Double Vision

Chapter Eight

                  I had never snuck out of my house before.

                  Reese, of course, had been a dab hand at it; several nights a week, we could’ve been found at the bedroom window, where I unscrewed and re-screwed the mechanism so it opened wide enough for her to climb through. She would drop onto the porch roof in a way so practised it had become silent, and then dash off down the driveway, at the end of which her most recent boyfriend would be waiting in a beat-up car. Most of the time, I waited up for her, sacrificing hours of sleep just to see her back into the house at three a.m., lipstick smeared and ready for a gossip session. She must’ve done it hundreds of times, and Mum had never suspected a thing.

                  I knew it like the back of my hand, and I could’ve messed with the window in my sleep. And yet at twelve that night, stood at the same window with Mitchell’s car idling at the end of the drive, I was struck by a sudden panic.

                  Retrieving the screwdriver from the drawer, I tried to stop my hands shaking long enough to work the fiddly hinge. After a few seconds of struggling, I heard it click, and the window was free.

                  I couldn’t stop trembling as I climbed up and pushed it open wider. Reese had always done it in a flash, like she hadn’t noticed the fact she’d been hanging two storeys above the ground. And yet up there for myself, I wondered how she’d ever been able to keep her heart rate under control. The porch roof, though only feet below, seemed like a lethal drop away, and that was without even considering the risk of alerting Mum.

                  Holding my breath, I lowered myself down as steadily as possible, before making the drop.

                  I had to consider it a success; there were no fatalities, and the sound of my trainers landing on the roof tiles got lost in the huge expanse of night air. For a moment, I hesitated, admiring the view of the neighbourhood from Reese’s old perspective. But I had to move quickly: Mum and Brian were sleeping just two rooms away, and on the off chance they decided to peek into my bedroom, I was screwed.

                  I shuffled toward the edge of the porch and looked down, assessing the second drop. It was a little more daunting; the fall was bigger, and I had to try to aim for the front lawn instead of the concrete path.

                  Lowering myself, I pushed off. However, a last-second hesitation saw my hand gripping onto the roof a little longer than necessary, which sent my balance off kilter. Instead of dropping straight down, I leaned sideways, falling into the line of rose bushes and unable to stifle a yelp of pain.

                  I realised my mistake instantly; clapping a hand to my mouth, I scrambled to my feet and tried not to think about how I was being scratched all over by painful thorns. I knew I was sure to emerge looking like the sufferer of some exotic skin disease, being now covered head to toe in red scratches, but that was hardly a priority. Somewhere amongst the commotion, a light had been switched on inside the house, and I was seconds away from blowing my cover.

                  Gasping for air, I snatched up my bag and sprinted down the driveway, my feet pounding on the concrete with a mind of their own. Mitchell’s car was only metres away, and yet it suddenly felt like miles, stretching tauntingly before me. As soon as I came within arms’ length of the vehicle, I yanked open the door and threw myself inside with wild abandon, earning a strange look from the driver’s seat.

                  Mitchell started to say something, but my breathless demand cut him off. “Drive!”

                  Thankfully, he seemed willing to save the questions for later; the engine roared to life and the car began to pull away from the pavement. I slumped back in my seat, nervous sweat glistening on my forehead, as my focus glazed over the road ahead.