Thanks for the reviews and all the people who've read Chapter One! Ok, here's Part 2-hope you all like it!
Lying in bed that night, I considered the events of the day. I thought about Morgan and what he'd said. I thought about Bo and how quiet she'd been. I though about Graham and how he hadn't joined us after dinner. I thought about what had happened in the cornfields.
And, strangely, more than anything, I thought about Merrill.
Sighing, I turned over in bed.
Suffice it to say, the rest of the day had not been particularly comfortable. Morgan had apologised to Graham, who had accepted the apology, but the atmosphere was still tense between them-understandably. Bo had spent most of the day sitting between the two, her little face drawn tight with anxiety, as she attempted, in her quiet four-year-old manner, to make conversation. I sighed and tried to keep her distracted-efforts which she went along with, but from the look in her eyes, saw for what they were.
This seemed to lead-unfortunately-to an increase in her water fixation. At the dinner table that night, she rejected six glasses of water in the space of five minutes, all with the same excuse.
"It's contaminated."
Morgan, sitting across the table, rolled his eyes. "Bo, it is not contaminated."
"Yes, it is." Bo stared at her brother across the table, wide-eyed in her conviction.
"Bo, baby, why don't you just try drinking one?" Graham asked wearily, pushing his hands through his close-cropped hair.
Bo shook her head, with pursed lips. "It tastes funny."
"Bo, we're all drinking the same thing as you." I pointed out gently. I knew how she felt. "I know how it tastes, but could you try to get through one glass, please?" I watched her anxiously.
Taking a deep breath, Bo lifted her glass and took a sip. I smiled.
But a second later, she screwed up her face and shook her head. I reached over to pat her on the back and quickly moved her plate away from her. Shuddering, she forced herself to swallow, but it was clear that she found the taste of the water unbearable.
"Are you okay?" I asked her, rubbing her back. She nodded, still shivering slightly from the taste.
Merrill leaned over, looking concerned. "Is she all right?" he mouthed to me. God knows why-Bo could see him.
I rolled my eyes. Perhaps it had something to do with only being twenty-one, but I really hated when adults said stuff or mouthed things or whispered thoughts about kids right in front of their faces and then acted as though the kids couldn't hear them or see them-as though children were just completely dumb or deaf and had no minds or feelings at all.
So maybe that was why my tone was slightly snappish when I answered. "She's going to be fine, Merrill. But maybe you should ask her that, not me. After all, she's in the room, and she can hear you, can't you, Bo?"
The instant the words were out of my mouth, I regretted the tone. It wasn't Merrill's fault. He wasn't to know how much that annoyed me. He'd simply been trying to help. And, judging from the slightly hurt look on his face as he nodded, he hadn't anticipated my reaction.
Bo sighed, sat up straight in her chair, and fixed her uncle with her slightly tense, blue-eyed gaze. "I'm fine, Uncle Merrill," she said, in her usual quiet tone, before her eyes dropped back to the plate again. I stared down at my own meal. "I'll get her another one" I announced, before grabbing Bo's glass and retreating to the kitchen area, to pour her another drink, barely hearing the little girl's instruction to "Use the cup with red on it!" and Morgan's reply of "That's my mug, Bo!"
Standing at the sink, and retrieving the requested red mug, I sighed and closed my eyes, my memory drifting.
"Isabelle.."
I didn't look up from my food.
"Isabelle.."
I still didn't look up.
"Isabelle!"
My head jerked up this time, as Colleen tapped me on the shoulder. I stared to see her nodding frantically across the table at our father.
"What's wrong, baby?" he asked me, puzzled and concerned. "What are you doing with all of your food?"
I looked down at my plate. All of my food-carrots, chicken, broccoli, potatoes, covered with the usual coating of thick brown gravy- was there. All arranged in the usual patterns.
Colleen sighed. Our father didn't eat with us every night and so was not to know about this strange new ritual that had developed.
"It's this thing she has.." my sister tried to explain. "She…" She waved her hands in the air as she attempted to articulate this latest in a long series of strange habits-all from me.
Our father stared. "What?"
Our mother, carrying a bowl of fresh potatoes, answered for us. "She has to arrange the food in straight lines," she explained calmly, dishing more onto my plate. "And nothing can be touching. It's been like this for days. You'd have known if you'd got home from work earlier more often." Our parents exchanged brief stares, as did Colleen and I.
"But-" my father stared at me, confused now. "Why do you need to do that?"
