With Wide Eyes and Wonder

A haunting, slow burn tale of loneliness, trauma and the desperate human need to be loved.

With Wide Eyes and Wonder

Emily Baker always hated lunch. No matter how many times she walked through the cafeteria doors at Maplewood Junior High, her cheeks flushed red and her stomach twisted at the thought of finding somewhere peaceful to sit. Somewhere far from the judging eyes and mocking laughs of Amy Horner and the terror twins, Rachel and Riley Feldman. They'd been tormenting her since third grade, ever since Amy stood up in Mrs. Cantor's art class and asked why Emily always painted pictures of a little girl and her mother, especially since Emily didn't even have a mother anymore. Tears began to fill Emily's eyes, and she looked towards Mrs. Cantor, who frowned and turned to help some of the other children with their paintings.

Emily scanned the cafeteria from the left and then from the right, knowing that Amy and the twins would be dead center. The only open seat she could see was in the corner by Spencer Friedman, who was weird but harmless, but the seat was right beside the tray return and trash collection. She winced at the memories of kids pretending to trip and spilling their trays on her clothes and having to wait until the 7th consecutive trip and spill before Mr. Richardson begrudgingly intervened and put an end to it. He had taken Emily into the hall and scolded her for letting so many people throw their food on her.

"Why wouldn't you just do something?" He demanded of her. "Once you let one person do it can you really blame the others for doing it too?"
Emily decided that she wasn't hungry anymore and turned around back into the hall. She snuck past the 4th period gym students lining up outside the locker rooms and walked straight out of the school as if she was supposed to be leaving for the day. She liked to do this when her stomach felt too turbulent, which was at least twice a week lately. She savored that first breath of fresh air after stepping outside into the world, and she would often spend her lunch period at the edge of the woods behind the school, where she would scatter pieces of her sandwich for the squirrels kind enough to visit her.

On this day, Mr. Long, the ageless custodian, was riding his mower along the outskirts of the field leading to her sanctuary. Even from where she was outside the gym entrance, she could smell the gasoline, and the roar of the ancient diesel engine was already grating her ears. Her woodsy friends would surely be nowhere near her hideaway this afternoon. A rogue thought slithered its way into Emily's brain. Would they really notice if I wasn't here anymore? She felt her stomach twist slightly tighter, and she began walking along the path towards the main road. No one will care if I'm not in band next period. Her feet moved more confidently as she walked further, and the corners of her mouth widened into a smile, an expression not normally conveyed during regular school hours. She breathed deeper as she turned onto Oak Street and instinctively waved at the first car to drive past her. The car slowed, its driver peered out the window, and the man shook his head and turned his attention straight ahead as if to say, what are you so happy about, girl? It felt like this was a moment to be marked and remembered. Emily Baker was skipping school.


The April air was crisper on Oak Street, tinged with the scent of pavement and pine mulch from the landscaping crew outside the bank. Emily didn't care that it was one of only three main roads in Maplewood. It felt like a portal. It led to a world beyond desks and cafeteria trays. She passed the gas station where a man in a Red Sox hoodie pumped fuel with one hand and scrolled his phone with the other. At the Target entrance, a mother wrangled two screaming toddlers into a cart. Emily kept walking. She turned down Edgewood Lane, where the traffic thinned and the noise softened, and for the first time all day, her shoulders began to relax.

As she walked further down the road, a white Ford Focus sat crooked against the curb. There was a woman outside the car, back pressed against the rear passenger window and hunched over with her head in her hands. A sharp scent of exhaust filled the air, and Emily sensed that this woman had been here for a while. This lady is having a worse day than me, Emily thought. The woman's hair was all over the place, and as she got nearer she thought maybe this woman didn't have a home. On the sidewalk in front of her was a brown box. It shook a few times, and Emily titled her head and squinted down at it. The woman cried out in a guttural screech and kicked the box, sending it tumbling and crashing into a tree. Emily froze, not wanting to interrupt and startle this poor woman. She lumbered over to the box and fell to her knees. As Emily steadied her own heartbeat, she could begin to make out the sobs of the woman on the ground.

"I won't let you do it again," the woman wailed into her hands. Emily blinked. Who are you talking to, she thought.

She reached into the box and Emily saw two brown feathers slide out of the corner as the woman lifted it from the ground. She had her hands wrapped around the neck of a panicking chicken, whose legs motored through the air as the woman squeezed harder. Emily felt that twisting sensation in her stomach return, and her voice shook as she called out to the woman.

"Hey! What are you doing?"

Not listening, the woman continued to squeeze the chicken, sobbing as she stood and began to shake it in the air. Emily ran to her, her heart now palpitating as she tried to wrestle the woman's arms from the chicken.

