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Saturday. Kylee flung the covers off and grabbed up a change of clothes. She streaked into the bathroom to shower and change before Bill noticed her. The worst part about the weekend was knowing he would be here, all day for two whole days.

She ended her shower before the running water could attract his attention. She stepped into her room and found a pair of jeans and gray hoodie to put on.

The kitchen was empty. Kylee began working on the dough that would be part of their dinner later. Pausing, she listened for Bill. Nothing yet. Last night’s fight must’ve done a number on him. She needed to check on her mother, but she didn’t want to bump into him. She tiptoed into her mom’s bedroom. Only her mother lay on top of the covers.

“Mom? Don’t you want to leave this room?” Kylee placed a mug of coffee on the nightstand. The response was a soft groan.

“You need to get out of the house.” Kylee took a sip of the coffee. “We could go meet the neighbors. Take them some fresh bread.”

“Too much light,” her mom whispered.

Her mom got awful headaches that sometimes left her vomiting. Kylee closed the blinds and left the room. She needed to get the eggs.

The cool morning air blew her wispy blond hair away from her face, and she took a moment to breathe it in. As always, the briny smell of aquatic life carried over the earthy aroma of farm life and woods. Less than an hour away, the Atlantic Ocean crashed against the Virginia shore.

Twenty minutes from the Virginia Beach boardwalk, but Bill forbade her to go.

Come to think of it, she hadn’t heard him yell yet this morning. In fact, she hadn’t even heard the television blaring. Where was he?

She unlatched the door to the chicken coop.

On the other side of the house, she heard voices calling back and forth. The neighbors.

A big dog with shaggy reddish-yellow fur ran around their yard, panting as he ducked in and out of the legs of an adolescent boy and a young girl. The man stood in the moving truck, handing boxes to the two children.

Kylee slowed down. The girl’s brown hair was in a messy ponytail, as if she had slept on the hairdo. The boy’s hair was a similar color, but spiked upward in a trendy style. He had his back to her, so Kylee couldn’t see his face, but judging from his height, he had to be about her age. She felt a rush of energy. Having a neighbor her age, especially a boy, was more than she hoped for.

As if sensing her stare, he turned around and met her eyes across the fence. For a heartbeat, neither of them moved. Then Kylee smiled and waved. “Hi. I’m Kylee.”

He didn’t smile back. He stared at her another moment, then turned his back on her and said something to the man in the van.

Maybe he didn’t hear me, Kylee told herself, the familiar coldness of disappointment seeping into her limbs. He could’ve at least smiled.

He swiveled around and met her gaze again. He took two steps backward, his eyes not leaving hers. And then he disappeared around the side of the van. Kylee heard his footsteps as he ran into the house.

“So much for making a friend,” she sighed. All the excitement about having new neighbors rushed out of her. Kylee pushed open the screen door and went into the house.

She deposited the basket of eggs on the counter, then thought better of it. She better wash them first. She turned on the warm water and worked the soap into a lather.

She hadn’t expected the new family to hear the rumors already. Maybe the Realtor warned them when he sold the house.

She’d find a chance to talk to the boy.

The egg she held in her hand slipped between her fingers. Kylee grappled for it, performing a desperate dance before gravity won the battle. It cracked open on the linoleum, the sound louder than a gunshot to Kylee’s ears. She held her breath. Maybe Bill hadn’t heard.

Silence.

She went to the front window and lifted the slanting blinds. Where she expected to see the dented, rusty car, the driveway was empty.

“Bill’s not here,” she whispered.

Kylee gathered the white laundry basket in her arms and headed outside with the wet clothes. She strung up the wet items and started pulling the dry things off the line as quickly as she could. She stopped short when her mom walked into the yard, holding one hand against her head.

“Mom? Are you well enough to be up?”

“We have to hurry,” Theresa said, stopping next to the line. “I heard on the radio we’ll be getting rain this afternoon.”

Kylee swatted at a gnat buzzing near her eyes. “Is Bill working today?”

“Not good enough. It’s just not good enough.”

