A light-brown wall curved over the top of a wooden door, enclosing a courtyard, where bricks fit together in patterns to make the floor. A few trees stood in the back, huge, with rough trunks, and thick branches sprouting light green leaves curved into sharp points.
The same thick, brown stuff formed the walls of the house, softly curved, like the half-melted battlements of a sandcastle. The bright-blue doorframe around the carved wooden double door provided the one bit of color on the entire house.
Our late arrival home surprised Mom and Dad, still unpacking.
“Good grief! How far did you go? And what is wrong with your face?”
“Just up to the river. Not any farther. Just like you said.” Jack flopped down on the cool brick floor the instant I took his harness off.
I ran into the bathroom and burst out laughing. Smears of dried black mud covered my face. The pattern of my handprints wrapped up the side of my cheeks and up around my eyes. I scrubbed it off, and went back to the living room.
They looked at each other, with that parental glance that never means well. I cut in again, before they could get started.
“I did just like you said. It’s a perfectly safe path. And there were other people around, jogging and bicycling and stuff, so it’s not like we explored the middle of nowhere. Besides, I had Jack with me.”
We looked down at him, sprawled flat, tongue lolling out of his mouth.
“And I’ve got lots of questions.” Questions are always the best way to deflect my folks, so I poured them out in a rush, in the hope that at least a couple would catch their attention.
“How old is the irrigation canal, anyway? Did you know people have sheep and chickens and horses around here? Isn’t there some sort of rule about farm animals in a city? And what’s the big wooded area by the river? Can we get Jack a sheep for Christmas? I think he’d really like one.”
“The area by the river is called the Bosque, the Spanish word for woods, and most of it in Albuquerque and around the city is a nature reserve.”
Mom cut Dad off before he got going. “A sheep? You want to get Jack a sheep for Christmas? Why?”
“Just a little one? I don’t think he’d try to eat it or anything, just run in circles around it, and herd it and . . . whatever it is border collies do. I’ll bet he’s really good at herding.”
Mom started shaking her head.
“Please? Wouldn’t a sheep even keep the grass short? No more mowing.” Dad hates mowing the lawn. I do it sometimes, and I hate mowing too.
Mom and Dad looked amused. I heaved a sigh of relief, amused meant I had distracted them from the worry. “We’ll talk about it closer to the holidays. By the end of the summer you can put together a report on what types of sheep would be suitable as a companion for Jack.” Dad moved to the next room to get another box out. I leaned against the wall. Typical of him to assign homework. I think he’s been teaching for too long. Someday I’ll learn.
Mom came over and put her arms around me. She used to be able to rest her chin on my head, but I’ve gotten too tall. I think it bothers her that I’m almost as tall as she is. Honestly, it bothers me too.
“Don’t think you’ve completely distracted your father, dear.” She dropped a quick kiss on my forehead. “Now come help me put away the dishes, will you? Your father started arranging his books, and I’ll never dig him out.”
The next morning, fright took the scream from my throat. I rolled over to look out the window to see what sort of day it would be, and nearly screamed. A face peered in at me, framed on either side with outstretched hands pressed against the glass. I jerked out of bed, but the face was gone by the time I reached the window, no smears left on the glass, nothing.
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Mirror of Stone Page 23
