“Reapers walk a lonely road. This world doesn’t tolerate our kind. One way or another, we are always cast out from society.”
“Yeah, well, I guess you don’t know your real family until the world casts you out.”
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I sit at the top of the bleachers of the gymnasium, ignoring the wide berth everyone has given me. I can hear them snicker and gossip as they sneak glances in my direction. With everyone gathered in one place, the entire school will know some version of the story in minutes. Like a giant game of telephone, people will probably think I killed the cat myself by the end of it. But my attention is focused on the black leather notebook in my hands.
I run my fingers over the fine sketch paper. Why would Liam give me something so nice? Perhaps he thinks I really am a witch, and this will earn him some form of good fortune. I quickly shake that thought away, though. Liam isn’t like that. My cheeks flush at the insane possibility that, maybe, this is a genuine gift.
“Got room for two more?” Hannah asks with JJ in tow.
I look up but don’t offer any response.
“I heard what happened,” she says. “Was there really a dead cat in your locker?”
I raise my eyebrow with an expression that says, “Yup, and I don’t want to talk about it.”
“I bet it was Jaqueline,” she continues. “That bitch was born heartless.”
“Any idea what the assembly is for?” JJ asks.
“Probably something to do with Trevor and Mallory,” Hannah replies. My eyes widen with dread as a million questions flood my mind. “Those are their parents over there.” She points at the four adults standing against the gymnasium wall.
Nausea bubbles in my stomach as a blanket of grief falls over my shoulders. None of them look like they’ve slept in weeks, all showing some form of anxiety or discomfort. Mallory’s parents are easy to spot; her mother looks just like her. Her long blonde hair falls past her shoulders, fine and straight like Mallory’s. Her eyes are dark and sunken in, and her nose is pink with irritation from rubbing it with the tissues she keeps in her pocket.
Each of them feigns tired smiles when someone approaches them, likely offering kind words. Words they’ve heard a hundred times. Words that don’t change the fact that their children are dead. Worse, I can’t help but wonder if there is still some sliver of hope in their eyes. In their minds, their children are still missing—still alive.
The two detectives I encountered in Dr. Ward’s office walk to the center of the polished court. Beside them are four chairs and a podium. I remember the one with thinning blonde hair is Detective Hart, but I never got the name of the preppy one. Hart is fidgety like he’d rather be anywhere else but in a high school gymnasium.
“Maybe they found a body,” I say.
“Tch,” Hanna scoffs. “What could they have possibly found?”
“We never found Trevor’s body,” I reply, knowing there is likely a very good reason for that.
“Yeah, the monster probably ate him too.” Hannah’s voice carries a bit further than expected, and some faces turn and scowl at her.
“Quiet, please!” Principal Summers speaks into the podium microphone. Her voice echoes through the gymnasium, but she is forced to repeat herself two more times before the crowd finally settles.
“Detective Hart and Detective Kingsly are here to give a very important announcement,” she continues. “Please give them your undivided attention.” She then gestures to Hart, welcoming him to the podium.
“That part never really made sense to me,” JJ whispers.
“What part of any of this makes sense?” Hannah asks.
“Well if the monster is eating people, why were there drag marks in the grass?” JJ asks.
“Thank you students,” Detective Hart speaks a little too close to the microphone, causing many students to recoil. “Uh, thank you. I won’t take up too much of your time.”
“I can think of a few unpleasant reasons why there would be drag marks, JJ.” Hannah scolds him a bit louder. Again, eyes shift to her, but she quickly scowls back at them.
“I have with me the parents of your classmates, Trevor and Mallory.” Hart continues. The parents take their seats in the chairs beside him. “They have asked me to relay a very important warning to all of you.”
“Okay, fine,” JJ continues in a hushed tone. “But why was Mallory’s body almost a mile from the picnic spot, floating in the swamp? Why didn’t she get eaten?”
“I don’t know,” Hannah shrugs. “Maybe the monster chased her into the water then got distracted by something else. I don’t know how this thing operates.”
“We have reason to believe that whatever happened to Mallory and Trevor,” Hart says with a stern face. “Was perpetrated in those woods.”
