My childhood was another life entirely. Who I am now and who I was then are like strangers passing on the sidewalk—one sometimes glancing at the other with a glint of recognition, only to look away and continue on…

  —Simon Thornwood

  Later that afternoon, there was a knock at Sadie’s bedroom door. She didn’t answer, already knowing it was Eli. She lay unmoving between her red-and-brown sheets, staring—as she had done for the last two hours—at a single spot on the water-stained ceiling. Outside, the storm had built into a real rager: the wind was howling, the trees were creaking, the thunder was booming, and the rain was sideways.

  But Sadie did not hear it, or care at all.

  She was trying, desperately, to make sense of what had happened to her in the sewer.

  Her shaking had stopped only about half an hour ago, and her heart had finally settled back down into a normal rhythm. But the image of the thing’s face kept flashing through her mind. Over and over again.

  Because the thing’s face, was her face.

  When it had turned toward her, it was like staring into a mirror. For one fleeting moment, Sadie and her reflection were perfectly in sync—until the thing rolled away again, off the ledge, and into the abyss beyond the bars.

  Could this be what the dream had meant all along? Did she get her wish? Had she found herself? Her dream-self had seemed so good. But the thing she saw in the sewer? It was awful. Evil, even. And not just because of the darkness of that foul place. It felt evil, in a way she couldn’t even start to explain.

  Another knock. The door cracked open, and Eli cautiously poked his head in.

  “Hey...” he began, unusually hesitant. “So...what happened down there?”

  Sadie was silent, ignoring him.

  “Sis—” he hadn’t called her that in ages—“Seriously, what happened? You didn’t look good when you came out of that hole.” He spoke with the slightest lisp, as he had done since he was little.

  “It doesn’t matter,” she said, and rolled away, turning her back on him.

  She felt oddly exposed with him there, as if he might somehow sense her resemblance to the hideous thing from the sewer. The thought made her stomach churn.

  “Come on,” Eli pressed. “Just tell me. You still look freaked out.”

  “Go away.”

  “Okay, whatever.” With a sigh, he turned away, pulling the door closed behind him.

  “Eli.”

  “Yeah?” He poked his head back in.

  “Don’t tell anyone.”

  He nodded. “I won’t,” he said. His tone surprised her. She guessed he might be going easier on her because it was her birthday. Then he closed the door quietly, leaving her alone again.

  Sadie lay motionless, waiting for the sound of Eli’s footsteps to fade into silence. When it was quiet again, she reached down into the space between her bed and the wall. Her hand found the dirty, water-stained envelope she had taken from the sewer. “Sadie Samuels” was scribbled across the front—and it smelled, frankly, like hell. She held it away from her as she carefully tore it open.

  Inside was a folded square of paper like flattened origami. One side of it was dotted with colors: green, yellow, blue, and red.

  She turned it over and over, inspecting it from every angle. Suddenly, it came to her what it was—it was a cootie catcher, one of those dumb fortune-telling toys from her childhood.

  Remembering now, she pushed the corners out, returning it to its original shape: four pointed flaps, each with its own color. On the inner folds, numbers one through eight were scrawled in childlike, chaotic handwriting.

  She lifted the flap beneath the numbers one and two. Beneath each was written a “fortune” and a strange symbol.

  The fortune for number one read, “If Shirley sinks and Sally floats, then surely Sally talks to goats.” Beneath it was a complicated symbol that she didn’t recognize.

  The fortune beneath number two was more unnerving: “The downside is Up the tower. The upside is You’ll be devoured.” Beneath it was a symbol that reminded her simultaneously of a dead spider and a broken weathervane.

  A chill ran up her spine.

  Inside the envelope, she found something else: a note written on a scrap of spiral-bound notebook paper. The handwriting was big and uneven, the kind only a child could produce.

  To ME,

  Do you member the longings for the labrinth? I member when we played outside. It was fun. And the maze was with us. I always wanted to go in but you were scarred. I said, when your older maybe you will have more bravery and we can go in together. Now your older! And dont have to be scarred anymore. I made you this. It will help you. Don’t be afraid of it. Its how you will learn to get threw. I always wanted to be a labrinth runner when I grow up, even though you dint know what that was. But hell teach you. He wants you to find him. Just use it. And what comes out will be scarry sometimes but sometimes you have to do things you don’t want to get what you want.

  I missed you all this time and cant wait to see you.

  Loooove,

  YOU!!!!

