Coraline
My dad’s in the shower, my mom off on whatever errand. Grant is supposedly studying but who knows what he’s actually doing,
his door closed.
Downstairs, I grab the keys I’m not supposed to use on my own and slip out the door to the garage.
I walk my bike out the side door, don my helmet, and head quickly, quietly into the night. It’s freezing and even my puffer
jacket doesn’t feel warm enough. Agnes’s place is just a few miles. There’s a hooting owl, and the lights of houses glow orange
and warm, as I zip through quiet streets. All in black, I imagine that I’m invisible, a ghost.
My mom tracks me, so if she looks at the app, she’ll expect to see me at home. But what she doesn’t know is that I have another app, which allows me to trick LifeWatch. If my mom looks at LifeWatch, she’ll see my last location, home in this case. But
the trick only lasts for an hour, so I don’t have much time.
At Agnes’s, I get off my bike and unlock the gate, push through, then close and relock it behind me.
The driveway up to the house is long and dark. I turn on my little headlight. I am not afraid, though. This place, the nighttime,
they don’t scare me. I’m not afraid of anything. Or anyone.
The house is quiet, unlit. I pull my bike around the side and walk the rest of the way to The Kitchen, past the garden and the greenhouse.
The night is alive with sound—my crunching footfalls, some skittering in the underbrush, wind in the branches. Winter. It
feels like a magical time to me, when everything you see appears desiccated and dead, but underneath, a whole other season is preparing to burst forth.
Above me the moon is almost full. The Wolf Moon is nearly here.
In the kitchen, I get to work quickly. I have to make my recipes, get home, and replace the keys before my mother realizes
I’m gone.
If she knew how I spent my time, or the things I’m doing, she’d be angry.
So, I take it back. I’m not scared of anything, or anyone.
Except my mom.