CHAPTER 4

  I hit my limit. There didn’t exist enough time to get over losing my mother, but twelve days felt a practical eternity away from normal life. After my interviews, Dad and I spent most of the day unpacking boxes, organizing the new home, and filling the fridge with meals brought by well-meaning neighbors.

  Both cozy and modern, our new home felt completely unlike anywhere we lived before. Disappointed he didn’t find a way to move back to our old house—or at least closer to it—rather than the opposite end of town, after setting up all my gaming consoles in the new entertainment center, I understood.

  Once I got all the cables plugged in, the TV mounted to the wall, and the games organized carefully in the stand beneath it, I reached back into the box and pulled out six worn controllers; two for each system. Mom gave me all of the equipment and games over the course of several Christmases and birthdays, and she regularly took time to play them with me on nights when Dad came home late. Practically every night.

  Staring at those controllers, I knew half of them could never be used again. They belonged in Mom’s hands. I closed the box, shoved it into a corner of the cupboard, and closed the doors. Holding back a torrent of tears building behind my eyes, I rushed to my room, grabbed another box, and furiously unpacked until questions of how to organize all my stuff distracted my grief. Familiarity wasn’t comfort when laced with memories of her.

  I considered calling James and Wynn to see if they could go to a movie or the lake, but as much as I wanted to get out of the silence of our tiny home—where after only a day there remained nothing to do—I didn’t trust myself to be good company yet. The last thing I wanted was to break down in front of my friends, which still happened at unexpected moments.

  Instead, I talked to Dad, but those conversations always turned into lectures about things I already knew. Come Monday morning, I was anxious to emerge from the shadow of grief and return to the sunshine of ordinary life, and relatively certain I didn’t have any tears left to cry.

  Dad dropped me off on his way out of town, which meant I arrived at school extra early. I moved “get a bike” to the top of my mental priority list. At least I had plenty of time to find my classes before they started.

  This morning, my mind no longer preoccupied with interviews, I noticed how out of place the modern school looked on the street corner of two old and broken roads, surrounded by yet older homes.

  Principal Abrams waved at me from her desk behind the large glass window of the office. I waved back, then remembered she taught my first period, History of Medicine; a single-semester class required for all the kids in the medical program.

  “Principal Abrams,” I said aloud as I approached her open office door, “where can I find your classroom?”

  She smiled and stood up, meeting me halfway. “It’s just here.” Crossing the small lobby, she opened the door to the first classroom in the north hall. “Your seat will be the center one on the back row.”

  “Thank you, ma’am. Is it alright if I find my other classes? Dad dropped me off on his way to Tallahassee, so I have lots of extra time.”

  “Of course. I’ll be in my office if you need help.”

  Unlike my school in Philadelphia, JMPHS adopted an A-B day schedule, with four periods each day. Which meant every other day alternated between different classes which lasted longer, giving teachers more time to cover complex topics.

  The whispered squeak of my shoes on the marbled linoleum seemed loud as I wandered around the quiet school, creating a mental map of my classes. Most of the rooms were locked or empty, but three times I found a teacher sitting at their computer. Latin, my fourth period on A days, was the first one open with the lights on.

  “You must be Micah,” Mr. Gaines said, standing up when I poked my head in.

  “Yes, sir.”

  He opened his mouth to say something else, then paused, seeming to change his mind. Smiling, he simply said, “Well, I look forward to working with you.” I nodded, but before I could turn to leave, he spoke again. “Oh, one moment.” He returned to his desk and checked the computer. “Fourth period, right?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “There are several empty seats in the room that hour. Pick whichever you prefer.” He motioned to the far wall. “The column against the wall is totally empty, as is the back row.”

  “I’ll take the front corner seat,” I said.

  He appeared pleased I didn’t want to hide in the back row. “You’ll be next to Miss Ethelston, then.”

