She saw something she wasn't supposed to see. Nobody knows what it was. All they could get out of her was a few scribbled sentences on some paper. "They told me not to tell. They'll hurt me." Whatever happened, it was enough to scare her into a world of silence-one no one but her lived in.
"Are you sure this was a good idea?" Grace York questioned her husband, sitting across the kitchen table from him. "Moving clear to Minnesota just because some fancy head doctor told us there's a small chance it would help?"
"If I didn't think it would work, I wouldn't have agreed to do this," Lincoln wearily replied. He placed his head in his palm. "Besides, my mother could use some help around the house and no one else is willing to volunteer. It's a perfect place for us to start over. Sasha can have a fresh start in a new school and all the kids will have a chance to visit with her before it's too late."
Grace sighed. "I know it's a great opportunity, but what about our life here? Your mom could move in with us. It might help her health and the Wu's are next door…"
"Honey, please. Just give it a chance. We'll stay for a year and if it's not working, we'll move back."
"Okay. Just one year. But no more."
Sasha woke to the sound of her parents talking quietly over the car radio. Not wanting to disturb them, she kept her eyes closed but her ears open.
"…it's the perfect school for Sasha. Small class sizes and it's fairly close to your mom's." Grace adjusted the volume slightly.
"What about the price? Is it affordable?"
"It's a private school but there are scholarships available and both Sasha and Trey are smart enough."
Private school? Sasha though to herself. Well aren't we getting fancy now.
"Would they be equipped to handle Sasha?" Lincoln asked.
He makes it sound like I'm a puppy. Sasha silently harrumphed, petting the nose of her Rough Collie Meatloaf. The family's Golden Retriever Mouse had her nose pressed against the window and her tongue hanging out.
"She's not a puppy, Link; she's a child. I think the teachers will be more than able to appropriately work with Sasha."
Her parents lapsed into silence. Meatloaf nuzzled Sasha's cheek with her wet nose. She turned her face and buried it in the rough fur of Meatloaf's neck. She fell asleep that way, lulled by the warmth of fur and the quiet sound of the radio.
Sasha took a deep breath and grabbed another stack of boxes off the porch, bringing them into her grandma's house. She set them down in the kitchen and brushed her waist-length black braid off her shoulder. Rose and Levi, her younger brother and sister, came running in just then, followed by Mouse and Meatloaf.
"Sasha, Mommy wants to know if you seen the doggy leashes yet," Rose stated, grabbing Mouse by the collar and trying to straddle her like a horse. Levi took Meatball's collar and straddled him, shouting for the poor dog to move.
"Levi, stop riding on the dogs and help with the boxes," Mrs. York told the 6-year-old, entering the kitchen. She turned to Rose and handed her a glass bowl with a goldfish inside. "Rose, go put Mittens somewhere safe." The 5-year-old skipped off to put Mittens away and Levi dove headfirst into a random box.
The glass door leading to the porch opened and Lincoln stuck his head in. "Honey, where are-"
"I don't know," Grace interrupted. "I don't remember which box it's in. You'll have to look yourself."
"-the boys," he finished. "Where are the boys?"
"The boys?" She asked distractedly, moving a few boxes off the counter and opening them. "Sash, can you check the van for the pet supplies?"
"Joey and Trey? Your oldest two children." Just then a football sailed past his head, followed by the sound of thundering feet. "Never mind," Mr. York quickly said. "I found them."
"Boys! No throwing balls in the house." Mrs. York snatched the ball out of the open box it had landed in and plunked it on a pile of crumpled newspapers. "Now start unpacking some of these boxes."
Sasha silently slipped back into the mid-August heat as the rest of her family continued to sort through the mess. The van doors were still opened but the driveway had been cleared of boxes. She closed the side doors and went to check the trunk for the dog leashes. Sure enough, they were sitting on top of a pile of pet supplies. Sasha grabbed the pile and went to close the door.
"Can I help you?" The male voice startled Sasha so much she squeaked and dropped her load, quickly turning and freezing at the sight of him. The tall, blond-haired boy bent down and picked up the pile she had dropped. "Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you." He held out the pet supplies; Sasha squeaked again and bolted for the door, almost running into her mom on the porch.
"Hey, slow down, honey. You'll trip," Grace told her daughter. She leaned over and kissed the top of Sasha's head. "Now go get some food. Sandwiches are on the counter and the boys are in the backyard."
"Hey, you forgot your stuff." The boy held the pet supplies out towards Sasha. She turned back, her face turning bright red. She took the pile and ran for the door again. "You're welcome," he called after her.