“That’s the thing, we do know how it operates,” JJ says, opening up a notebook. On it is a table of months that repeats over and over for multiple years. Every two months, a name is written, sometimes two names. I spot Trevor and Mallory at the end. I recognize a few others from freak accidents and disappearances from neighboring towns, but the rest are new to me.
“I checked the public record for all accidents even remotely related to Thicket Grove,” JJ continues. “It's oddly consistent. Every two months, at least one person is reported missing or killed, but never more than two people.” He flips through the pages of his notebook, and the tally seems to repeat forever. “The pattern goes on for years.” I spot a familiar name on one of the pages, Everly. My dad died in those woods two years ago. Did the monster kill him too?
I think back to the closed-casket funeral. I remember thinking if I can’t see him, maybe he isn’t really in there. Maybe he didn’t die, and they just made a mistake. He could show up at our front door any day. He never did, though.
“We have known Thicket Grove to be dangerous to enter without an adult,” Hart says. “The swamps are unexpectedly deep, it’s easy to get turned around out there, and predatory animals are known to be in the area. We cannot let this pattern continue. It is for this reason we are officially declaring the woods as off limits for anyone after four pm.” Murmurs erupt through the stands.
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“Maybe the monster only gets hungry every other month,” Hannah says, ignoring the startling new announcement as if it changes nothing.
“It might be hungry then,” I reply. “They went missing two months ago.”
“Shit. You’re right,” Hannah replies. “It’s on the hunt."
“Additionally,” Hart raises his voice. “If you are caught entering the woods without a guardian, you will be arrested and brought in for questioning.”
“How will they even enforce that?” I ask. “Thicket Grove is huge.”
“Good thing tonight’s haunt isn’t in the woods,” Hannah smirks.
“Haunt?” I ask.
“Yeah, remember?” She elbows my arm. “We’re taking you ghost hunting so we can hone those powers of yours.”
“Where at?” I’m afraid to ask. There are plenty of homes around town I know to be haunted through rumor or just from walking near them. None of which have any visible portals, or rifts as Dr. Ward calls them. Which means they are either echoes or dark spirits, and I ordinarily avoid homes like that. If there’s no soul to save, there’s no reason for me to put myself into trouble.
“The Windy House,” JJ replies. I immediately recognize the name. The Windy House is a popular story, but I’ve never bothered to check if it has any merit. “It’s an old house North of town that borders the woods. It was abandoned after a supposed failed exorcism fifty years ago.”
“Well, not abandoned,” Hannah corrects him.
“Right,” JJ replies. “The landowner lives nearby to maintain the house, but doesn’t stay in it.”
“So,” Hannah wraps her arm around me. “As long as we’re extra sneaky tonight, we should be fine.”
“Why that house?” I ask.
“You scared?” Hannah bumps me with her shoulder. I roll my eyes in response. “We need the real deal. We can’t afford to waste our time with little league haunts. If we’re serious about killing this thing, we need to know what you’re really capable of.”
“Tonight?” I let my discomfort show. I have no idea what kind of mood Mom will be in tonight. Sneaking out is bad enough. But sneaking out after getting Mom pulled into the principal’s office is suicide.
“If you have any information,” Hart begins to shout over students. “Please bring it to the police. The only way we will solve this is with your help. Someone knows something. Even the smallest information could lead us in the right direction.”
I notice some of the students sneaking passing glances at me once more. They think I have something to do with it. They aren’t wrong. I do know something, just nothing anyone would believe. I’m sick of letting my powers be a curse. If this continues any longer, they’ll blame me like they blame Dr. Ward.
“Look,” Hannah continues. “We’ll wait outside the Davidson house at midnight. If you don’t show up, we’ll assume you chickened out and go without you.”
“Bring a flashlight and wear black,” JJ says.
“If you have anything black, that is.” Hannah smirks as she scans my outfit.
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My leg fidgets incessantly as I sit at the edge of my bed, staring blankly at the wall of my bedroom. I changed into sweatpants and a tee shirt, something more comfortable that won’t give my mom another reason to kill me. I keep replaying the memory of her defending me in my head over and over. The fact that she didn’t eat me alive is shocking enough, but that isn’t what is currently blurring my vision as I get lost in thought.
