The Next Full Moon by Carolyn Turgeon Read Free Book Online Page A

hoodie and collapsed on her bed. She clicked on the ceiling fan and let the air move over her. The feathers were so thick now. Why couldn’t she havegrown feathers in the wintertime? They might have come in handy then. She closed her eyes and tried to pretend she was somewhere far away. The air and coolness felt wonderful, amazing against her skin, ruffling through the feathers.
    She turned over onto her stomach and stretched out. It felt so good, the cool air. She relaxed into the bed, let her mind drift . . .
    She woke up disoriented, wrapped in covers. The room was dark. Monique was spread out beside her and moonlight spilled into the room through the window. So bright and silver and glittering, bathing her.
    The windows were open, and cool air was blowing down on her from the fan whirring above her on the ceiling. She pulled in the covers more tightly around her.
    For a few minutes, she barely knew where she was.
    She looked around for a clock. 10:05, it said. It took her a moment to realize: 10:05 p.m. At night. She must have slept all through the evening. Slowly, the day came back to her, a sick feeling in her gut as she remembered school, the way everyone had stared at her, how uncomfortable she’d been.
    And Jeff Jackson, defending her. Her heart fluttered. It hadn’t been that bad a day, when it came down to it.
    She got up, throwing off the covers, and pulled on her hoodie again. She tiptoed out of her room. She was hungry, she realized. Starving, in fact.
    Her father’s bedroom door was open and his bed still made. No wonder the house was so quiet; even if her father were home and asleep, she’d at least hear a snore or two. There was a note on top of the television: “Out fishing, back late. Dinner’s in the fridge.”
    She froze. Realized, all of a sudden, that she’d fallen asleep with the bedroom door open . . . He had to have seen her, checked in on her at least. She felt a sudden resentment that he hadn’t awakened her for dinner. And now she was starving and had to fend for herself! But more importantly, she thought, catching herself: Wouldn’t he have seen? When had she pulled the covers around herself? Her heart pounded. Plus she hadn’t been wearing a shirt! So she was weird, gross, and perverted, all at once. She felt guilty, as if she’d done something horribly wrong and been found out.
    The thought crept up on her: but she hadn’t done anything, had she? Maybe if he saw, and knew, he could help her.
    Immediately she dismissed the idea. Her father had already dealt with the death of his wife, and plus now his own mother not only had one foot in the grave but was also talking to his dead father as if it was perfectly natural. She, Ava, was all he had.
    How could she tell him she was covered in feathers?!
    She sighed and wandered to the kitchen. As she crossed the living room, she caught sight of the full moon over themountains in the distance, through the big sliding glass door.
    Of course. Her father always went fly fishing on nights of the full moon. He had for as long as she could remember, though Grandma Kay had told her once that he’d become much more regular and even fanatical about it after his wife died, as a way to cope. That is what the moon is for , she’d said. It lets him see her again.
    Grandma Kay always talked that way, though.
    Ava stared at the moon now. Perfectly round in the sky, a bright, glowing coin. Its light turned the whole house to silver. Outside, the trees swayed, and a wind rattled the leaves. It was spooky, but beautiful, strange, like something out of a dream. Everything seemed so otherworldly at night. Especially with the full moon outside and her father out fishing.
    Her dad always said that fishing by moonlight was the best, that the trout were different somehow, surfacing for the bright light and getting confused and dazzled when it was not the sun that greeted them. He’d stay out all night and fish