Young Writers Society

Despite the general darkness of November, the room was light when Finnley woke up. He looked blearily at the clock, his eyes taking a few moments to register the time. When he did, he sat up straighter and stumbled out of his chair. It was eleven in the morning! His rabbit was curled up on his bed, soaking up the sunlight slanting through the window.

Sluggish, Finnley clomped down the stairs only to find a note on the counter from his mother. It took him a little while to read this as well.

“Finnley — I have to go to work, but I called the school to tell them that you’re sick. I want you to take the day off, recover. Also, the Harts called me. They want to talk to you about what happened, because the police are looking into it and they don’t know anything about magic. If you’re feeling up to it, you can pop over there and check in on Mia. Call me if you need anything! I have a break at noon. Love, Mom”

The corners of Finnley’s mouth twitched up at the note. It was so like his mom to do that — the note, the calling in sick, all of it. He couldn’t believe that the police were still investigating Mia’s disappearance, though. What would they tell them? That Mia was just wandering in the woods? What if they had seen her note to him?

Finnley thought of Mia’s pale face, her tiredness evident in the way everything seemed to sag, in the way dark circles had formed beneath her eyes. He wanted to see her, to make sure that she was hanging on. That she was going to be okay. These thoughts drove him back up to his room, where he patted down his hair and threw on a pair of new jeans and a sweater. He fed Rory, and, as an afterthought, himself, before heading out the door.

Though the sun was warm within the house, it did little to warm the outside air. Finnley pulled his sweater tighter about him and quickened his stride, aiming straight for Mia’s. When he got to her neighbor’s house, a stout woman answered the door.

Startled, Finnley asked, “Oh. Are the Harts here?”

The woman, whose face seemed made of folded fabric, frowned deeply. “No. They’re renting an apartment on the other side of the neighborhood.”

“What?” The word pulled itself from Finnley’s lips as he stood in confusion on the doorstep.

“Across town. The whole family got into a big fight, what with their daughter missing an all. Got a little much. Wore out their welcome, so to speak.” Something in her eyes softened as if she didn’t really mean the words to be as cold as they sounded and she shrugged. “Hate to see kids run off like that. Doesn’t help them in the least. She a friend of yours?”

“Yes,” Finnley said, though he was anxious to be going now that the Harts were no longer there. “Do you happen to have their new address?”

“Yep. They left it here in case someone came by.” She turned away from the porch and reached somewhere off to the side of the door. “Here it is. You just make sure not to get too wrapped up in it, kid.” Finnley took the slip of paper she proffered and she closed the door before he could get off a ‘thank you’.

His eyes scanned the address, but it was nothing familiar. It could be any one of these neighborhood streets. He pulled out his phone and plugged in the street name. It was on the far north side of town, but not a very long walk away. He adjusted his course and was surprised to find himself at an apartment complex at the end of the series of turns.

According to the address, they were on the second floor. Finnley hurried up the stairs and knocked at what he hoped was the right door. After a moment, light footsteps sounded from the other side and Mrs. Hart opened the door. Her face collapsed into a sort of tragic smile when she saw Finnley, and she wordlessly gestured for him to come in.

Mr. Hart and Fred were sitting at a small table together, and they stood when they saw Finnley come in. Mr. Hart stepped closer and shook his hand. “Thank you,” he whispered. “Thank you for finding her. I don’t know why — I didn’t believe you about that note —”

“It’s okay Mr. Hart —” Finnley tried to say, but he couldn’t think of anything reassuring. Instead, he tried for a smile and looked down at his hand, which Mr. Hart was still holding. Noting Finnley’s gaze, he let it drop.

“We stayed a bit too long in our neighbor’s house, I fear,” he continued, his two hands now holding each other in a tense, anxious way. “We’re just renting this apartment until our house gets fixed. Anyway, well, the police will be wanting to talk with you. We’ve got a bit of a story worked out. But, I, um, I expect you want to see Mia first?”

Finnley’s lips formed the word “please”, but only a little breath of air came out. He swallowed and nodded. Mrs. Hart showed him to a small room off of the main hallway.

He opened the door and was instantly assaulted by a small bush. There was a table filled with tiny plants and trees, and in the bed alongside it was Mia. Her face had regained a little bit of color, but her cheeks had an achingly hollow look to them, as if the hollowness went further than just the surface. She slept curled in on herself, hands twisted in the sheets.

Finnley made his legs move towards her, made his hand rest on top of hers. She stirred slightly in her sleep, eyes flickering back and forth behind her eyelids. Finnley made a choked sound as her hand curled suddenly around his. Her skin was so cold.