  Sadie stared at the page addressed to “ME.” If it hadn’t been written in the oversized, blocky scrawl of a child, it would have sounded like the ramblings of a madman. Yet, as unsettling as the letter was, there was a real sincerity in it that brought her a strange comfort.

  She read it again and again, tracing the words with her fingers as if the act would connect her to the writer. Whoever had written the note—whoever had tied it to the fishing line and left it in the sewer—seemed to know her. And that made her feel...not watched, but seen.

  Picking up the cootie catcher again, she slid her fingers into its folds, working it open and closed with a familiarity that tugged at old memories. When she was younger, she and her friends had spent entire lunch breaks playing with these silly paper games. Asking the same questions over and over again: Will Jake ask me to the school carnival? Will I be rich when I grow up? Am I getting a puppy for Christmas? But this cootie catcher felt different. The strange rhymes, the symbols—everything about it whispered of something deeper, something powerful. You didn’t ask this cootie catcher about boyfriends and puppies. This one only answered questions like, What will the end of the world look like?

  It was all too weird.

  She was almost relieved when she heard her mom calling her down for dinner.

  Sadie tucked the cootie catcher under her mattress and took a moment to compose herself. Eli wasn’t going to say anything, so she just had to play it cool, and no one would ever know that anything had happened down in the sewer at all.

  In the kitchen, she found her dad standing at the stove, flipping burgers with a ridiculous grin on his face, while her mom tried to light the half-melted candles on the cake. There were even a few presents stacked on the table, one of them shaped suspiciously like the knee-high boots she had asked for.

  I guess at least that’s worth coming down for, she thought.

  As soon as she entered the room, her dad broke into an earsplittingly tone-deaf rendition of, “Happy birthday to yooooo, happy birthday dear Saaaadiiiieeee...”

  She grimaced, plugging her ears. “Thanks, Dad.”

  “You deserve it, punkin.” He grinned.

  She sat down at the table as her dad handed around plates of burgers and her mom passed out plates of cake and ice cream. The four of them ate in silence as the storm continued to rage outside, lightning flashing a constant play of flickering shadows on the walls.

  Sadie watched as her dad took a bite of frosting and made a sound that was something between a dying yak and a broken foghorn.

  “Please stop that,” she said, “You’re making me want to throw up.”

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  “Whatever you say, birthday girl,” he said affably.

  After a beat of silence, he suddenly made a face, grabbed his napkin, and spat into it. He held the napkin out, the wet gob exposed for their inspection.

  “Candle wax,” he explained.

  Eli and Sadie shook their heads in unison.

  The meal fell back into silence. Sadie toyed with her fork, dragging it through the frosting on her plate. They rarely sat down together like this anymore, and it showed. No one seemed to know what to say.

  Once again, her dad broke the silence, this time frowning out the window at the rain pouring off the roof. “Looks like we’ll have to call Seymour again,” he said. “The gutter must be clogged.”

  “Who’s Seymour?” her mom asked.

  “The rain gutter guy,” Eli answered.

  “Ah,” said her mom. “Is he the one with the--”

  “Giant mole on the side of his nose,” Eli grinned, “Yeah, that’s him.”

  “You know,” said her mom, “I always wonder how someone with a thing like that doesn’t just—”

  “Hey, when I was younger, did I have an imaginary friend? Or something like that?”

  The table went quiet, all eyes all at once turned on Sadie. She looked down at her plate, suddenly acutely uncomfortable. What the hell? she said to herself, Why did you say that?

  “Imaginary friend?” Her mom’s face wrinkled into her thoughtful look. She glanced at her dad, who only shrugged, silenced by a huge mouthful of cake.

  “No,” said her mom, finally. “I don’t remember anything like an imaginary friend when you were little—no, wait!” her mom exclaimed suddenly, “You know, there was a time when you had an imaginary twin—you talked to her all the time—people thought you were a little...you know.” She twirled a finger around her ear. “Then one day, you suddenly went quiet, and I asked where your twin was, and you said she left. You told me she went into the labyrinth.”

  Sadie blinked. “Into the labyrinth?”

  “That’s what you said.” Mom nodded. “For a while, I was worried you might try to follow her, but you never showed any interest. Why do you ask?”

  Sadie shrugged again. “Just wondering what I was like when I was a kid.”

  Her mind was churning. An imaginary twin? And she didn’t remember anything about it? It felt like she was being told about someone else’s childhood.

