Free Lovely Wild by Megan Hart Page B

beyond that, a mountainside littered with scrubby pines.
    “I don’t like this place,” Ethan muttered again, scuffing at the driveway and sending up a small cloud of dust.
    “It’s only for the summer. Dad said.”
    He snorted. “Yeah, right. I bet we have to live here forever.”
    A shiver tickled down her spine at that. Being the new girl in a new school was the sort of thing they made movies about, but something about this place told Kendra she wasn’t going to meet some super hot jock who’d totally fall in love with her even though she didn’t fit in with the rest of the cool kids. The problem was, at her own school she already was one of the cool kids. At least cool enough. She really didn’t want to start over. Not out here in the middle of nowhere.
    Nothing moved in the field or in the trees beyond but a couple of birds that took off into the sky. Kendra shaded her eyes again to follow them. Her dad came up behind her to squeeze her shoulders until she pulled away.
    “Isn’t this great?”
    “Mom, are you okay?”
    Her mom was also looking toward the woods, and when Kendra spoke to her, it took her a few seconds to turn. “Fine.”
    She moved closer to Kendra and put an arm around her shoulders. Together they looked across the field, into the trees. Lots of shadows there. Whatever she’d seen moving could still be in there, just hidden.
    Something shivered inside her.

THIRTEEN
    HERE IS THE house where everything happened.
    This is what Mari thinks as she glides on bare feet over floors that have been covered in unfamiliar carpet, tile, even laminate wood. She seeks out the places she knew best.
    The closet beneath the stairs is painted brightly now and not hung with veils of tattered cobwebs. Inside is a bucket, mop, broom, vacuum cleaner. Cleaning supplies hang neatly on pegs and wire shelving.
    The space beneath the sink is impossibly tiny. She could fit one leg inside it, maybe. Certainly not her whole body the way she used to. She traces the glimmer of curving silver pipes with her fingertip. This, like the gleaming stainless steel sink above, is new. At least to her.
    So much is new. Looking at it is like seeing two photos, one transparent and laid atop the other so that both can be seen but neither clearly. She blinks and blinks again, shaking her head against this feeling. She clutches the sink, her head bent, eyes closed. She listens for the sound of chair legs scraping on worn linoleum and the mutter of voices speaking above and around but never to her. The clatter of the dogs’ nails and their soft woofing, begging for scraps or fighting over what fell from the table.
    She turns to see the table, also new. She can crouch beneath this one, though it’s round with a pedestal center and has no knitted afghan thrown on top of it. It’s not a cave, and the cool tile floors hurt her butt and knees when she crawls beneath. Still, Mari draws her knees to her chest and presses her forehead to the bare flesh. She listens.
    And this, she knows. She remembers. The creak of an old house settling doesn’t change, even if you paint the walls and replace the flooring. Even if you clean it, the memory of all the dirt still remains.
    Under the table, Mari draws in breath after breath. No longer small, she’s been made tiny again by this place. A little wild.
    “Mama?”
    “Yeah, honey.” She looks up to give her boy a smile.
    Ethan crawls under the table with her. “Whatcha doing?”
    “When I was a little girl in this house, I used to hide under the kitchen table. I was just remembering it, that’s all.”
    “Oh.” Ethan is silent for a moment, his pose mimicking hers. Small knees drawn up to small chest, small chin digging into the tops of them. “Why did you hide?”
    Mari opens her mouth to answer, but Kendra has entered the kitchen. She doesn’t see them immediately the way Ethan spotted his mother. Together, Mari and Ethan watch Kendra’s feet turn in a half circle. She’s wearing