Free Wander Dust by Michelle Warren Page B

of the earth spits debris and hangs over me like a dark cloud. Finally, it races down to crush me. When the earth closes like a book, slamming shut, I catapult through the familiar wormhole. Wintery muted colors of the city stream past me. City sounds disappear through a whirlwind of crisp air, transforming into eerie whispers that call my name. The ghostly words escalate into a high-pitch whistle. My body rolls around in uncontrollable weightlessness, whipping various directions before I finally land inches away from Mona’s snow covered hedges.
    This time, I stick the landing like a gymnast because I know the end of the tunnel is coming. Now, I realize I have done this before—twice. My unplanned trips through whirling vortexes weren’t dreams. They were real.
    I sit quietly below the hedge line, wondering if anything has changed. I pop my head up to assess the situation. Mona stands on the opposite side of the yard, toiling with the front hedges.
    Is this what I’m supposed to see?
    She shouldn’t be home yet. It’s too early. Someone struts past me on the sidewalk. I can see bits of their dark blue pant legs through the hedge wall.
    “Hey, Mona! Taking down the Christmas lights, are ya’?” the man asks.
    “Hello, George, lovely to see you,” Mona says cheerfully.
“I’ve got your mail here,” the man says.
    Ruffled paper exchanges hands. I look down at Mona’s mail in my hand, the piece British Stalker Boy gave me. A connection, maybe?
    “Thank you, George. Have a fabulous day!” Mona says.
    “Thanks, you too!” The mailman’s footsteps fade into the distance.
    Mona’s front door creaks open. Someone cautiously walks down the stairs and out onto the snowy sidewalk. Through branches, I can only make out a pair of olive green pants with distinct bronze buttons on the seam.
    “Are you leaving already?” Mona asks. I hear her kiss and hug the person. Does Mona have a secret boyfriend? Wow, I didn’t see that coming. Unfortunately, I can’t see much from across the yard.
    “Oh, wait, hold on one moment. I’m getting a call,” Mona says to the person. I hear her phone flip open.
    “Hello, Terease. Yes, Seraphina is on her way as we speak. I’m very excited. We all are. Oh, wait one moment.” She pauses.
    “Bye, love.” I hear another peck, and the mystery person walks away. I picture Mona waving goodbye to someone tall and handsome, while holding her cell phone to chest.
    “I’m back,” Mona starts again. “Sorry, yes... I know... it should appear any day now... I think, eventually, it will be our best defense against CC... Yes, Samantha... Max can’t wait... I most definitely expect Seraphina to have her mother’s gift of wandering...”
    I jump unconsciously at that word—wandering.
    “Oh—hold on. Let me call you back.” Mona’s phone slaps shut.
    “Oh, crap!” I cover my mouth. Did Mona hear me?
    Mona’s slow, deliberate footsteps move toward me on the sidewalk, and I realize there’s nowhere to run.

::9::
A Meeting
     
    Mona’s heavy footsteps cross the sidewalk and turn into her front yard. She pauses, I suspect, right on the other side of where I’m hidden. My body stiffens, and I hold my breath. I hear her spin in place, most likely scanning the yard. After a long moment, she walks up the stairs. The front door creaks open, and she slams it shut behind her.
    I exhale. That was close.
    I turn around and jump to my feet, gripping the letter. I take a quick breath of relief. Then I run. Fast.
    Mona. Mona. Mona.
    British Stalker Boy was right. I needed to hear that. I’m not sure how he knew, but I don’t care because I finally have an answer to something. My November “trip” to Chicago wasn’t a premonition or dream. I think I have some kind of freaky-supernatural gift—my mom’s gift. Wandering.
    I’m too busy deliberating on what I’ve just learned to focus on a graceful landing when I return from my trip. The clumsy crash into the Strovel’s front hedges