Free Paperquake by Kathryn Reiss Page A

damage. Violet was eager to go with them, and asked if Beth could come along, too. Jasmine and Rose begged off, convincing their parents they needed to stay home on Sunday to meet with the Halloween Ball committee at Brett Hudson's house. Violet was glad they wouldn't be coming back to the shop, since they were still so annoyed with her, keeping out of her way and tossing their hair in irritation when she looked in their direction.
    It turned out that Beth could not come to San Francisco on Sunday. Her mother's newest boyfriend had decided to take them all sailing on the bay. "It means we can't dye your hair till after school on Monday," Beth said. "But my mom says I have to go along. I'll probably get seasick! At least this guy seems nice—but then, all of them do, at first. Anyway, I'll fill you in on all new developments tomorrow at school."
    "I have some new developments to tell you about, too," said Violet mysteriously, and only laughed when Beth pressed for details. That night Violet dreamed she was dancing with that boy, Sam, on top of the blue mailbox. They held each other tightly and seemed to be waltzing. Even in the dream, she thought it was odd that they didn't topple off. When she woke up, she thought how nice it was to dream about something other than earthquakes for a change.
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    Back in the new shop on Sunday morning, her father put his arm around Violet's shoulders. "I'm truly impressed," said Greg. He wandered around the front room, exclaiming over all the work they'd done the day before.
    "The place is really beginning to sparkle," Lily added. "I'm proud of my girls."
    "Jazzy and Rose helped a little," Violet said modestly. "And it was even cleaner before that last quake." She led the way upstairs. She showed them the back bedroom walls and plaster dust everywhere. Would they notice the niche under the windowsill where the second letter had been waiting for her?
    But they were more interested in sweeping up the plaster and mopping the floors. "We want this place clean from cellar to attic," Lily said, rolling up her sleeves.
    "What cellar? What attic?" asked Violet.
    "Well, the attic is only a crawl space." Greg pointed to the ceiling in the hallway, where Violet could see a small square trapdoor. "Nothing up there but mice. I'm going to put in some insulation, though."
    "What about the cellar? We didn't see a cellar."
    "The entrance is out back," her father said. "I've only peeked in there, and it's as big a mess as the rest of the place. We'll have to clean it out. We'll need all the storage room we can find."
    "Why don't you go open it now, dear," said Lily. "We might as well know the worst. I'll stay up here and do the floors."
    "I'm coming with you," said Violet, following her father down the stairs, along the narrow hallway, and out the back door. He rooted in his pocket, finally withdrawing another large old key like the one for the front door. "Here we go," said Greg, and turned it in the lock. He had to shove hard to get the door open. Then he stepped down and, with a grunt of surprise, tumbled away into blackness.
    "Dad?" Violet stepped inside after him.
    "Careful!" he called, but too late—Violet found herself Ming through nothingness and landing with a teeth-jarring thud on hard-packed earth. She sat, stunned, peering into the dark.
    "Baby!" In a flash her father was at her side, lifting her into his arms. "Oh, Vi, I'm sorry. I tried to warn you." Her father put his hands on her shoulders and drew her toward him. "Are you all in one piece?"
    "I-I'm okay, Dad. I think." Violet flexed her arms and legs. "What about you?"
    "Thought I twisted my ankle, but it seems to be all right." He shook his head. "I should have remembered it was a steep drop."
    Violet peered into the windowless space. In the light from the open door, she could make out vague humps and shadows but nothing more definite. She stood up and took a tentative step back toward the door, a full three feet above ground level.