“You’re such a good kid, Kasien. Take care of your little sister, okay?” Her voice is so soft and brittle.
I just nod. Bile is in my throat, and I don’t feel like speaking. My eyes burn.
She shuts the car door, waving at us as the car starts moving away from the white old house. The car goes through the driveway gate and I turn my head once more to see the house we spent twenty-two days in.
I haven’t used my native language since we came here. The caretaker told us not to use that language even when we justwant to chat together, because it looks like we want to keep secrets.
Mom also never spoke our native language back at home. She always said we are flying to another country soon and we don’t need it anymore. She told us to forget it.
I guess she was right.
But she was supposed to come with us.
I look at my sister—she’s smiling and running her fingers on the leather seat in front of her.
She hasn’t spoken about mom even once. She can apparently somehow erase her mind.
I don’t get it. I don’t want to do that. I think about mom all the time and I want to remember how she looked.
She had brown eyes, like chocolate, warm.
Mrs. Varner’s eyes are cold, the same as her hands. She kind of looks like a vampire. She’s so skinny and pale, but so are we, so I guess we also look like little vampires.
“Should we play a game?” Mrs. Varner turns in her front seat to face us, smiling at us.
“Let’s play word chain,” Natalya shouts.
Mrs. Varner starts with the first word, Natalya continues and looks at me. I think for a second and come up with a word, then the chain continues to Mr. Varner.
We play like this for so many rounds that I struggle to come up with words. My attention is always pulled away by something outside the window or a stream of thoughts running through my head. And then it’s my turn and everybody waits for me, staring at me as I try to find the right word.
I wish they would play without me but I don’t want to ruin it for Natalya.
I feel sweat breaking on my hands as I play with my fingers. Finally Mrs. Varner says something and we stop playing. She turns in her seat to face the road and chats with her husband.
A wave of relief hits me when I can look out the window and not play these stupid games.
?
We’ve already been on the road for so long that it’s getting dark. The back seat between me and Natalya is covered with fries and nuggets.
The moon is already visible in the sky when the road gets rocky and unsteady as we descend through some woods. When the trees open, we end up on a driveway that leads to a huge mansion. The car goes around a water fountain right in front of the building, stopping by the stone stairs, probably leading to the main entry.
It’s huge. Taller than any house I’ve ever seen, with a dark roof that bends and curves like the house is wearing a giant hat. The walls are made of pale stone that glows in the moonlight, almost golden, like the building is warm even though the night is cold. Big windows line the front, bright from the inside, each one shaped the same, like eyes watching us arrive. Flowers grow everywhere—red ones, pink ones, little white ones—arranged in shapes I don’t understand, like someone drew paintings into the ground. All the bushes are trimmed into sharp edges, no leaf out of place.
It looks strict. A long stone staircase leads up to the front door—a giant wooden door with black details curled into thin swirls.
A big man in black gets to the car and opens the trunk. Mr. Varner is already taking Natalya in his arms carefully so she doesn’t wake up. The other man takes all our stuff and Mrs. Varner takes my hand. My hand twitches in reflex but I let her hold me and guide me upstairs to the wooden door.
We stand in a round lobby. It’s brighter than outside, like we stepped into a different world.
The house smells like flowers and clean air.
Not like smoke and metal back home.
Everything is white, shiny, and clean. The ceiling is so high I feel like it’s going to fall on me if I look at it for too long. A giant chandelier hangs there, bigger than any lamp I’ve ever seen, dripping with glass pieces that sparkle like stars. It looks heavy. I keep thinking it might break off and crash down on my head.
Two staircases curve up on each side of the room like two arms trying to hug the whole space. Their carpets are dark green, soft-looking, and the railings twist like vines or snakes. There is a black piano in the corner, polished so well I can see a blurry reflection of myself—small, skinny, tired.