"Stop! You're hurting it!"

The woman turned her eyes on Emily. They were wide and red as if she hadn't slept in days. Her oily skin glistened in the calm April sun as she stared down at this panicked young girl. Emily's fingers slipped. Something slick covered the woman's skin. Emily looked down and saw that her own palms were now smeared in a white, greasy film. The woman's arm was carved with scars, some fresh and lathered in lotion. Emily pulled at her arms again, and while the chicken's panicked thrashing began to fade, Emily pleaded with the woman.

"Stop! Please"

The woman closed her eyes and exhaled, her hands shaking as she loosened her grip on the chicken's neck and let it fall to the ground. The chicken writhed on the grass and Emily crouched down to cradle it, stroking its crumpled feathers as it began to breathe again. She didn't know if the chicken would survive, but for now it was breathing and it was free.

The woman fell back against the car, sobbing and scratching at her face. "I couldn't do it. My Abby is gone but I still couldn't do it. I thought I could just send it away but that's not enough. You have to finish it now." Emily crouched over the chicken, shielding it with her arms. She didn't know how she would protect it if the woman wanted to hurt it again. The woman stumbled back around to the front of her car, not taking her eyes off Emily as she held the chicken in her arms. When she closed the driver's side door, Emily could make out one last wail as the woman started her car and drove down to the Edgewood Lane and turned towards the highway. Emily stood, still cradling the chicken. Her hands stopped shaking. She looked down at this poor creature in her arms. You're not unwanted anymore, little one, she thought. You're mine now.


At home, Emily wasn't sure how she was supposed to take care of this chicken. She had never been allowed to have a pet. She once attempted to take in a stray cat that had been showing up at their doorstep, but her father forbid her from feeding it any longer after he caught her sneaking deli chicken to it. "Do you want to get a job and pay for cat food?" He yelled at her. "When you get a job you can waste your money on whatever you want." Emily would peek through the living room curtains every afternoon to watch the cat wait for food that would never come, afraid that if it saw her, it would be ashamed of her too.

Emily gathered some old shirts and draped them over two plastic lawn chairs and gently guided the chicken underneath the primitive shelter. "This will be your home for now," she said. "I think you'll be happy here." The chicken settled in under the blankets and stared up at Emily, its eyes simple but its gaze fixed. Are you saying thank you, little one? You don't need to thank me. Emily thought of the woman who wanted to hurt this chicken so badly. What was wrong with her? Emily's heart sank a little in her chest when she thought of the woman, her arms scarred like the graffiti of all the pain inside her. Emily wondered if maybe she should have called after the woman. Maplewood was a small town, and she didn't recognize her. With all the gossip she overheard on her walks through town, she thought she would have heard about a woman who was going through this much trouble.

Emily's blood chilled at the sound of her father's pickup pulling in the driveway. The rubber rolling over gravel was like nails on a chalkboard to her, and the following thud of the driver's side door slamming shut always felt like her heart was jumping a beat. Let's get this over with, she thought, as her father made his way around the back of the house. He paced slowly in her direction, and Emily slowed her breath, pretending that this was any ordinary day.

"What're you doing out here like this?" He asked.

"I just found something." Emily admitted.

Her father knelt behind her, and she noted his breath felt clean. Maybe he was serious when he said he wouldn't drink anymore. He peered under the blankets, and he didn't say anything for a moment. Emily braced herself for the reprimand. Maybe he would kick the chairs over. Maybe he would finish what the woman had tried to do with the chicken. Instead, he stood up, spit over his shoulder into the decaying dandelions, and paced back towards the house. Without turning, he shouted back toward Emily.

"Tomorrow I'm taking that thing over to Greg Robinson's ranch. We ain't got no need for no chickens."

Emily sighed. Maybe it's for the best, little one. Mr. Robinson doesn't kill chickens. You'll be safe there. Emily went into the house and hurried back with a bowl of water and the salad she had brought to school for lunch. She didn't know if this is what chickens ate, but she put the food and water down in front of her little makeshift coop, and she sat with the chicken and hummed her mother's favorite song. Emily brought a lantern from the shed and set it outside the blanket coop, and as the night crept in, she felt the chicken was sufficiently safe, and she could go inside and get ready for bed. She kissed the chicken on its beak and stood up.

"We might not see each other again, little one. I hope you have a really happy life."

Emily waited for a moment, as if she expected the chicken to reciprocate with a goodbye of its own. What am I doing, she thought, and then she went inside and shut her bedroom door to go to sleep.