  I nodded, and mumbled, “Thanks,” barely registering his parting wave as I left the room. When Dad told me I had every class with Wynn, seat arrangements hadn’t occurred to me. How many of our classes had an empty seat next to her? Was it possible for me to sit next to her every period?

  I checked my B-day schedule and set out to find those rooms. Two more times I spoke to a teacher and introduced myself, but neither gave me options on seating. At least I sat next to her for one period. Latin, of all classes. It would be nearly impossible to not give away how much I already knew. Which reminded me of the only productive conversation I had with my father all weekend.

  Dad had been sitting in the new recliner, reading an old National Geographic magazine. I passed by him with the third book I tried to read that day, returning it to the shelf. I’d never opened it before, but after reading the first couple chapters, an itch brought with it the entire story, including the major plot twist.

  “Ender’s Game? That was one of my favorites when I was your age. Must’ve read it a dozen times. Did you like it?”

  I shrugged, unsure how to answer. How could I like or dislike something I never got a chance to experience? From the teacher interviews, to attempts at finding a new book to read, the annoyance of constantly feeling like a freak accumulated to a tipping point.

  “Dad,” I said, harsher than intended, frustration pushing me on less cautiously than planned, “why am I taking Latin? Can’t I test out of it or something?” I immediately regretted the words. I wanted to be in Latin. Wynn would be there. I wanted to spend as much time with her as possible, but hated how most of it would revolve around boring classes at school.

  He laid the magazine on his chest and stared at me over black-rimmed reading glasses, considering what I’d said, but the silence quickly became unbearable. Emotions rose inside me, stirred from hibernation by my mild outburst, threatening an intensity I wasn’t prepared to let loose. Biting down on my cheeks to keep myself from blurting out every stupid thing popping into my mind, I folded my arms and forced myself to wait patiently.

  “Well, I suppose you could skip high school altogether, if you wanted. It wouldn’t be difficult for you to test your way into college. Is that what you want?”

  “No,” I said immediately, and meant it. I didn’t even want to skip Latin, let alone all of high school. I already lost a whole year with Wynn; I didn’t want to lose more. But I wanted something to be different. I wanted to be different. The emotions broke through.

  Throwing out my arms, I exploded. “I don’t know what I want! I feel like I’m wasting time in classes with nothing to teach me!” I sighed and tried to regain control. “I mean, my friends are there, and I want to be with them. I’m not ready to give up being a kid. I know that’s childish, but—” a sting flashed behind my eyes. I tried blinking away the tears. “I feel like that’s selfish. Maybe I should push myself like you do. I’m just sick of being… abnormal.” I almost said, “a freak”.

  He sat up straight and nodded. “I was your age when I started college.” I hadn’t known that. “My grandfather convinced my parents I was a prodigy and should be treated like one.” His eyes lost focus for a moment before he went on. “I don’t want to burden you with my past, Son, but you should know, while you’ve inherited the Sepich brain, you’re also your mother’s child.” He smiled painfully, and I could tell he fought as hard as I did to avoid crying.

  “Your mother never grew up, in all the right ways. It was my favorite thing about her. She gave me back some of that childhood I missed. To experience the world with her always made it brighter. Fresh. She saw things in a way I’m incapable of. I won’t tell you what to do. You need to make this decision. But I’m here to help, whatever you decide.”

  “I know, Dad. Thank you. I’m sorry, I don’t know what I want.”

  He tilted his head, then continued in a slow, stuttered pattern. “Micah, I will support your choice, but I don’t want you to regret it. I’m aware, for me, pursuit of the unknown isn’t a hobby, it’s an obsession. It doesn’t have to be that way for you.”

  His eyes watered, but he pushed through, determined to pass on wisdom he deemed important. “Your gift is greater than mine. You don’t have to lose these years studying. You’ll catch up whenever you’re ready. What I’m trying to say is, every single day I spent at the universities and conferences—all of them—I would gladly trade for another day with your mother.”

