Free A Walk Through a Window by KC Dyer Page B

seemed a little clearer now that her head had stopped aching, too. She remembered that long walk in the snow, climbing the hill and seeing the huge herd of caribou in the distance. She remembered touching the pile of boulders on the crest of the hill, and seeing how the rocks formed a sort of stone figure with two squat legs. And she remembered—
    Darby rolled out of bed to find the denim shorts she had been wearing yesterday. After much tossing of clothingfrom her drawers, she checked her laundry basket and sure enough, there they were.
    She jammed her hand into the pocket and pulled it out. In her palm sat a fragment of green stone. Darby ran her thumb over the surface. It had a strange texture to it, almost soft.
    Her memory told her she had picked up the stone from the base of the larger pile of stones. But if that was all a hallucination, how could it be lying in the palm of her hand?
    And what about Gabe’s rock? The one he gave her before the storm hit—the big rainstorm that should have ruined all of Nan’s white laundry. Nan hadn’t said a word about it, but then, she’d been worried because of her granddaughter’s headache.
    Darby remembered they’d been about to take shelter from the storm and Gabe had held out a rock. A piece of red sandstone, just like the green one Darby now held in her hand. He never told her what the rock was for, or why he held it out in the first place. She couldn’t even remember putting it in her pocket. But when she reached back in the pocket, there it was.
    And what about Gabriel? Mr. Mystery himself. Just a few days ago, Darby had thought Gabe might be the one kid in this weird little town she could actually talk to. But now she was not so sure.
    Darby lay back on the bed and put the rocks beside her on the pillowcase with the notebook. The few lines she had meant to write had turned into ten pages filled with wild scribbling. Rocks and strange friends andpolar bears. Not that she would ever show it to anybody. She’s not
that
crazy. But it had felt good to write it down.
    The strangest thing about the whole experience was the passage of time. Darby had been—well, wherever she was—for at least one night. She
slept
there, for Pete’s sake. But the date on her watch had not changed. Could she have bashed the watch? It
seemed
to be running just fine, the seconds ticking away …
    The next thing Darby knew, it was eight o’clock and Nan was knocking gently on the door, asking if she might care for a little breakfast.
    When Darby called out a sleepy good morning, Nan’s worried face appeared around the corner of the door. “Are you feeling any better, dear?”
    “I’m fine, Nan. I guess it was just a migraine like that doctor said.”
    She tucked the rocks and her journal into a drawer. “And actually, I’m pretty hungry.”
    Nan opened the door wider and beamed at her granddaughter. Nan’s hair was sticking straight up and she looked like she hadn’t slept that much herself, but the relief on her face was obvious.
    “I’ve made pancakes for your breakfast, dear,” she whispered conspiratorially as they walked down the stairs. “Gramps might act a little out of sorts to miss his porridge, but I think the bacon may win him over.”
    As it turned out, Gramps was talking on the telephone when they entered the kitchen. He ruffled Darby’s hair a little as she walked past him and then waved her toa spot at the table. She sat down and got started on the pancakes before he had a chance to protest.
    “Nothing to worry about, Allan. She’s fine this morning. She’s sitting at the table eating your mother’s pancakes right now. I know, I know—but one day without porridge won’t kill her.”
    This was a shocker. Gramps was talking to her dad? Darby couldn’t remember her dad ever talking to Gramps on the phone. Nan, yes, but …
    Gramps winked at Darby. “Now, here’s Etta.”
    There is no explaining old people.
    Gramps sat down and tucked into his plate of