But why? Why would anyone want to do that to her? What had she done to make someone hate her so much? And who was that someone?

The house was too quiet. She was getting jumpy again, so she unwrapped her hair and went out on the porch. The sun was getting low, but as long as there was light, she felt safe. She sat on the steps, only three feet from the door in case she wanted to run back inside, and listened to the soothing sounds of the wind chime.

Be logical. Organize your ideas. That's what teachers were always saying, not to mention her parents. Of course they were talking about research papers, not hate-filled maniacs, but that was beside the point. Jenny combed her fingers through her

wet hair and tried to get her thoughts in order.

The snake. It had started with the snake. So what had she been doing before the snake arrived? Recovering from an ahnost-sleepless night. Her first night alone in the house, when Peaches had heard something outside. The day before, she'd taken her parents to the airport, and then what? Then she'd heard about Diana.

The air was still warm, but Jenny shivered as she remembered. She'd gone into town, to the diner, and at first, everyone was happy, joking over their hamburgers. Jenny shivered again. Then Brad had come, and the happy crowd learned that Diana had fallen on the rimrocks. And Jenny told everyone about the shout she'd heard and the scream. And Brad had been furious because she couldn't remember the words. She still couldn't remember. Was he still so furious that he wanted to hurt her? Just because she couldn't remember? Remembering wouldn't help Diana, he had to know that.

Jenny shivered again and wrapped her arms around her knees. The awfiil things had started happening the day after she'd told everybody about the shout. The shout. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to hear it again, not the words, just the sound, the feeling.

It wasn't hard to bring the feeling back to life. The wind and thunder and lightning. Her own fear, and her own shouts for David. She squeezed her eyes tighter. There'd been a big flash of lightning, and she'd screamed, then she'd heard someone

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shout. And then she'd heard someone scream. Someone else.

Jenny's eyes flew open, but she didn't see anything except the dark, rain-drenched rocks of the bluff. The wind chime was still making its haunting music, but she heard nothing except the shout and the scream. And the voices. Not just one. Two voices. She'd heard two different voices. One shouted and one screamed. Two different people. Not just Diana, alone, but two people up there. And then Diana fell. And whoever was with her knew it, and left her there, knowing she was hurt. Knowing she might die.

Jenny's heart sped up, sending a rush of blood to her face, a rush of fear. Then you came along the next day, she told herself, talking about what you'd heard. And whoever was up there with Diana was listening to every word. And got scared that you'd remember. Diana was in a coma; she wouldn't say anything. The only person to worry about was big-mouthed Jenny Fowler. And the thing to do was make sure she didn't remember. To play tricks on her and scare her so badly she wouldn't think of anything but what was happening to her.