But I did understand rocks. So I picked one up, packed it in fresh, powdery snow, then crept across the lot until I was only a few feet away from the two of them. His dad’s back was to me, but still my heart galloped in my chest, and I was breathing hard and fast. Up close, Tate’s dad looked scary. Like a giant about to eat a whole village of children. From the ground, Tate met my eyes and shook his head once. But I ignored him because my dad had taught me that what’s right is right, and this seemed like the rightest thing I could do. So I lifted up my fist that had gone cold holding the snow-covered rock, and I pulled it behind my head, and I closed one eye and stuck out my tongue so I could aim better, and then I let the snowball fly. When it sailed through the air, the snow flicked off in a spiral so that when it landed exactly where I had aimed—smack-dab in the middle of his big, fat head—the sharp part of the rock bit right into his skull. I knew this because he said, Ow, goddamn it, and bent over like I’d shot him.

I grabbed Tate by the hand, yanked him to his feet, and ran inside BTI and into the laundry room, where we hid between a vending machine and the wall. My heart thumped so hard I felt it in my temples, and beside me Tate’s breath was ragged and hot in the small space. I felt his body jerk, and when I looked at him, his mouth was open like he was going to talk, but nothing came out. I was still holding his hand from before and I didn’t let go, waiting until he spoke. He m . . . m-ight k . . . k . . . k-ill you.

I shook my head, squeezed his hand. I don’t think he saw me, and besides, my dad won’t let him.

Afterward, I hid under my covers, suddenly unsure and scared. Would he come after me? When Dad came home later, I told him everything, and he pulled me into his lap and rocked me, his soft laughter vibrating against my ear. You’re the bravest girl I know, Claire. But maybe next time leave the monsters to me.