  Tears rolled freely down his face, but he managed to keep his composure. Stunned because I didn’t know this side of my father existed, for the first time, I believed he truly loved my mother. Taking his advice to heart, I determined to do my best to make these years of high school as normal as possible.

  Normal.

  Did I know how to be normal? Could I remember?

  Spinning the dial on my locker, I finished the combination and pulled up on the handle. It didn’t budge. I pulled harder. Nothing happened. Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out the paper Principal Abrams gave me the previous week, double-checked the locker number, then the combination, and tried two more times. Nothing.

  Sighing, I turned to leave, but an itch in the back of my neck stopped me. Staring at the locker, I tilted my head and reached for the lock. Tentatively gripping the handle, I lifted, applying gentle pressure, then spun the dial again. When I got to the first number, I felt more than heard the slightest click as a pin fell into place. Slowly continuing toward the second number, it clicked two digits over. Twenty-eight, not twenty-six. I spun the dial quicker now, sure whoever wrote down my code didn’t get two numbers wrong. The final pin fell into place and the handle snapped up.

  “Hey, Micah.”

  I spun, heat rushing to my cheeks, instinctively worried I’d been caught breaking into a locker. A short, dark boy, with short, black hair and a suspicious frown, approached me.

  “Uh, hey,” I said, trying to steady my voice. It was my locker. I didn’t break any rules. “Sorry, do I know you?”

  “Terrence,” the boy said, frowning. “Genius and handsome. Life ain’t fair.”

  “What?”

  “Wynn said you’re a genius.”

  Did she also call me handsome, or did Terrence decide that? The question mingled with my overactive concerns about being caught picking my own lock to create five directions of uncomfortable thought. An awkward silence ensued. Terrence raised an eyebrow as if skeptical about my intelligence.

  “You know Wynn?” I asked, stupidly.

  “Yeah,” he said as if saying “Duh”, skepticism firmly in place.

  “I mean, are you from Madison?”

  “Live Oak. We met during summer classes. We do early morning study sessions together.”

  “Oh, yeah?” That sounded more intimate than I was comfortable with.

  Before I could ask about them, Terrence continued, “Hey, Wynn says you two are old friends, and I don’t want to get off on the wrong foot with the genius new kid, so I thought I’d ask, do you mind if I take her to Homecoming?”

  Homecoming? He wanted to take her to a dance. On a date. Could I dance? Would that memory come to me the first time I tried? Did I mind if he took her? Yes. Definitely. Could I say that without sounding creepily possessive?

  “Uh, Homecoming? But we don’t have a football team,” I hedged.

  “You don’t need a football team for a dance.”

  “Sure, I guess.” I meant to agree about football teams and dances but immediately regretted those words as Terrence’s eyes lit up and his frown shifted into a smirk.

  “Thanks, buddy. You should get a date too so we can double.” The small boy passed me without another word. Did he intentionally mistake my words? It seemed that way.

  I’d known Terrence for less than one minute and I already didn’t like him. I should’ve told him I planned to ask her. I could still ask her if I found her first. Assuming James didn’t mean to. Would she even say yes to me? Maybe Wynn wanted to go with James. Or Terrence. They went to summer school together and studied in the mornings. Did that mean she and James weren’t together? Why didn’t my itch answer any useful questions?

  Resisting the urge to smash my head into the lockers, I opened my backpack and took out a plastic bag. Dad recommended it, and I learned to listen to my father’s advice a long time ago. Always carry a pocketknife. Always wear a belt. Always keep safety pins on your belt loops. Always have a change of clothing nearby. The pocketknife came in handy regularly, and, surprisingly, I used the safety pins a couple times in the last year but still felt childish putting a change of clothes in my locker at school. At least Terrence wasn’t here to ask about it.

  I sighed. Normal. Didn’t I want normal? What could be more normal than jealousy, romantic rivalry, and high school dances? Fueled by annoyance, I slammed the locker shut with more force than intended.

  “Whoa!” A distinctly feminine voice dripped with sarcasm. “What did the locker do?”

