Two

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"How did you sleep last night?" Mrs. Thurston asked at breakfast. I pushed my oatmeal around its bowl with my spoon while my parents raved about how wonderful their room was. "And you, Cassie?"

I looked up briefly and shrugged. "Fine." I'd tossed and turned all night, half-waking several times from strange, vivid dreams. I'd only read part of the storybook, but what I had read must have crept into my subconscious. The stories were as strange as what had haunted me all night—witches and fairies and kings and queens just like any other book of fairytales, but they didn't make sense. Most fairytales had morals and predictable plots, but these didn't seem to at all. They seemed to stop too soon or go on for too long without saying anything meaningful. And yet Aunt Julia had said that I could learn something from them?

Mom gave me a look. "Aren't you hungry?"

That was code for eat it now, I knew. I shoved a spoonful into my mouth obediently. "So how come we haven't come to visit Aunt Julia before?" I asked after I swallowed. She'd hardly even been mentioned before my parents announced the trip. I'd vaguely known I had an aunt, a younger sister of my mother who lived far away and who I'd never met, but beyond that they'd told me nothing. Even when she'd first gotten sick they'd kept quiet. Until it got worse.

Dad stopped with his spoon halfway to his mouth and Mom pursed her lips. Mrs. Thurston looked down, studying her oatmeal with an intensity no breakfast food deserved. "Julia and I have never been very close," Mom answered carefully.

"But she's still your sister."

"Yes, she is. Let's say we have our differences."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that we don't get along well." She said it in the hard tone that meant I needed to drop the subject immediately.

I chewed on my lip for a moment. "Why didn't you tell me about her sooner, at least?"

Mom sighed heavily. "Because she's very sick, Cassie."

"Well I know that."

She gave Dad a pleading look and he took over. "Cass, Julia has had...mental problems since she was young. Delusions that sometimes turn dangerous. We didn't tell you about her because we didn't want to risk you being affected by them. You're a very imaginative girl."

"You think I'd believe someone's delusions?" If I was still five maybe that excuse would fly, but I wasn't so sure about it now.

"We thought it was best. But it doesn't matter anymore. We're here now, aren't we?"

"Yeah, I guess." Everybody continued eating silently. "So is that why she was acting so weird yesterday?"

"What do you mean?" Mom asked.

"When I went to take the flowers up to her she was awake and she seemed really confused and kind of spacey. She gave me a book and told me I could learn something from it."

"What book?"

"It's just a book of fairytales. It's up in my room."

"Go get it, let me see."

My room was down the other hall from Aunt Julia's, a light and open guest room with a window seat and bookshelves lining the walls. I had left the storybook on my bed and I retrieved it and returned to the dining room reluctantly. I didn't see what the big deal was about a kids' book.

Mom jumped up and grabbed the book from me as soon as she saw it. "Julia gave you this?"

"Yeah. What's wrong with it?"

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