Someone is knocking.
I know I’ve waited too long to open it.
“Hey, Leah, you’re not asleep yet, are . . .” Matt freezes with his hand on the doorknob, his mouth hanging open.
The boy spins around in one fluid movement, moving me behind him to face Matt, a deep rumble in his throat.
“What the—”
“Matt!” I hiss. “It’s not what you think.” I wrap my hands around the boy’s arm, wishing Matt would shut the door. I scramble around to place myself between them.
“Are you—? No, you’ve got to be—” I slap a hand over Matt’s mouth and jerk him in by the shirt. He’s so shocked he doesn’t put up a fight. I close the door as quietly as I can, twisting the lock.
But then Matt moves.
He lunges at the boy and just as quickly ends up on the floor, staring up at the ceiling with the breath knocked out of him. The boy moved so fast I barely turned in time to see him flip Matt like a toy. “Matt! Are you okay?”
Matt groans as he glares daggers at the wild boy hovering above him. For a long moment there is only tense silence. I’m not sure I can explain my way out of this. “I promise, it’s not what you think,” I say, bending over to reach for Matt’s hands.
“I’m not thinking much of anything right now, Leah, so if you’d like to fill in the giant empty space between my ears, that would be helpful.”
“Matt,” the boy says, and I can see something flickering in his eyes.
“Yes, Matt. My brother,” I say, wondering if he’s putting the pieces together or if he remembers them to begin with.
I pull Matt to his feet and he steps back toward the door, taking me with him. “Well, now that we know who I am, who the hell are you?”
“He doesn’t have a name, Matt.”
“Come again?”
“He’s from the woods—seriously, don’t look at me like that—and I don’t know his name because he doesn’t remember it.”
Matt looks him up and down. “Assuming I believe any of what you just said, what’s he doing in your room? With Mom and Dad not here.” He pauses. “On a Sunday.”
“I know, I know, I’m going to hell. I’ve already established that. Matt, you can’t say anything.”
“You’ve got to explain this.” Matt steps forward, studying the boy as much as the boy is watching him. “Now.”
“It’s complicated.”
“I’ve got time, ironically enough, but you’ve got, mmm, maybe five minutes until Ashley walks in here and shit really hits the fan.”
“You’re not going to believe me.”
“I’m pretty open to options at the moment.” His laugh is hollow.
“Matt, please, it’s not funny.”
“It kind of is, if you step back and look at it. At least, until one of the parental figures walks up here and we all die.”
“Okay, fine.” I take a shaky breath. I’ve never said the words out loud before. Now I don’t have a choice. “You know that big tree stump at the end of Watson’s hay field? The one next to the woods?”
“I think so, yeah.”
“Well, a few years ago, I started putting apples out there, you know, to see if deer would come eat them.”
“Okay.”
“Well, it wasn’t deer that came and ate them.”
Matt is slowly nodding, waiting. “And?”
I have to say it, but even in my head, it sounds ridiculous. “It was . . . Bigfoot.”
Matt snorts so loud he starts coughing.
“Be quiet!”
“Are you serious?!” His cough turns into a laugh, and he covers his mouth. “I’m sorry, Leah, but that was the last thing I was expecting to hear. You’re kidding, right?”
“I’m not lying, Matt. I’ve been watching Bigfoot or Sasquatch or whatever you want to call them come to that stump and eat apples for years. There were always three, until a few weeks ago, and then I saw him with them.”
“Him? What do you mean, he was with them? Wait, oh my God, we’re actually talking about Bigfoot.”
“Please be serious for a second. I’m not lying about this. I swear.”
Matt’s gaze levels on the boy. “How old are you?”
“I . . . don’t . . .” His voice is unsure. “I don’t know.”
“And you don’t know how you ended up in the forest? How you ended up with . . .” Matt sighs. “Bigfoot?”
“No. I can’t remember.” The boy’s eyes glaze over as he stares into the distance. He shakes his head, and I would give anything to know the memories he’s got locked away.
