RABBIT HOLE ― harrington

scene (03).

『 SCENE THREE 』
○○○
THE DISAPPEARANCE OF MOLLY HOPPER!

SNEAKING OUT HAD BEEN EASY.

So was the journey.

It was the destination that was the hard part.

Molly couldn't remember the last time she was on Maple Street. That typical middle class double—story home at the end of the cul-de-sac had done nothing to change over the years; it really was like stepping back in time. Back to a time when she and Nancy were still as thick as thieves, to when Nancy still wanted to be her friend, to when Molly was still normal.

The lanky teen did her best not to jump when the heavy front door suddenly pulled open, revealing a middle age woman with puffy hair standing in front of her.

"Oh!" Mrs. Wheeler looked shocked to see this particular sixteen year old standing on her fancy front step, "Molly Hopper, what a surprise!"

Molly felt her face go pink and her fingers twitched at her thigh in discomfort.

She awkwardly forced her hand to jerkily wave, "Mrs. Wheeler, hi. Uh—,"

"Come in, come in!" The woman grabbed onto Molly's still waving hand and pulled her into a strange embrace and then into the warm house, "How are you, Molly? Look how much you've grown, my my!"

Following Mrs. Wheeler's eyes, Molly glanced down at herself and soured. She hated her ridiculously long legs and overly tall stature. She was as thin as a rail and felt as tall as a flagpole. It was like the universe was trying to make her life miserable.

— Which it as.

"Are you here to see Nancy?" Mrs. Wheeler pointed towards the staircase, "I think she's on the phone upstairs, but I can get her—,"

Molly panicked, "—No!"

Mrs. Wheeler jumped with surprise, looking at her with wide eyes.

That was absolutely the last thing she wanted.

Bad memories filtered into her brain, making her dizzy, making her bitter.

"Uh," Molly hurriedly shook her head, pushing tangled hair behind her ears, "I—I mean, I'm just here to pick up Will... I'm walking him home."

"Oh... Okay, well, I'll go get him."

Molly awkwardly glanced around as the lady went to the back staircase, yelling her son's name. The strange and funky hollering of twelve year old boys assaulted her ears as soon as the basement door opened. Molly cringed.

— Ugh. Children.

When Mrs. Wheeler finally did get her son's attention, Molly heard Mike Wheeler's voice try to argue, "Mom, we're in the middle of a campaign!"

"You mean, the end? Molly's here to pick up Will."

Heavy feet trudged up the stairs and followed them into the kitchen. Then little pale-skinned Michael Wheeler stood across from them, wearing sweats and tube socks, still scrawny and short as the teen remembered. His nearly black eyes darted to Molly who stood by the entry way and his brows furrowed in confusion, but he didn't comment on her presence.

"Mom, wait, just twenty more minutes!"

"It's a school night, Michael." Mrs. Wheeler left no room for negotiation, putting away leftovers, "I just put Holly to bed, and Molly is already here to pick up Will."