Emily awoke to the sound of her brother's music again. It was like every morning he wanted the world to know how much he loved the sound of over-amplified guitars and vocalists who scream until they shred their vocal cords. Emily rolled over and squeezed her pillow over her ears. She knew what was coming next. The stomps of her father's workboots as he climbed the stairs, the pounding on her brother's door, the shouting between thin pieces of wood.

She wanted to spare herself from it all this morning, so Emily rolled out of bed, her comforter still wrapped around her like a fleece cocoon. She stumbled into the hallway past her father as he made his way to Josh's room, and he yelled down behind her as she descended the stairs, still half asleep. "You better not be hiding that chicken!"

Emily rubbed her eyes and opened the cabinet, looking for a breakfast that didn't need time to cook. She settled on Keebler peanut butter crackers and scanned the dishrack for a clean cup to fill with tap water. She remembered her mother's pancakes, and sometimes when Emily stood in front of the stove and closed her eyes, she could remember the way the cinnamon and vanilla would embrace her while her mother cooked. Emily dropped her comforter beside the living room couch as she stepped outside to say good morning to the chicken. She hated the way the morning dew made her socks wet. She stepped carefully through the grass, the chilly air filled only by the sound of her feet squishing towards her makeshift coop. She knelt in front of the blankets and pulled the front flap to the side. Emily sighed. Dad must have been up early, she thought.

She didn't care anymore about the wet grass. Emily sat in front of the coop and thought of her chicken. Mr. Robinson's ranch was on the other side of town. Did her father really drive all the way there and back already? Or did he leave the chicken somewhere on the side of the road? Or did he... No, she thought. The chicken was at Mr. Robinson's ranch, and it's safe now. Emily stood up and took the blankets down, and as she was folding them, a faint buzz filled the air. Too early for crickets she thought, and she turned her head to search for a generator or tool that her father could have left on. As she stood to go back inside, Emily gasped and froze as her left foot came down on something firm. She shifted all her weight to her right leg and stumbled to the ground. Next to her feet was a perfectly shaped brown egg. "Oh!" she smiled, "you are a healthy chicken!"

Inside the house, Emily didn't know what to do with the egg. Maybe it's a gift, she thought. How else could a chicken say thank you besides leaving an egg. Still, she felt like she couldn't eat it. Would it hatch? Don't they need a boy chicken for that? Emily realized she was woefully uneducated about the reproductive habits of chickens. She squinted and looked around the living room. The buzzing was really starting to annoy her. She read that loud music can cause your ears to ring when there's no sound. She imagined that's how Josh experienced the world because of how loud his music always is. As her brother stormed down the stairs, she quickly grabbed the egg from the counter and hid it in her hoodie's front pocket. Her father came down in a fury, ranting about Josh's God forsaken noise and don't you ever expect him to call that music. Josh and Dad screamed at each other and Emily walked back upstairs to her room. She set the egg down on her pillow and sat crossed legged on her bed while she rubbed her ears.

"I'm going to call you Penelope," she said to the egg.

She pulled a blanket over the egg and opened her closet door. In her mirror she glared at her brown frizzy hair, her spotted freckles, and checked to see if her front tooth was any straighter than the day before. How do I hide you today, she said to her reflection. She decided to keep her hoodie and changed into a pair of loose jeans. This is good enough for today, she thought. She picked up her school bag and her shoulders slumped from the weight of algebra 2, US History and Spanish 1. Her stomach twisted in all the familiar ways. How many assignments did she miss yesterday? What if there was a pop quiz in Spanish? She was already struggling. Emily closed her eyes and exhaled. She turned around to face her bed before turning out the lights and walking to school.

"Have a good day, Penelope."

Emily walked slower than usual, in no hurry to walk through the doors of Maplewood Junior High. She bypassed the stench of exhaust and gasoline on Oak Street and took the scenic route back through Edgewood Lane. As she turned the corner, she nearly tripped over her own feet when she made out the shape of a figure crouching in the dirt. She looked cleaner today, and the woman stood as Emily walked closer. Her hair was brushed nicely, and her top looked new. Even her arms didn't have that Vaseline shine it did just the day before. The scars on her right arm looked like they were healing nicely. The woman didn't blink, but her eyes looked empty and Emily cleared her throat as she walked closer.

"You look a lot better today," Emily said. "My Dad brought the chicken to Mr. Robinson's ranch. It's doing a lot better now. I just thought you would want to know."

The woman lowered her head; her blank eyes still fixed on Emily. She stabbed her arms out towards Emily and pulled her by the hoodie. Emily was too shocked to scream, and the woman's breath made her wince, it was almost metallic. The woman sniffed Emily's lips and released her hoodie, as if she was bored of the moment. Emily fought to steady her breathing. She had never wanted to be in school more than she did in this moment, so she turned to the street and ran the rest of the way.