“He’s a little dirty.” Matt eyes the long tangled hair that drapes around the boy’s shoulders, then looks down to his mud-crusted feet, his nails stained from years of going barefoot. “No, never mind, a lot.” Matt steps closer to him, still keeping a hand on me. “Leah. Have you really looked at him?”
“What are you talking about?” Matt’s faster than I am. It’s taken me weeks to see what he’s seen in five minutes.
“He looks . . .” Suddenly Matt shakes his head and steps back. “Nothing. I just thought he seemed familiar.”
Familiar. The word rings in my ears, the puzzle piece flashing in my mind. I know. And that’s what makes me afraid.
“I don’t know what to do.”
“You should turn him in to the police.”
“No!” I say, then lower my voice. “No. They would take him away. He would hate it.”
“You seem to know him well,” Matt says wryly. “Does Ashley know about him?”
“Of course not. No one knows. And you can’t tell, especially not Ben. He’d likely go ballistic.”
“He’d do more than that. What are you doing, Leah? From what I saw when I walked in here, Ben’s feelings are the last thing on your mind.”
I glance down, guilt washing over me. “I know, I just don’t know what to do.”
“You do the right thing.”
“I don’t know what that is anymore.”
“Maybe call your boyfriend and tell his dad there’s a wild boy living in the woods that needs help?”
“No. That’s not happening.”
Matt shakes his head, looking at me with something close to pity. “So what, you’re just going to let him go? Keep sneaking into the woods to see him and, oh my God, is that where you were the other night?”
I point my finger at him. “Not. A. Word. It was late and I fell asleep. Nothing happened, end of story. Look, I haven’t figured this out yet, but calling the police isn’t the answer. There’re too many complications.”
“Damn right. No one’s going to believe where he came from anyway. I don’t even know if I believe it.”
A piercing call comes from the forest, louder than the pounding rain. Matt’s eyes are huge as he watches the boy move to my side. “What was that?”
“They’re calling him.”
The boy reaches out and takes my hand, his fingers wrapping around mine, sending heat spinning up to my head. In the next moment he’s gone, disappearing into the torrential night. I stand there, unable to close the window, until my pajamas are just as soaked as the floor. Matt stands motionless by my side, both of us flinching each time a call rings out in the night, until finally they are silent.
chapter twenty-two
I wake to Ashley snoring in my ear. Half of me wants to roll over and go to sleep; the other can’t stay here a second longer. This secret is pulling me in ten different directions. I’m relieved that Matt shares it now, but he’s rational; he won’t let me drag this out forever. He’ll make me face it and deal with it eventually.
What I really want is to tell Ashley. I think she would take my side and understand why I can’t tell anyone who might do something about it.
And Charlie Becker was right. His parents were gone.
Which means my parents lied.
I slide out of the bed, cringing when my feet touch a puddle of water that Matt and I must have missed. Ashley continues to snore, rolli
ng over to take my spot immediately.
The first thing I notice when I hit the stairs is that the house doesn’t smell like bacon. It’s also quiet. Treading softly, I enter the kitchen to find a large box of grocery-store doughnuts sitting on the kitchen table.
I imagine if someone walked in right now, they’d see me staring at the box like it’s an alien or something. It’s not that I mind the doughnuts, but I can’t remember a time in my memory when Mom didn’t cook on a Sunday morning.
The coffeepot’s on, so I know someone is up. Dad’s usually dressed and sitting at the table right now, but he’s nowhere in sight.
I grab a glazed and walk out to the porch, tucking my feet beneath me on the faded wooden glider. It’s cloudy this morning, the scent of rain still in the air, and everything glistens with last night’s downpour.
I can’t imagine sleeping in the rain. I don’t know how the boy stands it, whether he slept in the grotto or somewhere else.
The back door opens and Ashley walks out. “I thought you were still asleep?”
“You took the heat away.” She sits beside me and pulls her feet up. “How about that epic Roberts breakfast in there?”
