Sarah's parents weren't home. This was nothing new. They'd often gone touring, or gone to more stable shows in places like Vegas or New York. Places that, as a ten-year-old, Sarah was not permitted. Or welcome. And that was fine. It was fine, too, that in the weeks since the church collapse they'd been going out more often. They left money for pizza and they didn't care who she had over and who cared if they went out and left her here? She made the house her horizon.
"Sarah?" She froze where she hid behind the couch. "Sarah? I know you're in here." Something thudded, and Ben lisped a curse she didn't know he knew. And then he sniffled. Sarah darted out from underneath the couch. Ben had his chair hooked on the side table; a few weeks ago he would have knocked over the pictures there, but they weren't there anymore. Sarah frowned for a moment, but then Ben made another sound, and she looked far, far up at him. The girl shook her head. She retreated silently into the hall, and then dismissed her shrinking. She wasn't particularly heavy, but the floorboards creaked at the change in weight. The sound made Sarah's stomach twist.
"Ben?" She stepped into the room. He turned at her voice, tried to turn to see her, but he couldn't move the chair. She helped him heave it free of the corner. He stared down at his lap; Sarah focused on the top of his head until the blurring cleared. Her voice, when she spoke, threatened to be soft. She kept it level. Normal. "I guess I cheat at hide and seek." She took a breath. "You gonna get that smaller one your parents were talking about?" Ben didn't move.
"Dunno," he said. "The doctors are working. Maybe I won't need a chair." Sarah bit her lip. She touched Ben's hand, and he didn't move his own away.
"I--" She stopped, pulled away, and then tilted her head. "What is that?"
"What's what?" Sarah knelt to peer under the couch.
"Scratching. Like it's in my ears." The girl squealed and was suddenly standing on the couch.
"Sarah! What--" But it was already climbing up the quilted fabric. A black rat, maybe hand-sized, with its scaled tail dangling as it moved. There were others in the shadows underneath the couch. Sarah squeaked again as she noticed a white rat clambering along the back of the couch. There were more behind it. They blended into the cream cloth, except for their red eyes, and their pink paws and ears.
"Are these your parents' animals?" Sarah glared at Ben from where she crouched on the arm of the couch. She quivered with the urge to shrink away. But that would be the wrong move.
"Like they'd have all these! They took the rats, the birds, everything. Some big show in Vegas. Hey!" This was to the rat that had leaped up onto her leg from below. Sarah shook it off. Another took its place.
"Go up!" Ben said. Sarah glanced at him. He was trying to rock his chair into the small bodies streaming past him, but the flood parted around the wheels like water. They ignored him, for now, piling onto the couch around Sarah. Brushing her with their furry bodies, their claws trying to find purchase in her jeans. Sarah looked at Ben, and he jerked his head upward. Sarah turned, jumped, and ran up the wall.
She sat cross-legged on the ceiling. Beneath her, the masses of rats curled into piles like puppies. Some squeaked, or squealed; other groomed each other or dozed. She glared down at them, at Ben among them, with her hair hanging down in chunks.
"Y'know, you're the only one who knows I can do this," she said. Ben smiled, but it didn't look pleasant upside down.
"I know," he said. His eyes turned to the rug of rats on the floor, and the mound of rats on the couch piled up as though the swarm was trying to reach Sarah even though all of the rats that composed it seemed to be asleep. "You can shrink, you can climb. What else can you do?" Sarah shrugged, and her hair flowed like seaweed.
"That's it," she said. "That's enough." Ben's gaze moved to the bare side table. He leaned down, grunting with the effort, and snagged a small rat by the scruff of the neck. Sarah made an noise. The rat opened its eyes--even from here Sarah could see the ring of blue around the outside, like an inverted human eye. It squirmed in Ben's hands, bared its teeth, but did not bite. He winced as its tiny claws scrabbled at his skin.
"How long your parents been gone this time, Sar?" The girl frowned.
"What? Ben, what are you talking about? I dunno," she said. "Two weeks? I don't keep track. I don't care." A wave of movement spread through the rats sleeping on the floor, crossing over to the rats on the couch. The mound there began to shift. "They're always goin'," Sarah said. "And that's fine. I don't care. I hope they have fun. I hope the people have fun. Mom and dad don't think people like it as much if they know the magic's real, and that's just dumb. That's stupid. People love it, and I think people would like it better!" She knocked her fist on the ceiling for emphasis. The rats were squealing now, the swarm twisting, trying to rise up to Sarah.
"Breathe," he said. "You gotta calm down. You gotta come down." Sarah snorted.
