The Sisters of Nowhere

t w e n t y - t w o : s i l a s

They all scattered like ants--Birdie to put on her dancing skirt, Marigold to set up the record player, Wyatt to clear out the barn, and Ophelia to gather her emotions and fix her hair.

After their duties were done, they all gathered in the barn where Glenn Miller was striking up the band over the phonograph.

Birdie was quite pleased that several ghosts had wandered into the yard after hearing the commotion.

There was Miss Amelia, Greg Goodwin, three ghosts she didn't know the names of, and five new ones that must've just arrived from the clearing.

For once, their incessant complaining and mourning was put at ease by the festivities, where they watched silently but not unpleasantly.

Soon Marigold and Wyatt were performing a proper jitterbug to "In the Mood" while Birdie and Ophelia swung each other around, giggling and doing everything but the correct steps, all while an audience of ghosts nodded their ethereal heads and soundlessly clapped along to the music.

A Night to Remember, the sock hop's title would've read. And now Birdie was wondering if she'd still write about it--this dance including ghosts, three sisters, and a boy with a hole in his hand.

As she and Ophelia swung each other around, their steps teetering on the brink of danger, Birdie closed her eyes, absorbing the music and the breathless laughter and the energy trickling through her veins from all the ghosts surrounding them.

When she opened her eyes, she noticed her sisters doing the same. Getting lost in the moment.

And then she looked in the corner of the barn.

Where a boy stood, watching. There, but not there.

Birdie froze.

Ophelia toppled into her with a cry and fell onto her backside.

"What's the big idea?!" Ophelia pouted. "Now my dress is all--"

"Silas?" Marigold murmured, just loud enough to be heard over the music.

"I was hoping you'd figure out a way to get me back here again," he said, shoving his hands in his pockets and stepping out from the shadows.

Birdie took him in. She'd only seen him from afar, on the night they spied on Marigold in the clearing. There was an air about him that radiated from his body like heat from a paved road.

It was angry, troubled, violent.

Birdie remembered what they'd concluded at the library. He's up to no good, Wyatt had said.

The last song ended on the phonograph, leaving the record to spin on an empty needle.

Tik. Tik. Tik.

The barn fell silent.

Birdie licked her lips and said to the ghosts, "Thank you all for coming," then made a grand display of closing the phonograph.

The ghosts begrudgingly got the message and floated through the walls outside, though Birdie suspected they'd stick around to eavesdrop.

"Um, Silas, these are my sisters and Wyatt Best," Marigold said, gesturing around the room.

Ignoring her introductions, Silas said, "I know how you can summon the forest."

Marigold's eyes widened.

Wyatt and Birdie exchanged glances. His brow was bent low, worried, and if Birdie didn't know any better, she'd say that it looked as if Wyatt had seen this boy before. But he couldn't have.