Page 2 of Little Stranger

I giggle as my dolly shoes hit the ground, my hair flying around crazy.

When I was at the other house, the girls and boys always played games—the boys would chase us, and if they caught us, we had to go to jail. There were so many of us. I had loads of friends! But then Mommy and Daddy came and found me and brought me to their home.

It’s so big, and my mommy said I could get a dog for my birthday if I behave. It will be my first birthday with them, and I can’t wait to get my first ever present.

“Where are we going?” I ask when he keeps pulling me through the airport, dodging all the busy people way taller than us. I trip up, and I squeal as I tumble forward, but the boy catches me, dragging me back to my feet.

We run again, and I start to laugh again. The boy stops at a door and looks around us, then pulls me inside. I gasp and try to get back out when I see we’re in a bathroom full of boys.

Grabbing me to make me look up at him, he does something with his hands again then points at himself. When I still have no idea what he’s doing, he points to his mouth and shakes his head—then points to my mouth and nods.

“You can’t talk?”

He shakes his head again, and my eyes widen. “That’s okay. I couldn’t talk for so, so long! I can teach you.”

Annoyed, he rolls his eyes. That’s so rude!

He points at me again then presses his palm to his chest, and there’s something scary in his eyes as he comes closer to me; I want to go back to our parents. But before I can ask what he’s doing or scream real loud, Daddy throws open the door, and my mommy snatches me up into her arms.

“I told you not to be trouble!” Daddy yells at me.

My eyes shut, and I wait for him to yell some more, but he doesn’t.

“And you,” he snaps at the boy. “You’re on a strike, little man. Two more, and your ass is going to another new home. You’re Malachi Vize now, and the Vizes don’t step out of line, so get used to it.”

My lips curl into a smile. I’m a Vize too. We aren’t afraid of anything.

Except spiders—they creep me out.

The boy lowers his head and circles his fist against his chest.

“He’s saying he’s sorry, sweetie,” Mommy whispers to me. “He communicates with sign language.”

“What’s that? I want to do it too!”

She chuckles and kisses my forehead. “I’ll teach you. We’ll teach the whole house.”

“Even the house helpers?”

She nods and tucks a lock of hair behind my ear. “Yes. We’ll ensure the chefs, maids, and security guards know how to sign. Malachi will be comfortable in our home. He’s one of us now.”

My new mommy is nice. She never yells at me or scares me like my daddy. She always braids my hair and paints my nails and sings with me in the car.

I like my mommy.

In the car, Malachi sits next to me and stares at me the whole drive home. It’s a little weird, and he’s making me a little nervous. I smile at him anyway, but he only slants his head, as if he’s studying me. He keeps staring at my hair. Maybe he likes my ribbons?

When we get to my room, the one we now share because our mommy thinks it will be the best way for us to “bond,” he sits on his bed opposite mine and watches me show him my new dollhouse. He doesn’t laugh when I make a joke, or when I make my Barbie talk to him, and when I give him one of my dolls so he can play with me, he pulls the head off and makes my eyes widen.

“No!” I yell, snatching it from him. “You don’t do that, Malachi!”

He points at me again then lays a palm on his chest.

“What does that mean?” I ask, popping the doll’s head back on and hiding her in the wooden house. “Can you teach me?”

All he does is smirk, then he reaches for a strand of my hair, rubbing it between his fingers.

“Do you want to smell it? It smells like strawberries!”

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