Page 2 of The King (Masterpiece Duet 1)
This is the longest he’s been gone.
Worry presses down on my chest, making it hard to breathe. What happens if he doesn’t come back? The same way Mama didn’t come back? No, don’t think like that. So I keep looking out the window, hoping I see his large form coming zig-zag down the lane.
When it gets to be nine o’clock, I take a bath and get into my favorite nightgown. I try to keep a regular bedtime even when Daddy’s gone. It makes me feel like there’s a grownup in the trailer.
I climb into bed, staring through the blinds on my window.
My bedroom faces the back of the trailer park, away from the city lights. I can see a line of dark trees that move in the wind.
Then a flicker of something. A light. A fire?
My heart pounds harder. I can feel it thump in my chest. Darkness creeps up in my mind. What if Daddy’s out there? What if he couldn’t find his way home? He knows the way, but if he’s been drinking a lot he might have gotten lost.
He’s never been gone this long. That must be him.
I want it to be him.
I don’t know whether the ache in my heart is hope or fear. Both.
Mostly I know better than to go outside after dark. Even if someone bangs on the door, the lock stays turned. Unless it’s a policeman with a badge. But I’m too awake to fall asleep.
Then there’s another flash of something bright through the trees.
I open the door slow, as if something in the shadows might jump at me. There’s nothing, only the soft whisper of grass in the wind. No one mows around here. Weeds come up to my knees. Brambles poke the bottoms of my feet. I press through the trees, determined to find out what’s on the other side.
There’s a watering hole around here somewhere. I’ve never been there. Never wanted to. But I’ve heard some of the kids on the bus talk about fishing there, before they moved up to middle school. I don’t think they really meant fishing anyway, not with the sweet smoke floating through the brush.
The air sounds different as I reach the water. More of a gentle hum. Less rustling of leaves. I peek over a bush to see a wide black lake. It’s bigger than I would have thought. The moon draws a long oval across the surface.
Then I see him.
A man sitting on the ground, his elbows resting on his legs. He’s watching the water like it’s got the answers he’s looking for. Like there are mermaids inside.
Something stings my leg. An ant? I jump, bumping into the bush.
The sound breaks the silence.
He stands and faces me, moonlight across his face. He’s younger than I thought. Maybe in high school. I think through the families who live in the trailer park, but no one has a kid his age. And I would remember him if I had seen him. There’s something about the way he holds himself. Smooth and strong, so different from the hunched over way people move around here.
He’s got something in his hand. It glints in the dark. Some kind of weapon.
“Who’s there?” he says.
He doesn’t sound afraid. I don’t want to be afraid.
But I am. I take a step back, breaking a branch.
“Come out where I can see you! I have a gun. I’ll start shooting if I have to.”
Shooting? Part of me wants to run the other way, to keep running until I make it back to the trailer and lock the door. But what if he does start shooting? I take a step forward.
Then another.
I’m standing in front of the trees, trembling too hard to speak. He’s maybe a few yards away, but it might as well be a few inches. Too close for me to run.
“Where’s your daddy?” he says, like maybe he knows him.
I lift my shoulder. “Dunno.”
“You alone?”
That’s a scary question for a boy to ask a girl. “Are you?”
He lowers his weapon. “No one comes here. There’s nothing but bugs and dirt. And maybe wolves.”
Wolves? No one told me about wolves. “For real?”
“Haven’t seen one, but I have a knife. I can fight if I have to.”
“You don’t shoot them?”
He looks away, like he’s embarrassed. “That was a lie.”
I understand that. And it means he was scared, even if he didn’t sound like it. I understand that, too. I take a step closer to him, curious now. “Why are you here then? If there’s nothing but bugs and dirt?”
“Better than home. Why are you here?”
Because I’m hungry. Because I’m lonely and afraid. The lake glistens dark, looking more like ink than water. “You ever go swimming?”
“Sometimes.”
He’s probably not afraid of the water. “Are there sharks?”
“Sharks don’t live in lakes.”
Bending down I touch the surface and find it cold. “What’s here then?”
