Secrets of Me | s. black

↣ | Secret Twenty-four

s e c r e t
t w e n t y - f o u r

It was a gloomy, depressing day. The skies were covered in greying clouds and the air was filled with a heavy mist that seemed to weigh down the world. Trees were drooped sadly and even the birds were singing melancholy songs. I trudged through the thick brush of the forest behind the house, my skin a sheen with the moisture of the air. It was a chilly day and I knew my face was probably very flushed.

I had been looking for the twins for a while now — they hadn't been in their rooms or at the library or in the game room. They hadn't even been in the secret tunnel between their rooms where they spent most of their summers. Molly hadn't seen them for hours and neither had Mrs Prewett. I had been about to head to my room in defeat when I noticed that their boots weren't by the back door where they usually were, and that their rain jackets weren't hanging by the rest.

Curious, I pulled on my own boots and began my trek out through the woods. I had forgotten to bring a jacket though, and I regretted it now as I clutched my arms tightly to my chest for warmth, shivering from my head to my toes.

The forest was eerily quiet. I watched as my booted feet thumped across the ground, the mud underfoot sloshing and splattering as I walked farther and farther down the path. The twins and I had traveled back and forth from the house to the tree fort so much that it wore down the grass until it refused to grow back, and now we had a clear walkway through the overgrown forest.

I had guessed that the twins must be at the fort, and as I got closer so did the sounds of their deep voices. I came to a stop at the bottom of the large tree and peered up at the walls of the fort. We had worked very hard for two summers with Mr Prewett to build those walls; though it was exhausting, I'd never had such a good time in my life.

A pang of grief hit me in the face as the image of Mr Prewett hammering at the planks of wood crawled its way into my mind. It hit me so hard, the breath was knocked out of me. For a moment I could hear his laughter, see his smiling face, smell the cloves and spice scent that followed him wherever he went.

And then the image disappeared.

"Fabe, Gid!" I called up to them, shoving the grief far away as I craned my neck up. "Send down the ladder!"

There was the sound of rustling and then the long, wooden ladder uncurled down the side of the tree like a whip aimed at the ground. It struck the earth with a thump and I reached my arms forward and began to climb.

Each step I took echoed the remnants of previous summers. The sounds and sights and smells reverberated all around me; through my whole body, through the ladder, through the twins peering down at me. The pieces of joy I had clutched onto so tightly those past summers had almost totally disappeared with Mr Prewett, leaving behind only the ones held in the rest of the family's hearts.

"Up you come," Gideon breathed as he and Fabian each grabbed one of my arms and lifted me the rest of the way into the tree fort.

My feet landed on the round, red rug that took up the middle of the room. I looked around at the place that held so many memories. The beanbag chairs on the left circled around a hand-built coffee table, a chess board on top layered with scattered chess figures. To the right, a shelf with books and cards and anything they could use to entertain themselves. And in the middle of the room, right in front of me — an easel with a half-finished painting of me and the twins laughing, paint smeared across our faces.

I let out a sound that was half a sob and half a laugh, and crumpled to the floor in front of the painting. My knees curled up under me on the red carpet, and I clutched my hands in my lap so tightly they turned white.