  Mom smiled fondly. “You were an imaginative kid. Always off in your own little world. It was like you had this private universe no one else could touch.” She chuckled. “Oh, and you loved to dance. You lived in that tutu of yours. I don’t know how you got it so dirty, but one day it was just ruined. Had to throw it away—secretly, of course.”

  Sadie only half-listened.

  “Speaking of dancing,” Mom started again, “What about the school dance? Are you going, Eli?”

  Of course, it wouldn’t even cross her mind that Sadie might want to go to the dance. Thank God for that, Sadie thought.

  Eli made a face. “Not sure yet,” he said, clearly uncomfortable. Then, with a mischievous glint in his eye, he added, “But I heard someone asked Sadie.”

  Sadie’s fork froze in mid-air. Her head whipped toward Eli, eyes narrowing into a death-glare.

  “Really?” her mom perked up, her surprise obvious. She seemed almost happy—probably the last reaction Sadie wanted. “Who was it, Sadie?”

  Sadie didn’t respond. Her eyes locked onto the plate in front of her as various scenarios of vengeance against her brother played out in her head.

  “Clark Thompson,” Eli said with a smirk.

  “Clark Thompson!” her mom exclaimed, her mouth forming an exaggerated ‘O’ of surprise.

  “I’ve talked to Clark once or twice,” her dad chimed in, scooping up another bite of cake. “Seems like a good-natured boy. I like him.” He nodded in approval. “Good for you, Sadie.”

  Mom practically beamed. “That’s right! I’ve only heard good things about Clark. Such a gentleman when he came over with Eli’s friends.” She clapped her hands. “Oh, you’ll want to pick out a dress soon! All the good ones will be gone if you wait too long. How about we go tomorrow after the parade? You can pick anything you like, and—”

  “I told him no.”

  Her mom’s enthusiasm evaporated instantly, like water on a griddle. She stared at Sadie, as if the idea of her daughter rejecting a boy like Clark was a crime against nature. A strangled “Oh,” was all she could manage.

  The silence lingered for a moment until her dad swallowed his cake. “How come?”

  “Because I didn’t want to go,” Sadie shrugged, “Why do you care?”

  “It takes a lot of courage for a young man to ask a girl out,” Dad said, his tone sharpening. “I just think it’s a little rude to reject someone unless it’s for a reason.”

  “I gave you a reason!” she snapped, “Leave me alone!”

  “Okay, let’s talk about something else,” her mom interjected, “If you don’t want to go, then you don’t have to, Sadie.”

  But her dad wasn’t ready to let it go. “You’re not going to marry him, Sadie. It’s just one night out. A boy worked up the courage—”

  “I’M. NOT. GO-ING!” Sadie cut him off, slamming her fork onto the table with a clang.

  Meanwhile, Eli sat back, clearly enjoying the spectacle.

  “Young lady,” her dad began, his brows furrowing deeply. His tone carried more than frustration—it was the weight of something that had been building for a long time. “Your mother and I worry about you. About what your future is going to look like. It might not seem like a big deal to you, but—”

  “IT ISN’T A BIG DEAL! IT’S A STUPID DANCE!” Sadie shouted, her voice trembling with emotion.

  Her mom placed her hand over her dad’s. “Let’s not do this now,” she said, almost pleading.

  But before her dad could respond, a huge clap of thunder cut him off, followed by a blinding flash of lightning. For a moment, the yard was illuminated brighter than the inside of the house. Sadie’s eyes darted to the window.

  “Who’s that?” There was a figure standing in their front yard.

  “Hey, yeah—someone’s out front,” Eli said, leaning to get a better look.

  The lightning faded, darkness returned. A knock came at the door.

  Her dad got up to answer it. He swung the door open and smiled. “Hello, Alex. Fine evening for a walk, isn’t it?”

  The sheriff stood on the porch, rain dripping off the brim of his hat.

  “Hello, Mike. Carla.” He nodded at Sadie’s mom, who had joined them at the door.

  “Is everything all right?” she asked, her voice tinged with worry.

  Sadie’s heart jumped. She looked at Eli, expecting he had snitched about the sewer.

  But Eli shook his head, genuinely clueless.

  “Everything’s fine,” the sheriff said, “Nothing to worry about. I just wanted to talk to Sadie for a minute.”

  “To Sadie?” Her mom turned to look at her, but Sadie was stone-faced.

  “Yes. Just for a minute.”

