My dad actual y made it home in time for dinner, to my astonishment, but as soon as we al sat down at the table, I wanted him gone. Dinners recently had mostly been spent with my parents trying to get me to talk. I didn't need to talk about Mr. Meyer. I wasn't ten years old and I wasn't traumatized. I was just sad. That was natural and to be expected. I didn't need to be babied about it.
I dreaded school the next morning. It was going to be today al over again times a thousand. Not to mention I stil had that math test on my schedule. What a way to spend my birthday.
My dad's fist slamming on the table jarred me brutal y from my thoughts. I sat up like a shot.
"That's not the point." His voice was frigid and harsh, as if he were holding back an angry yel .
"It's not?" my mom asked. "This is the first night you've been home al week. It wouldn't surprise me to find out her nightmares are a result of her lacking a father figure."
"That is ridiculous. Don't give me that psychobabble, Diane."
"I'm just trying to find a solution," Mom said tiredly. "Her teacher was murdered. If anything, that wil start the nightmares again. We should take her back to Dr. Niles."
It was as if she'd total y forgotten what I had told her that morning. I wanted to chuck my spaghetti into both their faces and scream, Hello! I'm right here! It was almost more comical than enraging when they argued about me as I sat right next to them. When they total y forgot about my presence in a room, they made it obvious that they cared more about fighting with each other than about my mental health. My dad huffed. "If you feel that's necessary."
"There are a lot of things that I feel are necessary."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
She stared at him. "You know exactly what it means."
"Don't play mind games with me."
It was nights like these that made me wish I had a dog. I needed an excuse to get out of my house and go for a walk. Anything to get the hel out of there.
"You're never home, and when you are, al you do is yel ,"
Mom accused him. "I'm afraid of you when--and if--you come home at night. So is Elisabeth. It wouldn't shock me if her nightmares are a result of al these years of you screaming at her for every little thing. This isn't about you and me, Rick--this is about the way you treat your daughter."
That was al I could stomach. I stood up from the table and took my plate into the kitchen, mental y blocking out my dad's enraged response. Everyone's parents argue--that just happens in any relationship--but parents shouldn't fight in front of their kids. My mom and dad were focused on blaming one another for my nightmares, when both of them were probably the cause.
I went up to my bedroom and sat on my bed, staring into the mirror over my dresser. The pink music box my dad had given me when I was seven sat between a pair of scented candles and a birthday card my grandmother had sent me earlier in the week. I got up, walked to my dresser, and lifted the top of the music box. The little plastic bal erina inside unfolded and stood. I lifted the box and turned the key on the bottom. Delicate music began to play, and the bal erina turned slowly. I watched her dance for a few moments, wondering how my life had gotten this way, how my dad had turned into such a hateful person. I loved that music box, now mostly because it reminded me of the wonderful father the man downstairs used to be. I'd have given anything to turn back the last ten years of my life--and that wasn't something someone my age should have to feel.
UNCORRECTED E-PROOF--NOT FOR SALE
HarperCollins Children's Books
..................................................................... 3
REFUSING TO LET MY DEPRESSION SINK DEEPER, I popped in a movie. I settled on 13 Going On 30, since that was how old my parents made me feel. At least the happy, funny moments might be able to restore my cheer. On and off I could hear the yel ing. When my clock rol ed over midnight, my parents had begun arguing again.
"Happy birthday to me," I said dismal y. Within the next minute, I received eight text messages containing variations of "happy birthday!" involving excessive punctuation and two texts including "luv u bitch!"
I decided to spend my first few minutes as a seventeenyear-old by sneaking out the front door to sit on the porch. I leaned against one of the columns and took in a deep breath. Night had settled and the air was a little chil y, but I was comfortable in my T-shirt.
After a little while of sitting on my porch and picking at my nails, I stood up and started down my driveway to the sidewalk. Once around the block should be enough, I decided. I really needed a dog. I considered for a moment: a car or a dog for my birthday. . . . Yeah, car. I didn't think I'd get it exactly the next day, but more likely over the weekend. I knew a lot of kids didn't get cars for their birthdays, or even cars at al , let alone the chance to go pick one out, so I shouldn't complain. But then again, a lot of kids got to have parents who didn't scream at each other. Everyone made their sacrifices.