She avoided Edgewood Lane on her way home from school in the afternoon. Instead, she took her usual route down Oak Street, past the endless convenience stores, banks, and gas stations. She inhaled the exhaust and wondered if it would give her cancer someday. She wondered if her mother's cancer was genetic or if it happens to everyone who breathes exhaust. What if we're all already doomed, she thought as she watched Mr. Grady filling up his F-350 for what was probably the 3rd time this week. Emily tried not to think about her day. She knew she was in her own head too much, and if she lingered on the laughter in 6th period when Rachel Feldman threw a crumpled up note over her shoulder. It landed square in the middle of her US History textbook and she knew that Amy Horner and the terror twins wouldn't stop badgering her until she read the note.

This is the life of Emily Baker
Whose Mommy ran off with the undertaker
It sounds so lonely and sad
But the truth is her Mommy was glad
Because raising Emily was such a dealbreaker

Emily knew better than to cry in class. Amy and the twins didn't need anymore ammunition, and Emily was tired of being sent to the school nurse, Ms. Menino, who was sweet but tried to hard to analyze Emily's every word. Instead Emily folded the note and put it inside her notebook and tried to ignore the giggling on Rachel and Riley behind her. She would do the same with this feeling she had inside of her. Emily had perfected the art of folding up feelings and placing them in parts of her that she never looked into.

Back at home, she scurried up to her bedroom before Josh could pester her with one of his lectures about taking the last packet of crackers. It's not her fault Dad never went shopping. She took off her hoodie and looked into her mirror. Her hair was still too frizzy, her freckles still too many, and her front tooth still too crooked. She almost collapsed onto the egg, catching herself just in time.

"Oh, Penelope! I forgot you were there!" Emily sat on the edge of her bed. She rubbed her ears again and looked around. She was sick of the buzzing from her father's tools her or brother's radio. Whatever it was, she couldn't be the only one annoyed by it. She picked up the egg and inspected it closer. Are you getting bigger, Emily thought. I didn't know eggs got bigger. Emily took out her phone and placed Penelope beneath her stuffed penguin. She snapped a quick photo. "For your baby-book, Penelope" she laughed.

In the night, Emily had another dream about her mother. They were at the Dairy Barn in Centerville and Emily was standing on a stool to look at all the cases of ice cream. Her mom was reading her the list of flavors, but Emily just pointed at the tub of green mint-chocolate chip and said,
"That one!" It was Emily's favorite day. It was everything she had.

"Emmmm"

Emily jolted awake and froze in her bed. Her breath quickened and she could feel her heart in her throat.

"Emmmmily."

Emily jerked back to the corner of her bed winced when something firm poked her lower back. She turned around and reached for her stuffed penguin and screamed. Her penguin was leaning against Penelope the egg, who was now several inches taller than her penguin.

"JOSH!" Emily screamed. "THIS ISN'T FUNNY!"

She could feel the thuds of her father's footsteps through the hall rise up through her bones. Her door blew open and he flicked the lights on.
"What in the hell are you screaming at girl?" He yelled.

Emily pointed at the egg, her voice shaky and weak. "Josh switched it! He's messing with me!"

Josh stormed into the room, brushing past their father as he stood at the foot of Emily's bed. "What are you talking about? What are you doing with that stupid egg?"

"What did you do with the other one" Emily demanded. "How'd you get in here?"

Their father stepped between them extending his arm into Josh's chest to push him back towards the door. "I don't care who did what, it's 3am and I ain't got no patience for this!"

Josh bounced off the wall and shot back in Emily's face. "I didn't do anything you little freak!"

"Enough!" Their father yelled, "Go back to bed, boy!" He turned to Emily and pointed in her face. "You too!"

Josh stomped back to his room and her father slammed her door. Alone again, Emily sat on the floor by her closet and put her face in her hands.

"Emmmily" "Emmmilyyyyy"

Emily stood and walked back to her bed. She knelt and put her face in front of the egg. "Penelope, is that you?"

"Emmmily"

Emily climbed back into bed, almost hyperventilating as she crawled closer to the egg. She sat beside it and rubbed it gently from top to bottom.
"What are you, Penelope?" There was no answer. Emily couldn't think. She needed water, anything to cure the dryness in her mouth. She turned her doorknob silently, then pulled slowly to walk into the hall and go downstairs.

"EMMMILY"

Emily covered her ears and ran to the kitchen.

"EMMILY. EMMILY"

The screams were louder and incessant. She squeezed her hands over her ears, but the screams were inside her head. She turned on the faucet and slid her face under and opened her mouth.

