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I don’t want to be here.
Lori Meyers sat at the back of the classroom, hunched over her desk in an effort to make her already tiny frame as small as possible. All the better to not be noticed.
I hate this place.
It was cold outside, in the thin November air, but she would still rather have been out there than in that gloomy room.
I want to go home.
Did she? Whenever she was at home, she just wanted to escape, just like she did now, to run to the tracks or the rooftops where she could be alone and be free. The noise at school was stifling, but the silence at home was far worse.
She could just leave, right? No one paid attention to her anyway. She could just walk out, leaving the teacher to drone on about something Lori didn’t really understand and was too afraid to ask about now, run down to the tracks by herself and listen to the trains rumbling by. She could just be alone, and maybe she’d stop feeling so bad.
She glanced out the window. A thin layer of snow and ice covered gravel. Beyond that, the fence, and then the trees. Freedom.
I’m gonna do it. I’m gonna run. I’m gonna…
“Lori?”
Lori jolted upright in her chair. The whole class was staring at her.
“Lori?” the teacher asked again. “I asked you a question. Did you hear?”
Oh no.
Lori huddled up in her jacket and instinctively tried to sink lower in her seat.
Say something. They’re all looking at you.
“Uh…” she started.
Say something!
“I wasn’t really listening.”
She heard one of her classmates snickering, and looked down at her clasped hands embarrassedly. Lori Meyers, what a weirdo! Away in her own little world, dreaming about movies and monsters! Does she even know what time of day it is?
“Shut up, Brian.” the teacher snapped. Silence fell. “Lori, this is getting ridiculous. Is it really so hard for you to just concentrate for once?”
“It’s not that,” Lori pleaded. “It’s just this class isn’t very… interesting.”
Wrong choice of words. Very wrong. The teacher stared at her stonily.
“I see. Well then, why don’t you sit this one out, and I’ll see you after class?”
Not like this. Not in front of everyone. Please.
Someone near the front giggled again.
“I said, shut it, Brian!” the teacher hissed. “Out, Lori. Now.”
“I’m sorry, Miss. I’m really sorry, I’m sorry…” Lori knew what was happening. That same thing that happened every time she felt nervous, or afraid, or vulnerable. Her breaths started to come sharp and fast. Too fast. She was losing control, and it terrified her.
“Out.”
Slowly, slowly, Lori stood. Legs feeling like they were going to collapse from under her. Head spinning. Trying to take a deep breath. Failing. She stumbled towards the front of the class.
“…such a freak…” she heard muttered words as she passed one desk. Someone else snorted in response. Feeling eyes piercing into her back she sped past the glaring teacher, through the door, slamming it shut behind her.
She had to hide. No-one could see her like this. Stifling a sob, she dashed into the bathroom opposite and found herself in front of the mirror, leaning on the sink for support.
“Come on, Lori. Come on.” she heaved quietly to herself. “Get it together. All you had to do was just concentrate, and you screwed it up. It’s your own fault.”
Yeah, you screwed it up. Because you’re a big screw-up yourself.
She raised her head, wearily looking into her own eyes in the mirror, as her breathing slowly evened out. God, she looked tired. She hadn’t been getting enough sleep lately and it really showed. Her mother would never have let her get into this state…
Stop thinking about her. She’s gone now. She’s gone and no-one else will love you. You’re ugly and weird and everybody hates you. The teachers, the students, hell, even your own dad barely sees you anymore. You’re a waste of space. And you’re stuck here, in Possum Springs, wasting space.
Her head buzzed. It felt like a rock had settled in her stomach and a lump caught in her throat. But at least she could breathe again. She was in control. Sort of.
As much as she didn’t want to go back outside, she was sick of staring at herself in the mirror. So she reluctantly pushed the door open and sidled into the corridor.
“Hello, Lori.”
Another teacher, coming down the corridor. Miss Quelcy, the arts and crafts teacher. Lori actually found her class quite relaxing. She had always been good at drawing and making things. Right now though, a conversation was not what Lori wanted.
