Useful

1

Jo was moving today. She was staring out her widow, looking out at her extensive front yard. She was sitting on top of a box that held most of her clothes. She couldn't cry. She had spent the last few months crying herself to sleep ever since her father had told her the news. Jo loved her house and its warm, cozy rooms; she loved the creaky, winding staircase that led up to her room in the attic. Jo had four other siblings, and all were currently sharing rooms, so, being the middle child, she had volunteered to sleep in the attic. She didn't mind it. In fact, she quite enjoyed it. It was an escape. It was a good place to go when you didn't want anyone to find you. She could think and not be disturbed by anything or anyone.

Jo sat looking out her one semicircular window, lost in thought, letting the sunset pour onto her pale face. She then looked back at all the boxes that filled her room. They were filled with countless memories; dolls from her childhood, pictures of herself and friends, toys and books and everything that was her life. This house and this place was her life. She was born here. She couldn't leave without leaving most of herself along with it.

"Excuse me, miss." Jo looked up. It was the moving men come to take the boxes to the truck.

"Can we start in here now?" he said. "—Or do you want a few more minutes?" he said, with obvious disinterest.

"Sure, you can start." said Jo, and stood up from her box of clothes. Then proceeded to walk down the creaky, winding staircase that she loved so dearly and sat down on the floor in the middle of their large living room. She looked around the room, swiveling around in her spot to take in the whole room. This room used to be the life of the house. She could still picture her father sitting at the desk in the corner, scratching his head as he looked, perplexed, at his laptop. She could see her mother playing with the twins, Mark and Minnie, the youngest in the family; she would pretend to take their noses and eat them as they would shriek with laughter. She could see her older brother, Jake, sitting on the couch, watching TV, and throwing his baseball at the ceiling; it would bounce off, and he'd catch it again. And she could see her sister, Angela, the oldest, drawing on her notepad, sitting on her chair near the window. But now the room was empty, and it felt cold and unfamiliar. Now there were dark squares on the wallpaper where pictures used to be, and large patches of dust where the furniture had been. Looking around the room, Jo felt as though a place in her heart had been erased, as if none of the memories she had made in this room mattered.

She got up and ran her fingers along the old wallpaper; it was made of fabric, not actual paper. It used to be a bright, cheery orangey color, but it was now faded into a faint beige. Jo's fingernail snagged on a thread as she was walking. She turned around to untangle it and realized there was a small crease in the fabric. She had never noticed that before. She took her nail and rubbed up and down the crease, and realized that it was in the shape of a small rectangle. Probably from a picture frame or something, she thought. But it was still curious; she didn't remember a picture frame ever being there, and there was no dark spot on the wall, like all the other places where pictures used to be. On any other day, Jo probably would have dismissed this completely, not wanting to start a fuss, but her curiosity got the best of her. She took her house key from her pocket and ran it along the perimeter of the crease, making it deeper, and a more distinguishable rectangle. Yes, there is something here! She thought, getting excited. She started rubbing the key along the crease, trying to cut the fabric. She kept rubbing harder and harder until… RRRRIP! The fabric tore at the crease. Jo then got very excited and started to work the rest of the sides until it was clear to her that there was definitely something there besides wall. Lucky we're moving, Jo thought, or my mom would be so pissed. Jo put her key back in her pocket and stared at her handiwork. The rectangle was about six inches wide and three inches tall. Jo put her fingers in the crevasses on each side of the box and pulled. Nothing happened. She tried again. Still nothing. She tried wiggling it. Even more nothing.

"Oh, come on! All that for nothing?" Jo shouted at the box, now angry that she had ruined the wall for nothing. She punched it in with her fist. To her surprise, it was shoved inward slightly, making a small click. She stared at it, wide-eyed, getting excited again. She pushed it in again…click. She tried a third time…click. She tried again, but it wouldn't budge. Then suddenly, the box sprang from the wall, causing Jo to jump back.

"Oh, my God," she said, heart pounding loudly in her ears. She walked up to it slowly and cautiously peered inside. In the drawer was a book. Jo carefully took it out, examined the rest of the drawer, but there was nothing else inside. She looked at the book again. It was a fairly small book, it was just bigger than her hand, and it was bound in worn blue paper. She turned it over to the front cover. The words were embossed in slightly chipped gold leaf, but Jo could still see them plainly; there were three: The Useful Book.