The room began to dim, and the air suddenly smacked of moss and decay.
When Kallie looked back at the inside of the closet, something had changed. Beyond the door, where a moment ago all her father’s clothes hung in neat and tidy rows, was a darkness that seemed to stretch out infinitely.
I must be dreaming, she thought. Kallie closed her eyes, and gripping the box in one hand, she reached out the other. Surely it would stop once she felt a seersucker sleeve or crisp cotton shirt, but her hand extended farther and farther, meeting nothing. She nearly tipped over, caught her balance, and opened her eyes.
The darkness had enveloped her. Ghostly gray shapes rose up on either side, crooked and looming like tall trees. Before her lay a mass of shimmering white. Her glasses had fogged, but she was still sure of what she saw. A pile of bones.
Kallie took a step backward. She opened her mouth to scream, but before any sound could emerge, a flash of white leaped out, hurdling over her.
It was the white animal Kallie had seen in the middle of the street, what now felt like so very long ago. It came out of nowhere and landed with a thud on the hard ground. The beast scrambled to its feet, shook itself, gave her one last look, and then bounded off into the shadows.
Kallie squeezed her eyes tight. She was hallucinating again. She stood frozen for a moment, then mustered all her courage, reached out a trembling hand, and found the hard, flat surface of the closet door. She slammed it shut with a hollow bang.
“What’s going on up there?” said her father.
“N-nothing,” said Kallie, the blood beating in her ears. She opened her eyes. She was in her father’s room. All was still and quiet. It no longer smelled of rot and decay, but faintly of his aftershave.
It’s that Narnia book, Kallie thought, scowling. And the box. They had infected her brain like a disease. She must have imagined it all—the white beast, the pile of bones, the shadowy world beyond the closet door. Nonsense. Folly.
She took a deep breath, gripped the doorknob firmly, and opened it again. All her father’s clean suits and crisply ironed shirts hung neatly in their place. Nothing was out of place. She exhaled.
Footsteps creaked across the downstairs hall.
Kallie startled. She had to get out of the room quickly. Her father would be up any moment. If he caught her with the box, she didn’t know what he might do. She gripped the door handle firmly, but before she swung it closed again, she caught sight of something. Another box. Only this one was large, made of cardboard, and filled with paper and a large manila envelope with something scrawled on the front.
Kallie scrambled back into her room, hiding the box in her satchel as her father climbed the steps. She got changed and climbed into bed.
“Were you happy?” she asked when her father came in to check on her. “You and Mom?”
“What?” he said, looking upset and bewildered. “What makes you ask that?”
“I don’t know,” said Kallie, fumbling with her covers. “I’ve just been wondering.”
He sighed. “That was a long time ago, Kallie. It doesn’t matter anymore.”
The look on his face gave her the answer his words would not.
Kallie lay in bed, but sleep would not come. All she could think about was the white beast, the shimmering pile of bones, and Grandpa Jess lying in the hospital bed wasting away.
And about the two words on the envelope in the box in her father’s closet:
Insurance policy.