The Green House

“Mom, I need you to come pick me up.”

I shivered as the dull, coldness of my phone screen left my cheek. The wind blanketed me as I watched each car leave the school. I tried not to look lonely and pretended to be fascinated by a pebble. Who knows when she would see the voicemail. Probably not until her shift at the hospital ends, which could be in five minutes or 12 hours. She wouldn’t be expecting this call, as I usually bike the 1.5 miles home. But it’s not like I planned to have my bike stolen. Who would want a rusty, red bike?

“You going to Oak and Ridge?” 

A colossal, yellow bus had parked in front of me, and an older woman was peering her sharp eyes at me.

“No.”

The old woman nodded and the bus slowly started up again. An assortment of faces were now looking at me from the window, but I looked back down at my pebble. This could probably be #6 on my “Top Ten Most Embarrassing Moments” list. More and more buses drifted by me, each one containing judgmental looks. I pretended not to notice and started a dirt pile with my sneaker. 

“Sweetheart, do you have a way home?” a voice called out from behind me.

I turned around to see Principal Smith inspecting me. She looked like she didn’t recognize me, not that I blame her. I seem to have this effect on people.

“Yes, I walk home,” I lied.

Principal Smith stood up straighter and nodded. I could tell she was waiting for me to start walking, as she can’t leave a student standing outside her school. I mentally said bye to my pebble and started walking away from her. Make this #3 on my list.

Relatively speaking, 1.5 miles isn’t that long, unless your walking. The temperature was 35°F maximum, and the sharp, chilly winds of October ripped into my sweatshirt. I tried to distract my body by looking at each house down the street. The big yellow one with the massive birch tree in the front. The smaller, yet still big red one with a basketball hoop. The blue one with a fence. The green one with a moving van. I watched the workers lug a giant bookshelf into the garage, as a small red-head ran out into the yard. She looked around 7 and wore one of those light pink dresses that girls wear on Easter. Except it was October. A tall blonde woman, presumably her mother, followed her out into the open. The mother narrowly watched the child, until her icy-blue eyes met mine. The wind made a shiver go down my back. I lowered my head and walked faster, I probably looked crazy.

“Hey! Hey!”

I turned back and saw the woman frantically waving her hand up. I stopped in my tracks and watched her scurry over to me.

“Hi! I’m Margaret, Margaret Toul!” 

She stuck her hand out to me, and I cautiously shook it. Her nails were painted red, and a diamond sat on her left ring finger. 

“Oh, hi. I’m Cassidy,” I gently responded.

“Well hello Cassidy! Sandy, come here and meet a new friend!” Margaret called out to the little girl. 

The little girl ran over to us and looked me up and down, and then looked at Margaret, as if for approval. After Margaret’s smile of consent, Sandy waved a sticky hand. 

“This is Sandy, my daughter. We just moved here, and I’m so glad we found a friend!” Margaret laughed.

I would hardly call us friends.

“Welcome to the neighborhood,” I stuttered out. 

Sandy’s face turned to boredom, and she ran back into the yard.

“Thanks for the welcome!” 

An awkward silence filled the air between us.

“I have been head over heels looking for someone to watch Sandy. You don’t happen to babysit, do you?” Margaret asked in a way that wasn’t a question.

“I guess so,” I inquisitively replied. Most people don’t ask me to babysit upon the greeting phase.

“That’s so great! I’m so glad I met you today! May I have your phone number?” she brightly chirped.

I reluctantly gave her my number, although she didn’t seem to notice my hesitation.

“This has been fantastic, I will be reaching out!” she informed me before heading over to Sandy.

I felt like glue on the sidewalk. I couldn’t seem to move for a few seconds. An eerie feeling rose through my gut as I watched Margaret grab Sandy’s hand. I slowly pivoted away and left my footsteps, and gut, behind me.

It was around 8 pm when I emailed Instagram. My account got hacked, and my password was changed. I probably shouldn’t have set up my account with my old school email. I was able to find out someone had logged into my account from New York, so probably not someone I know, being that I live in Rhode Island. 

Dear Instagram,

My account got hacked, can I set up with a new email now? 

This was probably the worst email they have ever received. 

A ding erupted off my phone, Margaret. 

Hi Cassidy! Tomorrow night, I need someone to watch Sandy for a few hours! You up for this challenge?

I rolled my eyes, who say’s “up for this challenge”? A weird feeling drove through my stomach again, what was wrong? People always say “trust your gut” and stuff like that, but what could my gut want to tell me? Maybe it was just the awkwardness from our first meeting. Besides, Sandy seemed like an easy child to watch.

Hi Margaret, Tomorrow sounds great.

The walk to school was even worse at 7 am. I tugged my gloves further up my arm and pulled my hood up. Mom had gotten home late last night, but I didn’t want to bother her so early in the morning. Besides, 1.5 miles isn’t that long. I watched Margaret and Sandy’s house as I walked by. They were probably awake somewhere in their house, maybe eating breakfast. I should probably start eating breakfast too. My sneakers crunched on top of the amber leaves on the sidewalk, and the sky was starting to light up with the Sun. 

