I figured he and Thelma might turn around soon, to start back, so I scurried off the path and crawled in among the bushes and tree trunks. I’d just gotten myself turned around when they came down the path.
I couldn’t see them, so they couldn’t see me, either.
I saw the glow of the torch, though. It drifted slowly by, no more than six feet in front of me but high off the ground.
Wesley and Thelma weren’t talking. I couldn’t hear their footsteps, either. All I heard was the soft jangle of the keys.
The light moved on and vanished. The jangle faded away.
I didn’t move.
What if it was a trick? Maybe Wesley stayed behind to spring a trap an me. He could’ve given the key-ring to Thelma.
Don’t be ridiculous, I told myself. They almost certainly think I’m dead, and they sure don’t know I’ve tracked them down.
Unless they do.
Unless they spotted me somehow. Somewhere. When l followed them over here to the cages. When I spied on them through the window. Or earlier. Maybe they’d even spotted me before dark.
No.
They don’t know I’m here. They think I’m dead. Wesley didn’t stay behind to jump me. He and Thelma are on their way back to the mansion.
Probably.
I sure hoped so.
I couldn’t see myself staying put all night, hiding there in the bushes on the off-chance that Wesley might be waiting to jump me at the cages.
So I crawled out.
On hands and knees, I looked both ways—up and down the path.
No sign of anybody.
I couldn’t see the light of Thelma’s torch, either.
Nor could I see the cages. They’d been eaten by the darkness.
Getting to my feet but staying low, I hurried down the path to where it opened with a view of the front lawn and mansion. Thelma and Wesley had almost reached the veranda.
As I watched, Thelma stepped over to a bucket by the side of the veranda stairs. She swept her torch down and plunged its blazing end into the bucket.
No more light.
At least it seemed that way for a few seconds. But then I saw—or thought I saw—Wesley and Thelma climb the veranda stairs. Vague, moving blurs, not quite as dark as the darkness that gave them shape.
One small, pale bit was slightly more distinct than the rest. I figured it must be the bandage on Wesley’s ass.
All traces vanished at the top of the stairs, killed by the shadows from the veranda’s roof.
Then a door bammed.
They’d gone inside the mansion.
I hoped.
Waiting no longer, I turned around and rushed up the path toward the cages.
Caged Birds
In the absence of Thelma’s torchlight, I couldn’t see the path. I couldn’t see anything at all except for a few different shades of darkness that were flecked, here and there, with dabs of white from the moon.
I remembered Andrew’s cigarette lighter. I could feel it in the right front pocket of my shorts, along with the straight razor and Billie’s sunblock. They bumped and brushed against my thigh as I walked.
I dug the lighter out. Got my thumb ready to flick it. Then changed my mind.
In the darkness, I was almost invisible.
I like being invisible.
You’re so safe and powerful when nobody can see you.
I slipped the lighter down inside my pocket, then made my way slowly forward, watching and listening.
Soon, I heard voices. Girl voices, softly spoken, coming from ahead and over to my right. I crept toward them. When I was near enough to understand the words, I crouched down and listened.
“Don’t be dumb,” one girl said. “We aren’t old enough.”
“You’re the dumb one.” This sounded like Erin’s voice, though it seemed more lively than the other times I’d heard it. It isn’t how old you are, it’s whether you’re having periods yet.”
“Who says so?”
“Dad.”
“How come he didn’t tell me?”
“Maybe you never asked.”
“Mom never said so.”
“Mom never said anything about anything. Not that sort of stuff. That’s how come I asked Dad.”
“You asked him when you can start having babies?”
“Sure.”
“How come?”
“Just wondered.”
“So if you already know, how come you’re asking me?”
Erin didn’t answer at first. When she spoke again, she sounded more like the timid kid I’d heard in the room with Thelma and Wesley. It’s just… do you think he’s gonna make us have babies?”
“Jeez, don’t ask me.”
“That’s what’s gonna happen, I think. You know?”
“I honestly don’t think you can have a baby till you’re eighteen.”
“Eighteen? You’re nuts. You don’t have to be any eighteen.”
“Do, too.”
“Ask Connie.”
Connie!
My heart gave a quick lurch.
“No way. Are you kidding? I’m not gonna wake her up just to ask her some dumb question. She’d kill me.”
“Would not.”
“I’m not gonna.”
“Well anyway, I happen to know for a fact you don’t have to be any eighteen. You only gotta be old enough to be having your periods, because that means you’ve got eggs going. Once that’s happening, you can have all the babies you want.”
“No. Huh-uh. You’ve gotta be eighteen.”
“You’re out of your mind.”
“Am not. I read it someplace.”
“Eighteen must’ve meant something else.”
“Like what?”
“How should I know? I didn’t read it. I just think we’re all gonna end up having babies if we keep letting Wesley screw us.”
“Who’s letting him?”
“He’s doing it anyway, isn’t he? I mean, how many times have you ever stopped him?”
Alice didn’t answer.
