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Chapters (56)
  1. Cover
  2. Praise for the novels of Mia Sheridan
  3. About the Author
  4. NOTE TO READERS
  5. Dedication
  6. prologue
  7. chapter one
  8. chapter two
  9. chapter three
  10. chapter four
  11. chapter five
  12. chapter six
  13. chapter seven
  14. chapter eight
  15. chapter nine
  16. chapter ten
  17. chapter eleven
  18. chapter twelve
  19. chapter thirteen
  20. chapter fourteen
  21. chapter fifteen
  22. chapter sixteen
  23. chapter seventeen
  24. chapter eighteen
  25. chapter nineteen
  26. chapter twenty
  27. chapter twenty-one
  28. chapter twenty-two
  29. chapter twenty-three
  30. chapter twenty-four
  31. chapter twenty-five
  32. chapter twenty-six
  33. chapter twenty-seven
  34. chapter twenty-eight
  35. chapter twenty-nine
  36. chapter thirty
  37. chapter thirty-one
  38. chapter thirty-two
  39. chapter thirty-three
  40. chapter thirty-four
  41. chapter thirty-five
  42. chapter thirty-six
  43. chapter thirty-seven
  44. chapter thirty-eight
  45. chapter thirty-nine
  46. chapter forty
  47. chapter forty-one
  48. chapter forty-two
  49. chapter forty-three
  50. chapter forty-four
  51. chapter forty-five
  52. chapter forty-six
  53. chapter forty-seven
  54. chapter forty-eight
  55. epilogue
  56. acknowledgments

I waited a few minutes, giving Emily time to get ahead of me so I didn’t have to hear her pitiful sobs. When I emerged from the stable, she was already a few hundred feet away, her pale blue dress and yellow hair standing out against the rust-colored dirt. The sky had dimmed since I’d first entered the building, and far beyond, I could see the dancing flames of the bonfire our parents had lit, a regular occurrence on weekend summer nights. Sometimes we’d roast hot dogs or s’mores. And sometimes Mrs. Swanson would bring out the board games. Those were the nights I’d hear the adults laughing and chattering long after I went to bed.

I trudged toward the firelight, the rising and falling sounds of conversation meeting my ears as I drew closer. There was an ice bucket filled with drinks on the edge of the large brick patio, and I grabbed a soda, popping it open and taking a sip. “Tuck. There you are,” my mother said, smiling and waving me over. I glanced at Emily as I passed her, sitting on the edge of the stone wall surrounding the patio, her head bent, eyes darting to where her father stood talking to mine.

She looked completely miserable. I glanced away, barely resisting rolling my eyes. She really was the most dramatic person sometimes. It wasn’t the end of the darn world. The windshield could be fixed, even if her dad was steaming mad, which he would be. So she’d miss music camp this weekend. Oh well. I didn’t feel the least bit bad for her.

My mom grinned as I approached. “Hey, handsome. Where have you been?”

I shrugged. “Just around.”

“Just around,” she repeated, tilting her head as she studied me in that way of hers that made me feel slightly itchy like she could pluck answers from my head whether I’d offered them or not. “Emily’s always over at the house asking about you these days,” she said. “She says you haven’t been hanging out with her and the other kids very much lately. She says you’ve been disappearing.” My hand tightened on the can as my outrage spiked. Not only was she spying on me, but she was also ratting me out to my mom.