Disclaimer: I do not, and will not, own anyone in this story. Technically, I don't own Abigail either.
(Please note that this is just my rendition of who Sister Abigail is. This story should not be taken literally.)
"Bray!" Bo called, bursting inside from the front yard. He bounded over to his brother, clearly displaying the limitless energy commonly characterized by eleven-year-old children. "There's a new kid moving in across the street! We should go say hi!"
Bray, however, having recently crossed over into adolescence, was less enthusiastic. "Why don't you go yourself?" he asked.
"Mom said we should never leave the yard alone," Bo pointed out, crossing his arms. "Besides, we never do anything together anymore."
"Fine," Bray grumbled, standing up from where he had been seated.
The moving truck was fairly easy to find once the two boys were outside. As they watched, a rather slender girl with jet back hair emerged from the house. She blinked indignantly at the sunlight, then directed her gaze towards the children watching her from across the street.
Bo was the one to break the relatively tense silence. "Hi!" he called, waving enthusiastically.
"That is not how you greet a lady, Bo," Bray scolded. "Follow my lead." Bo nodded, giggling with amusement at his brother's sudden change in demeanor.
Bray made his way casually across the street, knowing that every step was under the scrutinizing glare of the newcomer. Once he reached the girl's yard, he inclined his head slightly, acknowledging her presence. "Hello, miss…" he said, pausing so she could fill the blank with her name. But, she remained silent.
"Are you deaf?" Bo enquired, looking genuinely concerned.
"I am not," the girl snapped before Bray could quiet his brother. She shot the two of them a poisonous glare. "I can hear you just fine."
"I am truly sorry about Bo," Bray apologized hastily. "He's just a little…" He halted, mentally searching for the right word.
"Abigail," the girl said abruptly.
"What?" Bray questioned, quite confused.
"My name's Abigail," the girl repeated. "That's what you came here for, isn't it?"
"Well, it's nice to meet you, Abigail," Bray responded, recovering slightly. "I'm Bray."
"Could we perhaps go somewhere quieter?" Abigail asked, glancing at Bo, who was now engrossed in trying to catch a butterfly.
"I'll handle this," Bray sighed. He approached his brother and said, "Bo, you should get back home. Mom's probably worried about you."
"What about you?" Bo retorted, abandoning his chase.
"You'll tell her where I am, won't you?" Bray requested.
"I guess," Bo murmured.
"There's a good little brother," Bray said, smirking smugly.
"But if I get hit by a car, it'll be your fault," Bo grumbled, trudging back towards home.
All of a sudden, Abigail asked, "Bray, do I scare you?"
"No," Bray replied, "Why would you?"
Abigail looked at him thoughtfully for a minute. "Then I might be able to make some use of you," she muttered.
"Use me?" Bray enquired, once again thoroughly confused. "What do you mean?"
"No one listens to me. They all think I'm crazy," Abigail explained. "But, I need someone to pass my message along to."
"Message?" Bray began to ask. He stopped when he noticed Abigail was staring at something across the street. Turning around, he found Bo gesturing frantically for him to return home. "I should get home," he said almost apologetically. "Maybe we could talk about this later."
"I found a tree house in the oak in my backyard," Abigail noted. "Can you get there tonight?"
"Tonight?" Bray repeated, shocked. "My parents won't like that very much."
"Do you trust me or not?" Abigail questioned. "I'll make sure the gate's unlocked. You'll just have to be as sneaky as you can."
"I'll see what I can do," Bray responded. "See you tonight, Abigail."