I stared at him. I didn't know how to answer. Colleen saved me again.
"She doesn't know why" she told our father. "She just has to."
My father stared at me. "Then she can just as easily not do it, can't she?" He turned back to his plate, stuffing another forkful of chicken into his mouth, clearly under the impression that that was that-the conversation was over. I would stop my strange habits and life would go on.
I stared, frozen at the thought of not performing my rituals.
Colleen, noticing my expression, stepped in again. "I-I don't think it's quite as simple as that, Dad."
Dad stopped eating and stared at her. "Why isn't it?" he asked. "Why can't she just stop? It's not going to change her food. It's not going to make it taste different. Why can't she just stop?"
My eyes were hot and burning with liquid. I looked down at my plate miserably, hungry, but unable to eat, until I had done what I needed to do.
Unknowingly, I began to rock slightly on my chair, biting my lip.
My father noticed. He stared at me for a moment, before suddenly leaning back in his chair and pushing his plate away. He buried his face in his hands.
I watched him, frozen, holding my breath. Now I'd made Daddy unhappy. And I'd upset Mommy and Colleen. And now people were mad at me. And I hadn't meant any of it.
My eyes welled up with fresh tears.
"Sidewalk stepping. Door-checking. Patterns. Now this." He murmured the words, almost as if talking to himself. "When's it going to stop, Isabelle?"
I bit my lip and tasted blood.
Lowering my gaze, I stared at my plate. I pushed the food back into order, the familiar sick, trapped feeling returning, when I noticed the potatoes were out of line. Bowing my head, I began arranging things once again.
There was a heavy silence for the rest of the meal.
"Isabelle?"
My head jerked round to see Merrill standing behind me.
I turned back to the sink, awkwardly. I didn't know what to say. I've never been good with apologies or forgiveness. It's part of the reason it took me a while to make friends. Colleen always said it was to do with my shyness but I kind of assumed it might be down to me innately being a bit of a bitch.
Still, I liked Merrill. A lot. He was kind. He seemed pretty funny. He made his nephew and niece laugh.
Oh, who was I kidding? I liked him. I didn't need to think of reasons for it.
"Look, I'm sorry" I told him quickly. I figured I might as well apologise-things would be uncomfortable if I didn't and besides, it should be me who said it. I was the one who'd practically bitten his head off after all.
"What for?"
I rolled my eyes.
"You know what for. Just then, at the table. I didn't mean to bite your head off, OK? I was just-it just-" I closed my eyes in frustration at my inability to finish a sentence.
Merrill was silent for a minute. Then I heard his voice, quieter than usual. "That's OK." The words were definite, calm; evidence that the two-minute rift that existed between us was over. I exhaled with mild relief, glad the next few days wouldn't be too uncomfortable at least.
I considered telling him why I overreacted to his question. How it reminded me of being a kid. How it reminded me of being unable to eat my own food without dreading each mouthful, because I hadn't performed some stupid ritual right. How water always tasted strange to me, and how that was another weird tic I didn't dare add to the list. How my father had discussed me quite blatantly that day, in front of me as though I was stupid or deaf, and how I sat there, staring at my plate, and for a few moments wished to be completely invisible.
I could have told him all that then, but I didn't because I'd only met him a few hours ago, it would have been totally stupid and to be honest, he probably thought I was strange enough already.
So instead, I just turned to face him, with Bo's fresh glass of water in my hand. "I-I am sorry" I told him, feeling more awkward than ever. "I just-it's a touchy subject." I felt my face burning and looked down. It didn't help that Merrill was standing so close to me, and in the dimmer light of the kitchen, his eyes looked softer, gentler, more forgiving.
I quickly looked away.
"It's fine" he told me, sounding more certain this time. He moved past me to the sink, brushing my arm slightly. I blinked, ignoring the slight dip in my stomach at his touch.
"We were talking in there" Merrill added suddenly. "We might go outside and toss a ball about or something after dinner. You want to come?"
I nodded, wondering why he was bothering to ask me to go into the garden with everyone else when it's what I'd have done anyway. "Yeah, sure." I told him. "Thanks." God knows why I added that on to the end of the sentence.
He gave me a quick smile, which I returned without thinking. I turned and walked back to the table, Merrill right behind me.
I handed Bo the new glass of water. "How many has she gone through today?" I asked Graham. He seemed distracted, quiet, watching his son thoughtfully.