"EMMILY. EMMILY.

Emily ran back upstairs, her face dripping from the faucet water. She expected to find Josh and her father waiting for her at the top of the stairs. She thought maybe her father would hit her. She was alone in her room though.

"Emily."

Emily tiptoed back into her bed.

"Emily."

She sat next to Penelope and there was silence.


In the morning, Emily rushed through her shower. She scrubbed her arms and skipped washing her hair. Penelope's wailing pierced her eardrums and burrowed into her brain. Emily didn't know why Josh and her father were ignoring it. Could they even hear her? Emily wrapped herself in a towel and hurried back to her bedroom. She threw on the first shirt she could grab from her closet and slid into yesterday's jeans. She sat on the bed to face Penelope, whose egg had grown a couple more inches overnight.

"Why won't you let me be away from you?" She asked the egg. "I have to go to school" Emily rubbed the top of Penelope's egg and turned to head downstairs.

"EMMMILY" Penelope screamed.

Emily put her hands in her face and scratched down her cheeks. "What am I supposed to do with you?"

She opened her school bag and took out her US History textbook and tucked Penelope inside, then zipped the bag close. She won't scream if I carry her. On the walk to school, Emily could feel the eyes of every driver on Oak Street peering out their windows at her. Can they tell? Does my bag look funny? Even if they weren't looking, Emily felt exposed. She gripped the straps of her school bag and hunched forward, shuffling to school as quickly as she could. In first period, she put her bag under her desk so she could feel Penelope's egg leaning against her leg. For a while she was able to focus on Mr. Christopher's algebra without a thought of Penny. He drew a polynomial on the whiteboard and asked for a volunteer to factor it. Emily hunched down over her desk and Mr. Christopher used that as an excuse to call on Emily.

"Ms. Baker, we haven't heard much from you lately," he chided her.

Emily stood and walked slowly and deliberately to the whiteboard. Penelope's cries were faint at first, but as she took the dry erase marker in hand, the sound grew into a wail that only existed between Emily's ears.

"EMMMILY!"

Emily's hand shook as she tried to factor the polynomial. She could hear Riley Feldman snickering from the corner of the room.
"She's so dumb."

Mr. Christopher pretended not to hear Riley, and Emily scribbled a sequence of numbers and variables that she knew was incorrect but she marched right back to her desk and sat down so Penelope could feel her legs pressed against the bag. Mr. Christopher turned to face the whiteboard, shook his head, and asked for another volunteer. The class laughed and Amy Horner stood and walked confidently to the board. She used her palm to erase Emily's work, and quickly solved the problem. She smirked at Emily on the way back to her desk.

In 6th period band practice, Mr. Hoffman made Emily leave her schoolbag in her band locker. She pleaded with him and made an excuse about needing to keep her medicine close to her, but Mr. Hoffman pointed to the lockers and Emily gently tucked her school bag inside her locker. She leaned into to whisper to Penelope.

"Please be quiet for me, okay? I'll be back soon."

"What is she doing?" Rachel and Riley Feldman were unpacking their flutes when they saw Emily. "Is she talking to her locker?"

"I know everyone hates her but this is sad even for her."

Emily hurried back to join the rest of the band and took her seat besides Carrie Peterson. Emily was third chair, and as the band began their warmups, with Mr. Hoffman directing their scales, Emily closed her eyes and tried to let the sound of the instruments mask Penelope's cries. Her eyes twitched every time Penelope cried out for her, and Carrie Peterson turned and whispered to Emily in between songs. "Are you okay? What do you keep looking at?"

Mr. Hoffman instructed the class to take out their sheet music for the Radetzky March and the band groaned. Mr. Hoffman laughed to himself as he began conducting. Emily stared at her sheet music. Her fingers played the right notes. Her air passed through the reed into the clarinet and somehow the combination of these actions produced music. Over the triumphantly frantic roar of the Radetzky March, Emily could only focus on Penelope's wailing. Her right hand tremored over her clarinet, and even Carrie Peterson paused playing to put her hand on Emily's arm.

"EMMMMILYYYYY!"

Emily bolted out of her seat, tumbling over Carrie Peterson's sheet music stand and plummeted to the floor. Her knee crashed into the concrete tiles with a loud crack and the band stopped playing in unison. No one said a word as Emily ran to her band locker shouting "I'M HERE! I'M HERE!" Penelope had grown more in the time since the band began practicing. Her egg was pressing against the top of the bag, nearly bursting out, and Emily carefully unzipped it. She clutched Penelope against her chest. The hushed gasps grew louder, and one of the boys in the trumpet line shouted, "What the hell is that thing?"