I hold up my doughnut. “This could be a first.”
“They must have stayed out pretty late.”
“I guess.”
The coffeepot rattles, and I look back to see a kitchen full of people. Mom and Dad have appeared out of nowhere, dressed and ready to go. Matt is standing by the coffeepot, watching them with squinty eyes.
“I guess it’s time to get ready. I didn’t plan on sleeping so late,” I say.
“Oh! That’s right. I’ve got the car.”
“Got to pick up your mom?”
“Yeah. Save me a seat if we’re late.”
I follow her back into the house. “Morning, Ashley, Leah,” Mom says, filling a to-go cup.
“Morning!” Ashley says, sprinting up the stairs.
“Morning. Did you have fun last night?” I ask.
Mom hesitates for a second. “Oh, yes. It was a lovely dinner. Did you kids have fun at the dance? You’ll have to show us pictures later.”
“Yeah, we had a good time.” I almost say it. It would be so worth it to see her face when I tell her. But then I would have to admit where we were after the dance, and I would get into trouble with Dad all over again. Why lie? What could they be doing that requires the preacher and his wife to lie to their children about where they go on a Saturday night? Or why they’ve been coming and going so late at night without telling us? And why my mother looked so comfortable with a gun in the woods?
Then I see the bandage around her hand.
“What happened?”
“Oh, cut it on a knife. I was helping Lisa in the kitchen last night. Look, your father and I are leaving early. Can you and Matt come by yourselves?”
“Sure.” She lies just like I do, natural and effortless. What is she hiding?
“Great. See you soon.” Mom smiles as she leaves the kitchen, accidentally brushing into Dad’s shoulder. She mumbles an apology, grabbing his arm to steady herself, and a piece of paper flutters to the ground from one of the folders under his arm. Notes for his sermon, likely.
Dad doesn’t notice the fluttering paper, not until it hits the ground by my feet.
My breath stills. It’s a photo. Of them. Their last day. The camera must be set on a tripod, because Mark Hutton is there with Samuel and Reed, the vivid green eyes and dark hair of Ashley’s brother sending chills down my spine. They’re all smiles as the camera flashes, Mr. Hutton’s arms around both little boys. The bright orange tent stands out starkly behind them, and the beginnings of a campfire off to the left.
Dad’s hand snakes out to snatch it up, our eyes meeting for one split second, and then he places the photo back into a folder like nothing happened.
But not before I see what is there.
In the background of trees, within a black circle, like someone took a Sharpie and marked on the print, is a face. But it’s not the faceless monster of my dreams, the one I was told committed the crime, some soulless sociopath that ripped our worlds apart.
It’s not even a human.
It’s a Sasquatch.
I don’t remember getting dressed for church or saying good-bye to Ash, but suddenly I’m sitting next to Matt as he pulls out of the driveway. I’m having a hard time with coherent thoughts. Ideas form in my mind and dissipate within seconds, always replaced with that photograph. My parents know about Bigfoot. They would have to, if they have a photograph like that. But what else? And what do I not know that they do?
Matt clicks his tongue, in that way he does when he’s bothered by something.
“What’s wrong?” I say, more out of habit than actually wondering.
“You . . .” Matt taps his fingers on the steering wheel and shoots me a look. “You need to tell Ben.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
“I’m afraid to hurt him.”
“So you think it’s better to string him along?”
“I’m not . . .” I begin, but realize he’s right. “I know it’s wrong, but I don’t know what to say. How do I tell him the truth? I can’t, not everything. Ben’s not going to buy the it’s not you, it’s me line.”
“It doesn’t matter, Leah. You have to. And it’s going to suck, but it’s the right thing to do.”
I can feel tears forming, but I blink them away. “He’s been perfect. Beyond perfect.”
“Which is why you need to do it now. It will only get worse the longer you wait. How long do you think you can keep this up without it all blowing up in your face? You’re my sister, and I don’t want something to happen to you.”
