A teen is forced to live to with relatives she barely knows after the death of her mother and comes face-to-face with an incredible secret.
Jim cleared his throat and made eye contact with Sky for the first time since her mom had died. He clasped his hands in front of him, elbows on the dinner table. Sky knew what he was going to say before he even opened his mouth.
The polite, slightly awkward conversations they’d shared in the past were gone and a wall of silence now separated them. The final meeting with the doctors, the removal of the IVs, the night of the final breath, the scattering of her mother’s ashes, these moments were like bricks - one exhaustively painful event stacked upon another. The strongest connection between stepfather and stepdaughter had been taken from them both. They were now just two people in the world, sitting at an old kitchen table, and nothing more.
“I loved your Mom,” he started, voice straining. “But I didn’t sign up to be a single parent. You’re a good kid, but you’re not my kid. And I can’t take care of you. Not without your mom.”
The teen’s eyes began to burn with tears. Sky looked down at her plate and nodded.
“So where do I go?” she asked quietly.
“You’re going to live with your mom’s cousin, Liz. Your mom said you used to play with her kids when you were younger. Max and Chris.”
Sky nodded again. Shortly after Sky’s real dad had died, Liz would bring her kids over once a week. She was a single parent too, and Sky remembered Chris and Max, rambunctious twins who spent equal parts of their time building forts and getting bruises. But they were nice to Sky and so was Liz. When they were all together, there was life and laughter in the apartment and her mom would smile a little.
But Sky hadn’t seen Liz or the twins in years. Over time, their visits became fewer and eventually had stopped altogether.
Sky brushed away tears from both cheeks. “I think Liz had a daughter too? Jane? She was maybe a year older than me. She liked telling stories.”
Jim shook his head. “I don’t think so. Your mom didn’t say anything about a daughter. And I spoke to Liz a couple of times on the phone, when it was clear your Mom’s cancer was getting worse. She seems real nice and her boys are in eighth grade, I think. Close to your age. But she never mentioned a girl.”
“When do I leave?”
“Saturday,” Jim answered. “I thought you’d need a couple days to pack, say goodbye to this place. I’ll talk to your principal. Liz will help you get into a school near her.”
“Thanks,” Sky managed. “I’m just going to clear my plate. Then I’m going to be in my room.”
“Sure,” he said. Jim cleared his throat again and ran his fingers through his scruffy brown hair. “This is for the best. You need someone who will love you like family. I wouldn’t know where to begin.”
Once in her bedroom, Sky snapped off the lights and fell into her bed. She grabbed her pillow, pressed it against her face and screamed, her body tense and shaking. She cursed her mother for leaving her alone, dug her fingernails into the cheap cotton pillow case and bellowed until she thought she might be sick. When her throat was raw and her eyes were swollen, she finally stopped. She caught her ragged breath. She hugged the pillow tight like a friend.
After a while, Sky began to fall into a deep sleep. As she tumbled down into the darkness, an image of a girl with dirty blond hair and big green eyes flashed across her mind. Her fingernails were bitten down to the quick. She was thin and pretty and her smile was lopsided. Her feet were bare. Jane. Or a memory of Jane from when they were both younger.
There had been a New Year’s Eve when Liz’s family had come over with snacks and VHS tapes. Liz and Sky’s mom had brought all the pillows and blankets out into the living room and they all spent the night laughing, eating popcorn and waiting for a new year to celebrate. Sky had needed to go to the bathroom. When she was done, she opened the door to find Jane standing out in the dark hallway, looking into the bathroom but not at Sky. At first, it seemed she was looking over Sky’s shoulder. Then her eyes darted to the far left. Then to the far right.
For reasons she didn’t know, Sky became uneasy. “Jane, you okay?” she asked.
Jane’s pupils seemed to snap back from the corners. But once again she was not looking at Sky. She was looking past her. Or through her.
“Want to know a secret?” Jane asked quietly, eyes darting to the far right again. Sky swallowed and nodded slowly. Jane’s eyes appeared almost completely white as her eyes raced back to the far left.
“There are people in the shadows, Sky. Only I can see them.”
