Alec first saw her as a shadow by the swings.
No one was there a second ago, but a second ago, Alec was playing pretend: swinging his skinny fists, beating everyone who bullied him. A lonely kid in a playground wheeling around like a fool, lost in his fantasies.
The fantasy was gone now. Alec lowered his fists and turned, snow compacting under his boots.
A girl was sitting on a swing, pale hands clasped around the chains. She was thin, incredibly so. But what struck Alec most were her eyes—large and dark, so dark they seemed unnatural, like a void swallowing his gaze. She was young—around Alec's age, if he had to guess. Round face, small nose. She looked...pretty. But there was something off. Maybe it was how she wore only a tattered sweater and ragged shorts in the dead of winter. A sharp contrast to Alec's puffy jacket with a scarf pulled almost up to his nose.
Weird, Alec thought, not expecting there to be any other kids. With the recent murders, no parents would let their child out in the playground after dinner. Of course, Alec's parents didn't care; they didn't care about anything but fighting with each other. Was this girl the same as him?
The snow eddied around them. Alec shifted, embarrassment shooting through him. Did she see him? Of course she did. Alec buried his nose into his scarf and said a wary, "Hi."
The girl cocked her head. "Hi. What were you doing?"
Alec shoved his hands into his pockets. "I was practicing."
"For what?"
Alec shrugged, trying to recover the situation and seem cool, like the gangsters in movies. "Practicing for fighting." The last thing Alec wanted to admit to this girl was that he was bullied, so he tossed out a casual, "Maybe for if I meet the murderer."
The girl raised her eyebrow, and her lip quirked into what was almost a smile. The swing set creaked. "I see. Practicing for the murderer. With your fists?"
Though Edith spoke smoothly, Alec could still detect the faintest note of teasing. The embarrassment flooded back; his cheeks burned, and he dug his nose deeper into his scarf.
But then the girl laughed. Her laugh was light and lilting, and when she spoke again, her voice sounded almost musical. "You're funny," she said. She pointed towards a corner unit in Alec's apartment building. "My name is Edith. I live there."
Alec looked and saw a window with the curtains drawn tight. No one home. "Oh."
"You live next to me, right?" Edith pointed at the window next to it.
Alec followed her gaze and saw the fuzzy outline of his Lego lamp. The strangeness of the situation struck him, for he had never seen Edith before. Alec tried to remember if his parents mentioned anyone moving in. Nothing came to mind. But then again, all his parents ever did was scream at each other. "How did you know I live there?"
Edith shrugged with an elegance that seemed out of place with her tattered clothes. Maybe she went to private school, Alec thought. That would explain why he never saw her before. But then, what would explain the poor state of her outfit? "What's your name?" Edith asked.
"I'm Alec."
Edith nodded. "That's a good name. Do you want to sit with me?" She patted the swing next to her. "It's more comfortable this way."
Alec's heart leapt; it was the first time anyone asked him to join them. Even though Edith was a little weird, her willingness to talk with him melted his hesitations. "Of course!" he blurted, and though a part of him knew he must have seemed like such a loser for being so excited, he couldn't help it. Alec sat on the swing beside her, heart brimming over as he tried to think of conversation. "When do you have to go back home?" he asked.
Edith blinked at him with uncanny eyes. "I can go back whenever."
"Your parents won't get mad?" Alec asked. "They aren't scared of the murderer getting you?"
Edith chuckled, and something about it—its world-weary tone—struck Alec as odd, for he never heard a kid laugh like that before. It sounded old; it reminded him of how his grandmother would laugh whenever Alec didn't understand a joke.
"No," said Edith. Then, abruptly, she changed the subject. "Tell me about