“Hello, Miss Quelcy.” Lori said politely, mustering up all the effort she could to not sound like someone on the verge of a complete breakdown.
Apparently all that effort wasn’t good enough, because Miss Quelcy gave her a very concerned look through her thick glasses and asked “Are you alright, Lori?”
“I’ve been thrown out of English class, Miss.” Lori looked at her feet.
“Why?”
“Because I wasn’t listening again and the teacher got annoyed at me.” Lori hesitated for a second, then rambled on. Why not? “And now I think she hates me. I think everyone here hates me.”
“Lori, dear,” Miss Quelcy said soothingly, “I sincerely doubt anyone here hates you. I’ll admit you say some… peculiar things, occasionally, but you’re a good girl. If you paid attention in English like you paid attention in art class, you’d do fine.”
Lori shrugged.
“English is boring though. Arts and crafts is actually useful to me.”
“What is it you want to do then, Lori?”
“Um… movies and stuff. I want to make horror movies one day.”
Miss Quelcy nodded sagely.
“I see. So you don’t need English for that then?”
“No… I mean… I guess… but not really more than I already know, so what’s the point?” Lori blurted out.
Miss Quelcy chortled.
“Maybe you’re right. But what will your parents think if your grades are terrible?”
Lori shrugged again.
“My mom’s not… around. And my dad is out a lot. So I dunno. Maybe he wouldn’t care.”
“Ah…” there was pity in the teacher’s eyes now, peering wisely from behind her glasses “But don’t you want to try hard for your own sake then?”
“Not really.” Lori sounded far more blunt than she meant to, so she rambled on: “I mean, what good is math or gym or geography going to be to a movie director? I want to just be done with school so I can leave.”
“I know. I see a lot of kids like that. Especially in a small town like this one. But listen, Lori, I know you don’t fit in very well with the other kids, but they would think better of you if you at least tried to have some presence.”
Lori shrugged once more, before becoming self-conscious of the habit and resolving to stop shrugging so much.
“I don’t really care about any of them though. And they’re all in their own little groups now already. I’d rather just sit and draw and think about stuff during lunch break.”
“Movies?”
“Yeah.”
“I guess you are really dedicated at the end of the day. I just wish you’d show the same sort of enthusiasm towards your homework.”
“I get it done.”
“To a good standard?”
“I get it done.” Lori repeated.
“Alright then, Lori,” Miss Quelcy gave a small smile. “But think about what I said.”
“Okay.” Lori turned around, thoroughly ready to finally leave the building.
“And Lori?”
Lori begrudgingly halted and craned her neck to look back.
“Yes?”
Her teacher paused for a second, still gazing at her very evenly.
“We all need a good friend. I hope you have someone you can turn to. But if you ever need to talk… I’m here, alright?”
Lori thought for a moment, then gave a hesitant smile and nodded. Then she stuffed her hands in her jacket pockets and disappeared around the corner. She wasn’t going to wait until the end of class.
She needed to be alone.
~~~~~~
Freedom. Sweet freedom, at last. The cold air bit at Lori as she hurried through the forest, but it was pure bliss to her, and she took her hands out of her pockets just to feel the bitter wind between her fingers. She wound around the trees, almost all long since stripped bare of their leaves, far away in her thoughts. But she wasn’t thinking about movies this time, and she wasn’t heading for home. Her feet took her towards the train tracks almost unconsciously and before she knew it, she was there, at that familiar stretch of steel lines and wooden slats, cutting a neat path through the desolate forest.
She slid gracefully down the bank, hopped over the first set of rails and flopped down in her usual spot, putting up her hood to act as a makeshift pillow. Her short stature allowed her to fit perfectly in between the two sets of tracks, and she lay very still, listening, waiting. The forest was almost dead silent apart from the wind rustling the mostly bare branches on either side of the railway, but sure enough, Lori’s sharp ears soon picked up a faint rumbling in the distance. Right on schedule. The rumbling steadily got louder until it was almost oppressively noisy, but to Lori, it was one of the most comforting sounds in the world.
