Chapter 4

On the third morning, sunlight filled the living room.

Mom's poinsettia sat on the table. Grace's little halo from the night before lay beside it.

The heat was turned up high, and the thick rug by my door could no longer trap the smell.

Mom was taking pictures of Grace in her angel dress for Facebook. She had just tapped the screen when she frowned and lowered her phone.

"Why does it still smell this bad?"

Grace covered her nose and spoke in a tiny voice.

"Mom, did she make that smell to scare me?"

Mom's face darkened.

In her mind, I must have been tearing my room apart, dirtying the sheets, and making everyone miserable on purpose.

She walked straight to my door.

"Ava, I gave you a chance."

It stayed quiet inside.

Mom waited a few seconds. Her voice grew colder.

"Do you think I will feel sorry for you just because you refuse to talk?"

I floated in front of her, shaking my head hard.

"Mom, don't come in. I look awful now. You'll be scared."

She couldn't hear me.

Grace followed behind her and whispered, "Mom, she has not made a sound in three days."

Mom turned back and touched Grace's hair. Her voice softened again.

"Sweetheart, kids like her are the best at acting. She knows you're softhearted, so she's trying to make you worry."

Grace pressed her lips together.

"But she has not come out in three days."

"So what?" Mom kicked the rug away from the door. "When she was little, she could cry all night just to make me hold her. This is just another way to act out."

As soon as the rug moved, the smell rushed out.

Mom stumbled back half a step and gagged with her hand over her mouth.

"Oh my God, Ava. What have you been doing in there?"

She found the spare key in a drawer and pushed it into the lock.

I floated beside her, almost crying from panic.

"Mom, don't look at me. You like quiet kids, right? I'm already so quiet."

The lock clicked.

The door opened.

The curtains in my room were still closed, and only the light from the doorway came in.

I lay across the desk with my back to the door, in the same position as three days ago.

Mom stood in the doorway, her face hard.

"Still lying there? I opened the door, and you're still pretending?"

She took two steps forward. Her shoe hit the pen I had dropped, and it rolled against the desk leg.

The reflection paper was still near my hand.

Mom didn't look at it.

She only stared at me, her voice tight.

"Ava, get up right now."

I floated beside her and whispered, "Mom, I can't get up anymore."

She couldn't hear me.

She took a deep breath, walked behind me, and grabbed my shoulder.

"I told you to get up."

The moment her hand touched me, her whole body froze.

Through my thin pajamas, she felt a body with no warmth left in it.

Her fingers trembled.

"What is this?"

She seemed unable to understand. She pushed me lightly again.

My body tilted with the force of her hand, and the chair fell with me.

There was a heavy crash.

Grace screamed, "Mom!"

Mom didn't turn around.

She stood there and watched me fall from the chair.

At last, Mom saw my face.