Reese
There’s a knock at the door. It’s a gentle thumping sound, so that at first I’m not sure if I heard it or not. If it was real
or just the wind moving the door.
Still, I flinch, the soft, rhythmic sound moving up my spine.
Knock, knock, knock.
My throat goes tight. My breath is shallow.
Beside me on the sofa, Emily looks up, which means she heard it too. Someone is really there. I didn’t imagine it and it isn’t the wind. Emily starts to get up, to make her way toward the door, but I blurt
out, “No, don’t,” while grabbing for her hand. “Please don’t open it,” I say, pleading, my eyes wide and locked on hers as
she turns back to face me. I take her in in that moment. Her golden blond hair and her soft blue eyes. She squeezes my hand,
which is all of a sudden cold, clammy, shaking. Hers, on the other hand, is warm. Her posture is relaxed. She gazes down at
me and smiles, pulling her eyebrows together in genuine surprise. “Why not?” she asks, as I feel her pull away again, her
hand slipping from mine.
“Just don’t,” I say. “Please don’t open it.”
“Don’t be silly,” she says lightly, taking her first step toward the door.
“It’s fine. It’s probably just Mae. She probably forgot something and came back for it or changed her mind and wants to sleep here,” she says, which wouldn’t be unlike Mae—Mae always, always, forgets things, and she always gets homesick at sleepovers and wants to come home—but that’s not what this is.
It’s not just a hunch. I know. I feel it in my gut.
It’s not Mae on the other side of the door.