The school started to come into view, and I scurried onto the steps. The buses had already pulled in, and the mass of cars slowly drizzled out. A shorter, brunette girl was holding the door open, and I quickly went to grab it. Her green eyes met mine and she timidly let go of the cool, silver door handle. I held onto the feeling of the doorknob and entered the school. I let the warm heat of the school wrap around me, as my phone tingled in my gloved hand. It was a reminder from the night before, about babysitting Sandy.

★★★

I lightly pressed the doorbell and waited about 0.7 seconds before I heard quick footsteps.

“Cassidy, so glad you’re here! Come in!” Margaret welcomed.

I gently stepped into the green house and peered around. There were a few pictures of Sandy hung up, and a weird blue vase on a small table. A large clock was mounted above the entry way to the kitchen, and a massive staircase sat in the center. Margaret motioned for me to follow her, and we entered the kitchen.

The kitchen was a baby-blue shade, and flowers were all over the room. A box of Kraft mac and cheese stood on the counter, and a small cup of crayons and paper were littered across the table. From Margaret’s ring on her left ring finger, I had assumed she was married, although there were no signs of anyone but her and Sandy.

“Sandy is just changing into pajamas right now, but she’ll be down soon. I made some dinner in the fridge, which you can just microwave. I should be back around 10 pm, and all emergency contacts are on the fridge. Feel free to watch whatever and eat whatever you want, and Sandy goes to sleep at 8 pm. Text me with any questions,” she instructed in one breath, like a motor.

“Ok, great,” I stiffly responded.

Margaret called bye to Sandy, and started slipping these expensive-looking black boots on. She stood up to leave, before turning back around.

“One last thing, my bedroom and the basement are off-limits. I have a work project going on,” she smiled.

I nodded and she looked into my eyes before leaving. Talk about creepy.

I heard a scamper of footsteps running down, and looked up to Sandy. Sandy’s red hair was dripping with water and she smelled like flowery soap. She was wearing a simple blue nightgown, and had pink bunny slippers.

“Hello!” she exclaimed. 

“Hi, do you want dinner?” I asked her, mentally hoping she would just say yes.

“No, let’s play a game!” she replied to my annoyance. I looked up at the clock, only 6:30.

“Only for 30 minutes, okay?”

Sandy nodded and led me to the kitchen. I quickly scanned the list of numbers on the fridge- doctor’s, police, Margaret’s, and one with no label on it, but started with 585. 

“What about hide-and-seek?” she excitedly asked. Before I could answer, she shut her eyes and started counting. Taking my cue, I quickly left the room.

I was now in what I assumed was the living room, yellow-coated with two green couches. I quickly ducked between the two couches, and scanned the room. In general, this house was pretty organized. I ran my fingers through the soft carpet until I heard an all too familiar run. Sandy appeared around the corner and pointed at me.

“I found you! That was so easy!” Sandy cheered.

“I guess so,” I remarked.

“My turn!”

Before I could stop her, Sandy ran from the room. I decided to check out this room instead of counting. I looked at the wall of photos, none of which had Sandy. Margaret was in most of these, sometimes with a blonde man. Maybe her husband. Margaret’s also seemed to have a similar looking brunette sister, who was also widely featured. I turned to the bookshelf, and pulled out one of the books. The book turned out to be a photo album, and I flipped open the cover. Sandy was scribbled on the front, and a baby with a few wisps of chestnut hair and blue eyes looked up at me. Before I could flip through the pages, I realized my 10 seconds was way over. Quickly shutting the album, I left for the stairs.

I walked into a small, blue bathroom and lifted the shower curtain. No Sandy. I looked behind the toilet and noticed a small trash can, in the shape of an elephant. It wasn’t the elephant that caught my attention, but what was inside. 

A small map of the neighborhood, with a highlighted path going down the streets.

Maybe she just wanted to see the layout of the neighborhood before moving in. Or maybe she was making a running trail. Tons of people do this.

I heard a small laugh, so I quickly followed the tone into a pink room. The pink room held a small twin bed and a vanity, with princess decals on the wall. I bent down under the bed, meeting Sandy’s green eyes.

“Cheater!” she yelled before running out of the room.

I chased her down the stairs, her red hair floating in the air. She led me to a new, unexplored part of of the house. Sandy scampered down the hall and ripped open a door. The door held a staircase protected by a white-baby gate. Except the baby gate was unlocked. 

“Sandy don’t-” I called out, remembering Margaret’s words about the basement. Sandy’s eyes met mine, with an unexpected emotion coming from them. It wasn’t excitement, it was more melancholy. Something tried to grab me, some force, but I followed Sandy. Once I had gotten half-way down the stairs, Sandy stopped and looked up at me.

“Sandy-” I huffed, out of breath, until I saw Margaret’s work project. 

My red bike.