nodded and gave me a faint smile. I started to close the door when I noticed a strange gray hat in the corner. It was domed on top, with a circular rim and a red band around the base: a bowler hat.
Weird. Why would that be there?
As I straightened and started to turn around, something moved out of the corner of my eye. I caught a glimpse of a figure hiding behind Ethanâs bedroom door, its pale eyes watching me through the crack. I jerked my head around, but of course there was nothing there.
Jeez, now Ethanâs got me seeing imaginary monsters. I need to stop watching those late-night horror flicks.
A thunderous boom directly overhead made me jump, and fat drops plinked against the windowpanes. Rushing past Ethan, I burst out of the house and sprinted down the driveway.
I WAS SOAKED WHEN I REACHED the bus stop. The late spring rain wasnât frigid, but it was cold enough to be uncomfortable. I crossed my arms and huddled under a mossy cypress, waiting for the bus to arrive.
Wonder where Robbie is? I mused, gazing down the road. Heâs usually here by now. Maybe he didnât feel like getting drenched and stayed home. I snorted and rolled my eyes. Skipping class again, huh? Slacker. Wish I could do that.
If only I had a car. I knew kids whose parents gave them cars for their sixteenth birthday. Me, Iâd be lucky if I got a cake. Most of my classmates already had licenses and could drive themselves to clubs and parties and anywhere they wanted. I was always left behind, the backward hick girl nobody wanted to invite.
Except Robbie, I amended with a small mental shrug. At least Robbie will remember. Wonder what kooky thing he has planned for my birthday tomorrow? I could almost guarantee it would be something strange or crazy. Last year, he snuck me out of the house for a midnight picnic in the woods. It was weird; I remembered the glen and the little pond with the fireflies drifting over it, but though I explored the woods behind my house countless times since then, I never found it again.
Something rustled in the bushes behind me. A possum or a deer, or even a fox, seeking shelter from the rain. The wildlife out here was stupidly bold and had little fear of humans. If it wasnât for Beau, Momâs vegetable garden would be a buffet for rabbits and deer, and the local raccoon family would help themselves to everything in our cupboards.
A branch snapped in the trees, closer this time. I shifted uncomfortably, determined not to turn around for some stupid squirrel or raccoon. Iâm not like âinflate-a-boobâ Angie, Ms. Perfect Cheerleader, whoâd flip out if she saw a caged gerbil or a speck of dirt on her Hollister jeans. Iâve pitched hay and killed rats and driven pigs through knee-deep mud. Wild animals donât scare me.
Still, I stared down the road, hoping to see the bus turn the corner. Maybe it was the rain and my own sick imagination, but the woods felt like the set for The Blair Witch Project.
There are no wolves or serial killers out here, I told myself. Stop being paranoid.
The forest was suddenly very quiet. I leaned against the tree and shivered, trying to will the bus into appearing. A chill crawled up my back. I wasnât alone. Cautiously, I craned my neck up, peering through the leaves. An enormous black bird perched on a branch, feathers spiked out against the rain, sitting as motionless as a statue. As I watched, it turned its head and met my gaze, with eyes as green as colored glass.
And then, something reached around the tree and grabbed me.
I screamed and leaped away, my heart hammering in my ears. Whirling around, I tensed to run, my mind filled with rapists and murderers and Leatherface from The Texas Chainsaw Massacre.
Laughter exploded behind me.
Robbie Goodfell, my closest neighborâmeaning he lived nearly two miles awayâslouched against the tree trunk, gasping with mirth. Lanky and tall, in tattered jeans and an old T-shirt, he paused to look at my pale face, before cracking up again. His spiky red hair lay plastered to his forehead and his clothes clung to his skin, emphasizing his lean, bony frame, as though his limbs didnât fit quite right. Being drenched and covered in twigs, leaves, and mud didnât seem to bother him. Few things did.
âDammit, Robbie!â I raged, stomping up and aiming a kick at him. He dodged and staggered into the road, his face red from laughter. âThat wasnât funny, you idiot. You nearly gave me a heart attack.â
âS-sorry, princess,â Robbie gasped, clutching his heart as he sucked in air. âIt was just too perfect.â He gave a final chortle and straightened, holding his ribs. âMan, that was impressive. You mustâve jumped three feet in the air. What, did you think I was, Leatherface or something?â
âOf course not, stupid.â I turned away with a huff to hide my burning face. âAnd I told you to stop calling me that! Iâm not ten anymore.â
âSure thing, princess.â
I rolled my eyes. âHas anyone told you you have the maturity level of a four-year-old?â
He laughed cheerfully. âLook whoâs talking. Iâm not the one who stayed up all night with the lights on after watching The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. I tried to warn you.â He made a grotesque face and staggered toward me, arms outstretched. âOoooh, look out, itâs Leatherface.â
I scowled and kicked water at him. He kicked some back, laughing. By the time the bus showed up a few minutes later, we were both covered in mud, dripping wet, and the bus driver told us to sit in the back.
âWhat are you doing after school?â Robbie asked as we huddled in the far backseat. Around us, students talked, joked, laughed, and generally paid us no attention. âWanna grab a coffee later? Or we could sneak into the theater and see a movie.â
âNot today, Rob,â I replied, trying to wring water from my shirt. Now that it was over, I dearly regretted our little mud battle. I was going to look like the Creature from the Black Lagoon in front of Scott. âYouâll have to do your sneaking without me this time. Iâm tutoring someone after class.â
Robbieâs green eyes narrowed. âTutoring someone? Who?â
My stomach fluttered, and I tried not to grin. âScott Waldron.â
âWhat?â Robbieâs lip curled in a grimace of disgust. âThe jockstrap? Why, does he need you to teach him how to read?â
I scowled at him. âJust because heâs captain of the football team doesnât mean you can be a jerk. Or are you jealous?â
âOh, of course, thatâs it,â Robbie said with a sneer. âIâve always wanted the IQ of a rock. No, wait. That would be an insult to the rock.â He snorted. âI canât believe youâre going for the jockstrap. You can do so much better, princess.â
âDonât call me that.â I turned away to hide my burning face. âAnd itâs just a tutoring session. Heâs not going to ask me to the prom. Jeez.â
âRight.â Robbie sounded unconvinced. âHeâs not, but youâre hoping
