But she never appeared. Water from the swampy ground seeped through my sneakers. My feet itched but I didn’t reach down to scratch. I kept leaning against the tree as the afternoon passed and the light changed. I had to pee, badly, but I knew any second she’d be there. Each time I heard a branch snap or leaves rustle I’d squint in her direction, but I didn’t see her. Gradually color seeped away. Shadows expanded and consumed the ground. I watched. Soon, she’d return. The woods turned grayer and grayer. Soon. Then, in a single long breath, all my eyes could see was black.

Realization made my skin turn cold. She wasn’t coming back for me. She’d left me for the night. Why would I ever have believed she’d stick me out in the road with that sign? She’d never purposely give the neighbors something to talk about. Not Gloria. She didn’t want me to feel embarrassed about grabbing a few chocolate bars. She wanted me to feel afraid.

And she’d succeeded. In the pitch black, I was too scared to twitch. To breathe. To think. I had no idea which way was east or west, or how I’d get home. I patted the gnarly bark of the trunk behind me. Reached up to feel my THEIF sign, just in case I’d accidentally gotten turned around. My heart clacked loudly, but my ears strained to identify every sound. Plants uncurling, insects crawling, small animals under the dead layer of leaves. Burrowing toward me. So much noise inside the silence.

The darkness grew darker.

Then the unmistakable sound of footsteps. Something creeping. Crunching. Grunting. Or whispering. I couldn’t tell.

I saw a thin beam of white light cutting through the trees. Flickering as it bobbed left to right. Not from the way Gloria had walked home, but from deeper inside the woods. I stared at the light without blinking. It was getting closer and closer. What was coming? Anything could live in these woods at night. Wolves or killers or aliens with leathery blue skin and split tongues. Behind the glow I could see a shadow. A massive shape. A lumbering boulder. It moved closer and closer and my heart slapped so loudly my whole head was flooded.

Please be Gloria. Please be Gloria wearing an enormous coat. Or Telly. Please, please be my father.

“Gloria? Is that you?” I heard grumbling. “Gloria? I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.” My throat constricted. I croaked, “Gloria? Telly? Telly!”

No response.

The light bobbed along until the beam reached my feet, slid up my legs. Shone straight into my eyes. I squinted, tried to yell “Leave me alone.” But nothing came out.

Panting, then. A quiet clicking. An animal’s wet mouth opening and closing.