  Cringing, I turned toward this new disruption. “Sorry, I—” air stopped moving through my lungs.

  Wet red hair framed the features of the most gorgeous face I ever saw, attached to the most attractive body I could imagine. The same height as me, her tight clothes showed off an athletic form with eye-catching curves. Bright green eyes rolled dismissively as she walked by.

  “Whoa,” I mouthed silently, gawking. What little remained of my consciousness decided it was impossible to not be transfixed by such perfection. Maybe I would ask someone to the dance. To double with Terrence and Wynn, of course.

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  “Micah?”

  How many times would I get ambushed this morning? At least Wynn didn’t catch me staring at the beautiful redhead. My cheeks burned as I turned. “James. Hey. Good morning. How’re you?” I fumbled.

  The tall kid shrugged. “Found your locker?”

  “Right here,” I said, slapping the thin metal door.

  “Give that thing a break, Hot Stuff.”

  Hot Stuff? My chest burned in tandem with my cheeks. The redhead stopped at a locker a dozen yards down the hall and called out my abuse with a sly smile. She winked at me, and I quickly glanced away. James’ eyes went wide as they darted back and forth between us.

  “You know who that is?” I asked quietly. “She’s not from Madison, right?” No way I overlooked her face in a town this small. No one could.

  “Lucy? She just moved in.” Lucy. And she lived in Madison.

  I changed the subject, not wanting to appear more than casually curious. Because I wasn’t. “Seen Wynn yet?”

  He shrugged.

  “You know where her locker is?”

  Grunting, he passed me.

  I followed, doing my best to not glance at the new girl as we approached her.

  James, on the other hand, became uncharacteristically vocal. “Hey, Lucy. How’s the pool?”

  “Wet,” she said like she’d been asked a thousand times before. Pool? She must be on the new swim team.

  “Anyone ask you to Homecoming yet?”

  Lucy closed her locker and turned toward us, flawless face once again forcing me to intentionally focus on breathing. “A few dozen. I told them all no,” she said with a grin of pristine, white teeth.

  I wasn’t sure which fascinated me most, James’ sudden ability to use full sentences, or this girl’s impossible existence.

  “Cold, girl. Just waiting for me to ask, then?” Seriously, when did James get so smooth? I’d never heard him speak this much in an entire day, let alone less than a minute. And to a girl, no less! But after wondering about the nature of James and Wynn’s relationship, between Terrence asking Wynn to Homecoming and James hitting on Lucy, I now knew it stopped at just friends.

  With a giggle, Lucy ran a hand through her wavy red hair, flicking it into the air to help it dry. “Please, I’m not that cruel. It only happens to be the same day as a swim meet in Jacksonville.”

  “So, is there already a line for the Winter Dance? And who do I need to beat up to get to the front?” James continued, undeterred.

  “Since it’s a free-ask dance, I plan to ask someone. So, be on your best behavior, Mister James. Although, I’m glad to know you’re available… if I need someone beaten up.” Her teeth shone as she winked at him.

  Even though she ignored me during the conversation, an uncomfortable heat grew in my chest, and I shuffled my weight from one foot to the other, anxious to get away from this alluring stranger. Her eyes connected with mine. My heart stopped. Could eyes even get that green? She must wear contacts.

  “Who’s the handsome mute?” Her tone turned playfully curious.

  Mute? Me? Handsome? My palms started sweating.

  “Oh, I thought you already knew Hot Stuff,” James said sarcastically.

  Eyes slowly considering me as they rolled down then up, she ran a tongue along her teeth before saying, “I’d like to know him better. We haven’t even been introduced yet.”

  “This is Micah, an old Madisonian. Just moved back into town last week.”

  “Hey,” I tried to respond casually, but my voice cracked.

  Finding the nearest swamp and diving in would’ve been preferable, but I couldn’t help smiling as the other two laughed. I wanted normal, didn’t I? Cracking your voice in front of the hot new girl definitely counted. I took comfort knowing at least Wynn didn’t hear it.