He looked up at me wearily. "Twenty-four…"
Morgan sniggered, as did Merrill. Graham chuckled and even I smiled. Only Bo remained serious and straight-faced, as she took a sip from her new drink.
"That's contaminated, too" she announced.
Merrill grinned and so did I as I took a sip from my own glass. I kept smiling, careful not to let the flavour show on my face. The flavour being the slightly bitter aftertaste to the water that only Bo and I seemed to sense.
"There you go!"
I laughed as Morgan caught the ball with only one hand. Due to lack of space and time, we were simply playing a game of catch in the backyard, before the kids had to go to bed. Graham had declined to join us; he was sitting on the porch watching with a strange, quiet look on his face. I stared at him and felt my heart ache with sadness as I knew who he longed for.
"Isabelle!" I turned to have the ball hit me hard on the arm and see Morgan laughing, as he handed another to his sister.
Bo stepped forward and threw her ball as hard as she possibly could but it fell short, landing on the ground less than three feet away from her. I felt a pang of sympathy as she walked forward solemnly to retrieve it.
"That was good, Bo!" Merrill called from behind me. "Just try and throw it a bit harder next time, OK?"
He gave me a quick smile and I grinned back. I loved how Merrill seemed to encourage Bo. It was something she might need, being shy. Something to bring her out of her shell.
Bo walked towards me. "Change sides" she announced, in accordance with a rule that apparently only she knew. Still, who were we to argue? Merrill and I quickly swapped places with the two kids, so we were now standing with our backs to the cornfields.
I shivered. Although I did not seriously believe the marks in the corn had been caused by anything other than pranksters, there was still something creepy about the whole business. And to be honest, there was just something about the crops altogether-the way anyone could hide in them, watching you, without being seen-that gave me the chills.
"Give us your best shot!" Merrill yelled to his nephew, who grinned and swung his arm back in preparation. Merrill glanced at me and suddenly reached over. "Careful; he'll hit you with the ball" he told me, pulling me back slightly by the arm, even though I was nowhere near Morgan. The feel of his hand made me smile.
"I'm nowhere near Morgan" I told him, just to see what he'd say.
A slight flush rose on his cheeks but he kept his gaze steady. As he smiled, I noticed the top of his lip curled slightly and somehow I couldn't tear my eyes away.
Of course, this was the perfect moment for Morgan to throw the ball as hard as possible and for the thing to fly straight between us and bounce right into the cornfields.
I froze.
"Where did it go?" Morgan yelled almost immediately. I squinted, peering into the fields, though I already knew.
"It went into the corn" I told them, as Merrill came to stand beside me.
"Seriously?" he asked me. I frowned and nodded.
"Shi-"
I elbowed him hard, gesturing to the kids behind us.
"Darn," Merrill said, changing his remark pretty quickly. I raised my eyebrows.
Perhaps that was what made me say what I said next. I don't know why else I'd have done it. "I'll get it." I announced.
I could have bitten my tongue the second the words were out my mouth. I mean, seriously why the heck would I have volunteered to go and search for a small object in a bunch of fields I was now more than a bit scared of? Why?
"You sure?" Merrill asked me, raising an eyebrow himself. Which, somehow, made me more determined.
I guess-well, obviously we weren't going to send Morgan or Bo in to get the ball. But if Merrill went-
I don't know. I guess there was a part of me that was hoping he'd offer to go instead. But I wanted to volunteer first. God knows why.
Perhaps Merrill would have offered, but at that moment he was distracted by Morgan pulling at his shirt.
"We could get your baseball bat while Isabelle's getting the ball" he suggested. "We could play some baseball too!"
Bo nodded, her eyes shining.
To my surprise, Merrill shook his head. "Nah, kids," he said. "It's getting dark."
He took care to glance up at the sky which was still brilliant with sunset. I frowned at him, confused.
"Merrill's a great sportsman" Colleen had told me once. "But he always hits too hard. The ball always goes miles. He's got the record, you know." I didn't understand baseball at all, but I presumed this meant he was good.
Still-
"Fine" I told them. "I'll just get the ball."
And without a backwards glance, I walked towards the cornfields.
"Be careful!" I heard Morgan yell. I waved to him over my shoulder but kept walking. A few paces later, I stood directly at the edge of the cornfield.
I took a deep breath and with one quick glance over my shoulder, I walked into the corn.