  “Oh, sure. Well, come on in.” Her dad stepped aside and waved the sheriff in.

  “Thanks, Mike.” The sheriff stepped inside, removing his hat.

  “The three of us will be upstairs,” Her dad said, gesturing to himself, Mom, and Eli. “Just give a shout if you need us.”

  “I’ll just be a minute,” Sheriff Lynn confirmed, his voice calm. He turned to Sadie, “It’s just a few questions, Sadie. Nobody’s in trouble.”

  Mom cast a worried look back at Sadie as they left the room, but Sadie ignored her, her eyes now locked on the sugary mess on the plate in front of her.

  The sheriff pulled out a chair and sat directly across from Sadie. His kind but probing eyes made her squirm in her seat.

  “Looks like it’s someone’s birthday,” he said, a crooked smile softening his weathered face. “Whose is it?”

  “Mine.”

  “Well, happy birthday,” Sheriff Lynn said.

  “Thanks.” She picked up a forkful of frosting, then put it down again.

  “Do you know why I’m here, Sadie?”

  She shrugged. “No.”

  “I don’t think that’s true,” he said gently.

  She looked up, met his eyes for a split second, and knew that he knew already.

  She sighed. “I went down a hole. Big deal. Who told you?”

  “One of the boys.”

  “Which one?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” he replied. “Look, Sadie, you’re not in trouble. I just want to get the story from you. The boy I spoke with said you looked really upset when you came out. Is that true?”

  “No, it’s not true,” she said, desperately trying to keep the edge in her wavering voice. “He’s an idiot. I went down the hole, I came back up, nothing happened.”

  The sheriff nodded, his voice softening. “Okay. Then why are you crying?”

  She froze, feeling the single tear run down her cheek.

  “Sadie.” He leaned forward. “What happened down there?”

  The question hung heavy in the air for a second, and the weight of it came crashing down.

  “I don’t know!” And then something inside her was pushing the words out, she couldn’t stop them—“I saw...something. Something that couldn’t...something that didn’t make sense. ” Her tears flowed freely now. She picked up a crumpled napkin and tried to press them back.

  “What did you see, Sadie?”

  “I saw—” She stopped. “You’re going to think I’m freaking crazy.”

  “No, I’m not. What did you see?”

  “I saw...” She took a deep breath, like a person about to jump off into the deep end, “I saw—myself.”

  Sheriff Lynn blinked, his demeanor suddenly changing. “It looked like you? What do you mean?”

  “It was a dead body, I think,” Sadie said, her voice cracking. “But it looked like me. I don’t know how else to say it.”

  “All right. Where was this body, exactly?” His face had paled, the crooked smile was gone.

  “It was on the other side of some bars,” Sadie said, “It was laying on a kind of ledge.”

  “What made you think it was a real person?”

  The question surprised her. “I...I don’t know. I—I saw its eyes. Its eyes were open.” Sadie whispered, her voice barely audible.

  “Sadie. Why didn’t you report this?” There was something in his voice that scared her. Not anger. More like...fear. Why would he be afraid?

  “I—” She was confused now. Why didn’t she report it? Wouldn’t any sane person have reported a dead body?

  “Was someone else there? Did someone threaten you?”

  She shook her head. “No, it was just me.”

  “And that’s all you saw?” Sheriff Lynn pressed. “Did you see anything else?”

  Sadie paused for a heartbeat, debating whether to tell him about the envelope, the letter, and the cootie catcher. But she shook her head. “No.”

  Then she looked up at him, and for once, the hard mask had dropped. “I’m sorry,” she said, “I’m really sorry.”

  The sheriff nodded, the crooked smile returned. “You made a mistake,” he said, “I’m just glad you weren’t hurt. That manhole was sealed for a reason—and now you know why.”

  She nodded, wiping her cheeks. Her hand came away white and black, and she knew her makeup was a mess. She looked up at him again, asked the question she was afraid to know the answer to. “Do you think it was real? What I saw down there?”

  “Well, I’m about to go find out,” he said, and stood up. He called upstairs, “We’re all done here.”

  Sheriff Lynn left, and to Sadie’s surprised relief, her mom and dad didn’t bring up the incident, following his suggestion to let it rest for now. They seemed to agree that Sadie was shaken enough as it was.

  Exhausted, Sadie went to her room and climbed into bed, pulling the covers all the way up under her chin, thinking about the letter and the cootie catcher hidden beneath her.