The Fall of Never(114)

“Kellerella,” she said. “Like Cinderella.”

“Food,” he told her.

“Okay,” she said, and following dinner that evening, she packed some meat loaf into a plastic container and slipped it into the pocket of her coat. Outside, the night had cooled the summer atmosphere considerably. Guided by the light of a full moon, Kelly carefully downed the hillside and disappeared beneath the cover of trees and into the valley below.

The woods were impossibly dark, the moon blotted out by the trees, and she crept as far along the wooded path as she felt comfortable, jumping at every shadow. Several times she heard things bounding through the underbrush behind her and she froze, petrified by a wave of fear, and considering the worst. After all, who knew what sort of things lived in the woods? Who knew what things came out at night? It’s too dark, she thought. I should keep a light down here.

At one point she half-shouted, half-whispered for Simple Simon, but he did not appear. She tried to summon him in her mind, as she’d always been able to do in the past, but it was a futile attempt. And instead of recreating him in her mind, she found she was now only recalling memories of him—Simple Simon standing by the brook; Simple Simon standing by the gingerbread house; Simple Simon spitting on the ground, becoming angry, the veins throbbing at the sides of his head. And it then occurred to her, innocently enough: How come he has veins? He shouldn’t have veins, should he?

The hoot of an owl nearly caused her to scream out. For fear she’d suffer a heart attack if she dawdled around much longer, she left the container of meat loaf on top of her rock-throne beside the running brook and began the climb back to the house.



“You certainly are spending a lot of time out of the house this summer,” Glenda said one morning over breakfast. “What’s so fascinating about that forest, anyway?”

“Not much.”

“A lot of other kids play in there?”

“Yeah,” she lied.

“Well, you just be careful. It’s a big forest. Don’t wander off too far, you might get lost.”

The notion struck Kelly as bizarre. Watching Glenda’s back as the woman washed a plate at the sink, Kelly asked if anyone had ever gotten lost there. Without turning around, Glenda said, “My, yes. A long time ago. I was just a little girl. A brother and sister had gone off playing in the forest and had gotten lost.”

“Hansel and Gretel,” Kelly marveled.

“Very much so,” Glenda said, turning her head and half-smiling at Kelly. “That may have even been their names.”

“Did they leave a trail of bread crumbs to find their way home?”

“No,” Glenda said. “They never found their way home.”

Kelly was shocked into silence. She was still considering Glenda’s story when her mother came storming into the kitchen, a sour expression on her face. She slammed something down on the kitchen table hard enough to make Kelly jump. She heard Glenda drop a plate in the sink.

“Do you see this?” her mother demanded, brandishing what appeared to be one of her father’s stripped socks.

“Yes.”

“Do you know what it is?”

“A sock,” she said.

Her mother only stared, the expression on her face one of mounting fury. “Your father’s sock, Kelly. It belongs to your father.” Her mother threw the sock at her face and Kelly flinched. “Do you know where I found it?”

Now scared, Kelly shook her head.

“Take a guess, missy.”

“I don’t know.”

“In your room.” She emphasized each word, as if they were code for something else, something much more important than socks. “I found it in your room, on the floor by the window. Now,” she went on, bringing up her other hand and slamming that one down on the table, “do you know what this is?”

It was a second sock, different than the first.

Daddy’s sock, she wanted to say, knew the answer, but suddenly couldn’t speak. Her eyes refused to leave her mother’s face, which was growing hotter and redder with each passing second. Large creases had appeared across her forehead, and her teeth were pressed together so tight Kelly thought they might shatter at any second.

“Another sock,” explained her mother. “I saw this one after I found the one in your room. Do you know how I found it? Have any idea? I happened to glance out your window and saw it hanging from the roof.” She threw the second sock at her daughter. This time she didn’t flinch, didn’t even notice. “What in the world are you doing? Are you throwing goddamn socks out the window? For what purpose? Huh? Can you tell me? Go on—tell me.”

She shook her head, the arrival of tears blurring her vision.

“So what? You didn’t do this? No? So maybe it was someone else, right? Maybe someone else in the house went into your room and threw your father’s socks out the window. Is that it? Did I solve the case?”

“I didn’t do—”

Her mother’s hand shot out and smacked Kelly across the face. Pain exploded in her head and she nearly fell off the chair. Glenda, who had tried to remain as inconspicuous as possible, turned from the sink at the sound of the slap. Her face burning and her left ear ringing, Kelly brought her face back around to meet her mother’s. Fresh tears spilled down her cheeks.