Page 6 of A Twisted Gift

He laughs. “Me? No. Are you?”

I giggle. “No. Where did you come from?”

“Just moved here last week.”

“Do you not have to go to school, either?”

“I’m homeschooled.”

I tilt my head. “What’s that?”

“My mom teaches me from home.”

“Oh! My older sister teaches me, too, when she gets home from school.”

The boy frowns. “I don’t think it works like that.”

I nod. “My half-siblings go to school, but my father says I’m different. That’s why I stay home.”

“So you don’t have to do any schoolwork?”

I nod. “I like to, though. Learning things is fun.”

He huffs. “Yeah, maybe little kid stuff, butIhave to learn fractions. It’s hard and boring.” He leans closer. “That’s why I’m out here. My mom thinks I’m working, but I’m really looking for butterflies.”

“Butterflies? I love butterflies!”

“Yep. Haven’t had any luck yet, though.”

I gasp. “You need to set a trap! You know what all butterflies love?”

“What?”

“Flowers!” Turning to the bush, I look at all the roses until I find the prettiest one. It takes a lot of tugging and digging intothe stem with my fingernails, but I eventually manage to pick it. “This will help you find them.”

When I reach through the bars, holding out the flower, Erik grins and takes it. He has a pretty smile, one that makes his brown eyes light up.

“I have more, if you’d like.” I point to the bush full of white blooms. “I can—”

I’m interrupted by the sound of the side door’s hinge squeaking. We’re just out of sight if someone looks through the window, but if they come outside, I’ll be caught.

“Run,” I whisper-yell at Erik. “This way!”

I sprint across the yard, and he follows on the other side of the fence. Around the corner of the house is a big bush with thick leaves and purple flowers. I dive into it, and Erik crouches on the other side of it, frowning at me in confusion.

“Why do we have to hide?” he asks.

“Because I’m not supposed to talk to strangers.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t exist.” Reaching through the bars of the fence, I tug Erik so he’s better hidden from the house.

“You don’t?”

“That’s what Father tells me whenever I ask questions.”

He pokes me in the cheek. “You feel pretty real to me.”

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