Fluffy white clouds hung in the air like ornaments on a tree. Below, the yard seemed to stretch on forever, dropping off into Hays Woods, which sprawled all the way to the Monongahela River. The canopy of trees was like a rolling green carpet. A light breeze fanned the weeds and wild grass Ed hadn’t gotten around to mowing.
Hadley felt as though she were watching a secret silent movie. Isaac held the blue-and-orange kite above his head while Ed ran with the spindle. Ed was tall and gangly—like a daddy longlegs.
The string pulled tight and the kite caught the wind. It soared upward for a second, but Ed turned to watch it at the wrong moment and got tangled in his own legs. He performed a clownish pirouette before dropping to the ground. The kite dove, landing inches from his nose.
Isaac was laughing so hard he fell to the ground, too. Hadley’s mother and Ed were laughing at Isaac. Everyone was having a great time. Everyone. Except Hadley.
That’s when it hit her—she was the only Jackson in a house of Crenshaws. Why did her mother have to change her name when she married Ed? She’d never changed it when she’d married Hadley’s real father, the father Hadley had never known.
Hadley let go of the sill and turned. She yelped as ice-cold fingers gripped her ankle and yanked.
Her legs came out from under her and her arms spread wide to cushion the fall. She landed with a huge thunk on her behind. A cloud of dust exploded from beneath her. She coughed and sputtered, waving at the air. Her ankle was caught in the spokes of the old tricycle.
“Weird,” she muttered, pulling herself free from the steel trap. She could swear the tricycle had been clear on the other side of the room. She was certain she’d felt a hand. She reached to rub her ankle. That’s when she saw it.
Her flailing hand must have snagged one of the old sheets, because there on the floor, uncovered and glaring at her with its Cyclops eye, was a house. A dollhouse. An exact replica of the house she was living in.
Voices rushed up the stairwell. Hadley didn’t want anyone to know she was spying. She got to her feet and rushed toward the steps, leaving the dollhouse exactly where she’d found it. Only when she glanced over her shoulder and took one last look, she couldn’t escape the feeling it had found her.