TITLE: A QUESTION OF FAITH
GENRE: YA Paranormal
Our attic door is always padlocked, but on this late Friday afternoon, the stairs descend into the hallway like a lolling tongue from a dark mouth. Before I can climb the steps, a filled white trash bag, and then another, lands at my feet. I jump back in surprise. "Oh!"
Mom hurries down the attic stairs, a plume of dust following her. "Crystal, what are you doing here? I thought you were going to the library."
Crud, my chance to finally get a glimpse inside the attic is thwarted by Mom, the attic ninja.
I huff and cross my arms. "I wanted to see—"
"Can you take these bags to the kitchen for me?" Mom forces a smile and hands me the bags. With a jerk, she turns her back to me, lifts the ladder steps, and locks the attic door.
Maybe she’s hiding my birthday present up there. I turn sixteen on Monday. But that doesn't explain why she's never let me in the attic.
Downstairs, I drop the bags near back door. Although bulky, the bags are surprisingly light. Wonder what's inside them.
Leaning against the counter, I teeter the half-filled swinging-basket. A not quite ripe, fresh-smelling apple rolls out. As I place it on top of the other fruit, Mom enters the kitchen.
She brushes strands of dyed strawberry blonde hair behind her shoulder with her small fingers, and dust drifts onto her golf shirt. "I'm sorry for snapping. You just surprised me."
"What were you doing?"