THE LAST SCENE WE NEVER FINISHED

The first thing I noticed about the village was how quiet it was. Not peaceful. Quiet. There was a difference. I sat beside my uncle in his old pickup, one elbow resting against the window as the road narrowed from asphalt to reddish dirt. Every few seconds, the tires dropped into another hole, sending the entire vehicle bouncing hard enough to make my teeth click together. I had been staring at the same stretch of countryside for almost twenty minutes. Fields. Trees. Small houses scattered across the hills. And absolutely nothing that looked remotely interesting. “Still regretting coming?” my uncle asked. “I never said I wanted to come.” “You didn't have to.” I glanced at him. He smiled without looking at me. That was the problem with adults. They always seemed to know what you were thinking, even when you hadn't said anything. I turned back toward the window. I hadn't wanted to spend my school break here. I wanted the city. My friends. My room. My internet connection that didn't disappear every five minutes. Instead, my mother had decided that I needed “a change of environment,” which was the adult way of saying, You're spending the next few weeks somewhere you didn't choose. The pickup climbed another hill. Then I saw the house. It stood alone beyond a line of trees, much larger than the other houses we'd passed. Not a mansion. Not exactly. But it was old, carefully built, and strangely beautiful. “What is that place?” I asked. My uncle slowed down. “What place?” “The house.” He glanced toward it. For a moment, his expression changed. It was so quick that I almost missed it. “Nothing.” I frowned. “That’s obviously not nothing.” He accelerated. I looked back through the rear window. The house disappeared behind the trees. I should have forgotten about it. I didn't. By late afternoon, I had already decided that the village was going to be unbearably boring. My uncle's house stood at the edge of the village, surrounded by banana trees and a wide patch of grass that looked like it hadn't been cut in months. I dropped my bag beside the bed and opened the window. A warm breeze came through. Somewhere in the distance, I heard music. I leaned farther out. There it was again. Music. Soft at first. Then louder. Someone was playing the same melody over and over. I followed the sound. Behind the house was a narrow path leading toward the fields. I probably should have stayed where I was. Instead, I grabbed my phone and followed it. The path curved around a group of trees. And that's when I saw her. She was standing alone in the middle of an open field. Dancing. Not the kind of dancing people did at parties. She moved slowly, almost as if she were following a song only she could hear. For several seconds, I simply watched. Then she stopped. Her head turned. Straight toward me. I froze. She had noticed me. “Are you always this good at spying on people?” she called. I stepped out from behind the tree. “I wasn't spying.” “You were hiding behind a tree.” “I was looking for the music.” “That sounds like something a spy would say.” I couldn't help laughing. She smiled. Then I noticed the necklace around her neck. A small silver pendant. It looked old. Very old. She caught me staring. “What?” “Nothing.” “You were looking at my necklace.” “I was looking at the pendant.” “That's the same thing.” “Okay. Fine.” She touched it instinctively. “My mother gave it to me.” Something about the way she said mother made me stop joking. “Where is she?” The girl's smile disappeared. “She isn't here.” “Oh.” I immediately regretted asking. There was a short silence. Then she turned away. “My name is Maya.” “Daniel.” “I know.” I stared at her. “You know my name?” She shrugged. “Everyone knows your uncle.” That explanation didn't make me feel any better. “How?” She didn't answer. Instead, she started walking toward the trees. I followed. “Wait.” She stopped. “What?” “How do you know my uncle?” “I don't.” “But you just said—” “I said everyone knows him.” She smiled. “You ask too many questions, Daniel.” Then she walked away. I watched her disappear between the trees. There was something strange about her. I just couldn't decide what it was. That night, my uncle invited an old friend to dinner. I almost ignored their conversation until I heard a name. “Richard.” My uncle's friend stopped eating. “Don't bring him up here.” I looked up. “Who is Richard?” Neither man answered. My uncle finally put down his fork. “Someone from a long time ago.” “What happened?” “Nothing.” There was that word again. Nothing. Adults loved that word. They used it whenever something was definitely not nothing. I decided to let it go. For about thirty seconds. Then the old man reached into his jacket and pulled out his wallet. A photograph slipped from it. He quickly caught it. But not before I saw the picture. A younger man stood beside a woman. And between them was a little girl. I couldn't see the girl's face clearly. But I could see the necklace. The same silver pendant Maya had been wearing that afternoon. My stomach tightened. “Who is that girl?” The old man looked at me. Then at my uncle. Neither of them spoke. Finally, my uncle reached across the table and took the photograph. “Go to bed, Daniel.” I stared at him. “Why?” “Because it's late.” That wasn't an answer. But I knew from his expression that I wasn't going to get one. I went upstairs. I closed my bedroom door. Then I sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the ceiling. I kept thinking about Maya. Her necklace. The photograph. And the name Richard. There was a connection. I just didn't know what it was. Then my phone vibrated. A message. Unknown number. I opened it. There was only one sentence. Stay away from Maya. I read it twice. Then another message appeared. You have no idea who she is. I stared at the screen. For the first time since arriving in the village, I wasn't bored anymore. I was worried. And somehow, I knew that whatever secret everyone was trying to hide... I had just walked straight into it.