Every person has to be unique in her own way, right? So all I need to do is think about something special about me. Besides the fact that I let these scholarship questions destroy my self-esteem.

There’s a quiet knock on the front door. Even though Dad and I are obsessed with horror movies, I don’t get worried about this classic B-movie horror setup: babysitter in a big house when it’s dark outside.

In Valley Falls, nobody can really do anything without setting off alarm bells. The Dorns’ neighbors would have already dialed 9-1-1 if they had seen somebody on the street they didn’t recognize.

When Dad and I first moved here, it took only two days before practically the entire town had come to introduce themselves, our refrigerator overflowed with casseroles, and our calendar was packed with playdates and town meetings. Now we’re part of the welcome wagon when someone new comes to town, rare occurrence as it is.

So I don’t even bother to check if it’s safe before I open the door.

“We’ve got a noise complaint,” Sheriff Gleason greets me with a crooked smile. He’s in full uniform, his cop car parked in the driveway. He looks past me into the quiet house. “I see you’ve hidden the keg.”

“So, I guess I should tell the meth dealer not to come,” I reply with a straight face.

Sheriff Gleason laughs, which he probably shouldn’t when anybody jokes about drugs. But it’s me. So it’s funny. Straitlaced, predicable Ally Smith.

“What can I do for you?” I step aside so he can come in.

“Just dropping off this pan Nina left the other day.” He hands me a glass pan. “Don’t want to interrupt your kegger.”

I sigh. “Yes, these essay questions aren’t going to rage on by themselves.”

Sheriff Gleason takes off his hat, and his thick curls stand up in all directions. “How are the applications going? Jan and Julia are at a boiling point with them.”

“Pretty much the same.”

He gives me a warm smile. “You’re a smart girl, Ally, and responsible. Any school would be lucky to have you.”

So I’ve been informed.

“Is Mom back?” Five-year-old Annie pads into the kitchen with her bare feet, rubbing her eyes.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” Sheriff Gleason says in a soft voice. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“They’ll be home soon.” I brush my hand against her pillow-creased face. “But you need to go back to bed. You have school in the morning, and your mom will be disappointed to see you awake this late. Plus, we don’t want Sheriff Gleason to arrest you for staying up past your bedtime.”

“That’s right,” he replies as he pulls up his belt. “I think what we have here is a five-sixty-eight: minor ignoring bedtime.”