The stalks seemed to smother all sound instantly; all I could hear was the muffled chirrups of crickets and the children's voices seemed very faint. All I could see was green crops and it occurred to me that if there was someone in here with me, I would have no way of knowing at all.
Shaking my head to clear it, I walked forward, searching the ground with my eyes. The ball must be nearby; Morgan couldn't have thrown it that far-
Something snapped behind me.
I whirled around to find nothing there.
I stood very still, feeling my heart hammer in my chest, beating so hard I was sure it could leave a bruise. There's nothing there.. I told myself. There's nothing there..
But a part of me suspected that was a lie.
Something cracked in front of me and I spun round again. And again, there was nothing and nobody there.
I froze where I was and listened. Logically, I knew Merrill, Graham, Morgan and Bo were only a few feet away but that seemed much, much further right now.
There was silence around me. Only the crickets and the occasional birdsong. And the sound of my own breathing, my own heartbeat.
Nothing.
I waited three seconds before moving. That was it. One more sound and I was go-
Something moved again. Again just behind me. But this time-
A clicking sound filled my ears. A sound I couldn't describe to anyone. It sounded like some kind of incomprehensible speech, a nonsensical dialect. But all it consisted of was sounds.
And then something brushed my shoulder.
I ran.
I did not think or consider what I was doing. I just ran. The corn stalks slapped my cheeks as I sped forward, unintentionally running further into the field as I tried to escape. There was something moving behind me but I didn't stop to see what. All I did was run straight ahead, gasping for breath, hearing the birds caw wildly as though they sensed my distress.
All that came to an abrupt halt when my foot caught in a stalk, my leg twisted and my body slammed into the ground with the force of what felt like a ten-tonne truck but was presumably much less.
I lay still for a moment, stunned and winded. Then I tried to pull myself to my feet as quickly as possible. But my ankle gave a sharp stab of pain, making me wince and hiss under my breath. I attempted to scramble upright anyway, but fell to my knees again immediately. It was no use. My left ankle had always been slightly weak-now it felt like it was sprained at least. And of course this injury had occurred at the least convenient time.
Which was when I remembered I was being chased.
I pulled myself around where I lay, ignoring the shooting pain in my foot. But there was nothing there. Whatever had been behind me or chasing me or whatever it had been doing, it was gone now. If it had ever existed in the first place.
Well, with that problem resolved, all I had to do now was get out of here.
If I had any idea where here was.
Looking up, I was given the most unpleasant clue possible.
When I'd tripped, I'd been aware that there were no corn crops in front of me. And now I saw why that was.
I was lying right on the edge of one of the huge crop circles Merrill and the kids had shown me earlier.
Brilliant.
That was my first thought. The next was sheer panic.
I yanked myself back across the corn, forcing myself into a half-standing position this time, because, no matter what pain I was in, there was no way I was lying around here in a huge crop circle to be found by extraterrestrials or pranksters or whoever the hell was responsible for the damage. No way.
Half-upright and bent over, I peered in front of me. The crop circle was huge and seemed to cover miles, which meant you got a good view across to the next area of corn left untouched. If I squinted, it seemed like the crops over there were moving slightly-
Something turned and disappeared into the plants.
I shot upright, staggering slightly on my feet. They moved of their own accord, carrying me a few steps backwards into the relative safety of the crops behind. That way, it was better-I was out of sight, the figure couldn't-
"Isabelle?"
My heart just about stopped.
"Isabelle? Where are you?"
My heart re-started. It was Merrill.
"I'm over here!" I called. "I'm by one of the crop circles!" I only hoped whatever was on the other side of that circle didn't hear me, because, truth was, I was still finding it hard to breathe from the last chase, and I didn't fancy another one.
"OK" I heard Merrill shout. "Could you yell again 'cos I have no idea where you are-the corn crops all look the same." I rolled my eyes. Very funny.
"I'm over here!" I yelled, even louder. "Over here!" If he didn't hear that, he needed his ears syringed.
"OK" Merrill yelled. "I think I can see you."
Thank God. I stood still, staring straight across the crop circle. It had been comforting to hear Merrill's voice. It had been comforting to hear the voice of anyone that I knew!
But I liked that it had been Merrill. I mean, I didn't like the whole Disney Princess thing about getting rescued in the woods by the shining knight or whatever but it still felt good. I liked knowing that he'd bothered to come in and find me-though I guessed that was the polite thing for him to do anyway. Still, he'd-
"Boo!"
"Aaargh!"
