She hears a stick crack, and she thinks aha, Shannon is coming to talk. An ambassador for their parents. Shannon will come and say come on, Mal, come on, they’re just doing what’s right, it’s just Mom and Dad, you know them, come on. But Malorie won’t come. This is the moment she’s growing up. The exact moment. Can’t they see that? Can’t everybody tell that the world has changed?

But when Malorie peers between the trees she doesn’t see Shannon or her parents at all. She sees no one. Nothing. Not even an animal.

So what’s made the sound? Something surely stepped just outside the cluster. It was clear as day, even as day wanes, as the sun goes down, as it gets colder yet where she stands and has her thinking momentarily about the comfort of her coat inside, her blankets, the couch, the heat of the house.

But no. She’s not going. Not right now. Not until Mom and Dad say she can read an adult book for her book report and not the one about the dog who travels to outer space.

Another crack and Malorie actually steps out of the cluster. Shannon’s got to be here, about to leap out, scare her. Or maybe it’s Mom or Dad, come to talk after all. Maybe they’re watching her, spying, waiting to see what she does.

Should she run farther from home?

“Shannon,” she says, because her sister has got to be messing with her. It’s just like Shannon to pick a weak moment, to come out all smiles, to scare her, to poke fun, to roll her eyes at the meager distance Malorie actually got away.

But Shannon isn’t there.

Nobody is.

And nothing.

Malorie feels a chill. Is the sun going down faster than it normally does?

“Damn you all,” she says. It’s a phrase she heard on TV. It struck her. It feels like the exact kind of thing she wants to say to her parents right now.

She sits down again, just as the sky gets really dark. She hugs her knees to her chest.

She should’ve worn something warmer, should’ve taken the fifteen seconds to pack. Gosh, why did she leave in such a rush? And do Mom and Dad even know she’s left? Or do they think she’s only in her bedroom, quietly stewing?

She should’ve told them she was leaving. Yes. For full effect. But it felt like her anger was enough, felt like the whole world could feel it.

A crack. Again. This one so close Malorie gasps a little and turns to face it. She has no doubt something is about to leap through the trees, a hand coming for her, a face, barely lit, in the dark.