  I cleared my throat. “Nice to meet you, Lucy. Welcome to Madison.”

  “Thanks, My-kuh.” She said my name as if testing the taste of it. After a long moment, she turned back to my friend, touching him lightly on the arm. “See you in class, James.”

  Turning gracefully, she sauntered back the way she came, hips swaying seductively with each step. I quickly found something else to focus on. James stared at her with an approving eye. Eventually, he noticed me watching him and shrugged. Then grunted.

  “There’s the James I know. What was all that?”

  He shrugged.

  “Well, best of luck. You’ll have some real competition with that one.”

  He grunted and started down the hall again.

  “She’s a senior, right?”

  “Sophomore.”

  “No way.” Lucy seemed too mature, at least physically, to be only fifteen or sixteen. She appeared closer to twenty.

  “What about you?”

  “What about me?” I asked.

  “Hoping she asks you to the Winter Dance?”

  I considered asking her to Homecoming so I could double with Terrence and Wynn, but that was out of the question now. Obviously, James liked Lucy, and I only wanted to date Wynn. “She’s all yours,” I answered honestly, raising a fist.

  James bumped it with his own, then showed me to Wynn’s locker in a small alcove on the second floor. The east and west sides filled with lockers, but the southern wall held a large window. Viewing the town from a second story offered a unique perspective. Practically every roof was visible from here, in spite of the trees.

  We waited a few minutes, but Wynn didn’t arrive, so I followed James around the halls, trying to talk to him about his schedule, getting mostly grunts and shrugs which resulted in learning we didn’t share any classes this semester. Five minutes before first period, the warning bell rang.

  I told James I’d see him at lunch, then made my way to class. No Wynn there, either. Was she sick? Did she get hurt on the way to school? I wished I could text her to ask.

  Taking out my History of Medicine book, I read the first chapter while paying attention to the teacher. I needed to catch up, but it shouldn’t be a problem. At least, it wouldn’t be if my mind wasn’t preoccupied wondering about Wynn. I knew she walked to school, but she lived close enough, she should be here by now, even if late.

  The bell rang and I made my way to second period. Tommy cheerfully introduced me to the class. Again, Wynn never showed up.

  Lunch came, and I followed the flow of students through the cafeteria. Once I held a tray of questionable food, I found an exit to a covered patio on the north side of the school where James said they ate together. In spite of the considerable heat, several dozen students ate outside.

  At a second glance, most of them squeezed onto three tables, the rest only half full. On even closer inspection, I realized the crowded area consisted almost entirely of boys. A head of red hair popped up in the middle of the horde. Lucy. That explained it.

  She peered my way, and for a brief eternity our eyes connected. Those eyes. Emeralds snuggled in white sand, framed by silky red curls. The corner of her lip curled into a smirk as she raised an eyebrow. She caught me staring. No, gawking. Again.

  Blinking, I managed to tear my attention away. Glancing around, I hoped to find James somewhere far from the Lucy fan club. Gratefully, he sat under a tree across a small grass area.

  “No sign of Wynn?” I asked, joining him.

  He shook his head.

  “Weird. I hope she’s alright.”

  He grunted through a mouthful of sandwich, but a scrunched brow displayed genuine concern.

  “I’m checking in on her after school. Want to go with?”

  Another grunt.

  My patience wore thin as the day continued. Anxious to start school that morning, now I anxiously waited to leave. When the final bell rang, I jumped out of my seat and practically sprinted through the door before the teacher finished telling us the homework assignment. Rude, but the Latin teacher had nothing to teach me. In the end, my bad manners saved no time, since I waited ten minutes before James showed up with his bike.

  “What took so long? Making kissy faces at Lucy again?” I teased.

  He grunted a confession.

  We stopped by the Family Dollar on the way to Wynn’s to buy some cream soda. When we showed up on the doorstep of her family’s small rambler on Fraleigh Drive, Tamara Ethelston came out to greet us.

