The Young City: The Unwritten Books by Bow James

Author:Bow, James [Bow, James]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: JUV000000, JUV016160, JUV037000
Publisher: Dundurn
Published: 2008-11-20T16:00:00+00:00

Rosemary rolled over in her sleep. Her arm flopped out and dangled off the edge of the bed. It took her a moment to realize what was wrong with that. She felt around the covers. “Peter?”

No response.

She fumbled for her glasses and sat up. She peered into the dim, moonlit room. “Peter?” She was alone.

She slumped back into bed and closed her eyes, but she couldn’t stop her mind whirling back over their argument. She pictured Peter standing before her, grinning inanely. “You know, Rosemary, when life hands you a lemon, you make lemonade.”

“What if life hands you sand?”

“You make glass.”

“What about broken glass?”

The picture shattered. She saw Peter glaring at her, hurt. “I know you hate it here, but what choice do we have?”

She didn’t know, but her points stood. They might belong together, but they didn’t belong here.

She lay back and stared at the dark ceiling. No sleep here. She rolled onto her side and stared at the wall. Her mind whirled over the moon shadows on the patterned wallpaper. She rolled onto her stomach and tried to breathe through her pillow. It smelled of him.

She sat up again, hugging her knees to her chest. After a moment, she threw off the covers and slipped out of bed.

In the darkness, she stumbled into the water bucket. It clattered, but didn’t splash. The bottom was no more than damp.

“Oh yeah,” she muttered. Peter usually filled it. “Silly me.”

She pulled a shawl from the clothes screen and wrapped it around herself. Slipping out of the bedroom, she tiptoed past Faith’s door, silent on her bare feet.

As she descended the steps to the kitchen, new sounds invaded her thoughts. She slowed, listening.

She wasn’t wrong. She heard the hiss of something flat and heavy being dragged. It stopped with a thud and a choked-off curse.

Rosemary overbalanced and grabbed the railing. She righted herself, but couldn’t stop from putting her foot solidly on the next step. It creaked. The voice below hushed.

Silence stretched as two sets of ears listened to each other. Then, in the kitchen below, footsteps turned and hustled away. A door clicked shut.

Rosemary crept down the remaining steps and stumbled into the now-empty kitchen. Peering around in the moonlight, she turned and walked right into a wooden box. She doubled over on top of it. Then she pushed away, glaring at the box and rubbing her belly.

The box was a crate made of planks. Words were stencilled on each side, impossible to read in the moonlight. She tried to lift the lid, but the top was nailed down.

The door to the basement sailed open. Rosemary leapt back. She gasped in relief when she recognized the shadow. “Edmund! You startled me!”

“What are you doing here?” he growled.

“Couldn’t sleep,” she replied. “Thought I’d come down for a glass of water. You?”

He hesitated and swallowed, then came forward into the moonlight. “Couldn’t sleep either. I thought I would work.”

They leaned on the box across from each other. Rosemary tapped the planks. “This your work?”

He nodded.

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