The Adoration of Jenna Fox (Jenna Fox Chronicles 1)

Plea

I hear sobbing.

And then a Hail Mary.

I hear a mumbling of prayers. And bargaining, too.

Jesus. Jesus.

Jesus.

Pleading and moaning.

In the darkest place that revisits me over and over again.

And for the first time I recognize the voice.

It is Lily.

A Walk

I am out the door in seconds. I am going to school. Tomorrow. I hurry down the walkway. Will Mother change her mind? I glance over my shoulder to make sure she is not following me. Freedom. It feels as crisp and breezy as the open sky. But then I remember her pale face. Her tentative decision. My pace quickens. Distance is my savior. I flee from my closed world into one I haven’t met yet.

Them.

Mother said it could be dangerous. For them. Is she afraid I will hurt others? My classmates? I wouldn’t. But maybe the old Jenna would? Did I hurt Kara and Locke? Is that why they aren’t my friends anymore?

There is Mr Bender. He counts as a friend. I will visit him.

With the swelling of the creek, I can’t pass between our yards, so I follow the streets around to his house. I don’t know his address or what his house looks like from the front, but I know, like ours, it is the last house on his street.

Even though the rain has stopped, the gutters are still like small rivers. Leaving our sidewalk to walk in the street, I must leap to get over the expanse. I walk down the middle of the road. The air smells of wet soil and eucalyptus. This time tomorrow I will be in school. I will be making more friends. I will be owning a life. The life of Jenna Fox. It will be mine, whatever it may be.

Our neighbor’s house, the massive Tudor, is dark and quiet. Same with the next house. But at the sprawling Craftsman I see activity. A small white dog barks at me through the bars of a gate. I stop and watch him. A woman calls to me, and I turn my head towa

rd the front drive, where she sweeps the litter of the storm.

‘Sorry,’ she says. ‘He thinks he’s a guard dog. Don’t worry, though. He’s all bark. Wouldn’t hurt a flea.’

I nod. I never thought he would hurt me. He’s a dog. He barks. Should I have been afraid? Is this what all neighbors do? Warn you about things? The way Mr Bender warned me about the white house at the end of my street? Is it a nicety that means nothing, but one of the many other subtleties that has become muddled inside of me? Am I missing something, or are they?

The woman lifts her hand, holds it there, and then waves. A smile follows. ‘You okay?’ she asks.

‘Are you?’ I ask. Maybe I need to be concerned about my neighbors, too? She returns abruptly to her sweeping and I leave.

Even though it is morning, the sky is still dark with clouds and there are lights on in the next house. The white house. As I get closer, I can see a glowing chandelier through a large window over the door. More lights shine behind other curtained windows. The pillars on either side of the door are cracked, lines running the length of them, bits of concrete missing. I imagine they are bits that fell away with the last earthquake and were never repaired, but still, the house looks to be well cared for. Better than ours. It is not a frightening house, at least not what lies outside. The front door opens, catching me. I try to resume my walk before I am noticed, but it is too late. A shadowed figure reaches for a paper on the porch but then stops and straightens without retrieving it. He steps out. It is a boy. Like the boy I saw at the mission, he is tall and pleasant-looking, but his hair is as white as the other boy’s hair was black. It is short and uncombed, a scuffle of waves pointing in different directions.

‘Hello,’ he calls. His voice is pleasant, too.

‘Hello.’

‘You new in the neighborhood?’

‘Yes.’

‘Welcome. I’m Dane.’ He smiles. Even from the street I can see the whiteness of his teeth.

‘Hello,’ I say again.