  “Look at you wonderful boys!” She gave me a big hug. “Aren’t you dears just the sweetest! Oh, Tylwynn will be so happy you came to see her.” She glared up at James. “What are your parents feeding you, child?” Hugging the giant from the side, she motioned for us to come inside and continued talking. “She started feeling a bit off last night and woke up this morning with a terrible flu.”

  “Well, we don’t want to be a bother. Just bringing something for her.” I handed over the case of soda but ignored her invitation to enter the house.

  “That’s so good of you. We’re so happy you’re home again, Micah. We’ve missed your family so much.” Eyes turning moist, cheeks reddening, her lip quivered.

  I made my escape. “Thank you, ma’am. It’s good to be home. Please tell Wynn we said to get better fast.” James followed my lead and together we waved and backed down the walkway.

  “Thank you, boys! I’ll tell her!”

  James pushed his bike as I walked quietly next to him down the middle of the street, following the road as it twisted south. I soaked in the humid air, breathing deep and slow. Sweat ran down my back and gathered on my forehead. Clouds blotted the sky, promising imminent rain.

  “This is probably a dumb question,” James said quietly, “but, are you alright?”

  It was my turn to grunt and shrug.

  “For wanting to see Wynn so badly, you left in a hurry.”

  I sighed. “She was about to bring up Mom.”

  His bike tires hummed on the old road.

  “I know she means well, but I’m sick of being sad.” The buzzing of cicadas grew louder. Saying those words out loud felt more uncomfortable than the sweat tickling down my armpits.

  “I need to show you something,” James said.

  I nodded. “Your place instead of mine?” James’ family lived outside of town, and it would be quite a walk, but at the moment I didn’t care.

  He shrugged. “It’s on the way to yours.”

  We continued down Fraleigh Drive until it turned into Duval Street. At one point, a car showed up and we made our way to the grass on the side of the road. Eventually, a cement sidewalk provided the first sign of leaving the older, quieter parts of Madison in favor of the slightly modern center.

  Like many small towns built along a busy highway, Base Street, or US-90, offered a long line of gas stations, fast-food restaurants, and convenience stores. Before living in Philadelphia, I considered it a tiny piece of metropolis in the middle of nowhere. Where once the existence of stoplights meant a busy street full of travelers passing through, now it registered as only a slightly busier small-town road.

  After crossing Base, we continued south until reaching Lake Frances. When James turned onto the road which circled it, I finally became curious. Knowing my big friend’s appetite, I unconsciously assumed he wanted to show me something food related. A new local restaurant with a great sandwich or to-die-for ice cream shakes. Or maybe he wanted to show me a classic buttermilk pie at Grumpy’s.

  Instead, we retreated back to the quieter parts of town, on the south side, and moved toward the woods. A familiar route. I couldn’t count how many times Wynn, James, and I walked this way to enjoy an undeveloped spot of jungle, untouched by the slow but steady housing expansion of Madison.

  Sure enough, rather than follow the road northward and back around the lake, we continued eastward, turning south onto Pawnee. Old memories flooded my mind. Were we going on a woodland adventure? We’d been children the last time that happened. Between Mrs. Ethelston’s reminder of Mom and my disappointment at missing Wynn in school, if the drops of rain starting to fall turned into a deluge, it would be a welcome addition to a distracting trek through the forest.

  At the corner of Pawnee and Seminole, James stepped off the crumbling road and followed a shallow drainage ditch toward a thick wall of trees and shrubs which marked the edge of civilization. Then he stopped.

  I took a few steps before realizing he no longer walked at my side. Looking back, I found him staring at the ground, clearly avoiding my gaze. “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  He stayed silent for a full ten seconds before responding. “You have to promise not to tell anyone.”

  I frowned. We’d been friends for years. He knew I didn’t gossip.

  “And promise you won’t be afraid.”