I heard a low rumble in front of me and stopped walking. It didn't sound mechanical like a car engine, and I definitely didn't see any headlights ahead, either. I strained my eyes to peer into the darkness. The streetlamp above me buzzed and went out. Past the sidewalk corner and deep into my neighbor's wide lawn, I could see nothing. For an instant I thought of Mr. Meyer's murderer. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to go walking around outside after midnight?
"What are you looking at?"
I let out a smal cry and spun around as my heart leaped into my throat.
It was Wil as if he'd appeared out of nowhere. He looked worried and determined, but he was obviously trying to hide those feelings.
"What are you doing out here?" I whispered harshly.
"What are you doing here?" he countered.
I threw my hand up. "I live here!"
Suddenly, I had a terrible thought. I had first seen Wil the day before, the night Mr. Meyer died. No, no, no. That was ridiculous. Wil was just some hot, weird guy I happened to be seeing everywhere I went. That didn't make him a murderer. Hadn't my mom given me a can of mace for Christmas?
What had I done with that?
"So why are you out for a walk this late at night?" he asked, distracting me from my thoughts. "Even if you live here, it's pretty late to be wandering around at night."
"Wel , you're out here too. I like being outside at night. It's relaxing."
That smile widened. It was like he thought this was funny.
"Most people would feel nervous."
My hands rested on my hips. "Why? Should I be?"
"What?"
"Nervous."
"Probably."
"You don't seem like you're nervous."
"I can take care of myself." His smile turned dark, knowing.
"You're the weirdest boy I've ever met--and believe me, every single one of them is weird, so that's saying a lot."
Once I realized what I'd just said, I wanted to smack my face into a brick wal . My mouth sure liked to run when it should have been my feet running.
He laughed. "At least you're honest about your feelings."
"They say it's a virtue." I turned around to walk back to my house. It was time to leave. "Do me a favor and leave me alone. I just know you're going to go al Ted Bundy on my ass any second." I looked around me, hoping one of the neighbors would flick their porch lights on and burst out holding a shotgun. I felt pretty sure I wasn't that lucky.
"Are you afraid of me?" Wil asked, jogging to catch up to me.
"Are you passive-aggressively trying to tel me that I should be afraid of you, too? Not just 'nervous'?" I was only four houses away from home now.
"No, but have you ever heard the saying 'The brave may not live forever, but the cautious never live at al '?"
"No, I haven't heard that, but I'l keep it in mind. Thanks for the proverbial insight, my stalker friend."
He threw an arm across my chest to stop me and looked ahead, staring coldly into the dark. His body stiffened, but something in my gut told me that it wasn't bec
ause of the chil y air.
I turned my head to fol ow his gaze, but I saw nothing in the street ahead. A breeze scattered a handful of already fal en leaves. I smel ed something strange, like eggs and black smoke. "Do you smel that? What's wrong?"
He stepped around me to put himself between me and wherever he was staring. "You can't see into the Grim yet."
"See what? The grim what?" I peeked over his shoulder. I thought I saw a shadow cross my path, but when I blinked, nothing was there. It was too dark.
His gaze was fixed on something in the blackness. "It's not time! Stand down. I don't care if it's after midnight--she cannot be touched, unless you're prepared for the consequences."
He was clearly not talking to me. I was suddenly very aware that though I knew his name, I had no idea who he was. He could have been some drug addict. I had never seen anyone on anything other than pot or alcohol, not even shrooms, let alone anything worse, so I had no idea what to expect. My body tensed with fear. "What are you on? I've had enough. I'm leaving now."
I started to turn back to my house.
"No, wait," Wil said.
I heard the rumble again, only this time it was louder. That was not a car engine. Was it a growl? Was there a dog--a big dog--out there in the dark? My mind raced with thoughts of a rabid-dog attack. If the dog was close enough for me to hear it, then I should have been able to see it.
