Coraline
“Where are we even going?”
Autumn’s getting whiny in the back seat. I knew we should have left her at home.
“To Great-Aunt Agnes’s,” I tell her.
Ethan weaves the Tesla up the rural road.
“I still have an English essay,” says Autumn. “It’s due tonight.”
“You wanted to come,” I remind her. “We’re not going to be long.”
“Are we sure this is a good idea?” she asks, sounding weepy.
I spin to look at her in the dark.
“Autumn, Micha is cheating. Is it fair that he’s going to get the valedictorian spot and you’re not because of it?”
“No,” she says weakly.
“Okay, then.” I turn back to the road in front of us, Ethan casting me a look, his hands gripping the wheel.
“It’s just that,” Autumn says softly in the back, “I don’t want to hurt anyone.”
“We’re not going to hurt him,” I say. Which is sort of a lie. “We’re just going to level the playing field.”
“I mean,” says Ethan. “I kind of agree with Autumn. Like if we hurt him, what does that make us?”
“Right,” says Autumn. “Why don’t we just report him?”
“Okay,” I say. “Like anyone will believe us.”
Ethan shrugs, keeps his eyes on the road. “But maybe they will. Or at least investigate. Look, I’ve got your back. But like
how much of this is about helping Autumn? And how much of it is about hurting Micha just because you’re holding a grudge?
Since first grade.”
I am about to argue when a pair of ultrabright headlights bear down, coming from the other direction. Ethan veers slightly
to the right as a big dark car races past us in a blur, a light flashing on its dash.
“That was a cop car. Unmarked,” says Ethan, like he knows something. He’s a bit of a buff, fascinated by all things law enforcement.
“Where’s he going?”
“Where’s he coming from?” I ask. “There isn’t much up here. Agnes’s property sits on like twenty acres.”
My heart has started to pump a little.
When we get to Agnes’s all is quiet, and the gate is firmly locked. Luckily I have the keys. My mom has kept them hanging
on a hook by the garage door. It was easy to take them to a hardware store and get them copied. I’ve been coming here with
Ana and on my own forever. When Ethan pulls to a stop, I get out and unlock the gate, swing it open. After he drives through,
I close and lock it again behind us.
“Is there someone here?” asks Ethan, looking off into the distance.
I see what he’s talking about. An orange glow comes up through the trees. Glancing at my phone, I see something odd. Both
my mom and Ana have disappeared from my LifeWatch, their locations unavailable.
I feel a tingle of unease.
If something feels wrong, it probably is. Ana and my mother have a lot of the same pet phrases. That’s one of them. Follow your instincts.
My instincts are telling me to leave, to get my friends out of here and not investigate the strange light coming from the
house. And maybe, yeah, drop the whole Micha thing because it does violate one of the rules of The Cove: Do not use The Knowledge
for your own personal grudges or gains.
But something else, something deeper, is telling me to stay. There’s a voice I hear when I’m in the greenhouse or in Agnes’s
garden or concocting with Ana in the kitchen. No one ever talks about that voice. The one that’s somehow quieter and louder than any other voice.
“Hey,” I say. “Pull the car off the road up there. Let’s walk the rest of the way.”
Ethan does as he’s told. Autumn leans over the seat. “What’s going on?”
Above us the moon is rising, big and full. It’s so bright. And I remember what tonight is, even though I’m too young to be
in on the business of The Cove.
“Something’s up,” I say. “Someone’s here. I’m going to call for backup.”