I spun round for about the third time that night, my heart practically exploding out of my chest, wrenching my ankle painfully, to see Merrill helpless with laughter behind me.
Hilarious.
Perhaps it was the fact that I'd almost jumped out of my skin one too many times tonight. Perhaps it was the fact that I was still half-scared to death from whatever I'd seen in the corn. Or perhaps it was the fact that I'd just injured myself running away from something which had now mysteriously vanished. Perhaps it was all of those things that pretty much ticked me off. Or perhaps it was the simple fact that Merrill had made me jump with his little joke and thereby had made my ankle hurt more.
Whatever. Understandably, I didn't laugh along. In fact, I turned and stood with my back to him, arms folded, waiting for him to stop killing himself with humour and actually help me.
"S-sorry" Merrill gasped, still giggling over something that hadn't actually been that funny. " It just looked hilarious-I came up behind you and you were-" He dissolved into laughter again and I looked over my shoulder to see him actually crying with mirth.
That did it.
"There's someone in your cornfields" I announced without preamble. "Something was standing right over there-" I pointed across the crop circle. "And then it turned and went into the corn. It was probably the same thing that chased me, now I think of it. And yeah, that was what caused me to fall down and get this." I pointed to my ankle, which was now slightly swollen.
Merrill's laughing stopped pretty darn quick. He stared at me, his brow furrowed.
Then he started laughing again.
"Aww, come on, Isabelle. You can't seriously expect me to-"
I'd had it. I grabbed his arm. "Does that-" I pointed down to my ankle. "Look fake to you?"
My ankle was now swelling up nicely.
Merrill's face was a picture. He raised his eyes to mine somewhat uncertainly.
It was then I realised I still had hold of his arm.
Quickly, I pulled my hand away. "I just-I just hurt my ankle, okay?" I told him, all bravado fading. Suddenly, I felt sick and painful and tired and I just wanted to go to bed and put the whole stupid day-which I'd anticipated being fun-behind me. This might have had something to do with the fact that this was the second time I'd made an idiot of myself in front of Merrill today, only now I had an injury to show for it. And I was completely freaked out to boot.
I turned away so Merrill couldn't see my expression while I tried to calm myself down, because if there was one thing I did not need right now it was to burst into tears and cry on his shoulder like the biggest wimp on the planet, humiliating myself even further. That would kind of finish the day on a low.
But Merrill's voice, when he spoke, was softer.
"Look, I didn't mean-"Then he trailed off and when he spoke again, he was quiet. "Hey, Isabelle, are you okay?"
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. My ankle was really starting to hurt.
"What happened?" His voice was gentle now, soft.
I took a deep breath and began to explain. "Something chased me, OK? Back there. You can laugh, but it did. And I tripped up here and did something to my ankle and then I look up and see someone standing on the other side of this circle thing and then you come up behind me and freak me out and-" I trailed off. Fantastic. Just fantastic. How in the name of God had I nearly ended up blubbing my entire little adventure to Merrill? How?
But Merrill didn't seem to mind. "You're sure you saw someone?" he asked. He had a different expression on his face now, his lips set and his eyes forceful, kind of like a hunter's before he hits his prey. I stared at him, my eyes focusing on the pale shade of his skin, and the lights in his eyes and the small scar on his lip, which, instead of detracting from his appearance, made me want to stare at him even more.
I nodded. "Pretty much. Well, I saw the back of him, kind of-he turned and disappeared into the crops. But-"
"He chased you?" Merrill's voice was harder now, rougher, the voice of someone who could hurt.
I nodded again. "But I got away," I added, before he could-could what? "My ankle just got twisted." I gestured downwards again. "No big deal."
I raised my eyes to Merrill's again. I felt a jolt at the sight of his expression-furious, determined, even-protective?
But looking at me, he blinked. "If you put some ice on it, it will probably improve" he said suddenly. "This sort of stuff happened all the time when I used to play baseball."
Used to play?
Still, I concentrated on the rest of his words. "Thanks" I told him, though I'd known that first aid tip information since I was six. I turned, to head back into the corn. "I'd better get back to the house and put some on then." I was going to get back to the house without holding onto his arm. I was absolutely determined-
Of course, this was exactly the right moment for me to trip and stumble, only just stopping myself from falling. Though that might have something to do with the arm Merrill slid around my shoulders to catch me.
