Excerpt
andlt;bandgt;andlt;bandgt;oneandlt;/bandgt;andlt;/bandgt;andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;IT BEGAN AFTER midnight with a low hum, an electric buzz like that of a bass guitar string. The sound grew louder and I tried to cover my head with a pillow, but my arms, heavy with sleep, wouldnand#8217;t move.andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;I struggled to sit up; I was paralyzed. Frightened, I tried to call out, but my mouth wouldnand#8217;t move. An odd sensation began in my feet and traveled up my body, each nerve ending tingling with electric energy. andlt;iandgt;Stop!andlt;/iandgt; I thought. andlt;iandgt;Please stop!andlt;/iandgt;andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;andlt;iandgt;Anna. Let go.andlt;/iandgt;andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;It was a womanand#8217;s voice that spoke to me, a familiar voice, but I didnand#8217;t know where or when I had heard it. andlt;iandgt;Years ago,andlt;/iandgt; I thought. Struggling to recall the person, I momentarily forgot my fear.andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;The vibrations stopped, and I stood up. I was surrounded by darkness. In the distance an orange light shone. As I moved toward it, I heard a confusion of voices, people talking and laughing. The orange light flickered, and I heard crackling sounds. I could smell nowand#8212;acrid smoke. I was at a fire.andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;An object whistled close to my ears and exploded, glass against metal. A siren wailed. I heard feetand#8212;heard, rather than saw clearly, people running, panicking. I panicked too. I didnand#8217;t know who these people were or which way to turn, but instinct told me to get away from there. Then I heard someone else calling my name, a man this time. My uncle was calling to me from the fire.andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;andlt;iandgt;Anna, be careful.andlt;/iandgt;andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;There were more sirens, the wailing growing closer.andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;andlt;iandgt;Anna, be careful.andlt;/iandgt;andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;andlt;iandgt;Uncle Will?andlt;/iandgt; I answered, moving in the direction of his voice.andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;The fire surrounded me. I could see the flames like clothing on me, yet I felt no pain, no burning. I reached out my hand, then pulled it back in horror. I had seen through it. I slowly put out my left hand, then my right: They were transparent. Was I dead? Was it possible to die and not know it?andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;andlt;iandgt;Help!andlt;/iandgt; I called out. andlt;iandgt;Help! Uncle Will! I want to go home.andlt;/iandgt;andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;I was plucked out of the ghostly fire, reeled in like a fish. Opening my eyes, I found myself in bed at home. The two beds next to mine were empty.andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;and#8220;Grace? Claire?and#8221;andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;Silence.andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;Then I saw my suitcase and remembered: The twins, Jack, and Mom had left early that morning. I was alone. Next to my suitcase was a plastic bag filled with summer clothes, enough for two months away. I had been dreamingand#8212;andlt;iandgt;obviouslyandlt;/iandgt;and#8212;and yet I would have sworn that I had actually heard Uncle Willand#8217;s voice. A letter from him lay on top of my suitcase.andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;I knew the letter by heart, but I climbed out of bed and carried it to the window, pushing back the curtain, unfolding the paper to read by the orange light of a streetlamp.andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;andlt;iandgt;May 23andlt;/iandgt;andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;andlt;iandgt;Dear Anna,andlt;/iandgt;andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;andlt;iandgt;Would you visit us this summer? The sooner theandlt;BRandgt;better. Aunt Iris is doing poorly, and there areandlt;BRandgt;things I must tell you about your mother and ourandlt;BRandgt;family. I want to do so while I am stillandlt;BRandgt;clear-minded.andlt;/iandgt;andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;andlt;iandgt;Uncle Willandlt;/iandgt;andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;My uncleand#8217;s invitation had come as a surprise. Eighteen years ago, he and his sister, Iris, both single, had taken in my birth mother, who was pregnant with me. Joanna died in a violent robbery when I was three, and I continued to live with my great-aunt and great-uncle for two more years, before I was adopted by Kathryn, the only person I think of as and#8220;Mom.and#8221;andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;Since then, Great-Uncle Will had stayed in touch with me by traveling to Baltimore once a year. He didnand#8217;t like cities, but liked communicating by telephone and computer even less. I loved him and he loved me; still our conversations were awkward.andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;I never heard from Great-Aunt Iris. When I was older it was explained to me that she was not the most stable person in the worldand#8212;apparently she heard voices and claimed to be psychic. Until now I had never been asked back to the Oand#8217;Neill home on Marylandand#8217;s Eastrn Shoreand#8212;perhaps to protect me from bad memories of my birth motherand#8217;s death.andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;The truth was, I remembered Joanna only through her photos. andlt;iandgt;Myandlt;/iandgt; family was Jack, age seven; Grace and Claire, six; and our dog, Roseand#8212;all of us adopted by Mom, living in a skinny brick town house.andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;There were lots of days I had dreamed of escaping our crowded home; now, having achieved a college scholarship that would allow me to do that, I was getting sentimental over sticky hugs, dog hair, even the sharp little Barbie shoes and Matchbox cars left in my bed. I wanted to spend the summer with my family, but I felt I owed it to Uncle Will, and maybe to Aunt Iris, to visit.andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;Besides, I was curious. With my brain crammed full of chemistry and calculus, world history and lit, maybe it was time to learn something never asked on the SATs: who I was.andlt;BRandgt;andlt;BRandgt;and#169; 2010 Mary Claire Helldorfer