  In spite of the heat, humidity, and warm rain, a shiver ran down my spine. I could imagine few things I might fear in those woods—bears or panthers mainly—but the grim expression on James’ face made me uneasy. It was abnormal for my large friend to be afraid of anything.

  A murmured, “Sure, of course,” was all I could muster.

  Setting his shoulders, James pushed his bike confidently into the trees, laid it in the underbrush, then continued through the dense thicket. I paused. James had his moments of playful mischief. Could this be a prank? A joke? No. Taking advantage of my emotional weakness wasn’t his style. At least, not a year and a half ago.

  Cautiously, I followed my friend. Maybe I’d fear whatever he wanted to show me, but I’d do my best to not show it. And whatever might make him behave this way would remain a secret between the two of us for as long as I could keep it.

  Assuming it wasn’t something illegal. Lots of kids in Philadelphia smoked, did drugs, or smuggled alcohol out of their homes. I couldn’t imagine James doing anything like that and didn’t know how I’d handle it.

  The foliage pressed thick around us for the first minute or so as we worked our way into the deeper part of the jungle, where taller trees with thicker canopies sheltered the underbrush from sunshine, stunting their growth. Fat rain drops noisily pelted the leaves above us and rippled in the occasional puddle on the forest floor.

  James didn’t speed up, even though thick bushes no longer hindered us. Every step forward seemed intentional, head slowly moving side to side, eyes scanning. I found myself doing the same, not knowing the reason for his caution, or what I searched for.

  At first, my heartbeat sped up, palms sweating, but after a few minutes I became bored. And skeptical. Maybe he really did intend to prank me. Get me worked up and laugh about it afterward. Maybe he thought it would help me relax.

  “James,” I said, about to call him out on his attempt to distract my mind. I assumed he meant well, but I wasn’t in the mood. Before I said more, his hand whipped out and nearly smacked me in the face.

  “Shhh!” He crouched, pulling down on my arm as he did so.

  I followed suit, glancing around for what he spotted. Then he pointed forward. I didn’t know what to look for, but once glimpsed, it was unmistakable.

  My heart thudded wildly, and my breathing choked. It took every ounce of self-control to remain still and silent. Not ten feet from us, peering around a large bush, were the bright eyes and dark mane of a massive, black wolf.

  “James,” I whispered.

  “I know,” he said. “Remember, don’t be afraid.”

  Easier said than done. My palms sweat with a vengeance, and I fought the urge to run. Confidence. I didn’t have any in myself, but I trusted James.

  A real wolf. With thick, matted fur, and clawed paws larger than my fist. Yellow eyes observed us intently. Focused, crouched, ready to spring. This was insane. Dangerous. We should—itching on the back of my neck sent a wave of calm through my tense muscles.

  Wolves rarely attacked people. With new perspective, the creature’s eyes changed from fierce to curious. With a slight movement of his contracting nostrils, he tested the air. Instead of ready to spring, he seemed prepared to flee.

  James’ movement made me break eye contact with the beast, though only briefly. He removed his backpack, unzipping it, expression unconcerned. For its part, the wolf didn’t appear bothered by the large boy’s actions. Its yellow eyes stayed locked on me.

  James pulled a slice of meat from his lunch sack, throwing it to the animal. It didn’t flinch.

  “It’s alright,” James said, “he’s a friend.” Whether he tried to comfort me or the wolf, the animal was the one convinced.

  Finally investigating the offering, it moved slowly to where the meat landed, sniffed it, laid down, then swallowed it in two bites. As it relaxed, the creature reminded me of a large dog. I tried again to talk to my friend.

  “James, why are you feeding a wolf?”

  He shrugged.

  “I thought Florida didn’t have wolves.”

  “Not many,” he said. “I’ve seen them a few times on our property.”

  James’ family owned several hundred acres of wilderness a few miles southeast of Madison. I’d been invited to go hunting with my friend and his father several times growing up, but Mom never let me. I immediately switched my line of thought back to the distraction.