Emily stood and faced the band. Mr. Hoffman dropped his baton. Even Amy Horner and the Feldman twins were speechless. Penelope's cries had quieted for the moment but Emily could still hear the students in the band judging her. They always made fun of her. They hated her. They always laughed at her. They called her ugly and they called her stupid. They didn't care that her mother died when she was in the first grade and no one wanted to be friends with the girl who had no Mom. Emily wrapped her arms around Penelope's egg and started shuffling towards the exit. She stopped halfway and turned to face the band.

"STOP LOOKING AT ME!"

Emily ran home with Penelope's egg in her arms. She didn't turn to acknowledge any of the cars that slowed beside her to see the egg. She ignored the men at the gas station who tried to call out to her. She turned down Edgewood Lane and sprinted as fast as she could. She didn't stop to look past the police tape on the corner where she found the woman days ago. She ran until she couldn't breathe and forced herself to lumber home. She ran up the stairs to her bedroom and put Penelope to bed and pulled the covers over the two of them and forced herself to sleep.

Emily is at the Centerville Dairy Barn with her mother. She is standing on top of the stool pointing at the mint chocolate chip ice cream. Her mother smiles and the workers laugh when Emily points and shouts "That one!" She is happy and her mother sits next to her at the picnic table while they eat their ice cream. Emily feels safe. She smiles. She swallows her freezing cold mint ice cream. She coughs. Something is stuck in her throat. She tries to swallow but she can't move her tongue. Emily tugs at her mother's arm but she isn't paying attention. She is talking on her phone. Emily tries to gasp for air but nothing comes. She pulls harder on her mother's arm but she won't look at her. Emily falls backwards off the picnic table and rolls onto her stomach. She coughs. She gags. She can't breathe. Her mother still won't look at her. Slowly she feels it coming back up. From the bottom of her throat she forces it out. Tears flow down her face and her eyes roll back. Emily coughs and coughs until the egg pushes up through her throat and back into her mouth. She tries to spit it out but she can't open her mouth any wider. She pulls at her mother's dress from the floor and tries to cry out to her. She still won't look at her. Emily forces her hand into her mouth and grips her bottom teeth. She pulls down as hard as she can. She tries to force her jaw open wider. There is a crack and Emily can taste the burning metal of her blood spewing from her gums. She wretches again and spits the egg out of her mouth, her jaw broken and dangling. She pulls her mother's dress again and wails, her words unintelligible. Her mother finally stands and scowls down at the egg and stomps it with her heels. She stomps it until the yolk stains the pavement in the Dairy Barn parking lot. Emily looks up and sees her mother's heel coming down on her next.

Emily thrust upwards in her bed. Her skin was hot and she could feel the sweat soaked through the back of her t-shirt. She coughed and gagged and put her fingers inside her mouth to make sure nothing was lodged inside her. She covered her ears when she heard Penelope cry out for her. Emily was confused when her cries muffled. She turned in her bed to see that the egg had cracked open. Emily jumped out of bed and followed the trail of viscera and fluid to her closet door, where she saw the body writhing and rolling on the carpet.

Emily almost couldn't speak. "Penelope?"

The body turned its head and Emily froze. She looked down and saw her own hazel eyes, the same freckles across the bridge of her nose, the same unkempt brown hair. Penelope reached up and tugged on Emily's leg.

"Emmmily."

Emily fell to the ground and wrapped her arms around Penelope. "Oh Penelope" she cried. "I've got you now! I'm here!" Emily grabbed the nearest laundry and wrapped it around Penelope. She rocked her in her arms and Penelope clung to her.

Her door swung open. Her father stood in the doorway. Josh stood in the hallway, peeking over his father's shoulder. Her father took a step inside the room, looking down at Emily rubbing Penelope's hair.

"What in God's name?"

Emily smiled up at her father. "Dad, this is Penelope."


Emily didn't sleep that night. She stayed in her room with Penlope resting in her arms. Penelope looked up at Emily with vacant eyes, but Emily knew she was learning. Downstairs, Dad sat with Josh, Reverend Carlson and Greg Robinson. After she put Penelope to bed, Emily went opened her door to go downstairs. She could sense the chatter stop when her door creaked open, and each step down the stairs rang out as a proclamation. Emily Baker was different now. She smiled from the edge of the kitchen at her father, who stood up and took a step backwards.
Reverend Carlson stood and took a step towards Emily, measuring her reaction before taking another step.

"Miss Emily," the reverend began. "We need to understand what happened last night."

"Aint no egg like I ever seen." Greg Robinson added.

Emily's smile widened. "She's mine. Her name is Penelope and I saved her. I took care of her when no one wanted her and she's mine now."
Her father stomped forward and put his finger in her face. "That thing ain't natural. It ain't staying here."

