? POV
I dragged my feet, stopping to stare at each bug, each butterfly, and each grasshopper entering my sight.
The sun was still up, and the insects were busy, but I still arrived at the house much sooner than the others.
I waited in front of the three steps of the small front porch leading to the old yellow door, but there was still no sight of them.
I walked through the front yard and then along the house until I stood by the pond in the backyard.
I crouched down and grazed the swampy water with my fingertips, as if waiting to get pulled in.
Nothing happened, and I fell into a daze.
When the steps sounded, I stood up and walked back to the front of the house.
The other kids had come from school; no words were exchanged, and I positioned myself at the end of the group.
The oldest walked the three steps up to the yellow door and cautiously swung it open with a creak; the others followed.
The usual smell wafted toward us: mold, alcohol, and blood.
