It was a strange, windless day on the Collinwood estate when I went to see Amy. I walked in on her sitting in a big chair reading a book. Before I could say anything, she told me I was funny, standing there looking at her and frowning. I told her I was just thinking how grown up she has become. Maybe too grown up.
I asked what she was reading and she said it was a book Mrs. Stoddard gave her about a little girl who lived in a house like this, way back before anyone here was born, before they had electric lights or anything. She said it was about an ancestor of hers and asked if we had ancestors, too. Sure, we do. I told her we wouldn’t be like other people if we didn’t have ancestors.
She asked me to tell her about ours, but I replied that I don’t know much about them. She told me Mrs. Stoddard knows all about hers and, according to David, more than she tells. She said the Collinses have so many family secrets and asked if we have them too. I said I didn’t know; why didn’t she tell me?
It was an awkward transition, but I was trying to get her to tell me if perhaps there was something… something she might be afraid to tell me about everything she does know… something she needed to tell… something she didn’t understand and needed to be explained. I asked her if there was anything right now she’d like to talk about… something about me, maybe.
Getting little to no response, I finally told her I was upset about her coming to the cottage and building the fire. Why did she do that? All she said was that it was cold; then, that she’s not allowed to play with matches, but she is allowed to use them. I knew that, but told her I found the shirt in the fire. Why did she do that? I knew it was dirty but told her we can’t go around burning all our dirty shirts. She said she didn’t mean to. She just saw it there and threw it in the fire.
Carolyn interrupted us when she walked in with a young woman she introduced as Donna Freelander, who was spending the day at Collinwood. Carolyn was giving her a tour of the house, but didn’t find it all that fascinating herself. Donna studies interior design and said she’d never seen antiques like the ones at Collinwood, that the house is practically a museum.
A look of disbelief mixed with horror must have crossed my face, because when I saw the pentagram on Carolyn’s face, she asked me what was wrong. I told her nothing, and they moved on to the drawing room.
I stared out the window until Amy spoke, telling me she was sorry about the shirt. She asked if that was what I was mad about. When I told her I wasn’t mad, certainly not at her, she said I was mad at someone. I said, “Myself…” Could she understand that? She said she could and when she left the cottage, she was kind of mad at herself for burning the shirt.
She opened the door, so to speak, so I asked her who she thought called her out of the cottage and made her leave. She replied that she didn’t know… Mrs. Stoddard or Carolyn… David, maybe. I reminded her that she told me it was a woman and she said she didn’t know who it was, only that someone was calling. She must know!
She changed the subject, telling me that sometimes at night, she thinks she hears me, not exactly calling. What did she mean? I asked her to think very hard and try to explain it to me. She said that one night she thought she heard me just calling her name, so she went to the window and looked out. It was almost bright as day, she said, and the moon was so big and she thought she heard me crying. She then said that was silly because boys don’t cry. She thought maybe I was just unhappy.
She asked why I was unhappy. I told her it was pretty hard to live your life without being unhappy sometimes. She told me she thought I was especially unhappy sometimes. I admitted to her that I was, but told her I didn’t want her to worry about that. It doesn’t have anything to do with her, only me. I told her I was going to be sure that nothing interfered with me and her. Pulling her closer to give her a kiss on the cheek, I promised her.
Classic Horrors Club 
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