I shake him off, my heart pounding. He looks nervous.

“Who are you?”

“Jamie,” he says, holding his hand out, then putting it in his pocket when I ignore it.

“Was it you?” I ask, even though I know the answer.

This skinny, scared-looking kid is nothing like the shadow I saw.

“No!” he says. “I’m here to save you.”

I laugh, then realize I’m standing with my back to the alley, so I start to walk away.

“I was watching,” Jamie says. “I couldn’t let you go in there.”

I should say thank you. But I let the man escape, whoever he is, and all I have is a busted window and a cut foot and a kid who thinks he’s my hero.

“I wasn’t going to come,” he says. “I wanted to keep watching. But when I thought you might actually go in”—he points at the alley—“it seemed like a bad idea.”

“It probably was,” I say. “Thank you.”

Jamie smiles. “No problem. Now can we go home? I’m not gonna lie. I’m shitting myself in case he’s actually in there.”

Chapter 47

Jamie lives six houses away, and when we get to his house, he stops and says, “Are you going to call the police?”

I remember what Dad said, about pulling the plug if they come back. But Jamie looks worried when I don’t answer, so I say, “Sure.”

“So I’ll see you around?”

“I guess. And thanks again. It’s nice to know someone around here is watching.”

“Every week,” he says.

I see a man looking at us through the window, half his face covered by curtain.

Jamie turns and says, “My dad. He likes to spy.”

I catch the man’s eye, and he doesn’t stop staring. He holds my gaze until I shiver and turn away. I’m used to people watching me, but not like this.

When I look back, he’s still staring, and I wonder why I’ve never noticed him before. He lives at number forty-three, I say to myself, just in case.

“I go to St. Anthony’s,” Jamie says. “But I don’t blame you for not knowing me.”

He starts to blush, and we both pretend not to notice.

“What grade?”

“Tenth.”

He looks too small to be only a year younger than me. We don’t really pay attention to the grades below us anyway. Emily sometimes points out cute boys, but I doubt this kid has ever been in that category, and she usually focuses up rather than down.

I don’t pretend I recognize him. Instead, I say, “Well, I guess I’ll see you soon.”

His face looks bright red under the streetlight, and he says, “I should probably walk you home.”

I wouldn’t have asked, but I’m glad he offered, because even the length of a few houses now feels too far.