The Phoenix Girls: The Complete Trilogy

Chapter 3-2

“She never came back to visit after the two of you left,” Susan said, stirring sugar into a mug of heavily creamed coffee. “But she wrote a few times a month.”

“Can I have a cup?”

Susan gave her an uncertain look. “Aren’t you a little young?”

Penny only shrugged. Coffee was a newly acquired taste for her, one she’d picked up in the group home. After a week’s worth of sleepless nights in a strange bed, she went through her lessons in a constant state of exhaustion. She’d started drinking coffee to stay awake during classes, and had grown to like the taste.

After a moment’s consideration, Susan fetched another cup. “Cream or sugar?”

Penny shook her head, and accepted the mug with a word of thanks.

“No problem, kiddo.” Susan resumed her seat across from Penny.

“How long were you friends?” Penny spoke more to fill the silence than any desire for Susan’s childhood stories, though she was anxious to hear more about the past her mom never shared with her. She had heard her mom mention Susan’s name more than once, but there was nothing in those passing referrals to suggest their friendship was anything more than casual.

“Since before we started school,” Susan said. “We were best friends until she moved away.”

Something new occurred to Penny, a line of thinking she’d given up long ago. Her mom’s life before Penny was an untouchable subject in their home; everything from her long-past childhood to Penny’s absent father. All she had known before the caseworker found Susan, Penny’s unknown Godmother, was that her mom came from a small town, and that Penny’s grandparents had died before she was born.

She knew nothing about her father. The only evidence she had that the man had even existed was a single, grainy picture scavenged from an old photo album. Her caseworker could find out nothing about him. His name was even missing from her birth certificate.

Penny wondered just how much Susan did know, and how much of her knowledge she’d be willing to share.

“Penny?”

Susan’s voice startled her, and Penny realized she had been on the verge of sleep, despite the coffee.

“Sorry, I’m just a little tired.”

Susan drained her coffee mug in one long gulp, then stood and scooped up Penny’s bag. “There’s a room for you upstairs.”

Penny resisted the urge to grab her bag from Susan’s hand. She’d learned to guard her possessions jealously at the group home, even viciously when necessary. But she reminded herself that this woman was neither a bully nor a thief. For now, unless Susan gave her reason not to, Penny would try to trust her.

Their footsteps echoed up the staircase. A few portraits hung from wood plank walls on the landing, but the single bulb light fixture hanging high above offered too little light to make the faces out.

The second floor hallway was long and narrow, with a window at the far end looking out on the night. There were three doors, evenly spaced, on each side.

“Five rooms and a bathroom up here,” Susan informed her. She pointed to the far room on the right. “That’s my room, if you need me. The bathroom is behind us on the right.”

“Where do I sleep?”

Susan stopped halfway down the hall, and pulled a rope hanging from the ceiling. The creek of old springs sounded, and a sliding ladder descended from the attic door above them.

Penny followed her up the ladder, emerging into darkness, then blinked as light assaulted her eyes. When she could see again, she was surprised into a smile, her first in many days.

The dust of empty years covered every surface of the attic, but other than that, it was not what Penny had imagined. Not a cluttered graveyard of dusty old furniture, cardboard boxes, and castaway cloths.

“Nice,” Penny said, and she meant it. She climbed the last few steps into a fully furnished and decorated bedroom. “I like it.”

“It could use dusting, but I did wash the bedding for you.” Susan sat on the corner of one of two single-wide beds. “No one’s used it for years.”

A low cathedral ceiling arched above them, ten feet high at the peak. Cobwebs hung from the ceiling and wood plank walls like gaudy Halloween decorations. There were two small writing desks next to each bed, each with a lamp and low-back chair, and a dresser at each end of the room. The dresser closest to Penny’s freshly turned bed held a clutter of photographs and other odd items.

Small round windows faced each other from between the beds, like eyes made of starlight.

“If you don’t like it up here you can use the guest room,” Susan said. “It’s a bit plain, but …”

“No,” Penny said at once. “I love it.”

“I thought you might,” Susan said, flashing a knowing grin. She stood and stepped past Penny, stopping short of the waist-high railing around the attic door.

“You should get some sleep. I take Sundays off, so we’ll have the whole day tomorrow to get to know each other a little bit better.” A pause, then, “I bet you have a hundred questions for me.”

Penny nodded. She did.

“Good night, Little Red,” Susan said, and though it was strange hearing her old nickname from the lips of yet another stranger, it didn’t upset her as it had earlier coming from her crotchety sister.

“Good night.”

Penny fell back onto her amazingly cozy bed, the thick feather comforter feeling like a cloud after a day spent in cramped, uncomfortable seats. She pulled her knees up and slid her legs below the comforter, pulling it up to her chin as she settled back.

Comfortable as she was, Penny knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep. There were just too many thoughts, ideas, and feelings clamoring in her head. However, only seconds after laying her head on the pillow, her eyes slipped shut, and she dozed.

Penny had the old dream again that night, but this time there was more. She was running in the dark, down a beaten trail through tall and fragrant wild grass. Running toward something, or away from it. She didn’t know which; only knew she had to keep running. Run like she’d never run before.

Then something stepped from the grass and crouched in front of her, something canine, predatory. It was only a shadow under weak moonlight. But even as a shadow its posture was visibly tense, its tall ears twitching and its fur bushed out.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” it said, and Penny awoke with a scream locked behind her clamped teeth.

The dream faded as she rose to full consciousness, but the fear she’d awakened with remained, and it seemed like a long time before she slept again.