The reverend stood between Emily and her father. "Mr. Baker, I believe your daughter has produced a miracle."

Her father scoffed and looked Reverend Carlson up and down. "A miracle?"

"Yes, sir. A miracle. Right here in Maplewood. God has a plan for your girl, Mr. Baker, and we can't presume to know what that plan is."
The room was quiet. Emily was glowing. She felt wired with energy in a way she couldn't describe. Josh was the one who broke the silence.

"What happens now?" The room turned to the reverend. He paced towards the refrigerator and back to Emily.

"Right now, girl, you care for that creature upstairs."

Emily began to forget about algebra. She didn't care much for US History anymore. She didn't think about Amy Horner and the Feldman twins tormenting her. She only thought about Penelope. When she cried while Emily was in the shower she felt her fear in her bones. She hurried back to her room to cuddle her and read to her. Penelope didn't seem to get hungry or thirsty. She just wanted Emily to be close to her. The first weeks were her favorite. Her father would make pancakes and leave them outside her door. Josh would collect Emily's schoolwork and drop them on an ever-growing pile outside her room. Emily taught Penelope to hum The House of the Rising Sun and told her stories about her mother. Her Dad brought home an air mattress for Penelope to sleep on beside Emily's bed. She didn't mind sleeping alone, but she would pull on Emily's arm until it dangled off the bed and she would hold her hand when she slept.

Word of the miracle spread quickly through Maplewood. Reverend Carlson became born again. He believed that Penelope, and Emily by extension, were a new revelation from God. First it was just the churchgoers who would hold vigil outside the Baker house, but soon it was the whole community. Even the girls who bullied Emily would sneak into the crowd, hoping to catch a glimpse at the miracle girls. When Penelope could walk, Emily took her into the backyard away from the prying eyes of Maplewood, but on occasion she would take her around the side of the house and instruct Penelope to wave at the crowd. She wasn't sure how much Penelope understood, but she knew how to copy Emily's expressions and she would smile and wave at the people, and they would clasp their hands together and look towards the sky, thanking God for this creature.

She never found out who started the rumor, but she suspected that Amy Horner was the first person to suggest that Penelope was an abomination. Josh came home with stories about how Emily dug up the grave of her mother and made a deal with a demon to spawn Penelope. Emily didn't think much of rumors, she had been subject to them her whole life. The town split into two camps, and the worshippers clashed with the protesters daily. Emily's father forbid her from going outside until this could be straightened out, and Emily was happy enough to retreat into her room with Penelope.

As summer grew closer, Penelope became restless. She would pace from wall to wall in Emily's room, and Emily stressed and struggled to sooth her. For days Penelope would start to hum their song, but it would descend into a low guttural growl. Emily held her hand, but Penelope would slide her hand up around Emily's wrist and trace a line up toward her elbow. "What are you trying to tell me, Penelope?" Emily looked into Penelope's eyes, hoping for an answer, but Penelope would just cry and rock back and forth.

Emily took her gently by the hand to lead her around the room, exploring all their favorite things. Penelope wasn't interested in photos of Emily's mother; she didn't want to play with her ball or stuffed penguin. The vase of fresh flowers sent weekly by Mrs. Carlson weren't having their calming effect on Penelope anymore. Emily took the vase from the top of the dresser and tried to get Penelope to hold it.
"Look Penelope, daisies!"

Penelope whined and pushed Emily's hand away. Penelope was stronger than Emily, and the vase crashed against their bedroom wall. Emily tried to catch it but a shard of glass got stuck in her palm. Emily winced and cried out in pain. She squinted her eyes as she pulled the glass from her skin and tried not to yell. It wasn't her fault, she thought. Penelope cowered and lowered her head, and Emily reached out to touch Penelope's cheek. "Don't worry, sweetheart. I'm not mad at you."

Penelope lifted her eyes and placed her hand over Emily's. She pulled her palm down towards her mouth and pressed her lips against Emily's wound.

"Are you kissing it to make it better?" Emily giggled. Then she winced. She tried to gently pull her hand away but Penelope wouldn't release her grip. She whined and pulled the cut on Emily's hand open and slurped as much blood as she could before Emily finally shouted.

"Hey! Stop that!"

Penelope whined and cowered again. Emily stared into Penelope's empty eyes. That twisting feeling returned, low and sour in her gut. She couldn't be mad at Penelope. She doesn't know what she's doing.

"You're hungry, aren't you, Penelope?"

Penelope locked eyes with Emily and whined once more. Emily knew that she could understand her now. She inhaled slowly to catch her breath, the fatigue washing through her like a wave being carried back into the ocean. She held her palm out for Penelope to hold.