People came and went, towns grew and died, the seasons changed and the leaves fell off the trees, but the trains always came through, night and day. Same sounds. Same times. Always going the same way to the same places. Lori closed her eyes and let the draught from the rapidly passing cars wash over her. And as she lay there, she wondered. She wondered if the train drivers ever noticed her there as they raced by to places she had never seen. Were there drivers who recognised her at this point? “There’s that weird kid lying between the rails again!” Did they ever wonder if she was dead, just lying there, not moving?
What would happen if I did die here?
It would be so easy. The first train had disappeared around the bend now, but she could just climb up in front of the next train when she heard it coming. The driver wouldn’t see her until it was far too late. What would it feel like, then? Would she even feel anything at all, or would it be over too fast? Just a crunch, and that’s it, goodbye Lori Meyers? Yawning, she pondered one increasingly morbid thought after another, unsure herself of how seriously she was taking them.
Could she come back as a ghost? That would be neat. Then she would only be seen when she wanted to be seen. Or maybe she could just live in the woods forever, and eat whatever she could find in the wild, and they’d make legends about her. She would only come out at night, under the full moon, and maybe let some drifter see her just to stir the hive. Maybe she could become a drifter, hop on a train, get out of Possum Springs, feel the wind in her hair…
Before long she had drifted into a peaceful trance that took her far away from the tracks and the forest, away from her dying hometown and her dead mother, away from her absent father and the ridicule of her classmates. In her dreams she could be anything, anyone. She was the queen, instead of little mousey Lori Meyers. She was in control. That spot was her little corner of the universe, and she owned it.
“Lori?” came a familiar voice suddenly.
Startled, she bolted upright, her daydream evaporating into the bitter air.
“Hello?” she called tentatively.
A short, pudgy girl of about twenty years emerged from the woods, pointed hair dyed a faded red.
“Oh,” Lori sighed. “Hello, Mae.”
Mae Borowski, wide eyed as usual, trudged down the icy bank towards Lori, carrying a large bundle under her arm.
“Lori, you’re—ouch!” the older girl lost her balance and slipped onto her backside next to the track. “Geez—I thought I might find you here, but holy shit, you’re going to freeze to death!”
“I’m alright.” Lori replied stubbornly.
Whenever Lori was convinced everybody hated her, Mae was the one exception she could find. Mae, who made the effort to come and talk to her constantly, who didn’t find her disgusting or gross when she said weird things, and who had seen where she liked to hang out at the tracks.
Yet right now Lori wasn’t glad to see Mae. And that made her feel worse than anything else.
Mae clumsily scrambled over the rails and plopped herself down next to the younger girl, propping herself up on the package she was carrying.
“I was looking for you.”
“Yeah? How come?” Lori had a strong feeling she knew why.
“Well I wanted to ask you…”
Here it comes.
“…if you’ve thought about coming to thanksgiving dinner tonight?”
There it is.
Lori rolled over with her back to Mae, huddling up in her jacket again. Suddenly, she could feel the cold a lot more, and the rails stretching around the bend seemed stark and menacing instead of cosy and safe.
“I dunno.” Lori answered at last.
Just say yes, dumbass. You want to go, don’t you?
“I mean,” she continued. “I can’t.”
Goddammit.
Lori could almost hear Mae’s brow furrowing behind her back. She could feel those big, bright eyes staring into the back of her head.
“You can’t? Why not?”
Oh shit, think of an excuse, idiot.
“I…”
Say something. You look like an idiot. Twice in one day. Talk about lame.
“I have to go see my mom.”
“Oh.” Mae sounded genuinely disappointed. “You need all evening to do that?”
“I need as much time as I need.” Lori said, more coldly than she intended, glaring over her shoulder.
Why are you getting mad? You are literally getting mad over nothing.
“Okay, okay! Sorry, didn’t mean it like that. I… just thought… you know… that you wanted to come. Meet my parents and eat dinner and all. Instead of being alone.”
“I like being alone.” Lori snapped. “And I do want to come. I just can’t. Alright?” She turned her face away once more.
“Alright… geez… I’m sorry.”
“Just leave me. Please.”