I froze slightly, even as he helped me upright, unable to think straight and furious at myself for it. But all I could think of was Merrill and how close he was to me and how he had just stopped me from falling and possibly injuring my ankle again and how blue his eyes looked in the dying sunlight and-
"You OK?"
This had to be the third time today Merrill had asked me that question.
"I'm fine" I told him quickly. I could walk on my own. I would walk on my own. I would.
I took another step forward and stumbled again. "Ouch!" The cry was wrenched from my lips, much to my annoyance as I gritted my teeth and tried to take another step.
Merrill sighed. "OK, come here." Before I could protest, he leaned over, slid one of his arms around my waist and pulled one of mine around his shoulders, until he was basically half-carrying me.
I let out a squawk of protest, which understandably, didn't have much of an effect and sounded pretty stupid. Merrill didn't comment, except for a brief smirk. I tried to pull away.
"You don't have to-"
"Yes, I do." His voice was unexpectedly firm. And for some reason, I complied with it. I let myself lean against him reluctantly, glaring at the ground with each step.
Wonderful. I was being helped back out of the field like Snow Stupid White by some minor-league baseball player who'd apparently retired. Perfect.
"How old are you, anyway?" I blurted the question out without realising. Then I closed my eyes, wishing I hadn't said it.
If Merrill was offended, he didn't show it. "Twenty-six" he told me. "You?"
"Twenty-one" I told him, wondering why he'd stopped playing baseball. Twenty-six wasn't that old for sport. Unless he still did play and "used to" had merely been a slip of the tongue.
"Look" Merrill suddenly said brusquely, as we moved along. "Sorry if I scared you earlier, OK?"
I nodded, slightly taken aback. "OK" I told him. "That's-OK." My vocabulary was really cracking the dictionaries today.
Merrill nodded. "Good." He fixed his gaze on the ground. "I didn't mean to."
Not knowing what to say, I just nodded again-a movement I was getting a lot of mileage out of recently-and we walked the rest of the way back to the house in silence.
"Isabelle!"
I looked up at Bo's voice. She was running slightly, an anxious look in her big blue eyes. I gave a brief smile, to reassure her.
"What happened to you?" Morgan asked, running up beside his sister. Chivalrously, he walked round my other side and took my arm, which was sweet, if a bit ineffective. "Did you fall?"
"Yeah" I told him. "I fell and-"I looked at Merrill, unsure whether to tell Morgan and Bo what had happened. I didn't want to scare them.
"Don't go in the cornfields." Merrill told them both abruptly. "Don't even go near them. Just make sure the two of you stay away from the crops, OK?"
"Merrill?"
Graham was walking towards us from the porch, his eyes widening at the sight of me. "What happened?" he asked, pretty much straight away.
"I fell and twisted my ankle." I told him. "Something-" I lowered my voice, so the kids couldn't hear. "Something chased me, Graham."
Graham's face whitened. However, for the sake of the children, his voice did not change its' calm, level tone. "Are you sure?"
I nodded. "Yeah. That's how I tripped. And-I saw someone. In the circle-"I gestured with my hand towards the cornfields. "There was someone there. They were heading back into the corn."
Graham sucked in his breath. "Okay" he said. He shook his head, as though trying to clear it. "Okay." He repeated the word as though the second uttering would give it more truth.
"Graham" said Merrill, who, I noticed, had still not let go of me. "We've got to get out there, we've got to get whoever it is away.."
Graham shook his head. "Merrill." His voice held a steely warning. "We are not going out there. Not-"He gestured to Morgan and Bo, who were standing nearby, looking worried.
"What's going on?" Morgan asked, silencing all of us temporarily.
Nobody answered him. Graham lowered his voice. "Merrill, we can not get Caroline out here again today."
"Who said anything about Caroline? I say we just-"
"Merrill." Graham's tone was even firmer this time, the tone of the older brother. Merrill rolled his eyes, suddenly looking almost like a defiant teenager, prevented from doing something they long more than ever to do. I suppressed a slight snigger.
Graham turned to me. "Isabelle, are you sure you didn't imagine it?"
The question took me by surprise. "Graham, I know what I saw-" I saw something, I knew that.
"I know" Graham said gently. "But it's twilight, you were on your own in the cornfield, you heard something; isn't it possible your imagination just took over? I mean, God knows, it's happened to me a few times." He chuckled and I joined in. I wondered if he realised the strangeness of what he'd just said. I didn't think I'd ever heard Graham use the word God in any way other than prayer before.
