I was running and I was scared, cold and tired.
I was in modern clothing. I was New Girl again.
I was pretty sure if that I myself had been running, I wouldn't have been as tired. I also went ahead and assumed that, if I were being chased, I'd still keep my head and pace myself so that I could run longer without wearing myself out enough to be caught.
It was a while before I noticed that… I wasn't in the woods. It didn't look like I was even in Cheshire. I was in a big, empty field that felt like it went on for miles. There was no moon in the sky, only stars. I couldn't see any other lights around me. I felt incredibly alone and scared.
I heard a man's yell and I ducked down in the tall grass, making me itch and dirty. I didn't dare try to crawl, to stir the dry grass. I couldn't tell how far away he was.
It looked like no one ever came out here. It was the middle of the night. Who could help me?
I crawled forward, rubbing the dirt all over me to keep low, despite my instincts, which told me to stay still. I had to put as much distance between me and him so that, if I decided to run, I'd have some kind of head start. That could work, right? I needed it to.
I was coming up on a big mound of dirt. There were a few next to it, equal distances apart. They were all smoothed down. There wasn't any tall grass here; it was all packed dirt. I moved around a mound of dirt and tried to peek around it.
There were lights—a car. He was going through the field. I could still hear it even though it was far away. It moved slow and weaved, trying to shed as much light as possible. It wasn't driving towards me, but that was only a small comfort. I had to assume he was looking in all directions for any sign of movement.
I kept the mound of dirt in front of me as I moved back. I could see the beams, and I moved according to the car, keeping the mound of dirt between us. I bumped into another mound of dirt and did the same. I cautioned a glance behind me—
Trees!
I'd maneuvered through the dirt mounds, my heart pounding because the car was moving closer, like he somehow knew where I was even if he couldn't see me. I was going to panic, but I didn't want to freeze. I turned and ran for the trees.
Everything illuminated around me.
*
I bolted up at the sound of knocking on my door.
"Bella, I'm leaving. You be good, okay?" she said.
"Okay," I said hoarsely. I could hear her footsteps walk away, down the stairs, the door close, Todd/Ricardo turn on… and then her driving away.
I sat in my bed for a few minutes, feeling breathless.
So I couldn't brush off New Girl. I could only assume, then, that I had to figure out who this girl was… why she was in danger… and… what, save her?
"What do you want, Beatrice?" I asked out loud.
I immediately regretted that when I thought how scary it would be if something moved or happened in my room. While I was sort of used to her late-night visits, I still didn't want Paranormal Activity stuff happening in my house (another movie I'm not brave enough to see).
I got up, brushed my teeth, and made as much noise as possible going downstairs and to the kitchen. It'd been a while since I was alone in the house, and the only reassuring thing about it all was that it was morning.
I still had two hours before Ethan could possibly show up, and I almost wanted to back out of it.
That dream continued from the one I had… Wednesday afternoon? Why did it take so long to continue?
It was a warning, though, that's for sure. Beatrice was warning me about something. There was someone dangerous around Cheshire… maybe in Cheshire, and some poor girl was… or is in danger. How current was this? It would've been very helpful if the girl had taken the time to glance at her cell phone or run past something with a date on it.
Well, I doubted I'd be able to find clues about New Girl, so Beatrice would need to spoon-feed me clues about her. In the meantime, I had to work on the Jones' case (oh God).
*
Since I hadn't checked out any books on supervolcanoes—because there weren't really any—almost all of our sources were going to be from the internet, continuing where we'd left off… Tuesday? Chances were high that we could even get the PowerPoint done today. If we didn't find too many doomsday and false-prophet sites (creepy….).
If Ethan decided he wanted to know what 'everything' was about, that was happening after we got some work done. What if I told him 'everything' first, and then he kicked me out because I was crazy? This would've been a very unproductive day.
I repacked my backpack and only put a notebook in there… and the diary. I figured having some kind of proof was going to help.