Her voice began to quiver. She was losing control again. The short, rapid breaths. The tears.
Why do you have to be like this?
There was a long pause. Then, at last, Lori heard Mae slowly climb to her feet and step back over the rails. Out of nowhere, Lori felt something soft smother her entire body. Her first instinct was to fight it, but then she realised it was just a blanket. A big, fluffy, warm blanket.
“I brought that for you,” Mae mumbled. “In case you were cold out here.” And with that, she climbed back up into the woods and vanished.
As soon as Mae had disappeared, Lori crumpled.
“Oh my god. Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.” she gasped desperately. The cold air that seemed so sweet earlier was now burning her lungs. She curled up under the blanket, pulling it tight around her as she sobbed.
“Why did I do that?”
~~~~~~
“I don’t know what to do.” Lori whispered hoarsely.
The empty house answered her with silence.
She had run straight home along the tracks, blanket billowing out behind her like a royal cloak. At any other time she would have felt incredible doing that. Now she just felt like a big rock had settled in her stomach again, and the blanket lay as a sad memento at the back door.
Lori glanced around her tiny bedroom. A collection of tiny metal soldiers stood to attention on a shelf, below slightly faded posters for old vampire movies. A sketchbook lay open on the messy bed, pencil abandoned halfway through a storyboard she had been working on. Piles of paper (including some half-forgotten homework) were strewn over her desk, and in the corner stood a well-polished video camera on a tripod. Her mother had gotten her that as a birthday present. The last one of Lori’s birthdays she had been around for.
Lori pushed herself up off the bed on which she had been sitting and inspected the camera closely.
“What would you think, mom? You never liked Mae much, did you? But she’s really nice. She gets me. I really hope I haven’t offended her. She’s about the only friend I have here now.”
She felt her lip wobble again, and wiped a smudge off the camera lens with trembling fingers.
“So why am I so afraid to go to her house for dinner?”
A ray of sunlight poked through the window and she stood on tiptoe to gaze down at the railway that ran past the back of her house. The sun had decided to come out for the final hours of the day and despite everything, it made Lori feel a little better.
“I think I’m nervous about talking to her parents. I don’t want to seem weird. Make things more difficult between us.”
She rested herself back on the bed with her elbows behind her head. The house remained silent. Mom gone. Dad at work, as usual. Always working, and for what? What was the point, if there was nothing to work for? They were going to be stuck in this dump of a town forever, mom was going to stay gone, and even if she could escape, she would still be Lori, anxious, awkward and lonely.
So lonely.
“I can’t remember the last time anyone even invited me to their house.” she mused, pushing back against the oppressive quiet.
The sun lazily drifted over her stomach as she stared at the cracks in the ceiling.
“What if she just leaves me? Like you did, mom?”
Almost instantly she regretted her words. Her eyes flicked back to the camera in the corner.
“I’m sorry… that’s not fair. I know you didn’t want to go.”
In the distance, a horn blared. Lori closed her eyes and waited. Within minutes, another train was racing by the house, and Lori could feel the vibration from the massive machine in her bones as it shook the walls.
“I loved that sound as a kid.” she murmured. “Everything was much simpler back then. Easier.”
She opened her eyes.
“But I’ve been so lonely since you died, mom.”
So damn lonely.
A wave of emotion came over her, but this time she did not cry. Instead she got up, and ran downstairs and out the back door, picking up Mae’s blanket as she went.
~~~~~~
Mae had never given Lori her address. Luckily for Lori, Possum Springs was a small town and everyone and their pet dog knew where the infamous “killer” lived. That didn’t make sprinting over there on half-melted snow and ice any easier on Lori’s little legs. By the time she arrived, the sun had almost vanished over the rooftops of the neat rows of houses, forcing her to squint at the street name on the corner. This was the right road. Now to find Mae’s house. She trotted along the sidewalk, blanket under arm, looking intently at the names on the mailboxes. Then something bright caught her eye, and as she looked up her jaw dropped.
