I moved to the door and picked up the envelope.
The paper was thick, the same kind used for formal invitations, but there was no name on the front and no sign that it had been carried through the rain outside.
Whoever had delivered it had been inside.
I opened the bedroom door.
The hallway was empty.
“Mother?” I called out.
Her voice came from downstairs. “What is it?”
“Did anyone come upstairs?”
“No.”
My father appeared at the foot of the staircase.
“Why?”
I held the envelope behind me.
“Nothing.”
His eyes squeezed as he studied me.
“That usually means something.”
“I thought I heard someone.”
My mother joined him.
“Shadric has just left.”
“I know.”
“Did he forget something?”
“No.”
My father started coming towards the stairs.
“Stay there,” I said.
He stopped halfway.
