A group of teenage boys was clustered around the war memorial. They could have been teenagers from anywhere in the United States—jeans, T-shirts, sneakers. Maybe their haircuts weren’t cutting edge, but that wouldn’t bother anyone here. I wouldn’t have had a second look at them if I hadn’t realized they were watching us. They didn’t look friendly. The tallest one was glaring from Nell to Tolliver.

“Hmm,” I said, wanting to be sure Tolliver had noticed the boys.

“Psychics are all crap,” the tallest boy said, loud enough for us to hear. Of course, that was his purpose. He was probably on the football team, probably class president. He was the alpha wolf. Handsome and brawny, he was wearing sneakers that had cost more than every stitch I was wearing added together. “The devil is in people who say they talk to the dead,” he said even louder. Mary Nell was probably too far away to hear him, but she was glancing back and forth from the pack of boys to us, and she looked, in turn, indignant, horrified, and excited. I thought we had us a little love triangle going on here: Alpha Boy, Mary Nell, and Tolliver. Only, Tolliver didn’t know about it.

I was becoming antsier by the second. The boys were moving to intercept us. Tolliver had gotten the keys out of his pocket and pressed the pad to unlock the doors.

Mary Nell, moving swiftly, intercepted us just before the boys did. “Hey, Tolliver!” she said brightly, taking his arm. “Oh . . . hi, Harper.” I tried not to smile at my second-class status. It was easier not to smile when I saw there was no way to avoid some kind of confrontation with the boys. Alpha Boy laid his hand on Nell’s shoulder, halting her progress, and therefore ours.

“You shouldn’t be hanging around with these people,” he said to Mary Nell. I could tell from his voice he had known Nell for a long time, and had a proprietary interest in her.

Alpha Boy might have known her for a long time, but he hadn’t known her well. Her little face tightened with anger. He’d embarrassed her in front of her newest fixation, an exotic out-of-town older man. “Scotty, you don’t have any say over me,” she said. “Tolliver, let’s us go to the Sonic and have a Coke.”

Tolliver was caught between a rock and a hard place, and I waited to see what he’d do to get out of it. While he squirmed, I looked from young male face to young male face, trying to meet each set of eyes and smile, the squeaky non-sexual smile of a newscaster. Only two of them made the effort to nod to me; the others either evaded my gaze or scowled at me. This was not good.