Strange to use the name of something you claim not to believe in at all.
I looked at him and saw the slight plea in his eyes. The plea for me to have imagined the whole thing. For there to be no more trouble. For there to be nothing that might scare the children.
I sighed.
"I guess" I told him uncomfortably. "But I did hear- and something brushed-"
"It might have been me." Merrill broke in. "I went into the fields after her-she might have just heard me. It can be creepy out there in the crops-they, you know, brush against your shoulders, your neck. It feels like someone's behind you. It can be creepy." He shrugged, as though that explained the whole thing.
I was sure I hadn't been in the corn that long when I'd heard the noise; surely Merrill wouldn't have followed me in right away? But I could see Morgan's watchful expression and Bo's puzzled one, and I thought of how scared they could get, how freaked out they'd be if they knew what had happened, and I turned back to Graham.
"Yeah, that could be it."
He smiled and I saw the relief in his eyes. Now we could all go inside and pretend I hadn't seen anything in the fields. But I had. I knew I had.
Perhaps Merrill sensed my thoughts, because he said "I'll stay up tonight, see if anything happens." He gestured to the field. "If I see anyone, I'll wake you up, Graham."
He looked directly at his brother and I got the feeling he was enjoying this a little, this excitement, the idea of giving chase to a stranger messing around on their property.
Graham looked at him long and hard before saying "OK." Then he turned to me. "Now let's get you inside and sort your ankle out."
Bo came up beside me as we began to navigate the steps. She stared up into my face. "You look sad" she told me quietly, sucking on the ear of the toy rabbit she carried.
I smiled quickly. "Do I? I'm not, baby. My foot just hurts, that's all."
She stared up at me, unconvinced, and then slid her hand into mine. It was actually a little awkward, going up the steps, but sweet too. "You can hold my Pegasus Stuffed Unicorn toy if you like."
"Really? Thanks, Bo, that would be-" I hesitated. "Helpful." She smiled, her eyes crinkling up the way Colleen's used to do. I smiled back, a real smile, mixed with sadness, looking at her, and thought Your mom would be so proud of you..
Together, we walked into the house.
Lying in bed, thinking over everything, I sighed. I'd been awake for hours now, jumping at every sound. The experience in the fields had shaken me up. I rolled my eyes and turned over. I wouldn't get to sleep at all, at this rate.
My eyes flew open and I shot upright in bed. What was that sound? It had sounded like a bump, a thud. And it had come from my door.
Sitting as still as possible, I heard voices outside on the landing. There was a quiet, childish whisper that sounded like Bo and a lower sound-probably Graham, taking her back to bed after a nightmare.
I lay back against my pillows. God knows when I'd fallen asleep, but my eyes were already closing again. I lay still, letting my head nod..
A small scraping sound forced my eyes open again.
I sat up in bed, listening hard this time. Next door, I could still hear the faint mumble of Bo and Graham's voices as the little girl settled back to sleep. It was probably one of them..
A shadow moved across the window.
I was out of the bed in a second. Almost tripping over the sheets, I raced to the door. Fumbling at the doorknob, I cast a quick glance back over my shoulder.
There was nothing there-at first. But, standing still for a second, I noticed something-a shadow, at the corner of the window, slowly moving..
I threw the door open and bolted out of the bedroom without looking back.
Outside my room, I wondered, for a split second, what to do. What option did I have? Was I honestly going to go and wake Graham and Merrill up to tell them that I thought there was a shadow outside my window? Even in my head, that sounded stupid.
Then I remembered that Graham was already awake. I relaxed slightly. Morgan and Bo's bedroom window faced the same way as mine. If there was anything outside, Graham would have seen..
Morgan and Bo's door slammed open and Graham appeared, walking so fast he was halfway down the landing before I could blink. His face was determined, definite, his eyes wide. They widened even more when they saw me.
"Isabelle!" He skidded to a halt. "God, you scared the hell out of me!"
I stared at him, wondering what to say. Did I tell him what I'd seen or had he-
He spoke before I could. "Listen, you've got to stay up here. And we've got to get outside. There's something-" He swallowed.
"What?" I said, though I knew the answer already, knew exactly what he was going to tell me had happened.
Graham swallowed nervously. "Someone's outside the house."
Well, what did you think? Please read and review!
Just want to add I do not own Signs and the only real character of mine is Isabelle. None of the characters are based on any real person, by the way.
Just thought I'd add that in :)
Please review!