The Sisters of Nowhere

t h i r t y - s e v e n : r e c k o n i n g

Birdie and Ophelia snuck down the oak tree at precisely eleven o'clock, exactly one hour after Marigold had snuck out with Silas.

The old tree was certainly getting its fair share of use over the past few months.

They were silent until they were at the peach orchards, where they could breathe a semi-relieved sigh, knowing their night was just beginning.

Adrenaline coursed through Birdie's veins.

"How do we get into the newspaper office?" Ophelia asked. She seemed even whiter than usual in the moonlight.

"The back door is always unlocked," Birdie said. "And I know where the archives for the obituaries are. We'll be in and out in no time."

"That's what all criminals say," Ophelia muttered. "Right before they get caught."

"We're not going to get caught," Birdie replied, trying to convince herself.

As they walked, the sounds of gravelly footsteps mixed with the bright chirps of crickets met their ears, singing in time with their rapidly beating hearts.

"What are we doing, Birdie?" Ophelia whispered, almost afraid someone--or even the forest--would overhear her. "I can't help but feel like this is bigger than us."

"I know," Birdie agreed quietly. "But we're the only ones with the power to interact with the forest. If Mama and Dad knew, if the sheriff knew, even if the federal government knew anything we know...what would they be able to do? They can't even see it."

Ophelia kicked at a rock in their path. "It makes you feel kinda lonely, doesn't it? Being the only ones who are able to do what we can?"

Birdie glanced up at the inky sky, remembering that fateful night in the forest when all the stars were on full display. It had comforted her then. Not so much now. "Yeah. Lonely."

They crept into town behind the buildings that lined Main Street. Usually, ghosts would be haunting the empty roads and buildings, causing the danger of witnesses for the two trespassers. At least that was one thing they didn't have to worry about now.

Once they passed a foul-smelling dumpster behind Albert's Delicatessen, Birdie drew up short.

"We're here," she whispered.

Ophelia replied, "It reeks--hurry up and go inside."

Birdie placed her foot on the first of two wooden steps that lead to the Nowhere Post.

She swallowed hard before she placed her hand on the cold knob and pushed open the door.

As expected, it was unlocked. It was one of the perks of living in a small town--people rarely worried about intruders.

The smell from inside--ink and parchment and memories--met Birdie's nose and she couldn't help the tingle that coursed down her spine. Her heart tugged as she opened the door all the way. How she missed this place.

"Where are the archives?" Ophelia whispered.

Birdie stepped inside carefully, having to squint in the darkness as her eyes adjusted. She should've brought a flashlight.

Her stomach twisted at another memory--Wyatt wasn't here to bail her out this time.

"Come on," she murmured to Ophelia.

They were in the back room, where all of the ink cartridges, printing press parts, and storage boxes were. They should've had filing cabinets somewhere, but had never hired a secretary to organize everything.