The outside of this house was covered wall to wall in Longest Night decorations. Glaring lights of every kind plastered the wooden front and even some of the windows. Baubles dangled gaudily from the front porch and a huge banner reading “HAPPY LONGEST NIGHT!” stretched over the door. Some other eager people had decorations out already, but this house put them all to shame. Lori had a strong feeling as to who this enthusiastic display might belong to, and sure enough, the mailbox had “Borowski” painted on the side in loopy black calligraphy. Lori certainly wasn’t disappointed; it was exactly what she expected from Mae’s house: loud and proud.
Now came the hard part.
She had to knock on their door.
The rock formed in her stomach once more. This shouldn’t be difficult. People knocked on each other’s doors all the time. Nonetheless, for a short while she contemplated just standing outside and hoping someone inside just happened to see her instead. That might be easier. No. She had come all this way for a reason. She could do this.
Slowly, she approached the door, raised a delicate hand and knocked gently. One, two, three times.
No one answered.
She raised her fist and slammed it against the door as hard as she could. If no one answered this time… no, they had to be in… was she hoping they wouldn’t be? It would save an awkward conversation. But no, again, she was here for something. Someone.
The door opened. Lori went stiff as she clutched hold of the blanket. What was she going to say? Dammit, she should’ve rehearsed this beforehand.
A woman emerged from the door, her face lit up by decorations flashing all around. Her appearance was immensely familiar to Lori, not only because they had briefly met before, but also because she looked exactly like an older, plumper version of Mae herself. Her mother. She had bright eyes that shone with both wisdom and kindness and she brought the smell of roast dinner with her. For a second Lori’s voice caught in her throat.
“H-Hello, I’m… Lori Meyers. I’m a friend of… Mae’s.”
For a moment, Mrs Borowski looked very confused, and Lori gave a weak smile despite herself. The older woman had the exact same look of earnest concentration on her face that Mae often wore when she had to think about something. Then the older woman’s features lit up.
“Oh! Lori… of course! The little girl from the church. Oh honey, Mae told us she invited you, but she said you couldn’t make it tonight?”
“Y-Yeah, that’s right, but… I changed my mind. I hope I’m not late.”
“No, no, it’s fine, we haven’t eaten yet and we’re cooking plenty! Come on in, Lori, hang up your coat, there you go…”
Before long Lori was snug and warm in the Borowski’s house. In contrast with the outside, the interior was softly lit and cosy. Masses of pictures of relatives hung neatly on the walls down the hallway, leading to a small kitchen-diner where three places had been laid ready to eat.
“Dinner will be a little while yet, honey. Why don’t you go upstairs and find Mae? She’ll be in the attic.” Mrs Borowski fussed over Lori in a way she hadn’t enjoyed for far too long.
“Sure… um, thanks, Mrs Borowski.”
“And I’ll lay you a place on the table.” Mae’s mother beamed at her before diving into the kitchen to tend to the cooking.
“Well that was easier than I expected.” Lori muttered under her breath. The sick feeling in her stomach had almost vanished without her noticing, but she still climbed the stairs with some trepidation. She passed a landing where a small bird fluttered around in a cage while an elegant old grandfather clock ticked away, and a large family photograph of the Borowskis caught her eye. They all looked so sweet, together like that. A real family.
One last flight of stairs. There was no door at the top, so Lori stood halfway up and called softly
“Mae?”
No reply.
Lori advanced, one step at a time, until her head just poked over the top of the attic floor. Mae was there alright. In the center of the room, eyes closed, strumming her bass guitar with the headphones in like there was no tomorrow. As if sensing Lori’s presence there, Mae flicked one eye open, caught sight of the girl’s head in the doorway, let out an extremely ugly screech and fell backwards onto the bed in a tangle of wires.
“Oh gosh,” Lori scrambled up the rest of the stairs to help untangle her friend. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m…”
“It’s okay!” Mae giggled, to Lori’s palpable relief. “Just give me some warning next time, geez.”
“I tried.” Lori mumbled.
“Oh,” Mae slid the headphones off her head. “Right. Uhh… what are you doing here anyway? Thought you had to—”
“I lied.” Lori said, wringing her hands. “I was just… really nervous.”
