Page 74 of The Puppet Master
I am?
I am…
Shit.
My jaw slackens as I prod my bottom lip. “Kind of cold out here.”
“Is it?” A gust of wind lifts hair off her face as she scans. It settles back like snowy strands coating the faint pink of her cheeks. It’s a face made for winter, the human equivalent of a snow angel.
Then the light catches her eyes.
“You know, it’s okay to have quirks,” Luna says. “I have quirks too.”
Quirks…
I assume she means the dresses spaced evenly in the closet. My shoes lined up at the door. Dirtied rags folded neatly by the bathroom entrance. Baseboards scrubbed stark white.
Quirkwouldn’t be the word I’d use.
And yet, I seriously doubt anyone called LunaRainmanfor all of junior high.
My eyes drift ahead at the sound of youthful, high-pitched screams cutting through the trees. Angry screams, not scared. Girls arguing over a game.
“You know you talk in your sleep?” Luna asks.
I’m thirty-nine years old. Yes, I know I talk in my sleep.
The girls having the yelling match appear up ahead. Braids cheated by opening her eyes while Pigtails hid the doll abandoned on the ground.
“At first I thought you might give something exciting away, but you just spit out random numbers.”
They’re not random. They’re never random.
When my spine shivers, I roll my shoulders. I clench my jaw so my teeth won’t tap.
“Your eyes kind of glaze over when you walk,” Luna continues. “Are you?—”
“Look.” I point to a treehouse poking out of the forest. Luna’s gaze follows my finger. “Let’s see if we can get a better view of the compound. I’ve never seen it from above.”
I don’t turn to face Luna, but I can see her staring at me from my periphery. She flicks out a “sure,” her hand subtly pulling from mine.
Neither of us say anything as we make our way through the cluster of trees. Luna is first to the rope ladder leading to the wooden platform above, and doesn’t pause for a moment before starting the climb.
I follow behind her, my hand steadied beneath Luna’s ass in case she slips. But it’s me who wobbles as the rope stretches and groans beneath my weight. The ladder twists and sways while Luna climbs with an annoying amount of grace, leaving me behind.
When I reach the platform, she’s already seated, legs dangling over the edge, hands folded in her lap. I haul myself onto the wood beside her and flex my hands until the sting of rope burn eases.
My gaze points forward while I work to relax my features. I’m careful not to give Luna anything else to read.
The yelling girls in the distance seem to have made up. Six or so run around in hand-knitted gloves and hats, playing what looks like an altered version of Hide-and-Seek.
“Did you like Hide-and-Seek when you were a kid?” I ask.
Luna sits with her hands tucked beneath her, her gaze observing the game below. “No.”
“Really?” I ask with a raised brow. “That was, like, my favorite game.” When she says nothing, I plant my palms on the splintered wood and lean back. “I wasgoodtoo. We had a lot of kids in the neighborhood, and every Friday night, we’d go to the pier and play either Hide-and-Seek or flashlight tag for hours… What games did you play when you were a kid?”
“Nothing.”
