Finding Alice by Melody Carlson

Author:Melody Carlson [Carlson, Melody]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 978-0-307-55283-9
Publisher: The Doubleday Religious Publishing Group
Published: 2011-11-02T04:00:00+00:00

chapter TWENTY-THREE

Simon Says

As Simon drives up the hill, I try to calm myself by pretending that we are just playing a game, convincing myself that none of this is real. I hope this will help shush Amelia’s irksome heckling. My game is like Simon says, and this is how it goes. Whatever Simon does or says, I decide that I will simply imitate him. Then perhaps I will appear normal, and it will go well for me. If not, well, maybe I can make a fast break and get away before he notices.

“They say it might snow,” Simon says as he slows down for another curve.

I nod. “Looks like it could snow.”

“It’d be fun to have a white Christmas. I don’t think we’ve had one in years.”

I shake my head. “A white Christmas? Not in years.”

He glances at me with what appears to be suspicion, and I wonder if I should think about jumping now.

“Are you nervous?” he asks.

“Nervous?” I echo.

“About being with me?”

I look at him and wonder how I could possibly explain all the various thoughts and feelings and voices that are continually pummeling my mind. Then I remember my game. “Are you nervous about being with me?” I stare at him now, wondering if I might actually be able to turn the tables and make him uncomfortable for a change.

He chuckles. “No, you don’t make me nervous.”

I sit up straighter. “Well, you don’t make me nervous either.” I notice he’s slowed to a stop now, and I turn to see that we’re passing some sort of a wrought-iron gate. On closer look, it appears to be some kind of security fence! My heart pounds within my chest like the Saab’s engine straining up the last hill we just crossed. Not again!

“What’s going on?” I reach for the door handle, but it’s too late. He’s already inside, and the gates are closing behind us. Why, it’s like they were expecting him! I fumble to undo my seat belt and move closer to the door, grabbing the handle, ready to bolt.

“What’s wrong?” he asks as he continues to drive toward a tall brick building that looks much too large to be a private home. He’s only going about fifteen miles per hour; I’m sure I could easily survive the fall.

“Where are you taking me?” I think I might actually be shrieking now, but I no longer care about games or pretense. He stops the car in the middle of the driveway and turns to look at me.

“This is the Golden Home,” he explains in a calm voice. “It’s where I work. I intern here with Dr. Golden, and I was supposed to come up here to help his wife decorate for the—”

“But why are you bringing me here?” I demand as tears fill my eyes.

“To help me.” He looks slightly hurt. “Did you think I was bringing you up here for some other reason?”

I glare at him. “I know you’re trying to get me away from your aunt. My mother probably called you and told you I’m crazy.

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