Some Quiet Place

instant.
    “You never answered my question,” I say when the hush is broken by a cow moaning in its stall below.
    Fear shifts his position a bit, enough so that his shoulder is pressed to mine. He can’t resist. For once I stay where I am. Maybe it’ll make him cooperate. “What question?” he inquires. I raise my brows at him. Fear smiles, knowing that he hasn’t fooled me. “I answered you as best I could.” He runs his finger down my cheek before I can evade the touch.
    “No, you didn’t. I asked you if you ever get tired of it all, and you sidestepped it pretty skillfully.”
    “But it is my only purpose,” he points out logically.
    A breeze has picked up strength, slipping through the cracks in the walls. It stirs my hair, cooling my skin. The air and Fear’s closeness make me shiver again. He notices. In a blur he’s crossed the room, picked up a horse blanket I brought up for cold nights like this, and draped it around my shoulders. I don’t thank him; showing gratitude would be unwise.
    “You’re tired,” Fear says suddenly, sounding surprised.
    I tighten the blanket, huddling into its warmth. A screaming flash hits me, an image of the boy’s shrinking pupils. I pull the blanket tighter. “I haven’t slept well, is all.”
    Fear hesitates. “I … ” The hay begins to tremble again as he, again, becomes edgy. He plunges. “I could help you sleep.”
    He means he could use his power. But his offer isn’t what’s out of the ordinary—it’s the motive behind it. In the strength of his uncertainty, his carefully constructed expression of arrogance has weakened, melting away to vulnerability, and I see that he isn’t thinking of himself or personal gain. His only thought is of me.
    I don’t comment on my discovery. “No. I’ll manage on my own.”
    Fear’s expression closes, and he nods. The distance he’s put between us is slight but palpable. “Perhaps I should leave you to your rest, then.” Deliberately formal.
    I watch him stand, feeling the pierce of shovels inside me, digging the hole of inhumanity deeper, deeper. “Okay.”
    The air around him practically crackles. I’ve hurt Fear’s ego by rejecting his offer of help.
    “You really do feel nothing,” he says to me, voice colder than a Wisconsin blizzard. “I thought you had to feel something , even just a little. Sometimes when I touched you, or watched you, I thought I saw a glimmer of humanity.”
    “I’ve never lied to you, Fear,” I murmur. “I’m good at pretending, is all.”
    “Apparently.” His eyes burn. I remain seated on the bale of hay, considering my next words. Suddenly Mom’s voice slices through the tense air, distracting Fear.
    “Elizabeth, there’s a phone call for you!”
    She sounds as if she doesn’t expect a response—really, she doesn’t want one—but I raise my voice. “Coming.”
    “Who’s calling you?” Fear demands as I brush past him to the loft’s stairs. He vanishes and reappears in front of me, blocking my way. “You have no friends.”
    I walk around him, the stairs squeaking beneath my feet. “That’s not true. Maggie is my friend.”
    “Not for much longer,” he retorts, following me. His presence disturbs the cows once more; they start to bawl frantically. Fear’s coat flares around his feet as he stalks me to the house.
    Choosing not to acknowledge this, I lower my voice as I tell him, “You should go. My mom isn’t feeling well right now.” And I don’t want her feeling any more uncomfortable around me than she already does—if I can’t live here, I’ll have nowhere else. Fear doesn’t reply, and when I turn, I see he’s gone. A lingering sense of hurt fills the air.
    As I enter the kitchen Mom does her best to appear preoccupied, avoiding me. The phone lies on a table and the cord dangles across the floor from its base on the wall. I step over it and pick the phone up. “Hello?”
    “Hi, Elizabeth. It’s … it’s Joshua.”
    “Hello.” I notice Mom listening; besides Maggie, no one has ever called me before, much less a boy. When Joshua says nothing in response, I add, “How are you?”
    He clears his throat. “Fine. Good. You?”
    “Good.”
    Joshua pauses a second time, then says with a nervous waver in his voice, “So, listen—” Something in the background clatters, and I imagine him tripping over a chair. He coughs, probably in an attempt to cover the sound. “I just wanted to let you know that today in Mrs. Farmer’s