I picked up the pace, my legs burning and my right shoe ripping open a blister as I made my way through the forested area. I realized I’d have to walk right by the kids on the scooters eventually unless they’d moved on.

I checked my phone for missed texts again.

My heart hammered in my chest.

Nothing is even happening, said the mean girl in my head. Why can’t you just be normal? Most kids don’t worry about everything like you do. Why are you so weird?

As I finally broke through the cluster of trees, relief washed over me: I’d made it full circle. I could see the cars driving on Pine Street in the distance, the general store just beyond. I felt like I’d survived a haunted house instead of a walk in a nice park in broad daylight.

The kids with the scooters weren’t there anymore.

I slowed down, feeling stupid, hating on myself.

That runner must have thought you were a freak.

Everyone thinks you’re a freak.

Because YOU ARE!

My phone buzzed; I checked the message.

UNCLE BRAN

Paying for your fried gizzards now . . . see you at the car!

I stopped walking to send vomit and thumbs-up emojis, then put the phone back in my pocket. That was when I realized there was someone sitting on a bench about ten feet from me.

The man was old, with wispy white hair, sunken cheeks, tan pants, dark circles under his eyes, and shoes with thick soles. His frail hands clutched the plaid blanket that was wrapped around his shoulders . . . in eighty-degree weather. I smiled at him, because I’d been taught to be polite to old people, but he just stared back with intense, cloudy gray eyes.

It made me nervous, but I know sometimes old people aren’t all there. I thought maybe he needed some space, or maybe he was blind and deaf and didn’t even know I was nearby. But when I took a step to walk away, he tapped his foot. I took another step, and he did it again. Every time I stepped, the man tapped.

Step . . . tap.

Step . . . tap.

Step . . . tap.

I shivered, wishing he’d stop. Wanting to tell him to but feeling like I had to be polite. He was old, after all.

Maybe it’s his way of playing a game, I thought, trying to chill out.

I tried smiling at him again, but he just stared back, even more intensely. He didn’t seem blind or deaf—or friendly, either. Spooked, I walked faster. The man tapped faster.

Step . . . tap.

Step-tap.

Steptap.

Steptap.

Steptap.

Soon I couldn’t hear the tapping anymore because I was running and almost at the park’s exit, my heartbeat pounding in my ears and muffling everything else. Thankfully, the light was in my favor, so I crossed without having to wait, rushing back to the parking lot.