"Heck no," she said. "These aren't my dad's rats." Ben nodded. He lifted the squirming rat in both hands, and they both saw it stop and settle as it rose--closer to Sarah.
"Nope," he said. "They're yours."
"Sarah?" She froze where she hid behind the couch. "Sarah? I know you're in here." Something thudded, and Ben lisped a curse she didn't know he knew. And then he sniffled. Sarah darted out from underneath the couch. Ben had his chair hooked on the side table; a few weeks ago he would have knocked over the pictures there, but they weren't there anymore. Sarah frowned for a moment, but then Ben made another sound, and she looked far, far up at him. The girl shook her head. She retreated silently into the hall, and then dismissed her shrinking. She wasn't particularly heavy, but the floorboards creaked at the change in weight. The sound made Sarah's stomach twist.
"Ben?" She stepped into the room. He turned at her voice, tried to turn to see her, but he couldn't move the chair. She helped him heave it free of the corner. He stared down at his lap; Sarah focused on the top of his head until the blurring cleared. Her voice, when she spoke, threatened to be soft. She kept it level. Normal. "I guess I cheat at hide and seek." She took a breath. "You gonna get that smaller one your parents were talking about?" Ben didn't move.
"Dunno," he said. "The doctors are working. Maybe I won't need a chair." Sarah bit her lip. She touched Ben's hand, and he didn't move his own away.
"I--" She stopped, pulled away, and then tilted her head. "What is that?"
"What's what?" Sarah knelt to peer under the couch.
"Scratching. Like it's in my ears." The girl squealed and was suddenly standing on the couch.
"Sarah! What--" But it was already climbing up the quilted fabric. A black rat, maybe hand-sized, with its scaled tail dangling as it moved. There were others in the shadows underneath the couch. Sarah squeaked again as she noticed a white rat clambering along the back of the couch. There were more behind it. They blended into the cream cloth, except for their red eyes, and their pink paws and ears.
"Are these your parents' animals?" Sarah glared at Ben from where she crouched on the arm of the couch. She quivered with the urge to shrink away. But that would be the wrong move.
"Like they'd have all these! They took the rats, the birds, everything. Some big show in Vegas. Hey!" This was to the rat that had leaped up onto her leg from below. Sarah shook it off. Another took its place.
"Go up!" Ben said. Sarah glanced at him. He was trying to rock his chair into the small bodies streaming past him, but the flood parted around the wheels like water. They ignored him, for now, piling onto the couch around Sarah. Brushing her with their furry bodies, their claws trying to find purchase in her jeans. Sarah looked at Ben, and he jerked his head upward. Sarah turned, jumped, and ran up the wall.
She sat cross-legged on the ceiling. Beneath her, the masses of rats curled into piles like puppies. Some squeaked, or squealed; other groomed each other or dozed. She glared down at them, at Ben among them, with her hair hanging down in chunks.
"Y'know, you're the only one who knows I can do this," she said. Ben smiled, but it didn't look pleasant upside down.
"I know," he said. His eyes turned to the rug of rats on the floor, and the mound of rats on the couch piled up as though the swarm was trying to reach Sarah even though all of the rats that composed it seemed to be asleep. "You can shrink, you can climb. What else can you do?" Sarah shrugged, and her hair flowed like seaweed.
"That's it," she said. "That's enough." Ben's gaze moved to the bare side table. He leaned down, grunting with the effort, and snagged a small rat by the scruff of the neck. Sarah made an noise. The rat opened its eyes--even from here Sarah could see the ring of blue around the outside, like an inverted human eye. It squirmed in Ben's hands, bared its teeth, but did not bite. He winced as its tiny claws scrabbled at his skin.
"How long your parents been gone this time, Sar?" The girl frowned.
"What? Ben, what are you talking about? I dunno," she said. "Two weeks? I don't keep track. I don't care." A wave of movement spread through the rats sleeping on the floor, crossing over to the rats on the couch. The mound there began to shift. "They're always goin'," Sarah said. "And that's fine. I don't care. I hope they have fun. I hope the people have fun. Mom and dad don't think people like it as much if they know the magic's real, and that's just dumb. That's stupid. People love it, and I think people would like it better!" She knocked her fist on the ceiling for emphasis. The rats were squealing now, the swarm twisting, trying to rise up to Sarah.
"Breathe," he said. "You gotta calm down. You gotta come down." Sarah snorted.
"Heck no," she said. "These aren't my dad's rats." Ben nodded. He lifted the squirming rat in both hands, and they both saw it stop and settle as it rose--closer to Sarah.
"Nope," he said. "They're yours."
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