Free SORROW WOODS by Beckie Page B

surprised that they haven’t done something to me whilst I slept. I look back up at Elodie and let my eyes trail down her long black hair that falls down her shoulders and cascades down her back.
    “I’m really sorry, Elodie. Sometimes people do stupid things. This was one of those times,” I
    say, trying to explain myself without really giving anything away.

    She stands back up and narrows her eyes at me. “So why are you here?”

    “To help you,” I say simply.

    “How?” she demands.

    “I can tell you whatever you want to know.”

    She grins at me. “I guess I won’t need that gun after all.”

    I feel my face wrinkle up into a smile. “Okay. Can we be friends now?”

    She shrugs. “We’ll see. Do you wanna have some breakfast?”

    I look around but there’s no sign of Serena. I wince at the sight of their sparse kitchen.
    “What sort of food do you eat for breakfast out here?” I ask, not certain if I really want to
    know the answer.

    She blinks at me. “What do you mean? Doesn’t everyone eat the same sort of things for
    breakfast?”

    I shake my head. “People eat different things, especially people that live in different
    countries.”

    “What country do we live in?” she asks, curious.

    I take a deep breath. I knew they wouldn’t know as much as I do, but I at least expected
    them to know what country they lived in.
    “You live in America.”

    Elodie’s bright blue eyes widen. She jumps up from the floor and runs over to the bookcase.
    She drags a battered piece of coloured paper over to me and unfolds it. Then she points to America on the really old map.
    “Is this where we live?” she asks excitedly.

    I nod. “Yes.”

    “Where do you live?”

    “I live in America too.”

    “It looks big,” she says, “compared to this country.” She moves her fingers over the ocean
    and points towards the British Isles. “This here is England,” she says. “Serena told me that they have a Queen in England.”

    I nod. “They do indeed.”

    “So do you live in the city?”

    I shake my head. “It’s a little more complicated than that, Elodie.”

    She shoves the map into my hands and looks up at me with the most curious pairs of eyes I
    have ever seen. “Will you tell me about it all?”

    I nod. “Can I get a drink first, please?” I ask. “And I need the toilet.”

    She points towards the window at the side of the shack. “The toilet is behind the outhouse.
    You go and do what you gotta do and I’ll get you a drink. Deal?”

    “Deal.”
    I step out into the blazing sun and shield my eyes with my hand. I can’t believe the difference
    in the temperature between night and day here. I remove my coat and scarf and leave them hanging
    over the veranda rail. I peel my hoodie over my head and smooth my white t-shirt down over my
    belt. I wish I’d brought shorts.
    I walk across the orange-coloured, dusty ground and around the side of the house. I have to
    duck under the wet clothes that drip from the washing line connecting the two buildings. I find the
    “toilet” at the back of the other building. It is a small piece of wood attached to the outhouse and is no bigger than a front door. Behind the piece of wood is a bucket that sits in a mound of soil with a toilet seat over the top of it. I make a face.
    I take a deep breath and peer inside. The relief of finding it empty washes over me. I don’t feel like I can pee in it though. If I pee in it, then Serena has to empty it. I ignore the bucket and walk across the rest of the dusty ground until I’m in the woods.
    When I’m finished and headed back toward the shack, I notice Serena walking towards the
    front door. She has a wooden basket in her hand and there are splashes of dust and dirt across her white, knee-length nightie. She looks exhausted, yet wide awake and alive at the same time. My
    eyes can’t help but travel the curves of her extremely toned body. The way the nightie clings to her small waist and