1

1995

Jake’s parents told him they were moving into a new house, but the home in front of them could be called anything but new.

It was two stories tall and loomed solitary and foreboding, away from any other houses in Rose Grove.

“They say it’s the largest house in town,” Dad said, throwing an arm over Mom’s shoulder. “And the oldest. Just needs a little fixing up.”

Jake exchanged a glance with his brother Trevor. He was two years older than him — ten — and Jake always liked to check in with him in every situation. This time, Trevor shrugged.

“Why don’t you boys look around the backyard?” Mom asked. “There should be plenty of room to play.”

Jake and Trevor slinked off, Jake never taking his eyes off the house as he got nearer. The white paint was flaking off the base and even some windows were broken.

“When was the last time someone lived here?” Trevor wondered out loud.

“Why did we have to move at all?” Jake grumbled. Every night that week, Dad had tasked him with packing up his and Trevor’s toys and belongings. It took forever.

“Hey, at least we don’t have to change schools right before summer,” Trevor said. Jake knew his brother was right. He’d had friends move away, and he never saw them again. He didn’t want to be the kid that lost all his friends and had to make new ones. Especially so close to summer.

But he’d overheard Mom and Dad talking quietly about a “new addition” a few weeks ago. Jake realized that meant he would soon have a new baby brother or sister. Maybe that’s why Dad felt they needed a bigger house.

As they approached the backyard, Trevor stopped suddenly beside him. “Wow!”

Jake followed his brother’s gaze. There was a huge tree with the thickest trunk he’d ever seen with strong branches protruding about. In the lower, stronger branches, someone had built a tree house.

“I can’t believe it!” Jake shouted.

The two boys ran to the base of the tree. Wooden planks were nailed into the trunk, a crude ladder in which to access the tree house.

Trevor went first as he always did. He hadn’t made it one step before Dad intercepted.

“Whoa, now,” he said. “No climbing up there until I’ve had a chance to inspect it.”

“But Dad!” Trevor complained.

Dad’s good temper melted away all at once. Jake and Trevor took a step back, knowing that darkened look quite well. It usually came without warning, and when it did, it was best to just shut up and agree.

“Boys, this tree house was built by the family before us, maybe even the one before them. I don’t know how well they built it. I’ll inspect it and make sure it’s sturdy, but until then, neither of you are to go up there. Is that understood?”

Jake and Trevor both hung their heads in disappointment. “Yes, sir.”

* * *

The tree house was a constant tease over the next few weeks. The family moved in and the renovations began, and as Jake predicted, the tree house was low on Dad’s list of priorities. First, he worked on the pipes and plumbing, then the kitchen, then the painting and wallpaper.

What was worse, the tree house was visible from the bedroom that Jake and Trevor shared. It sat on top of the strong branch, eye level with their second story window. They talked about what they would do once they could finally go up there and how they would invite all of their friends over and what all they would put inside. Jake imagined himself giving it a makeover just like Mom and Dad were doing to the real house.

Then, one evening, close to the end of school, Jake overheard Mom imploring Dad. “You know summer is coming. The boys want to play in the tree house. Take one day and get it ready for them.”

Dad, who had become stressed and irritable at all the house repairs, mumbled something in reply that Jake did not hear. He knew if Dad did not want to work on the tree house, he wouldn’t, but Mom made a good argument.

Excited, Jake ran up to the bedroom and told his brother what he’d just overheard. The two were ecstatic.

Jake never witnessed Dad climb the tree and work on the tree house. Jake told himself that he did it while they were at school, and that he was not neglecting Mom’s advice.

He clung tightly to these hopes. He and Trevor had already told all their friends around school that their new house had a really cool tree house, and all the boys were excited to come over and check it out.

Jake hoped it could hold them all.

Sure enough, when they came home from school on the last day, Dad met them at the door and said, “Boys, you’re free to move into your second home.”

Jake and Trevor let out a cry of excitement and rushed to the tree in the backyard. Trevor went first, just as he did weeks before when Dad had stopped them. They climbed high into the branches. As they ascended, Jake looked down, more frightened of heights than he thought he’d be. Still, after waiting so long, he forced himself to continue. Besides, his older brother was unaffected by the height, so he couldn’t allow himself to be the only one too chicken to go up. Trevor’s willingness to plow ahead gave him courage.

Once at the top, they entered the old tree house. It was built from wood and simple inside — three walls with windows and the fourth had the door. It looked like Dad had swept the inside.

Jake and Trevor spent the rest of the afternoon running back and forth between the tree house and their bedroom. They immediately transferred all the things they had planned to bring up there. An extra blanket to lie on the floor, a small table, a battery powered lamp and radio, and Trevor’s comic book collection.

Mom watched as they worked, a smile on her face. “Boys, you can’t take everything from the house and put it up the tree!”

They ignored her.

That evening, after the sun went down, the two brothers sat in their tree house, reading superhero comic books by flashlight, the radio playing alternative rock hits. Humidity left beads of sweat on Jake’s temples, and the chirps of bugs and the hoots of night hunting birds sounded through the large backyard.

Jake leaned back against the wall, relaxed and comfortable. It was everything he had imagined it would be. Now summer could start in style.

Then the hairs on the back of Jake’s neck stood and prickled. Jitters crawled down his spine, as if someone had come up behind him unseen. He sat forward and rubbed the skin around his shoulders, but he could not shake the feeling that someone was there. Trevor glanced at him, but said nothing.