Conversations with her mom were like this.

“We need more money, is that it? So he’s working?”

Her mom slid the clothes along the line. Kylee spotted her bra on the line and jerked it off, dropping it into the basket. “A boy moved in next door.”

Her mom took down a shirt, smoothed it, and pinned it back up. “Careful, Kylee.”

“Careful of what?” Kylee snapped, irritated again. “Is there something wrong with talking to a boy?”

“Yes. Always trouble.” Her mom began to hum.

Kylee hated the sound of it. It meant she was checking out of reality. Kylee finished with her laundry. “Thanks, Mom.”

In three short years, Kylee would be out of here. College was on the horizon, and she didn’t care where she went, as long as it was too far away to visit. Maybe she’d study art, or literature.

“I’m going in now.” Kylee picked up her basket again. “Mom?”

Her mother sat down in the grass. “I’m so, so tired.”

“Come on, Mom.” Kylee took her hand and helped her up. “Back to bed.”

Theresa stood. She looked a bit steadier on her feet now. She let go of Kylee’s hand and walked in front.

Bill was gone again before Kylee got up on Sunday morning. She couldn’t believe her luck. He must’ve picked up a weekend shift at the shipping yards at the docks.

Kylee spied on the new family as they drove away in their fancy black car, everyone dressed for church. With nothing else to do, Kylee focused on getting through her history homework.

The rooster crowed, and Kylee opened her eyes to a dark room. The pinkish glow of sunrise filtered in through the naked window. Morning already? Her book lay next to her, folded open where she’d been reading.

Kylee stood up with a yawn. At least Mondays were predictable. Bill would be at work by now. She picked up the egg basket and headed outside.

The sun was up, a mellow orange coloring the sky as the yellowish orb started its climb on the horizon. Down the road, the bus’s air brakes squealed. Kylee paused by the chicken coop to watch the long vehicle pull to a stop. Kylee waved at her old school friends Amy and Michael, trying to catch their eyes, but neither looked at her.

“Lisa! Move it!” a male voice hollered.

Kylee turned her head to see the new kids running down the road.

“Wait!” the boy shouted toward the bus, stopping it just before it started to pull away.

The hens were clucking at her, anxious to get their feed. She forced her attention away from the departing school kids and focused on the small feathered animals.

YYY

Kylee kept her eyes on the oven clock while she peeled potatoes. The afternoon bus would be here in five minutes. Four.

She put down the potato and wiped her hands on her apron before grabbing the laundry basket.

The bus had already pulled up to the stop sign, and kids scurried around the front and down the street like ants leaving the anthill. Kylee went to the edge of the yard next to the mailbox, still holding the basket. She hesitated when she saw Amy, her curly brown hair pulled into a high ponytail while she strutted down the street in short white pants.

“Just say hi,” she murmured to herself. “Amy,” she called.

Amy turned her head, and Kylee’s heart skipped a beat. But instead of looking at her, Amy shouted, “Hey, Michael. What are you guys talking about?”

Kylee followed her gaze and narrowed her eyes at the two boys who approached behind Amy.

Michael called back to her. “Just telling Price about that house.”

Price. So that was the new kid’s name.

Amy shuddered. “I can’t even stand looking at it.”

“Which house?” the younger sister asked, swinging her backpack and turning her small face up to her brother.

“That one,” Michael said, pointing at Kylee’s house.

“It’s haunted?” she squealed.

“No,” Price said, shooting an annoyed look at Michael. “It’s just an ugly old house.” He had a slight accent that she only just now noticed, his consonants softer, his vowels rounder. His eyes darted toward the yard and then landed on Kylee. He jerked to a standstill.

Kylee held his gaze a moment, hoping he felt embarrassed for being caught talking about her house. Her own face burned. She lowered her eyes and walked away from them.

She didn’t belong with them, anyway. They were better than her.

She waited until she was at the clothesline behind the house before she let the tears fall.

“Stupid people,” Kylee sniffed, folding a shirt and dropping it into the basket. Stupid neighbors.