I had a voicemail message on my cell phone; Poison and Singing the Dogstar Blues were due today. Great—I didn't get to read either of them. Hopefully Ethan didn't mind making a stop at the library.
I also found that Salem Witch Trials book I'd checked out long ago… which was overdue. Great.
It was tempting to sit at the window and wait when ten o'clock hit… but that felt pathetic. I watched some morning cartoons while I waited for the honk of his horn.
But Ethan was much more gentlemanly than I ever thought.
He actually got out of his car and knocked on my door. *swoon*
It took me a minute to calm down the ridiculous smile on my face and put on a look of impressed-surprised before opening in the door. "Wow—you came all the way to the door."
Ethan raised his eyebrows. "Oh. I can go back to the car, if you want."
"That's okay. Come on in—I'll get my stuff." I started walking back into the house.
He stayed outside the door. "Uh… I'm good here. What?"
I'd rolled my eyes at him. "Calm down, Ethan. The house isn't going to bite. I'll be right back." I had left my backpack upstairs for this reason. Maybe it was cruel of me, but I thought I would feel better to make Ethan as uncomfortable as possible… because I was going to be a million times more uncomfortable when I told him 'everything.' I grew nauseous just thinking about it.
When I was back down the stairs, Ethan was technically inside the house, although he was the closest thing to the door. He frowned at me. "Was that you moving around up there?"
"Why?"
"I heard noises."
I shrugged. "The house is always making noises. It's old."
He didn't look convinced. "Ready to go?"
*
It was quiet in his truck. And really awkward.
Mom was a little bit inaccurate. She'd said the Walkers lived down the street, but it'd sounded like she meant only a few blocks.
They were actually the last house on the street. They were the very end of Cheshire.
"Did you always live in this house?" I asked as he parked in the driveway. It was a tall house, and it looked much newer than the others, but today it would still be considered old. It also looked a little… sad.
"No. My grandparents used to live a few blocks back there."
We got out of the car and I bit my tongue. I couldn't ask why they moved since it was fairly obvious. I followed Ethan up the steps to the porch (evidently, Cheshire was porch-happy). It was still cold out and I wanted to get inside already.
He didn't say anything. Ethan just opened the door and went inside, leaving me to follow. Let's just assume he wasn't accustomed to having people over either.
"Ethan, is that you?" called a female voice… his mother, obviously.
Then there was some barking.
Ethan looked worried. "That's just Vanilla," he said.
"So who's the dog?" I joked.
He chuckled and then frowned at the doorway behind me as a woman said, "This must be Bella?"
I turned. Mrs. Walker was very pretty with her wavy brown hair and big brown eyes… but she looked tired. There was a little gray under her eyes, and small lines, but I wasn't sure if that was from age or lack of sleep… or something else.
I smiled and gave a small wave. "Hi, Mrs. Walker."
She had a small mixing bowl in her hands, so she just nodded. "I was already making some cookies. Do you like chocolate chip?"
"My favorite," I said.
Mrs. Walker smiled. "That's good. Oh, Ethan—Vanilla's water bowl is empty. I think he knocked it over."
"I got it," said Ethan, maybe a little glad to leave the room. But once he was gone, it felt awkward again.
Mrs. Walker chuckled. "You don't have to stand by the doorway. Make yourself at home. Join me in the kitchen."
I followed her, relieved someone was taking charge.
The house wasn't as big as the other ones. It definitely felt new compared to mine or Charlie's. Maybe when all the drama started, the Walkers were forced to live as far from everyone as they could manage in order to have some peace. This house was probably built quickly, and there probably wasn't time or money to make one like their old one. This was all just speculation, though, but my gut told me I was right… or maybe it was Beatrice. I really needed to figure out how Beatrice was haunting—
"Bella?"
Crap—I was starting to hate getting lost in my brain in front of others. "I'm sorry, what?"
