Page 19 of The Woods

His alarm goes off. He’s already hit Snooze three times, and he’s rolling over to hit it again when he hears Polly call out. She sounds scared. He throws off his covers and races to her room, arriving just behind his mom, who gets there first. Polly’s standing near the window in her pajamas, her arms crossed tightly, like she’s protecting herself from something.

“I was opening my curtains, and a bird smashed into my window. I looked down to see if it was okay, but it has no head.” Her voice rises to a screech with the last part. “Look at it,” she demands.

They both go over to the window and, sure enough, lying in the grass only a few feet away is a small black bird, its wings splayed open as though in midflight, its legs sticking straight up, a bloody stump where the head should be. Quinn looks at the grass around the bird, searching for the head. Can birds fly so hard into windows that they decapitate themselves?

“I don’t see its head anywhere,” his mom says, both hands on the window as she, too, scans the area. “Was it decapitated while flying? Is that even possible?”

“What are you guys looking at?” his dad asks, arriving last to the scene, as usual.

“A headless bird that flew into Polly’s window,” Quinn answers. “But we can’t see the head. So, it’s like it flew into the window already decapitated. Like something threw it at the window.”

His dad’s eyes go wide for a second and he opens his mouth as if to say something, but then looks over at his mom, closes it, and shakes his head. Quinn can’t tell if he’s shaking it at himself or about the headless bird. Either way, the guy does not look good. He’s showered and dressed for the day, but he has puffy bags under his bloodshot eyes.

“It’s so weird,” his mom says, still staring out the window. “Quinn might be right. It’s more likely that someone or something threw it at the window.”

“But why?” Polly whines.

“I’ll go get rid of it,” his dad offers, which surprises Quinn. Normally his mom says that kind of thing and then his dad steps in and says he’ll do it.

His mom turns away from the window and claps her hands. “No time to solve it now. I have to get to work and, Quinn, you need to get to school.” Only then does she notice that he’s standing there, not in his uniform but in his pajamas. “What the hell, Quinn? You’re not even dressed. You’re going to miss the bus.”

“I’ll drive him,” Polly offers, and Quinn feels an unusual gratitude for her. “If I can use Dad’s car, that is,” she adds.

His mom looks at his dad. “Geoff, you don’t have anything important to do this morning, do you?”

Quinn notices the tightening of his dad’s jaw that usually comes before a fight with his mom, but this time his dad only sighs and says, “The car’s all yours, Polly.” He turns and leaves the room.

“Well, Quinn, looks like you’ve been saved by your sister. Try not to be any later than necessary. It’s only your second day, after all. I’ll make your lunch to speed things up.” She puts a hand on his shoulder. “I hope today is better than yesterday. I really do.” Before he can shift away from her touch and tell her that the only reason she has to hope he has a good day is because she moved them to this shitty house, she takes her hand away and leaves the room, robbing him of the opportunity.

“Thanks,” he says to Polly, who feels like his only ally at the moment.

She shrugs. “No problem. I want Starbucks anyway. Give me fifteen and I’ll be ready.”

Back in his room he catches sight of his dad through his bedroom window, standing over the dead bird, hands on his hips, looking into the woods, then back down at the bird, then back into the woods. His nana appears around the side of the house, already dressed in one of her weird, colorful outfits, makeup on, hair done. Her arrival startles his dad, making Quinn think he must be pretty unnerved by the headless bird.

Quinn’s window is shut, so he can’t hear anything, but he watches his nana say something to his dad, then point in the direction of the pool. She makes a face of disgust and shivers dramatically. His dad looks shocked by whatever she told him and then gestures to the bird at his feet. His nana makes another face of disgust, then clutches at her necklace and shakes her head before they both walk back around the house together.

He quickly gets dressed and goes out to the kitchen, where his mother is making him a sandwich for his lunch. “Turkey okay?” she asks.

“Yeah, sure,” he answers. He heads toward the back door to see what his nana was on about to his dad, but she steps through it and blocks the doorway.

“There’s a dead raccoon in the pool,” she says matter-of-factly, forgoing a morning greeting to get right to the point. “It’s bled out pretty bad, so the pool will have to be cleaned.”

Quinn moves to the kitchen window. He can just barely make out a dark lump floating on the surface of the pool. His dad passes by with the pool net and Quinn watches as he dips it in, skims it across the surface of the water, and scoops up the raccoon. He strains to lift the waterlogged carcass out of the water and onto the flagstone around the pool.

“Are you kidding?” his mother says. “That’s the second dead animal this morning.”

“Would I kid about something like that?” his nana snaps back. “And it’s actually the third. Geoff told me he found a dead skunk by his writing studio. A skinned and disemboweled one, at that.”

His mom drops the knife she’s using, abandoning the sandwich to go out the back door. Quinn follows right behind. They both arrive next to his dad, who’s standing there looking down at the dead raccoon. His mom gasps and Quinn leans in for a better look. The raccoon’s face is missing. Or, more specifically, its eyes, nose, and mouth have been carved out, leaving only cavernous holes. The body has liquid seeping out of every orifice—blood and pool water creating a pink puddle all around the animal on the gray stones.

“Jesus Christ,” his mom says under her breath. “What on earth could have done that?”

His dad slowly shakes his head. “No idea.”

His mom grabs hold of his dad’s arm and gives him a little shake, as though she’s trying to wake him up. “Mom said you found a disemboweled skunk by your writing studio? Why didn’t you say something in Polly’s room?”

He looks up from the raccoon and Quinn sees a sadness in his eyes that makes his stomach hurt. “I thought it was just a weird coincidence.” He looks back down at the dead animal at his feet. “Until Beverley told me about the raccoon.”