The Red Garden

by Alice Hoffman

Even in the heat of summer, when there were mosquitoes skimming over the surface of the river and bees bumped against windowpanes, people looked out at Hightop and shivered.

It was November by then, and above the mountain the sky turned a luminous blue late in the day, like ink spilling out on a page.

There was Harry’s mother right outside, knocking at the door. He would have to go home now. “Did you ever wish you had a different life?” Harry asked. Hallie Brady nodded. She was looking right at him. “All the time.”

There were blackflies in the air, flitting around them, and the sound of bumblebees droned in the tall grass.