“How was the park?” Uncle Bran asked when I reached the minivan.

“Fine,” I said, out of breath.

Uncle Bran put the groceries in the trunk, and we all got in.

“Everything okay?” he asked. Kennedy eyed me in the mirror.

“Fine,” I repeated.

“Okay, then,” Uncle Bran said, putting the minivan in reverse and backing out of the not-space. “Well, I skipped the gizzards, but I did get an apple pie.”

“Thanks,” I said weakly, eyes on the park entrance. No one was there.

Uncle Bran waited for the cars to pass before turning onto Pine. I kept my eyes on what I could see of the park, my heartbeat refusing to slow down, like it knew something was going to happen and wanted to be ready. And then it did: just before we turned the corner, the old man walked into view. He waited at the light, looking across, right at us. Right at me? No, because he couldn’t see me behind Kennedy, but was he looking for me?

As he waited, the man’s blanket dropped from his shoulders just for a second before he rewrapped himself. Uncle Bran turned onto Pine toward the cabin, and the man faded into the distance, while I shivered in the too-hot back seat, the fairies scrambling up my spine again. I couldn’t believe what I’d just seen.

In eighty-degree weather, the old man had been wearing a scarf.

But not just any scarf.

It was a yellow one.

Like William’s.

chapter 3

“Why are you calling so early?”

I had the phone on speaker; tears filled my eyes at the sound of my fraternal twin sister’s scratchy voice. It wasn’t just that it was morning: her voice always sounded like that. It was mesmerizing, even if she was saying . . .

“Seriously! What’s the emergency? Because that’s the only reason you should call me before ten.”

“Hey, Frankie,” I said, hugging my bare knees with my left hand, holding the phone with my right. “Sorry I woke you up.”

“You didn’t,” she said. “You interrupted my daydream.”

“Oh. Sorry.” I shifted to get more comfortable. Not wanting to wake Kennedy, I’d crept outside to sit on the boulder that was big enough for two. Of course, it was just me on it this morning. I wasn’t in the middle, though. I’d left space for Colette.

Stupid. She’s gone!

“So, what’s up?” Frankie said before a long, drawn-out yawn, all casual, like I was in my room right next to hers at the inn where we lived. Like I wasn’t several states away. Like she didn’t miss me at all.

“Nothing, I just wanted to say hi to you,” I said, deflated. “Mom told me to check in with you guys, and I hadn’t had a chance ye—”

“Uh-huh,” Frankie interrupted. “Got it.”