Lindsay slammed her locker door, liking the sound as it echoed through the halls. She loved being at school when nobody else was there — somehow, it made her feel special. She couldn’t quite describe it even to herself, but that didn’t matter because even if she could, she’d never say anything about it to anybody. They’d just laugh at her for feeling anything but disgust at having to be at school at all.
But she liked the quiet of the huge, cavernous building that was usually throbbing with noise and activity, and she knew she was going to miss it next year as she walked down the polished floor of the hallway and pushed out through the front doors out into the chilly, overcast afternoon.
Dawn was waiting for her outside. “What are you doing tonight?” Lindsay asked as they began walking home. For the last hour she’d been trying to figure out how to get Dawn to invite her over for dinner — or even to spend the night — without revealing that she was afraid to go home, at least until her folks were back from the city.
Dawn groaned. “I have to go to my dad’s for dinner.” Dawn’s father and stepmother lived across town — not far, but not close enough to walk, either. “He’s been on the road for a week, and I haven’t seen him for a while, so he’s picking me up at our house at five.” She checked her watch. “I better hurry — I want to change before he gets there.”
“My parents are apartment hunting in the city,” Lindsay said, kicking at a pebble on the sidewalk. “They won’t be home until late. They’re having dinner.”
“Cool!” Dawn said, oblivious to the gloom in Lindsay’s voice. “You’ll get the house to yourself. I love it when my mom takes off — I make popcorn for dinner and play my music as loud as I want.”
“Yeah,” Lindsay said. “Except I don’t feel much like that tonight.” She didn’t quite know how to invite herself to Dawn’s father's, but she didn’t want to go home alone. She glanced at Dawn, then decided to take the plunge directly. “Can I come with you to your dad's?”
“I wish,” Dawn said. “But it’s ‘quality’ time night.” Her voice took on a mocking singsong note as she said
“I think that’s nice,” Lindsay said, cocking her head.
Dawn rolled her eyes. “Yeah, right! If he really wanted ‘quality time,’ maybe he shouldn’t have left us in the first place. Sorry, but I think he and his new wife are total dorks. And she’d pitch a hissy if I brought someone over with less than two weeks’ notice.” At Lindsay’s crestfallen look, Dawn touched her shoulder. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right.”
Dawn stopped walking and reached for Lindsay’s arm, but Lindsay kept walking to avoid looking her friend in the eye. The problem was, she didn’t want to go home to an empty house, but didn’t want to tell Dawn that she was afraid, given how stupid she felt about the whole thing.
What happened the other night was only a bad dream — nothing had actually happened.
But still, she didn’t want to go home alone to a house where people had been roaming and poking around, going through her things all day long.
And she didn’t want Dawn to ask her what was wrong, because she was afraid she’d start to cry.
“You okay?” Dawn finally asked, catching up to her.
“Yeah, I’m all right,” Lindsay answered. “I’m just depressed, I guess.”
“Depressed? You think
Lindsay glanced at Dawn, seizing the opportunity to turn the conversation away from herself. “Come on — you like Robert. What is he, two? How can you not like a two-year-old?”
“Yeah, actually, I do. I like having a little brother. He’s the only good thing about going over there. I can relate to him. Sheila is beyond me. And what Dad sees in her…”
Lindsay tuned out Dawn’s rant about her stepmother, wishing she could unburden herself about how scared she was to go home to the empty house, but she couldn’t figure out how to approach it without having Dawn think she was being stupid. She began casting around in her mind for somewhere else she could go.
As they approached the corner where they would go their separate ways, Dawn caught Lindsay’s arm, stopping her. “Don’t be depressed. Please?”
“I just don’t want to move.”
“I know. Just don’t stress, okay? I mean, it hasn’t happened yet, has it?”
Lindsay shook her head. “And maybe it won’t happen. Maybe we’ll figure out a way for me to stay through next year.”
“We will,” Dawn assured her. “Call me. You’ve got my dad’s number, right?”
Lindsay grinned. “Speed dial six.”
“Aren’t you the efficient one,” Dawn said. Then: “Hey — you did good today.”
“So did you,” Lindsay replied. “You’re going to be head cheerleader next year.”
“Unless you are.”
“Fat chance. Especially if I’m not even here!”
Dawn shrugged and spread her arms. “Miracles happen.”
Lindsay regarded her best friend darkly. “Yeah,” she said. “But not to me.” She turned away then, crossed the street, and sped up as she walked down the last two blocks toward the house.
Walking slowly, after all, was only going to postpone the inevitable.
Lindsay warily eyed the OPEN HOUSE sign the agent had left leaning against the garage, as if it were a cobra coiled and ready to strike at her. The wind had come up, bringing with it a cloud that was even darker than her mood, and now a few raindrops were falling on her bare arms. It was as if spring had vanished back into winter, with late afternoon darkness closing in around her. She rubbed her arms, shivering, but even as she tried to warm herself, she knew the chill she was feeling came more from the solid evidence the forgotten sign provided that people — strangers — had been in the house all afternoon.
And now, knowing that, she didn’t want to go inside.
She wanted to turn away and go somewhere else.
Anywhere else.
She looked up and down the street, but the yards and sidewalks were empty, and nowhere did she see a neighbor with whom she could strike up a conversation, putting off the moment when she would have to go into the house.
Maybe even cadge a dinner invitation, without having to explain. And she wasn’t about to tell anyone that, and sound like a little girl too young to be left at home by herself.
Besides, she’d come home to an empty house dozens of times — maybe hundreds! Except that today was different. Today—
And felt once more the urge to turn around and walk away, to go somewhere else — anywhere else — until her parents came home.
Again she conquered the urge to flee, turned the key, and let herself into the house.
Silence.
She scanned the living room, and everything looked exactly as it had this morning, almost as if nobody had been there at all. Feeling calmer, she went to the kitchen.
The agent had left a note on the counter. Dozens of people had been through the house — dozens! But that was a good thing, Lindsay reminded herself. It was what they wanted! And maybe one of those dozens of people would buy the house and she’d never have to go through this again.
She took a deep breath and looked at the clock. Five-thirty, on the dot. Her parents would surely be home by ten. Four and a half hours wasn’t a big deal — she’d do a little homework, watch a little TV, and maybe make a plate of nachos…
She turned on the television, more for the background noise than because she wanted to see the news, and made herself go through the rest of the downstairs.
Except for the note from the agent and a few flyers that still lay on the dining room table, the house looked exactly as it always had.
And it would be the same upstairs, she thought.
Everything would be exactly as she’d left it, and no one would have gone through her drawers, and there
