Chapter 10 A Trip
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I knew he did it out of guilt, which made me feel guilty for making him feel that way.
The sentiment didn't last too long, as I was excited about my nifty gadget.
I sunk into the snug recliner inside the living room, the air sweet of Mom's Rosie perfume. The half-used bottle stood neglected on top of the coffee table, and beside it was a pile of her research files.
Mom was the most organized person on the earth's face unless she's busy with a project where she failed necessary daily functions.
One time, she had to ask Dad or me whether she already showered because she couldn't remember.
It all started when she was seven. Mom claimed she had crossed paths with the mysterious Mothman. A man-sized humanoid with large, red glowing eyes and massive black wings.
She was out in my grandparent's backyard, searching for a missing toy, when the Mothman sat on the back porch, staring at her.
She said when she had screamed, the creature darted up into the air and vanished.
And no, Mom was never diagnosed with a hallucinatory disorder of any sort, and no one could explain what had happened that day.
She's pretty sane until it came to her cryptids.
Her obsession with the unknown was what led her to meet my dad at a paranormal convention in Atlanta.
They said it was love at first sight.
Years later, I could confirm their love for each other was as strong as it was since day one.
I shifted in the recliner and switched on the screen of my Kindle. It was loaded with all kinds of books.
I knew it was Mom's handy work because most of them had bare-chested men, sultry women, and kissing couples on the covers. She was a sucker for trashy romance.
I smiled to myself, scrolling past those before finding the horror section. I stretched my legs out in front of me, and as I opened the book, Mom called out.
"Carly? Ember is here."
"In a sec," I shouted back and got up from the couch, smoothing out my shirt with a plant-eating zombie on it.
Ember leaned against the doorframe by the backdoor, grinning. She carried a picnic basket. "Hey, so I thought we could do that walk now? I know we planned on a hike, but my grandpa is on the trail. I'd rather avoid him for now. He's out looking for his missing hunting gear."
I snorted a laugh. "Let me grab some shoes, and we can go."
I told Mom I was heading out with Ember, pulled on a pair of sneakers, and met up with her outside.
"So, are you going to homeschool or go to Bowmore High?" Ember swung the basket back and forth by her side as we walked in the direction of the beach. "I hope you're going to Bowmore because I could use a friend."
"I'm going to go to Bowmore. I'd die if I had to stay on the island more than I already had to."
Ember smiled at the revelation. "Perfect."
"You don't have any friends there?" I pressed.
"I do, sort of. But they're not exactly the reliable kind."
"That sucks. Friends should be reliable."
"It's more like a thing of their parents are friends with my parents, and now I'm stuck with them," she explained.
"Oh."
"Yeah." Ember's expression brightened. "But now you're going to be there."
The field we trekked through was a bounty of clover, lush grass, and sprinkled with pastel wildflowers. It was time and space captured in the grasslands, the air sweet of flora and rain residue. If anyone ever decided to paint it, it would be a masterpiece.
You could hear the crash of waves from our home, but the closer you drew to the beach, the noise became discordant.
I had to shout for Ember to hear me. "It's loud over here."
"I know," she yelled back, lifting the basket and swung it in the general direction of a cave nearby. "It's better over there."
It was another two-minute walk toward our destination, and by the time we got there, it felt like my ears were about to pop.
"Here we are," Ember announced.
