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The Last House on the Street(107)

Author:Diane Chamberlain

I rested my head against his chest, my arm across his waist. I clutched the fabric of his shirt. What future? I thought. How can we ever make this work?

For the next twenty minutes or so, we lay like that as he told me how everyone was doing in Flint. They’d brought in a new guy from Stanford University to take my place and he was experienced and good to canvass with, “but not nearly as much fun as you,” he said. The plans were coming together for the next protest and I felt sad to realize I wouldn’t be there.

“I’ve got a little gift for you,” he said. He pulled something from his pants pocket and pressed it into my hand.

I sat up and turned on my light to reveal a silver bangle bracelet. When I saw the engraving, emotion flooded over me. Ellie—We’ll Fly Away—love, Win. I was moved by the thought that went into the gift, the time it must have taken him to steal away from his SCOPE duties to buy it. I was moved by the obvious love behind it.

I turned out my light again, wrapped my arms around him. “I love it so much,” I said, clutching the bracelet in my hand. I wished I could wear it, but I didn’t dare. Not yet.

“Sh!” His body stiffened beneath my arms. I sat back and he pressed a finger to my lips. “Listen!” he whispered.

Footsteps. Deer or man? Sometimes at night it was hard to tell. I thought the sound was coming from the leaf-littered path that ran alongside the lake, a fair distance away.

“I’m leaving.” Win turned my face toward him with his fingertips and kissed me lightly. He felt around on the sleeping bag, looking for his flashlight. I started to tell him I thought the sound was only deer. I didn’t want him to go. But then there were more footsteps, and I knew they were human. My heart began to pound.

Win was already lowering himself down the steps.

“Try not to use your light,” I whispered.

I heard the crunch of tires and crawled onto the deck just in time to see red taillights blink off on the narrow road that led from Hockley Street to the circle. It was a truck—I could tell that much in the gloomy light—and as it backed up near the circle in the darkness, I could see that something light-colored was moving in the bed. Pigs? It was a moment before I realized there were people in the bed of the truck. People dressed in white robes and pointed hoods. Oh God. When the truck came to a stop, one of them opened the tailgate and they spilled into the clearing. All but one, who stayed behind, huddled in a corner of the bed. There were six or seven of them in the circle and they turned on their flashlights. Another few came from the woods. I knew Klan members met back here in the clearing. Was this coincidental or was it because someone knew I was meeting Win? I prayed for the former, but knew deep down it was the latter, and I knew it for certain when I heard a masculine voice, unrecognizable to me, call out, “Got him!”

I should have crawled from the deck back into the tree house and stayed silent, hoping no one knew I was up there, but there was no way I could do that. I couldn’t see Win or his captor. Below me was nothing more than a sea of pale satin, roiling like whitewater. I heard a cry of pain and winced as though I’d been struck myself.

I shined my flashlight down on them just as one of them landed a punch to Win’s jaw.

“Leave him alone!” I shouted. “He’s with me! He’s my friend!” A few of the hooded monsters looked up at me with their covered faces and round black eyes. They reminded me of maggots, all alike, all horrid and slimy in their satin robes. “Please!” I begged. “I’m Danny Hockley’s daughter! Buddy’s sister! Please! Just leave him alone!”

“Ellie!” I heard Win call, his voice strained. “Run!”

I didn’t know what to do. If I went down to the clearing, was there any chance at all that I could calm them, or would they turn their wrath on me? I was afraid I knew the answer.

I could no longer see Win, but I knew he was on the ground being kicked and beaten. I heard grunts and groans, but couldn’t tell if the sounds were coming from him or the mob, or both. We would have to wait this out—wait out the beating—until they grew tired of it and left. And then I’d put him back together again. Nurse him. Screw my parents! I’d go wherever Win needed to go to heal and I’d take care of him until he was whole again.

Suddenly, one of the maggots peeled away from the crowd and began walking toward me, toward my tree. I scrambled from the deck, through the tree house, to the doorway, turning off my flashlight on the way. I sat on the edge of the doorway and saw the white robe down below, the man feeling for the steps, for a way up to me. I held my breath, leaning back in the darkness, my knees bent, my legs coiled, and when that silk hood rose to the level of its empty-looking eyeholes, I shot my legs forward with all my might, my feet crashing into the hooded face, sending the man flying backward from the tree with a shout. I heard him crash below, and when I shined my flashlight toward the ground, he was lying still, a splash of shimmering white on the dead leaves. Almost instantly, another robed man appeared at his side and I quickly turned out my light. “Hey!” the man called toward the others. “Need some help here!”