The Gate

Chapter 10

Kat Caldwell was snooping.

She didn’t know why she was snooping, or even who she was snooping on.  All she knew while she rummaged through random things in her family’s attic, that she was doing just that.  She glanced over her shoulder, toward the hole in the floor where she’d dropped the ladder to make her ascent in the first place.  She pursed her lips, wondering if she should shut it.  Her mother wasn’t home—she’d gone to the store to buy some things for the house.  But still.  What if Faye got home early from Errika’s and caught her up here?  She’d demand to know what she was doing, would scream at her for snooping around where she shouldn’t have been.

Kat wasn’t allowed in the attic.  She didn’t know why, but it made her crazy.  What was up here that was so special that she couldn’t even take one step into the room?  What special things did Faye (it was so obvious that her sister knew) and her mother hide up here?  And why couldn’t Kat know about them?

Shaking her head, Kat sauntered to the fallen stairs and knelt down.  She glanced down at her All-Star Converse, a frown curling on her lips.  As much as she loved the shoes, she hated the fact that they were Faye’s hand-me-downs.  Her mother didn’t see the point in buying anything that they didn’t need.  Apparently Kat’s own set of clothing—really, her own set of clothing—did not apply to that category.  Kat felt herself constantly wondering if Faye ever had to endure hand-me-downs.  Probably not.  Everything that came before Faye belonged to Terra.  And Terra was a burden on their memories.

Kat felt something deep in the pit of her stomach.  Maybe anger, maybe guilt.  Maybe both.  She couldn’t help but feel guilty that the only reason she belonged to this family was because Terra was dead.  If Terra were alive, Kat would be with another family or still in the orphanage.  All the time disturbing thoughts flashed through her mind: would they rather Terra be there instead of her?  Would they like it better if they never got her, but still had Terra in their lives?

Would they choose Terra over her?

Kat blew a few stray blond strands of hair out of her face, her frown growing deeper.  She reached forward, grabbing the thick rope in front of her and pulling the attic stairs up toward her.  She closed the hole in the floor, standing up.  Everything was significantly darker now—a point that she’d definitely not thought through—but she could still see.  After a deep sigh, pushing the thoughts of Faye’s late sister away, Kat stepped toward the stack of boxes a few feet away.

Grabbing the first box at the top, Kat sat down with the box set out in front of her.  She pulled the tabs open, peering inside.  She took a deep breath as she stared at the contents.  She brought a hand into the box and pulled an object at random out.

It was a shirt.

Her eyebrows creasing, she dumped the all the contents of the box onto the floor.  They were all clothes.  Shirts, jeans, shorts.  A variety of clothing mixed into one.  Kat didn’t understand.  She was banned from the attic because of clothes?  It just didn’t make sense.

She looked up.  Boxes surrounded her, filling the entire room.  She stood up again.  There had to be something there.  Something that was useful.  Something that meant something.

She searched through a copious amount of boxes, trying to get a glimpse at something important.  But there didn’t seem to be anything.  Almost every box she opened was filled with clothes.  Kat could have groaned in frustration.  It seemed absolutely ridiculous that she was forbidden to go somewhere over clothes—and stylish clothes at that. 

Kat held a shirt in front of her, tilting her head to the side.  It was a tank top, a pretty maroon color with a floral pattern.  The top was bejeweled—just how Kat liked it.  She could see herself wearing it, flaunting in it as she sauntered through the middle school’s halls with Bella and her other friends.  They would ask her where she got it; they would tell her she looked absolutely amazing.  And Kat, taking in the attention, would simple smile mischievously and say, “It’s a secret, girlies.  Can’t have everyone copying my style.”