Emma's Rug (2 page)

Next day at school, Emma didn't draw or paint.
She never opened her mouth, and her hands
didn't come out of her pockets.
"Do you feel all right?" the teacher asked.
Emma only nodded.
"You can use my crayons," Alex offered.
Emma pushed the box away.
Days went by. Emma didn't speak, and soon
the children ignored her. After a while,
it was as if she weren't there anymore.

Emma took down all the drawings and paintings
from the walls of her room. She put
the prize ribbons and plaques and trophies
and medals into cardboard boxes.
She gathered up her colors and pencils and
brushes. Then she took them all down to
the garage and stuffed them in the trash bin.
The last thing she threw away was her rug.
"There," she said. "Kid stuff."

All afternoon Emma sat in her empty room.
It seemed somehow larger and brighter.
"No more pictures," Emma murmured.
Then something made her jump. From the
corner of her eye she thought she saw
something move behind her. She knew there
was only the wall there, all bare now, yet
she turned—as if to catch sight
of something flying away.
She gave a cry.

Emma rushed outside.
"It can't be!" she said, breathing faster.
She saw the eyes watching her and then
the faces of creatures all around.
She knew them from before.
She had thought she would never see again.
"I can see you!" Emma cried with joy.
The trees rustled, as if laughing.
And then it was quiet.