He tried to settle back and relax, but the air to his left somehow felt heavy, as if someone was right there next to him, invading his personal space.

Jake’s ear tickled, as if soft breath was slowly blown under the lobe. He stood and wiped his moist palms on his shorts, knowing that something was off.

“What’s wrong?” Trevor asked.

“Nothing,” Jake said. “Forget it.”

This time he sat on the opposite side of the tree house. He opened his comic again, but could not focus on the words. The heavy feeling was on his right side now, having followed him to the other side of the tree house.

“Are you done with that Batman?” Jake jumped, Trevor’s sudden question startling him. “Whoa. Scared of the dark?”

“No,” Jake shot back.

“No, you’re not done with the Batman or no, you’re not scared of the dark?”

Jake grimaced and tossed the comic to his brother. As he did, hot breath blew into his ear, and he squirmed away, brushing his ear lobe.

“What?” Trevor said.

“A bug keeps flying in there.” Even though Jake knew that wasn’t the case.

“Clean them out, then.”

He ignored his brother’s jibe and settled in next to him although there was plenty of room to spread out. Trevor did not comment on the proximity. Jake didn’t pick up another comic, but instead gripped his flashlight tighter, slowly creeping the beam around the tree house. Half expecting to see a third person in there with them.

“I’m hungry,” Trevor said, closing the Batman comic.

“We forgot to bring food up here.” Jake frowned.

“I’ll head down to grab something. Maybe some fruit snacks.” Trevor stood and walked toward the tree house door. And Jake did not want to be left alone. Nerves clawed at his stomach as Trevor walked out onto the branch, gripping the limbs of the next highest branch to steady his balance.

Quit being a baby, he told himself. Trevor would laugh at him if he admitted he didn’t want to be by himself in the tree house.

But Jake’s hand trembled as he held the flashlight. And even though he sweated from the humidity, chills spiked up his spine.

He stood and went to the door. “Trevor.” His voice trembled.

His brother turned. “Yeah?”

Stop being stupid. He’ll make fun of you.

“Nothing. Never mind.”

The radio behind Jake, which had been playing an Oasis tune, turned suddenly to static.

“Adjust that antenna,” Trevor said.

Jake turned and looked at it. The guitar riffs and vocals had turned into garbled nonsense. “Maybe it needs new batteries.” He turned back to his brother. “Get some of those, too.”

“Hmm, okay. Does it take double A’s or —”

But Trevor never finished his thought. His body jerked backwards hard, flung off the branch, as if pushed. He screamed as he disappeared into the darkness. The next thing Jake heard was a loud thump as he landed hard on the ground.

“Trevor!” Jake hung his head out the door of the tree house, looking down. Through the dark night he could barely make out Trevor’s crumpled form on the grass.

And his brother started to cry and scream in agony.

* * *

The only time Jake had been inside a hospital before was when Grandma had a bad case of pneumonia and had to stay for two nights. He, Mom, and Trevor had hung out in her room, watching her TV and playing with the remote control that made her bed move up and down and helping themselves to her desserts.

Now, Jake sank in the cushioned chair in the ER waiting room, watching Dad pace back and forth near the reception desk. He had the phone to his ear, stretching the cord as far as it would go, almost pulling it off the desk. The girl who sat there eyed it nervously.

“I’m telling you that’s the wrong deductible,” Dad barked down the line. “I’m not crazy. I know my policy.” A long pause as he listened. “You’re telling me you won’t cover any more than that? That’s insanity. What’s the point of even having insurance?”

The door to the ER opened and Mom poked her head, then motioned for Jake to come. Then she glanced at Dad and rose her eyebrows, but he only shook his finger at her impatiently.

Jake followed Mom to ED 6, where she threw the curtain back. Trevor sat on the stretcher, and Jake hardly recognized him. His hair was sticking straight up, slicked with sweat and dirt. His eyes were wide, red, and puffy from crying. Tears had streaked through the grime on his cheeks.

And his right arm was wrapped in a tight blue cast and dangling in a black sling.

On the wall, a box of light held x-rays. One of them showed a nasty broken bone. The other was the same arm, but after the pieces had been put back together, like a puzzle.

A tall man in a white coat brushed past, holding a chart. “The post-reduction pictures look good,” he told Mom, nodding toward the x-rays. “We can discharge him and we’ll see him back at our main orthopedic office in three weeks. You can make your appointment at the front desk.”

“Thank you,” Mom said.

“And be careful next time, Trevor,” the doctor said, adopting a false, cheery voice. “No more falling out of tree houses.”

He was pushed, Jake caught himself thinking.

The way Trevor had fallen… He’d been standing there, his feet sure. There was no lost balance, no flailing arms, no wide eyes or a sudden realization he was going overboard.

Just all of a sudden, his chest jerked and he fell backwards from a force that was much stronger than gravity.

Jake had seen kids pushed down on the playground at school dozens of times. Sometimes he had been the one who had been pushed. He knew what a boy looked like when he was pushed.

Trevor was shoved off that branch. He was sure of it.

But by what?

Although no one had been there that he could see, Jake had felt certain of a third presence inside the tree house, even though that seemed crazy.

And since he knew it sounded crazy, he told no one his theory. As far as everyone was concerned, Trevor fell and it was an accident.