For the next few weeks, nothing much happened. My mom had tried to enroll us in the local school, but it was already out for summer. They told her they’d just go ahead and advance us to the next grade levels when school started up in the fall, which meant I’d be trekking the fifteen miles to Whispering Hollows High for my senior year, and Grayson would at least spend the start of her sophomore year there. I knew she was still trying to figure out a way to go back home. I wanted to go back as well, but I had resigned myself to the fact that I’d have
Tearing between tree branches and over roots that seemed to stick up from the ground and lash out at my boots, I made my way back through the woods. I had been running for several minutes before I realized I had no idea where I was going. All of that careful planning of landmarks so that I could find my way back to the tree, and eventually Grandma’s cottage, were out the window as I sprinted away from the teenaged boy I’d seen chopping wood, a vision of his blue eyes in my mind and nothing in my line of sight save the occasional tree branch that reached too closely to my face.
“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