Another growl came, and then very heavy footsteps--like T.-rex-shaking-the-water-cup- Jurassic-Park-style heavy
footsteps.
"What is that?" I asked, trembling, my eyes searching the dark. I felt like I'd fal en right into a real-life version of one of my nightmares. My head whirled dizzily, and fear made my stomach churn.
Hot breath, reeking like roadkil , blasted my face from an unseen source, and I spun around, gagging. "Oh my God!" I groaned, covering my mouth.
"Come here," Wil said slowly, reaching back for me without taking a step. The look of worry on his face that I'd noticed earlier had deepened. Now he looked afraid, and that scared me a thousand times more.
"No way!" I cried, reeling away from him.
His fear spun into frustration as I pul ed away. "Don't scream. You'l make him attack."
Panic set in. "Get away!" I shrieked, and tried to run, but Wil grabbed my arm. I twisted and pul ed, but his grip was amazingly strong. It was like trying to drag an eighteenwheeler; I couldn't get him to give even an inch. How could anyone be that strong? I started to pry at his fingers, but they were like solid rock.
"It's time to end this game," he said, sending stabs of ice down my spine. He yanked me to his chest effortlessly and pressed his palm to my forehead.
Bright white light flashed, blinding me. Every inch of my skul felt as if it would explode from the pressure. The ground felt as if it were rocking and rol ing at my feet, and a cruel wind--I didn't even know where it came from--punished me violently, beating at me from al directions. My knees began to sway, unable to hold my weight, but Wil held me up so I wouldn't fal . The light vanished just as abruptly as it had appeared as he took his hand away and released me. I staggered back and fel on my tailbone, my vision blurring--
but through the haze I could have sworn I saw shadowy wings towering over me, spreading wide. I blinked and saw only Wil 's blurry form where I thought wings had just been. Every muscle in my body ached as if I'd just run a mile, but I was energized. There was a rushing sensation through the air, through the ground, and every inch of my body tingled with tiny prickles of electricity, as if I were moving a hundred miles an hour, even though I hadn't moved an inch. The air around me was sticky for a moment, sticky and smoky, and I squeezed my eyes shut and opened them again to clear my vision. After a heartbeat, the haziness faded. I stared confusedly at the pavement, rubbing my forehead.
"El ie!"
My eyes suddenly focused and I saw Wil again. My vision was crisp and the world had brightened. I looked past Wil , marveling at how easily I could see through the darkness, distinguishing every leaf on my neighbors' bushes, every groove in every shingle on their roofs.
And then I saw the monster: something vaguely resembling a huge dog covered in thick, black fur loomed over us, standing easily five feet tal at the shoulder. It lumbered over on al fours with a snout ful of gnarled, viciouslooking teeth in the jaws of a heavy, oversize head. Its paws were the size of an elephant's foot and ended in talons that looked like they could tear a man in half.
But I wasn't afraid. A calmness washed over me, and my mind analyzed at a lightning pace. Strange memories and thoughts that didn't belong to me flooded into my mind: faces and violence I'd seen long ago in different times. I looked up at Wil , whose face sparked the clearest and fondest memory. I knew I had to fight now, but I needed my weapons. The beast leaped toward me, claws outstretched, and took a swipe with one of its front paws, but Wil appeared between us. He grabbed the beast's forelimb and kicked ful force into its chest, sending it flying back, shattering my neighbor's mailbox into countless little chunks of wood and brick.
It happened so fast that I knew I shouldn't have been able to see it, but I did. I stepped forward, watching the creature climb to its feet as it loosed a low, dangerous-sounding growl.
