The Eighth Day by Dianne K. Salerni

Publishers
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13
    EVANGELINE BIT HER LIP and scrutinized the thing on the kitchen stoop, trying to decide if it was supposed to be a kobold or a goblin. Whatever it was, it was surrounded by poisonous toadstools, and the pun on the sign was practically a crime against humor .
    She assumed the note added to this strange item was meant for her. Mrs. Unger knew who he was. Evangeline put her hands on her hips and wondered what in the world New Boy was thinking, leaving kobolds on her stoop and pushing notes through the mail slot suggesting she “hang out” and “have a soda.”
    He didn’t seem to realize she was a prisoner, living a lifetime sentence for a crime committed by others—first, by her race in general, then, by her father individually .
    In spite of this, Evangeline had to admit that Red had treated her decently over the last eight months—or four and a half years, depending on whether one was counting by her viewpoint or his. Sometimes, he was even friendly .
    One day the winter before last, she’d awakened to the surprise ofnew snow. Light flakes had been falling from the sky, so it must have been snowing at the moment of change. There was never any accumulation on an eighth day—only so much snow could fall in a sliver of real time—but Evangeline loved that rare sensation of flakes landing on her face, like cold kisses .
    She hadn’t left the house while Red was home, shying away from the chance of meeting him, but when she heard his motorcycle leave, she dug in the closet for Mrs. Unger’s galoshes and wool coat. She’d burst out the back door, and that was when she’d seen three snowmen in a row on the property line, facing the Unger house. Each one had a branch sticking straight up from its shoulder, as if waving. Hello. Hello. Hello .
    Laughing, Evangeline had pulled all the stones and carrot nubs out of their faces. By the time Red came back, Evangeline had returned to the house. She’d obscured her footsteps in the snow with a broom, and the snowmen were facing the other way, waving at Red’s house. Hello back. Hello back. Hello back .
    That little lark and an occasional basket of cookies was the limit of friendliness she allowed between herself and the boy next door, no matter how lonely she’d gotten in her five years of isolation. He had chosen to treat her honorably, but the history between their two families made things . . . awkward .
    After closing the door on New Boy’s weird kobold, Evangeline made herself breakfast and cleaned up as she went along, making sure the only evidence of her meal was the mysterious disappearance of one egg, one slice of bread, and one tea bag. Outside and next door, a voice bellowed, “Jax?” Evangeline peered around the edge of thecurtain in the kitchen window. Red stomped down his front steps and into the yard. New Boy’s bicycle was gone from its usual spot, and Red turned in a circle, noting its absence. He paced up and down the length of the yard, then turned toward the Unger house and made a shrugging gesture as if to say, I don’t know where the darn boy’s gone .
    He couldn’t see her, but he assumed she was watching. That was a little conceited of him, but she usually was watching. What else did she have to do?
    When Evangeline heard the motorcycle depart a little while later, she slipped a weapon into the back pocket of her jeans—just in case—and ventured into Mrs. Unger’s backyard. She stretched out her arms, preening in the sun and admiring the pink sky. Evangeline knew the sky was supposed to be blue—she’d seen pictures. But she didn’t know why it should be blue. A rosy sky seemed much more natural .
    Then she got to work. She hadn’t been outside in two days. Instead, she’d watched from her window while New Boy ran amok through the neighborhood, then was tutored