Free Flutter by Gina Linko

onto the sink, and as I reached to turn the water on, I saw something I hadn’tnoticed the day before. I drew my hand back and screeched, “Ahh!”
    The little creature didn’t stir—it was hairy and chubby, balanced upside down, with leather-looking wings, hanging from the shower curtain rod. I didn’t wait around to wake him up. I had never seen a real live bat before, and I was freaked.
    I shut the bathroom accordion door between us and stood there staring at the faux wood, breathing quickly.
Okay, Emery, you are a big girl. You can do this. Just shoo it into an old pillowcase like they would in the movies
.
    I pictured those beady rodent eyes flapping open, me flipping out, looping, and waking up to my new friend nesting in my hair.
    “Eww!” I said, creeped out, but with a resolve to do this on my own.
    “I can do this,” I said, shaking out my arms and taking a deep breath. I looked around the cabin for something, anything that I might use to shoo it out the door. There was an old push broom with an orange handle in the corner of the kitchen.
    I considered using a garbage bag to try to sneak up on it, but I decided that would require much too much hand-to-hand combat. I opened the front door to the cabin so the bat could make a quick exit, and I grabbed the broom.
    I swung the door of the bathroom open and took onelast deep breath. I let out a little war cry, “Aaah!” and I beat the green shower curtain three quick times with the broom.
    With his wings spread, he was much bigger than I had given him credit for. And with his eyes open, he was much creepier too.
    And he chittered, this weird little insect sound. I gave up then—that sealed the deal. One swoop at my head, and I was out the front door. I shut the door to Dala Cabin behind me.
    “Yuck!” I screamed.
    I took a few deep breaths, then shivered and shook off the heebie-jeebies. I was standing out on the front step, still in my jeans and T-shirt from yesterday, no shoes or socks.
    “Great,” I said, ticked that I couldn’t handle this, not wanting to have to be the damsel in distress the moment I arrived here.
    After a few minutes, I couldn’t hear any flapping bat wings, no chittering or other horror movie noises, so I opened the door slowly, checked for any flying/flapping/stalking behaviors, then ran in and grabbed my coat, boots, and backpack.
    I would have to get some help in town, try to find Roy Genk. My Nancy Drew library detective plan would have to wait.

Ten
    Sam’s Broken Egg stood on the far northwest corner of the town square. My stomach rumbled the whole walk to town, so I decided I would start my morning there, and as I swung open the glass door to the diner and the little bell gave off its requisite “clang,” I realized that most of the town must have had the same idea. And all their eyes were peering straight at me. Only a few hushed whispers here and there. The girl at Dala Cabin. And there I was: crazy hair, no shower, fresh from a bat attack.
    I took a few hesitant steps toward the PLEASE WAIT TO BE SEATED sign and found myself staring at my snow boots.
    “Hi,” I said as a young, blond waitress came up to me, a pot of coffee in her hand, a pencil behind her ear.
    “Morning. Want to sit at the counter, hon?” She smacked her gum noisily. “I’m Daisy. I’ll be with you in a minute.”
    I nodded and sat down at one of the few open stools at the counter. I tried to ignore the eyeballs on me, and soon enough the diner made its way back to a friendly, noisy hum. I stared blankly at the menu for a while, convincing myself that no one knew any of my secrets. I was just the new person, a curiosity.
    When I did look up, I took in the place. Silver chrome stools, a long blue Formica counter on one side, blue-and-white booths on the other. A jukebox at the far end of the room. It was very bright, with a griddle behind the counter in plain view. The cooks wore white paper hats and aprons, the waitresses, old-fashioned pink