Hiding | Amy Austin

The straw scratched my shoulder as I held my breath in the hayloft. I could see out only through a narrow sliver between the stacked haybales, so instead I had to listen closely for Helen's brother Joseph. Scuttling noises behind the hay rows reminded me of the mice, wild kittens, and birds that also lived in the hayloft. My still ballooned lungs gave me the space to hear other sounds too: the ducks in the stream outside, Helen's dad's tractor in the distance, the hum of the generator behind the milking shed.

Footsteps approached and I flattened myself against the rough golden wall. As the footsteps grew louder, I didn't dare to breathe, and closed my eyes, even though I knew that wouldn't actually make me any more invisible. I could hear his fast breathing - he must've been running, to be puffing so much. I concentrated on the rhythm of his breath and hoped that that would help me to stay still and silent. In out, in out, puff puff, puff puff.

I heard him stop, right by my row.

"Hey!" he said.

I opened my eyes expecting to see him looking straight at me but he had bent down, and then I heard the purring hum of a kitten.

"D'ya live in here ay?" Joseph said softly. He picked up the kitten, something I'd never been able to do with those wild cats, cooed at it quietly, and wandered out of the barn.

I slipped out of my spot, tiptoed to the back door and sped down the driveway to homebase. Free!