Mom has barely been home, but then again … neither have I. She says she’s been pulling lots of overtime at work, but she’s a pretty bad liar so I can tell she’s not being one hundred percent honest with me.
School has been going along at its usual slow crawl, with everyone looking forward to the end of the year and graduation. Even though I’ve managed to convince the boys to come back to school with me, I can tell that their focus is elsewhere. The eclipse is fast approaching, and they are much more focused on that then on their school requirements.
I don’t blame them; I’m much more focused on that too.
I’m getting increasingly restless with Vivian here and the eclipse approaching, and I’m finding it hard to concentrate on anything else.
I don’t realize how much time has passed until we find ourselves walking home from school one afternoon. Rory’s Jeep needed a new part and Romulus was going to fix it for him while we were in school, so he left the car with his dad.
Not that I minded.
It’s rare I get this much time alone with Rory, Marlowe, and Kaleb. Sometimes, I think that’s the whole point of Vivian being here in the first place. Their other guest didn’t stay long, but so long as she’s here, we barely have a moment to ourselves.
Just like Romulus likes.
The walk home is brisk with the cold. The boys, ever fueled by their own inner heat, seem to enjoy it more than anyone else. While I bundle up, my hands shoved into my pockets and my face buried up into a thick knitted scarf, they can’t seem to keep their feet squarely on the path.
Their breath looks like puffs of little clouds against the cold air and they look invigorated, full of unspent energy.
The woods are beautiful. The first snowfall was just this morning and it has coated all of the trees with a light dusting of snowflakes that stick to the branches and the ends of my eyelashes.
Our moment alone doesn’t last long enough.
As soon as we near the mansion, Vivian runs out toward us and bends down quickly to scoop up a handful of snow. She chucks it straight at Kaleb, but he darts out of the way just in time for it to miss his head and hit Marlowe squarely in the chest behind him.
I know the look on their faces.
The game is on.
The three boys each grab handfuls of snow that they pack in their hands into tightly formed, irregular balls that look like they will hurt on impact. Kaleb has a mischievous grin as he whispers something to his brothers, and then all three boys smile as if they’re up to something devilish. Just as the three of them start running toward Vivian in front of the mansion, they all slightly veer off at an angle in order to surround her.
One way or another, she’s going to get hit with a snowball.
At first, I feel a slight wicked satisfaction at the thought. That thought passes, however, when I realize just how far ahead they’ve all gotten.
They’re fast, really fast; all of them. They race and dart through the snow as if they’re on four legs instead of two, the deepening snow no match for their unnatural instincts.
Just like me.
Any thought of trying to catch up disappears as they do around the corner of the house. I’m left alone at the edge of the forest—the snowy lawn stretching empty and white ahead of me.
I don’t even think they even notice.
I walk to the entrance of the mansion without them and let myself inside. There’s no fire in the hearth today, no distant clang of pans or the rustle of books.
Lydia and Romulus must be out.
I’m not used to having the house to myself. Not, at least, since that night I broke in with my old friends.
Friends. Ha.
Maybe I should’ve walked home with Jess, Aimee, and Tom. Then, at least, I might be able to ignore the gnawing ache in my chest.
When I hear their howls of laughter start to come closer from around the sides of the mansion, I duck into one of the nooks carved into the giant tree at the entrance to the house. I don’t want to give them the satisfaction of pretending to include me as an afterthought. There’s been all too much of that lately. Too much forgetting until it’s too late that I’m not able to keep up.
I don’t need them to pretend I’m one of them; I know that I’m not. They’ve made that all too clear.
The space inside the tree is cool and dark. It’s large enough for me to walk deeper into, yet still snug enough for me to sit crouched in a corner with my arms wrapped around my chest. I just want to hide and be left alone. It’s funny though, because even though I tell myself that’s what I want—I know it truly isn’t.