Mrs. W smiled. "I asked how was school so far."
"Oh, it's been good. My mom and I've adjusted pretty well."
"That's good." She glanced toward the backdoor, her smile faltering. "I'm sure you're aware of how Cheshire feels about us…?" I nodded. "While I think it's great that you and Ethan are friends, I hope that you'll be cautious when you spend time with him… or even Charlie, for that matter. I don't know if you're aware of the tension between us and the Wyatts, but—"
"I'm aware of the situation, Mrs. Walker," I cut in—as politely as I could.
"You can call me Pamela."
"Okay… Pam…. I more or less understand how it is. I've been thoroughly warned."
She didn't look happy as she nodded. "It's mostly a matter of choosing sides, Bella. And, when it comes down to a choice, I'd appreciate it if you thought about your safety and didn't choose Ethan… or us."
I frowned. "Are the Wyatts that dangerous?"
Pamela fidgeted, before smiling shyly. "Let's just say we've gone through our fair share of car and living room windows." We could see Ethan was approaching the back door. "I normally don't put too much cinnamon to be noticeable," she said as he walked in, "just enough so that the chocolate has more flavor than the rest of the cookie."
"You make cooking sound like a science," I said.
Ethan frowned at the both of us before turning to me. "Are you allergic to dogs?"
I was surprised by the question. "Uh, no. Why?"
"It's cold outside, so I'm bringing Vanilla in."
"Just make sure he doesn't get dirt on the sofa," said Pam, turning back to the stove.
Ethan went back to the doors. "Vanilla isn't really a people-dog. He won't bite or growl or whatever, though. He'll just completely ignore you."
I couldn't help laughing. "Like a cat?"
"Yeah… like a big, dumb cat." He stuck his head out. "Vanilla! Get over here!" Some silence followed. Ethan went out the door entirely. "I know you hear me! Come here!"
Pam laughed. "That dog doesn't listen to anyone unless they have food or a toy."
"What kind of dog is it?" I asked.
"A golden retriever. My husband only manages to get Vanilla to cooperate when he's trying to get rid of a few gophers. Vanilla can find the holes for us, but then he doesn't do anything else."
Ethan sighed. "Mom, call him. He listens to you."
"Only when I tell him to stay out of the garden. Bella, you give it a try. He hasn't heard you yet."
I found the whole situation hilarious. "Okay."
Ethan frowned. "Wait—what if he bites her?"
"You're the bodyguard," I said. "Go." Pam laughed as I made Ethan stand in front of me just outside the doorway. I peeked around. Their yard was the rest of the trees that surrounded Cheshire. There was no fence and no limit. I thought back to the dream… and then to Charlotte. Wherever she'd been running from… it was from outside of Cheshire. If she'd taken a different turn, she could've ended up at Ian's house… not Beatrice's.
I shook that away for the moment. That could be hashed out with Charlie later… and maybe even Ethan.
I could see Vanilla's light-golden form trotting through the trees, sniffing. "Vanilla!" I yelled.
"Ow," said Ethan, flinching away. "Right in my ear."
I stepped out a little and saw Vanilla look over at us. "Vanilla, come here!"
The dog was pretty big, but I didn't know he moved so fast. He was already out of the trees before my echo had died away. He slowed down as he neared the house and came up the steps. Vanilla licked my knee before walking around us and through the door.
Ethan frowned at me. "How'd you do that?"
I shrugged and laughed a little. "I don't know."
*************
Almost nothing troubling in this chapter except for the dream and its later reference, I know.
I've just noticed how some chapters end on a light note and others on a total dour note. I'm finding it difficult to remain consistent, like how the first two or three chapters ended with a dream. Now I have no pattern at all. Is that good or bad?
Also, by setting a bad example and postponing homework, I got a lot more writing done with Cheshire Girl. I think we'll finally reach the turning point in the story I've been waiting to get to. In other words, this is already halfway finished.