He stares as I wipe at my eyes, but I cross my arms and stare out the window as Matt’s words soak in and begin to eat away at my sanity. Hurting Ben is going to be awful. And it’s all my fault. I don’t want to do this, but now that it’s in my mind, I can’t let it go.
Matt clicks his tongue again, and I brace myself. “You know you’re crazy, right?”
“God, again? Now what?” I throw my hands up.
“You say you’ve found Bigfoot, and now a boy in the woods who lives with them, and you really haven’t told anyone. That’s crazy, Leah.”
“Who would I tell, Matt? Who would believe me?”
“Well, I do.”
“You still haven’t seen them.”
“Yeah, but I heard that scream. It wasn’t human, and I’ve never heard an animal make that kind of noise before. You saw how that boy ran away. He wouldn’t have gone if there wasn’t something there, right?”
“Right,” I whisper.
“But we’re talking about a human now. A missing boy, because that’s what he is. Have you even considered who he might be?”
“I’ve asked him if he remembers, but he can’t.”
“Or he doesn’t want you to know.”
“What?”
“You don’t recognize him, do you? You, of all people.”
I stare at Matt, my body growing cold as the truth surfaces. Matt knows. I wait for him to say it, to say the name that’s been floating in my mind for days now. But he’s focused on the road, his fingers tapping a silent rhythm on the steering wheel as the car speeds over the slick blacktop. There’s so much water you can’t really see the rogue potholes that hide beneath the surface. Filled with water, they look like sheets of glass under the gray sky.
When the deer trots out of the forest and onto the edge of the road, Matt jerks the car. It’s cliché, but I really can feel time slow. In that moment, I’m aware. I see what’s about to happen, and for one split second, time ceases to exist.
I feel the wheels lift off the pavement and slide onto the water as if I am part of the car itself. It’s like the Tilt-A-Whirl cups at the fair, only times one hundred. We spin so fast I can’t keep my eyes open. My heart feels like it’s going to burst. We fly off the blacktop, careen down into the ditch, and
soar into the trees. Only it feels like driving down a mountain and soaring off a cliff. I see it, the one we’re going to hit: a pine just like the others, but it will never look the same. I get one more glance at Matt before my head snaps forward, a rush of white balloon meets me, pain bursts in my head, and everything goes black.
chapter twenty-three
A few nights later, after the camping trip, Sam crawls into my bed, tears running down his face.
“What’s wrong?”
“Matt wouldn’t let me sleep in his bed.”
“Why are you crying?” I scoot over to make room as he burrows beneath the covers.
“Bad dream.”
“About what you saw in the woods? Again?”
“Yes,” he sniffs, rubbing his hand across his face.
“You should tell Dad. He’ll know what to do.”
“Reed wants me to come with him this weekend camping again. I don’t want to go, and Matt said he doesn’t want to go either.”
“Why doesn’t Matt want to go? He loves camping.”
“I don’t know.”
“You’re not going to see it again, Sam. It wasn’t even real. You saw something else, I promise.”
“What if you’re wrong? What if there really was a monster?”
“Monsters aren’t real.”
“Maybe it was a demon.”
“Demons don’t have fur.” I laugh.
“How do you know? You’ve never seen one, just the pictures in Sunday school, and those aren’t real.”
“Because they’re fallen angels. They would have wings, silly.”
“I know what I saw, Leah.”
“Just go to sleep, Sam. It’ll be fine. There’s no such thing as monsters.”
The first thing I feel is my face. A feather-light touch whispers across my forehead and my cheeks and lingers on my lips. Something else burns, but I can’t tell where it starts and where it ends. At times it’s all of me, others it’s focused on one bright point. That’s how I see the pain, in light and dark. At the moment, my body glows like the sun.
Sounds are muffled and distant, but it seems like someone is calling my name down a long, dark tunnel. I am weightless, and the feeling of being wrapped in a warm cocoon makes me forget anything else but what that feels like and what I can do to stay inside it forever.
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