He Comes in Peace

Skye scrambled upstairs to her room, and fell against the bed. She sighed in a happy and unhappy way. She glanced at the wall calendar tacked right above her desk.

"Leaving already…" she whispered. The long weekend would soon end, and she would have to go back to school on Monday.

She looked about her room, finding nothing particularly interesting. That was one of the bad things about coming here to the lake house. All of the things that were worthwhile doing were already done; and all the not worthwhile things…Well, why would Skye do them if they were not worthwhile?

Skye sat up and crossed her legs, scratching her head and messing up her hair.

It's back to school…I justknow it's going to kill me. Back to being called Squirrel and other badly made nicknames.

Swinging her legs off the bed, she stepped onto the floorboards and knelt down on the ground, feeling around the wooden boards. After finding a gap, she got up on her knees and retrieved a thin, but sturdy piece of steel she always kept in her desk drawers. It was about as long as her palm, and taking it in her hand, she wedged it into the thin sliver of a gap on the ground.

Skye knew it was extremely cliché to have a wiggly floorboard, where you kept your most treasured memories, or at least something worth keeping a secret.

Using leverage, she pressed down lightly on the piece of steel. The floorboard popped up instantly, like it had always done since Skye was a little girl.

Moving the floorboard out of the way, she lifted a small wooden box out of the crumbling plaster and whatever else was in there. She brushed a few pieces of debris off the surface and opened the box.

Before she could take a good look at the contents, something flew up from the ground and shattered her window.

Instinctively, Skye let out a huge scream, and scrambled farther away from the window and the broken pieces of glass, still holding the box. Some of the pieces were littering her bed and a few pieces even flew as far as her desk. Amidst the tinier pieces of glass on the floor lay a fist-sized rock. There was not a piece of paper attached to it or anything, and the rock had nothing scribbled on it. It was just a plain grey rock, the kind you would see by lakes.

Skye's senses returned to her when she heard her mother's footsteps coming up the stairs. Skye hastily put the box back into the hole and jammed the floorboard back on top of it, forgetting to take out the steel bookmark. Not being able to pry open the floorboard was the least of her worries at the moment.

A second after Skye put the floorboard back in place her mother opened the door and looked at the room in shock.

"What happened, Skye?" she said quietly, eyes just as wide as Skye's.

"I-I…I have no idea," Skye answered truthfully. She shifted the glass around a bit before picking up the rock. She opened her hand, the stone laying flat in her open palm.

"Someone threw this, I guess," she mumbled to her mom.

"That's it. We're leaving after dinner," her mom said immediately. Skye balked.

"What?"

"You heard me Skye. We're leaving. I won't have you in dangerous environments," Mrs. Cedona replied bluntly.

"Mom! That's completely unreasonable! I'm fine, can't you see?" Skye cried.

"Yes, I can see. But you could've been right next to the window when that happened. I thought this place was safe enough for kids." Skye's mother shook her head rather sadly. Skye stared at her in disbelief.

"Mom, I'm not a kid. I became a teen about three years ago; don't you remember?"

"I remember, Sweetie. It's just that…With your dad gone, we've only got each other for—"

"I don't want to talk about Dad right now," Skye said abruptly, but firmly. Without another word, and with the rock still in her hand, she climbed up the stairs to the attic and shut the door.

She heard her mother knock on the door a couple of times, calling out her name softly. Skye did not answer, and a moment later, her mother's quiet footsteps could be heard going down the main staircase.

Skye didn't bother making a reply when her mother re-entered her room several minutes later, calling, "Pizza's ready, Skye."

Though Skye's stomach rumbled in protest, she ignored the call for dinner and buried her head underneath her pillow.