“About coming here?”
“Yeah. And meeting your parents. And just—I don’t know, normal family life, I guess. I’m not good at seeming normal.”
“Hey,” Mae said gently. “Don’t forget they had to put up with a little screw-ball like me for 20 years. They have no standards anymore. Relax. Besides, you and mom have a lot in common.”
Lori furrowed her brow.
“We do?”
“Yeah. Both of you are into really morbid stuff. She loves reading books about dead people.”
“Really? But she seems so…”
“Normal. Right. Lori, if there’s one thing I’ve learned this last year, it’s that no one has all their shit together. We’re all weirdos really.”
“Oh.” Lori had to think about that one for a minute, while Mae idly strummed the bass guitar on her bed.
“You got my blanket, huh?” Mae glanced up.
“Huh? Oh!” Lori came back to reality. She had carried the blanket under her arm all this time. “Yeah. Here.”
“Keep it, my dude.” Mae went back to playing. “Early Longest Night gift from me.”
“You sure?” Lori ran the fluffy fabric through her fingers. “Wow… thanks.”
“No worries.”
There was a pause, during which Lori tried to sort through all the things she wanted to say. She carefully sat on the bed next to Mae and huddled up in the blanket. It was nearly dark outside the single circular window and occasional flurries of fresh snow could be glimpsed through the twilight.
Lori hesitated for a second, then asked:
“Why did you come back?”
Mae’s finger hovered over the guitar string, frozen.
“What do you mean?”
“From college. You got out. Out of Possum Springs. But you came back. Why?”
Mae looked thoughtful. Sorrowful, even. Lori knew it might have been a sore spot, but she had to know. At last, Mae placed her guitar down on the bed and sighed.
“I guess I got lonely.”
Lori knew all too well how that felt.
“And you came back to see your family? Your friends?”
“Yeah. And then I guess I just… decided to stay here. There was nothing for me at college.”
“That’s like the opposite of me. I got nothing here. I want to get out and never come back.” Lori gazed soulfully out of the tiny window.
Mae nodded understandingly.
“You’ll make it one day.”
“You really think so?” Lori said sadly.
“Why not? If a college will take me, you have nothing to worry about.”
Lori’s lip twitched.
“True. But… I dunno. Sometimes I feel like I’m trapped in a horror movie myself. Stuck in a place I can’t leave. Just waiting for something to happen.”
Mae sighed tiredly.
“You can’t think of it like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you can’t start living your life until everything’s just right. You gotta live it now, kid. Find things to look forward to in the everyday. Even little things. Like watching a dumb show, or going out for donuts, or…” she looked pointedly at Lori. “…seeing your friends.”
Lori averted her gaze bashfully.
“Besides,” Mae was on a roll. “Possum Springs isn’t all bad.”
Was it all that bad? Lori thought of the Autumn leaves and the smell of earth in the woods. She thought of the rumbling of the trains and the sun setting behind the Towne Center rooftops. She thought of the hill where her mother was buried, how pretty it looked when the flowers came out in Spring, and she thought of Mae, who had made the effort every day to come and talk to her all the way up on the roof where she liked to sit.
“I guess,” Lori said slowly. “That it’s not all bad.”
Mae beamed.
“See? It was worth holding off on nuking the place.”
“Oh shush.” Lori said crossly. “I’m still embarrassed about that.”
“I can’t believe you messed up the tunnel like that. You know my aunt is a cop. I really ought to tell her.” Mae teased.
“I said shush!” Lori couldn’t help smiling. “You would never. You’re a rebel too.”
“You know me.” Mae smirked. “You and mom have something else in common too.”
“Oh yeah?”
“You both know how to put up with me. Now come on. Dinner smells about ready.” And she was right, because a very delicious smell was indeed wafting up the stairs into the attic.
Lori hopped off the bed, letting the blanket slide off her shoulders as Mae replaced her guitar on the floor.
“Mae,” she said quietly. “Thanks for making Possum Springs less shitty.”
