The Forgotten Girl: Chapters 1–7

“When that happens, the witch is riding your back,” Daniel’s grandmother Suga would say every time she recounted a dream.

Iris tried hard to catch her father’s eyes, willing him to take her side, like he sometimes did when Iris asked for one more piece of cake, to read one more chapter of her book before bed, or to perform one more impromptu step show with Vashti for their parents.

Iris could go by herself, of course, but it wouldn’t be as fun without him.
Just as she contemplated this, she saw a light mimicking her own move across the branches.

Iris had agreed not to push Daniel to go on too many adventures if he’d just play with her outside during the first snow of the season. So he agreed—reluctantly, of course.

Covered in snow and out of breath, they dropped down to make snow angels on every inch of clear snow. They made so many, not even one was distinguishable anymore.

But in that little clearing, there was a fresh, untouched blanket of snow, calling her farther into the woods, just before that impenetrable wall of darkness.

The trees seemed to stand in anticipation under the pink-and-black snowy sky. Watching, waiting, so still as the snow touched the branches.

Their hands froze in midair, mimicking the angels’.

The trees stood tall and dark, ominously, as they passed by.

He lay in bed, wide-awake, listening to the occasional snore from his grandmother Suga in the room next to his. She slept soundly.

He felt afraid to get caught by their parents, of course, and he knew being in the woods at night was kind of dangerous—but he felt no qualms about being in what was probably a graveyard.

“Babies can talk to angels, you know.” Daniel didn’t always entertain Suga’s superstitions, but he quite liked that one.

He was withdrawn, not wanting to talk with his friends about why he felt sad sometimes—they didn’t know what to say anyway.

She and Daniel visited his father’s grave site regularly. It was always somber, but peaceful.

Iris looked up, incredulous, her knife midair.

Iris patted her back gingerly.

“Maybe they’re warning us to never go back,” he said, the ghost of a smile playing on his lips.
She glared at him.

Where Daniel thought his grandmother was weird and impractical, Iris revered her.

She was a little strange with all her superstitions, but Iris always thought they were so interesting, like relics of Suga’s past.

Or maybe, just maybe...they didn’t want that snooty, stupid school to be associated with her team.

“Okay, now stand over there,” she heard Vashti say, as if she were talking to a person. Iris scoffed. What was the doll going to do, walk?

The jumpy feeling Iris felt about the footprints outside coupled uncomfortably with a sad pang in the middle of her stomach.

Iris and Daniel’s project was going to be so different that it was bound to get noticed.

They turned onto their street, and Iris stared transfixed at the trees behind their neighbors’ houses, the bare branches curling around and up toward the gray sky.

With every gust of wind, the branches swung, beckoning her to the clearing.

The yearning to go back to the clearing was getting stronger.

Iris’s stomach lurched. Did she find out about them sneaking to the clearing?

She walked behind the couch, through the foyer, to the front door, and looked out of the window beside it.

“Can I go get it?” she prompted.

There were the hand- and footprints she and Daniel had made a few days ago, distorted in the ice, melting into one another, mixing with the mud underneath.

Everything seemed sharper around the edges. Stark.

While the hand- and footprints were warped, this snow angel was still perfect.

She had the sudden, overwhelming feeling that someone was right behind her, about to tap her shoulder.

“What are you laughing at? Who are you talking to?” Iris asked frantically.

The tree branches played their eerie song on her window, and Iris squeezed her eyes shut and prayed the spirits of the snow wouldn’t come for her tonight in her dreams.