Reveal (Cryptid Tales) Read Online Free Page A

Wendy, where is your mom?”
     
    She looks right through me as if she’s back in another time, her time. “Mama died when I was born. She held me for two whole minutes before she slipped away. From then on it was just me and Daddy.” She looks back at the ground and she wraps her arms around herself as if she remembers the feeling of being held by her mother. It makes my chest hurt.
     
    We sit on the swing for a while in the fading light. It’s not late but the early spring air becomes crisp and it stings my cheeks. Within minutes the sun is completely gone and I’m freezing. “Wendy,” I say as my teeth begin to chatter, “I need to get home. My mom’s going to wonder where I am.”
     
    “ Oh yeah, OK.” She says, still not looking at me, instead she looks off into the woods. “I know where I am, I’ll be fine here.”
     
    As much as I hate to leave the little girl alone, somehow I know she can handle herself.
     
    “ Bye now.” I say as I touch her shoulder and I get up and walk to the car. I know if she wants to she can find me. I hope she does. I still want to see Jeremy, but I guess it’s not going to be tonight. She needs time to figure all of this out. I feel bad for the poor kid.
     
    I start the car and immediately turn the heat to full blast. As I turn on the headlights I look up to the swing where I was just sitting to see it still swinging, but the little girl is gone, encased in the night.
     

Chapter 6
     
    When I arrive home my mom is sitting in the Adirondack chair with a blanket and a cup of hot coffee. I can see the steam rising from her mug and as I step out of the car the sweet smell fills my nostrils. “Got any more of that?” I ask her as I walk up to the house with my blue track bag slung over my shoulder.
     
    “ Yep, fresh pot on the counter,” she says as she cups her hands around her own mug. I walk in the house and drop my bag by the door. I head right to the kitchen and see that Mom already has a mug set out for me on the counter. I smile as I fill it up and head back out the porch. “Think you can share a little of that blanket? Sure is chilly tonight.”
     
    She looks up at me, “So you’re stealing my coffee and now my blanket?”
     
    “ Yeah, pretty much.” I laugh.
     
    She smiles a big toothy grin, “Of course I will share. Tell me about your day.”
     
    I sit and take a sip of my hot drink to give myself some time. What do I tell her? I don’t want her to worry more about me. Last week when I skipped out on a class to visit Jeremy’s grave, the school called her and she came looking for me.
     
    The historical society put up gravestones for all of the fire victims when I was about ten. I remember Jeremy feeling weird about it, but he also said it was nice, that he would always have a place to go back to. Kind of like a home, he described it, a special place just for him.
     
    She found me in the small graveyard near the orphanage taking pictures. I was trying to see some orbs in the digital viewfinder. Maybe one would be Jeremy. She said my “obsession” with the orphanage and the children’s death is unhealthy and suggested I see a therapist. Usually she just listens to my brother’s and my problems without psycho-analyzing everything, but apparently this one had crossed the line. She thinks as we get older we’re going to have more questions about Dad and she worries.
     
    “ Olivia and I went to the coffee shop before practice.” I start in; I mean I could tell her about part of my day at least. “I saw this guy,” Mom shifts in her seat to focus her full attention on me. “He’s the real dark and mysterious type.” I smile with one side of my mouth as I think about him.
     
    My mom notices, “Did you catch his name?”
     
    “ No.” I reply sternly, still annoyed that Olivia didn’t help me out in that department.
     
    “ Well maybe next time,” she offers. That’s something I admire about my mom, she is the eternal optimist. With