  “But why are you feeding it? Why isn’t it running away? Does it have a pack? How long has it been here?” Realizing peppering him with questions didn’t help, I stopped.

  “Well, that’s the real secret. You have to promise not to tell anyone.” James regarded me with desperate eyes, and I wondered what could be worse than keeping a pet wolf so close to town.

  “I promise.”

  Shuffling from a crouched stance, he knelt, oblivious to the increasingly muddy ground. The wolf casually glanced at me, barely interested in us anymore.

  “About three weeks ago, I was jogging around the lake. I saw a big dog moving through the bushes and followed it, thinking it must’ve gotten out of someone’s yard. When I got close enough, I saw it was a wolf.”

  He pointed to the large beast. “He’s bigger than any wolf I’ve seen. Never seen a black one either. He was watching me. I considered running away but with all the moms and little kids who play around the lake, I couldn’t leave him. He could hurt someone or get himself shot.”

  James shook his head and stared down at his hands. “I tried to scare him off. He didn’t budge. I told him he couldn’t be there. It wasn’t safe.” Pausing, James looked at me, mouth twisting, brow furrowed. “It’s hard to explain, but, after talking to him, I felt something. It doesn’t make sense, I know, but I was confused and curious. But it wasn’t like I felt it, rather, I was being told it.”

  I shifted uncomfortably. He was right, it didn’t make sense, but I felt something abnormal myself. The itch of a memory at the back of my mind. Something familiar about what he described burned in that itch, but I couldn’t quite place it.

  An itch in my neck at the base of my skull always accompanied the spark of realization which ignited a new memory, bringing with it knowledge or skill. This time, only the itch came, escalating with each word as he continued his strange tale.

  “I told him to hide somewhere, to get out of town. He sat down and stared at me. I felt lost. That’s when I understood I felt his feelings. He… communicated them to me. I told him to follow me. He didn’t hesitate. I brought him here. I told him he’d be safe if he stayed in the forest. Then I left.”

  Shaking his head, my big friend continued, “I thought I was crazy. Must’ve imagined it. The next day, I couldn’t stop thinking about him. I came in here to see if I could follow his tracks. He was just sitting here, waiting for me. Hungry. I’ve been coming every few days.” After a sigh, he whispered, “Honestly, until you saw him, I wasn’t certain he was real.”

  Awe overcame the incessant itch. Sitting with him and the wolf, I couldn’t doubt the tale. Somehow, my friend spoke to a wolf, and it responded. It should be unbelievable. Insane. Like remembering things you’ve never known.

  “What’s he feeling right now?” I asked.

  James raised an eyebrow at me. “You believe me?”

  I shrugged. “You’re not the only one with secrets.”

  He scoffed. “This is more than a crush on Tylwynn.”

  My jaw dropped.

  “What? It’s pretty obvious, Micah.”

  “You knew?” I couldn’t believe it.

  He grunted.

  “Why didn’t you say anything?”

  “I don’t want anything to do with it. You’re my only friends. If something goes wrong between you two, where does that leave me?”

  My best friend knew I was in love with my other best friend and never said anything. Obvious? Did that mean Wynn knew?

  The wolf shifted.

  I shook my head, forcing my mind back on track. “Fine, whatever, that’s not what I’m talking about.”

  His responding expression offered total skepticism.

  “I’m talking about this.” I motioned to the wolf. “What you can do. You’re not the only one.”

  James’ eyes went wide. “You can talk to wolves? Or whatever this is?”

  “No, nothing like that. I mean, you’re not the only one with—” I laughed. “I don’t know, powers?”

  The boy frowned.

  “You think your story is weird but wait until you hear mine. Of course, you have to promise not to tell anybody.”

  “You’re making fun of me.”

  I scoffed. “Nope. And I can help you. I know I can. I know something about this. I just need to remember what.”

  As the rain poured through the trees, a grin spread across my face. I felt alive again. Did I actually want to be normal this morning? No, I didn’t want to be normal. I just didn’t want to be the only one who wasn’t.