Mae laughed as she headed for the stairs.
“That’s the first time anyone’s told me I make it less shitty. Usually I’m part of the problem.” she joked. Then her face grew serious. “When you do get out of here though, don’t worry about me.”
“Aren’t you going to leave too?” Lori was surprised.
Mae paused at the top step.
“I don’t know if I can. I think I might have to stay here for a while.”
“Why?”
Mae scanned Lori’s face intently, looking deep into her eyes.
“I can’t tell you right now. There isn’t time. But I have problems that aren’t going to go away. And being here is the only thing that really seems to help.”
Lori nodded sympathetically.
“I have problems too.”
Mae began to head downstairs.
“Maybe leaving Possum Springs will help instead for you.”
“Maybe,” Lori followed her friend “Maybe I’ll stay a screw-up forever. But like you said, I guess I just have to make the best of things in the meantime. Wherever I am”
“Exactly.” Mae gave her a thumbs up over her shoulder.
“Are you going to be lonely?”
Mae stopped on the landing below, drumming the banister contemplatively with her fingers.
“I’ll still have my family. And some of my other friends might be here still. That’s why, if you get your chance, you take it, all right? For all of us.”
“Yes, ma’am, Mae Borowski, ma’am.”
Mae stared up at her wearily.
“You’re gonna make me feel old if you keep calling me that.”
“You are old.” Lori sidled past her on the landing.
“I am not.” Mae scowled after her.
“You are. You’re ancient. Your cop aunt is gonna look at you funny if she sees you hanging around with me.”
“She’ll never catch me. But you had better put on your best innocent face if she brings up that graffiti in the tunnel.”
“I always look innocent.” Lori said, looking very innocent.
“For a little horror maniac, you sure do.”
They reached the bottom of the stairs and the smell of roast dinner intensified as they approached the kitchen. Emerging from the doorway was Mrs Borowski, who smiled warmly at them both.
“I was just about to call you two down. It’s about ready. You can go and sit down.”
“Thanks, mom.” Mae hummed.
“Lori, dear,” Mrs Borowski went on in her soothing voice. “It’s snowing pretty heavy out right now. I just want you to know you’re welcome to stay here overnight if you need to.”
“Oh… gosh… thanks, Mrs Borowski.” Lori squeaked, taken off guard by the kind offer.
“Do you need to phone your dad?” Mae asked.
“It’s okay,” Lori replied. “He won’t get back until tomorrow anyway.”
“You stay here then, honey.” Mrs Borowski cooed. “Mae won’t mind sleeping on the floor for one night.”
“I won’t mind what, now?” Mae blinked.
“Come on through then!” her mother bustled off down the hallway to the kitchen.
Lori followed Mae through the doorway to the back room and froze rather awkwardly in the doorway upon spying the dining table was already occupied. A rather tired looking man in large glasses sat at the table. Upon spotting Lori standing there, the man rose from his seat with a friendly grin, approaching Lori with his hand outstretched.
“Ah, you must be Mae’s friend!” he greeted her, his voice low but friendly. She clutched and shook his hand without thinking, and noted that his grip was strong but gentle.
“Yup.” she cleared her throat. “Yup, that’s me.”
“Have we met before?” he peered at her earnestly.
“Yes, that’s right.” She thought back to that afternoon. Back when Mae had gotten hurt out in the woods, and they were all unsure if she was going to make it. She had felt lonelier than ever back then. But now, she realised, she was in a family again. Even if it was only for one night, she had a family. A home. And even when she had to go back to her school, or her quiet house, she would remember she had a family here, and maybe Possum Springs would start to feel like home again.
“It was in the church.” Lori stammered on.
“Ah, that’s right.” he looked solemn for a moment, but then his smile returned. “Thank you for being there for my daughter.”
“You’re welcome, Mr Borowski.”
“And what was your name again?”
Lori looked around at them all. At Mae; like an older sister, full of good advice and snarky wit, at Mrs Borowski, who was sweet and wise like her mother used to be, at Mr Borowski, who was cheerful and caring. A family.
“Lori Meyers.”