P.S. I love bats.
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CLASH!
Zoe Hutchinson pulled her hood lower over her head as another flash of lightning shattered the sky. Her raincoat was ancient, and about as effective as wearing tissue paper. If her grandmother cared at all—if she didn’t want Zoe to catch pneumonia and die—she would sacrifice some of her bingo money to buy her a decent coat.
The six o’ clock darkness was darker than usual, thanks to the storm. Zoe judged her way by the faint, greasy glow of streetlights as she splashed down the wet sidewalk. But to her, this was all part of a routine. A horrible, sadistic routine only Grandma Hutchinson could scheme up.
More lightning. Zoe frowned, wishing she was wearing a conductor. A watch maybe, or a charm bracelet. Anything to attract the electric bolts end this miserable existence. I bet God would give me a new raincoat, she thought bitterly.
Finally, the blinking sign of Hoover’s Old Fashioned General Store popped out of the gloom. Relieved, Zoe quickened her pace. She climbed the rickety stairs and pushed the door open as a bell tinkled to announce her arrival. The store was pretty much deserted. On the counter were jars of pickled eggs, racks of beef jerky, and packages of gum. They were being restocked by a little old man in a striped shirt and a chicken-patterned apron.
“Hi,” said Zoe.
“Why, hello, dear. How are you this morning?”
“Wet,” Zoe replied, pulling off her hood. She was acutely aware that she was dripping all over the floor.
She grabbed a shopping basket and, with the air of a soldier drafted into a bloody war, marched to the tea aisle. Sighing deeply, Zoe plucked three boxes off the shelf. Her grandma drank way too much tea.
Zoe proceeded to collect “grandma foods” from the various aisles: low-fat yogurt, bananas, whole-grain bread, margarine, and apricot jam. It was just like always.
Zoe had lived with her grandma for her whole life; her parents were obscure, nonexistent fairytales. In Grandma Hutchinson’s old Victorian house, there was no jumping or screaming, no running up and down the stairs, no elbows on the table, and no non-educational plastic toys. But there was always lots of tea, tea, tea.
She was good, though. Zoe had squashed all her natural zest and sparkle, conforming to a quiet, almost ghost-like being who drifted through the house listlessly. But the flame still burned in her mind, if not in her complexion.
As her hand lingered on a bottle of milk, she daydreamed about a marvelous city in the sun, with a chuckling fountain and explosions of white pigeons in a crystal sky…
Zoe jerked herself back to the present. She added the milk to the basket and went to the counter to pay. “Twelve sixty-four,” the cashier said.
Zoe reached into her pocket and pulled out several crumpled bills. As the cashier put them in the register, she asked, “How’ve things been lately?”
“Ah, not so great for the store. We’ve got bat problems.”
“Bat problems?”
“That’s right.” He nodded his bald head. “The little vermin are nesting in the rood. You see, the state government was concerned about West Nile, so they dumped a whole bunch of bats over the city.”
“Isn’t that good then, if they’re getting rid of the bugs?”
“I don’t care about bugs,” he said as he put the groceries into a paper bag. “But bats—they’re a different story. They drink blood and get tangled in your hair.”
Zoe recoiled slightly; she had spent lots of time reading about bats, and knew that those were myths. In fact, she actually found bats kind of cuddle, even though she had never seen a real one. Wait a minute…
“Do you think there are any bats here now?” she asked eagerly.
“Don’t think so. They should be coming back once the sun rises.”
“Okay, thanks. Bye.”
“Bye. Come back soon.”
“You know I will,” said Zoe, smiling. “As long as I live with Grandma Hutchinson.”
Outside, it was a little lighter, but still raining. Zoe decided that it was too wet to stand around waiting for the bats, so she headed towards home. In ten minutes the sun was peeking over the trees, making water droplets shimmer on their needles. It made Zoe feel like taking the shortcut through the woods.
But once she was under the tree-cover, she had the eerie feeling of being watched. The hair on her neck prickling, she whirled around, but there was nobody there. Soon enough, she saw her street come into view, so she picked up the pace. She was nearly out of the woods when someone stepped onto the path in front of her.
