Page 8 of Soul

“He is!”

“Maci, you’re wrong!”

“Hamilton, shut up!”

A twig cracked under my foot, and the children hushed. Long moments ticked past before the girl, Maci, spoke again.

“Do you think he saw?”

“How could he? There’s a fence and bushes. Don’t be scared. But we can’t talk to him like you want. If you’re mistaken, then Mom will be angry. Mom’s tired of running,” Hamilton explained.

“Ham, I don’t want to upset Mom,” Maci replied.

“Then let’s stay quiet, okay?”

“Can we still watch? If he is like us, we’ll speak to him?” Maci demanded.

“Sure. But we gotta be careful. Nobody knows we’re freaks here. I don’t want the fights to start again,” Hamilton said and sounded sad.

I nearly interrupted, but I heard further footsteps.

“Maci, Hamilton, where are you?” their mom shouted.

“Here, Mom,” both kids called out, and they moved towards her.

Silence fell as I pondered their words. What did ‘like them’ mean? Naturally, my mind went to my abilities, but I doubted the kids meant them. This was a puzzle, and one I wasn’t sure I wanted.

???

Strangely, I loved sitting out in the yard at night. The stars shone clearly in the sky, and the air always seemed so fresh. I lay on a lounger with a beer and a blanket covering me. It was peaceful, just me and the stars twinkling above. That might’ve made me a sad sack, but who gave a fuck?

People should appreciate nature more! Instead of ruining the world, maybe they should pay more attention to the beauty that surrounded us.

A light flicked on in the house next door, and as I lay there with the dark swallowing me up, I watched as the mom pulled the curtains closed. The bedroom belonged to Maci, and Hamilton’s room was next to it.

Once again, my mind wandered to their earlier words. Their fight had been about me, and it seemed they were running from something.

That’s what they’d said. Their mom was tired of running. What were they hiding from? An abusive husband? Bad debts? Overbearing family? Could be anything, and honestly, it wasn’t my business.

A door opened, startling me, and light flooded onto the back porch next door.

From where I lay, I couldn’t see who had stepped outside, but I heard a woman sigh and made a guess it was the mom.

“God, give me strength,” she murmured. “And a big fucking glass of wine, please.”

My lips twitched in amusement. A noise pierced the air, and she cursed. She answered the phone with a curt hello.

“Hi, Bryony,” a woman’s loud voice said.

“Hello, Mom. How’s things?” my neighbour asked, whom I now knew as Bryony. The name suited her.

“Dear girl, we agreed you’d call me Krista. People don’t believe I’m old enough for a daughter your age. They think we’re sisters!” Krista tittered.

“Plastic surgery does wonders nowadays,” Bryony muttered, and I choked on a laugh.

“What was that, sweetheart?”

“Nothing, Krista. So, everything is good?”

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