"Alright, just a little bit more, okay?"



Emily wasn't able to hide the scars for long. Reverend Carlson was the first to comment on them, during one of his weekly visits to chat with Emily. He comforted her with stories of the sacrament and promised her that she had been given a gift from God himself. Penelope was a miracle, he assured her, and she was responsible for her. Lately he was more interested in talking with Penelope. The more she fed, the more vocal she grew. Emily taught Penelope how to read, and they giggled together while reading Mercer Meyer and the Berentain Bears in bed together. Reverend Carlson attempted to teach Penelope bible verses, but she didn't care for any book without illustrations.

She grew more confident, and Penelope would dress herself in the mornings and play outside. She studied the caterpillars that crawled along the tree branches, and she would wave up to Emily in their bedroom window, and Emily would beam a smile back down towards Penelope. Emily felt so proud that Penelope was so curious about the world. When it was time to feed, Emily would open a scar on her left hand or arm, and she would count to thirty before she would tell Penelope that it was enough for now. Penelope would wipe her mouth and pull Emily's arm to take her outside, but Emily would need a moment to collect herself. She felt dizzy when she stood too quickly, and sometimes she struggled to keep up chasing after Penelope in the yard. It didn't bother her, though. Emily enjoyed the fresh air, and she loved being with Penlope when she discovered a new animal scurrying through the yard. Penelope was especially fond of squirrels and the way she could climb their tree and run along its branches. Emily told her about her squirrel friends at school, and how she would share her lunch with them when they came to visit.

They watched the fireworks launched from Maplewood High School on the Fourth of July from their backyard. Penelope clung to Emily as each firework exploded into a kaleidoscope of colors in the sky. Emily loved watching Penelope experience something for the first time. In August the protesters began to disperse. It was hard for them to cry abomination while Penelope danced and climbed trees in the front yard. The worshippers stayed, and Penelope would smile for their photos and touch their faces. Some worshippers would cry when Penelope touched them. Others would faint.

Emily would smile from her window. She didn't like seeing her reflection anymore. The sight of her sunken cheeks or pale skin didn't match how she felt inside. She felt so proud of Penelope, but she was tired a lot now, and she needed to rest to be able to feed her. Penelope had her own room now. Josh was at the state university and Dad told Penelope she could have her own room. Emily loved it when Penelope came for a visit. She would sit on the chair by her bed and listen to Emily tell stories about her mother. She couldn't remember which stories she had told before, but Penelope would sit and listen anyway.

"I remember her now too." Penelope told her.

A tear welled in Emily's eye. "You do?"

"Yes," Penelope said. "Green. That one."

Emily laughed and closed her eyes. She smiled and tasted the salt in her tears as they slid down into her mouth. "Yes, Penelope," she said. "You remember ice cream."

Penelope placed her hand over Emily's. She gently pulled it toward her mouth, then paused to look at Emily for permission. Emily nodded and lifted her arm. "Of course, my angel. Go ahead."

Penelope placed her mouth over Emily's hand and opened the scar with her teeth. She slurped and closed her eyes. Emily winced and clenched her jaw, but she felt so much pride. She's so good, Emily thought. So polite, so kind, so thoughtful. She's me.
She reached for the napkin on her nightstand to wipe Penelope's mouth. Her breathing slowed and she cupped her wounded hand under the comforter. She didn't know how many more feedings she could give Penelope. She would try her best to hold on longer. She knew Penelope was getting stronger. She was getting smarter, and maybe one day she wouldn't need Emily to feed her anymore. She didn't know if Reverend Carlson was right, but she felt that there had to be great plans for Penelope. She might not be here to see them, but she could make sure she was ready. She could teach her everything she knew. Emily closed her eyes. Maybe she didn't need to teach her anything. She can remember what I remember. Emily laughed. Penelope smiled down at her and rubbed Emily's hair. Emily held Penelope's palm against her cheek. Emily could hear the silence of fading fireworks and taste the cold mint. Her memories were glowing between their skin. She felt all of her pain between them. The teasing, the bullying, the fear and the shame. She could take that for herself. Penelope would never need to feel that. She couldn't protect her from new pain but she could hide the pain she inherited. She felt her heart grow as she let the ache fill her. Penelope would start fresh in this world with wide eyes and wonder in her heart. She would leave her the good things. The ice cream, the fireworks, the squirrels at lunch time. Emily let go of Penelope's hand and beamed at her. You can be anything, she thought.

"Come back and see me soon, okay? I want to hear all about your adventures."

Penelope smiled and nodded. "Of course. Goodnight, Mom."