“Harlow? Are you okay?”
The sound of Grandma Agnes’s voice caught me off-guard. I was still standing with my back pressed to the door, panting, my eyes closed, and I hadn’t realized she was in the kitchen. When I raised my eyelids a crack, I could see her standing across the room at the stove, stirring something in a pot, likely making our din
That night, I lay in my room on my back, looking at the ceiling for hours. Everyone else was in bed, likely asleep, and I was still thinking about everything that had happened in the woods and what my grandmother had told me when I got back home. There was so much I didn’t understand, so much I didn’t know, and I had no idea when I might figure it all out.But
On the ride into town to visit the grocery store, Max wasn’t his usual quiet self. It was kind of odd. Most of the time, when we were traveling in the car together, I was shocked if he said more than two words, but on that day, he was quite chatty--which was kind of cool, but also just one more thing that was suddenly different in my life.“How are you li
“Excuse me.”The hot guy was looking at me expectantly. I stared at him, slack jawed, the Cosmo magazine clutched tightly in my hands, waiting for him to say more.
My eyes were barely above the dashboard of the minivan, so I couldn’t really see out. When I heard the door to the grocery store chime, I prayed it was Max coming out, not Ben, but I didn’t dare look out. Since no one approached the van right away, I had to figure it was Ben. The urge to peek, to lift my head just slightly and look around to see if it was him was excruciating, but I didn’t do it. A few seconds later, I heard an engine turn over and still waited. Once I had heard the vehicle pull away, I looked out the window to see an older red truck pulling out onto the road. It made sense that he would drive a truck since we all lived in the woods. And it made sens
“Ben Peterson.” I said his name again. It was so weird to have a name to put with a face, though I wasn’t sure why. Everyone had a name. I guess I was expecting his to be something more… unusual, sort of like him. Ben was an ordinary name. Peterson was, too. I felt like maybe his name should’ve been Striker or Rider or something. But Ben Peterson was a nice name--an ordinary, nice name.
I didn’t go far this time. Not only was Grandma’s odd behavior weighing on my mind, I couldn’t shake how scared I’d been the day before when I’d ran into that other house out there, the one that seemed to be surrounded by dead trees and dark ground. I didn’t want to have any sort of contact with anyone who loved there.I wasn&rsquo
I led Grayson through the woods toward the sound of chopping. The same markers I’d tried to keep track of the day before were still there. This time, I tried to think of them in reverse order so that if I had to flee Ben’s yard, I could do so without getting lost. Not that I planned to do that this time. For one thing, there was no way in the world Grayson would take off running from a hot guy, and for the other, I had a reason to talk to Ben now that I hadn't had the day before. He’d bought the magazine for me, after all, and I could use that as an excuse to speak to him, to say thank you.
Grayson heard it, too, her eyes were wide as she turned and looked behind her, exactly where my eyes were also trained. A form appeared on the path where we’d just come from, but it wasn’t Sam, and it wasn’t Ben. It was another guy, probably about my age. He was a little taller than me, though not much, and not nearly as tall as Sam. He had chocolate brown eyes and a friendly smile. His caramel brown hair was short and spiked in the front, and as he got closer, I couldn’t help but think I’d seen him somewhere before, though I couldn’t imagine where it would’ve been. He certainly wasn’t at the grocery store or at Ben’s house.