I held both of my arms out and wil ed weapons into my open palms. The twin Khopesh swords appeared out of nothing in a flash of shimmering light. The curving silver blades glinted brightly. I glanced over at Wil . I could now see intricate black tattoos twisting out from beneath his shirt al the way down his right arm to his knuckles. I remembered the beautiful symbols woven into the spiraling design, because I'd seen them before with different eyes, in another time. My thoughts were calm and unnervingly clear. The blades exploded into white flames at my command. Blinding light devoured the silver, and the power coursed through me. My fingers squeezed the cool, familiar helves as the scents of silver and old blood flooded my heightened senses. The swords felt right in my grasp, like hugging an old friend. The monster began to circle me, growling low and releasing an unearthly hiss. Its eyes were bottomless pits of blackness set deep into its deformed, terrible skul . I stared right back into those eyes without fear or hesitation. I moved with the creature so that it was never at my back, and in a voice that did not seem my own I chal enged the beast: "Come for me."
The wolflike monster charged, paws and talons outstretched, massive jaws gaping. I spun out of the way just as teeth clamped down on the hood of my sweatshirt instead of my throat. The beast yanked the cotton flap, wrenching me around awkwardly, twisting, growling. Its paws clawed at my body, pul ing me closer to its mouth so it could take a bite out of my face. I smashed my elbow into its nose, and it slumped back onto its haunches with a groan. Then my elbow slammed down on top of its skul and something crunched, but the monster only bit harder on my hoodie, shredding the fabric. Abruptly, it threw me to the ground, and I looked up. Wil had it by the throat, his arm buried elbow deep in its thick fur, forcing the beast backward.
"Now!" he roared.
It thrashed like a giant pit bul and broke free. My eyes locked on my target and my mind cleared to seize the opportunity. Quicker than my heart could beat, I was on my feet and shoving my fiery sword into its soft throat and straight through the top of its skul . The creature's legs buckled as its fur shimmered oddly before exploding in flames. It happened very quickly. Fire devoured the reaper, swal owing it in white light, consuming it until final y the head disappeared, leaving nothing but empty space and fal ing ashes where a monster had just been.
Then the shadows closed in around me.
UNCORRECTED E-PROOF--NOT FOR SALE
HarperCollins Children's Books
..................................................................... 4
THE NEXT MORNING, MY HEAD AND EVERY MUSCLE in my body hurt as if I'd run a marathon through six feet of snow in stilettos. Fragmented chunks of the nightmare I'd had the night before spun through my head. As much as it annoyed me to have dreamed about Wil , I was more unsettled
because it had been way more vivid and scary than my usual nightmares. Why was I stil in my jeans and shirt? My hoodie, however, was AWOL. I dug through my dirty-clothes hamper and the blankets on my bed, but it was nowhere to be found. How had it just disappeared?
What if what happened last night wasn't a dream?
There was a knock on my door. "Is the birthday girl awake, yet?" It was my mom. "Come on, El ie! Get up!"
I headed to the bathroom to shower, straightened the obnoxious waves in my hair with the flatiron, and tugged on fresh jeans and a T-shirt. I hopped downstairs to meet my mom in the kitchen.
"I made you pancakes, since it's your birthday," Mom said cheerful y, and smiling brightly, she presented a platter stacked high. "I know you didn't eat the ones I made you yesterday, so I hope you're feeling wel enough to appreciate them more this morning."
"Thanks, Mom," I said, sitting down at the counter to eat.
"Happy birthday, honey." She kissed the top of my head.
"Love you."
"Love you, too. Where's Dad?"
Her smile vanished. "He had to leave early. He's got a meeting in Lansing. He told me to tel you happy birthday and that he loves you."
I forced a smile, pretty certain that she had made the last part up. More likely he had just left for his meeting without saying a thing.
Mom's face brightened. "So I thought we would go get your present after school. I know today is going to be very difficult with everything that happened yesterday, but hopeful y this wil make today a little less awful. Sound good?"
My heart lifted. "Yeah."
"Okay, then. I'm going to get some work done before we take off for school." She turned to go back to her office.
"Make sure you eat. We'l go by the dealership after school and see what they have."
Awesome. "Hey, Mom?"
She turned back around. "Yeah, sweetie?"
"Did you hear anything last night?" I wasn't sure what I expected her to answer with.
She frowned. "Oh, honey, I'm so sorry your father and I were arguing. I'm so sorry you heard that."
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