It was the look she made when she saw my drawings. They were familiar to her somehow; I know it. Of course they were. Dad was a reaper like me, so he must have shown her pictures or drawings of similar creatures. I need to tell her everything. I need to know why she kept it a secret from me all these years, why I was forced to think something was wrong with me, and why I couldn’t just talk to her about it.
I tried to talk to her about it when I was little, but she always explained it as childlike imagination. When I got older, I was afraid to bring it up for fear of being sent to a mental hospital. But maybe she’s ready to listen now.
“Are you even listening?” Maggie’s voice catches me off guard.
“Wha—” I mutter, realizing I’ve already picked my nails clean as Maggie rambled about my potential superhero names.
“You know, if I ever meet Jaqueline, I’m going to haunt the shit out of her,” Maggie continues, her silhouette only partly visible under the light. “I mean, killing a cat? That’s psycho.”
“She didn’t kill it.” I snap out of my gaze enough to roll my eyes. “You’re giving her too much credit.”
My heart jolts when I hear the door open and shut downstairs. I wait for her to call to me, or shout, or even just announce her presence. But only silence follows.
“Oh, she’s mad,” Maggie says. “Your mom is scary when she’s quiet. You should just hide up here with me.”
“I’m done hiding.” I stand up and open the door. My hands instantly feel clammy just thinking about talking to her.
“Yeah,” Maggie roots hesitantly from the shadows of my room. “Go get’em. When you die, we can be dead BFFs.”
I ignore her jab and quietly step down the stairs, careful to avoid the parts of the wood that tend to creak. I peek my head around the railing, hoping to see her before she sees me, but I find nothing. The kitchen light is off, and the living room TV isn’t playing. I reach the base of the stairs and slowly step down the hall. Suddenly, the bedroom door on my right opens.
Mom looks down at me with a cold stare. Her eyes are slightly red, and she stuffs something away in her pocket. Was she crying? Regardless, her stance is unwavering.
“Hey Mamá,” I muster.
“I see you changed,” she replies with an eyebrow raised. “Didn’t get the attention you hoped for?”
I stifle the heat boiling in my chest. Is that really all she cares about?
“Mamá,” I huff, looking away to hide my frustration.
“Did you get a new locker?” She says, stepping past me.
“Yeah, I got moved to a different hallway.”
“Good. Now, maybe you can stop getting distracted with boys and stay out of trouble. Those grades better not drop; I don’t care what emotions you’re working through.”
She flips the kitchen light on, pours herself a glass of water, and pulls leftovers from the fridge, careful to avoid looking in my direction. I squeeze my fists tight. I want to scream at her to shut up and listen to me.
“About the—drawings,” I mutter.
“Draw what you like, mija,” She says, setting the glass of water down with a firm clink. “You have always been… imaginative.” The last word exits her throat like a worm.
“Mom,” I say a little louder. “What am I?” How can she keep pretending like this? She knows I’m a reaper, and she continues to hide it.
“You are my daughter,” She finally looks at me. “And I know it has been hard for you—”
“I’m not in mourning,” I say, feeling the heat rise up my throat. “I can see things. The monsters I used to cry about when I was little,” My throat tightens and my face flushes red with heat. “And in the woods, I saw—”
“You will stay out of those woods, Autumn,” she cuts me off, her face sharp and pulled tight against her jaw.
My breath withers away. “But Ma—”
“No!” she slams her hand on the island top. The clang reverberates off the walls, scaring away whatever part of this house that made it feel like a home. “I have worked hard to provide a normal life for you. I work late, I cook, I clean, I buy you clothes which you never wear. And yet, you insist on pushing against the current and attracting trouble. Enough with these fantasies. Why can’t you just be normal?” I feel my heart break and fall apart like grains of sand between my fingers. “You will stay out of those woods and focus on your school. Do you understand me?
“Yes.” my eyes swell.
I return to my bedroom. Then, just before midnight, I pack my backpack, change into black pants and a hoodie, and climb out my window.