“No, a specific girl. A tiny one with brown hair and dimples.”

“Lauren Roberts?” Abi asked, naming a girl in our math class.

“No,” I told her, twisting to look behind me. “But like her. About that height, same hair. Like Lauren Roberts with a major case of crazy eyes.”

She could be anywhere. She was short enough to pass through the crowd unseen, and damn it, I wasn’t tall enough to see over all these people.

“Does this chick owe you money or something?” Ryan joked, finally sounding like himself again. But I was too panicked to be happy about that.

The glass doors opened, and as they did, I spotted a few people leaving the theater. I caught the briefest glimpse of a long brown ponytail, and then the door swung shut. It might have been Blythe, but I couldn’t be sure.

Whirling on Ryan, I grabbed his arm again. “I’ll be right back. Go on into the theater and I’ll find you in a few minutes.”

“Whoa.” Ryan flipped his hand, fingers encircling my wrist. “Where are you—”

I tugged out of his grasp, forgetting about my superstrength, so instead of taking my arm back gently, I more or less wrenched it from him.

Surprise, hurt, and more than a little bit of anger all warred on his face, but I didn’t have time to worry about that right now. Blythe was here, and I had to find her before she found me.

“I’ll be right back,” I said again, then dashed out the front doors of the theater before Ryan had the chance to say anything else.

The November night was cold and clear, and my breath puffed out in front of me as I stood on the sidewalk, looking left, then right. The theater took up one whole side of the square; the other three sides were taken up with little boutiques, Miss Annemarie’s, the jewelry store, and Pine Grove’s sad attempt at a coffee shop, the Dixie Bean. Other than the theater, the rest of the square was relatively deserted, since most of the shops closed around five. Miss Annemarie’s and the Dixie Bean were probably the only things open, but there was no one on the sidewalks, and no sign of the little group that had just left the theater.

I jogged across the street, heading for the center of the square. The statue of Adolphus Bridgeforth, one of the founders of Pine Grove, glowered down at me. The Pine Grove Betterment Society, led by Saylor, had raised the money for it about five years back. I knew that if I looked closely, I’d see wards etched into the stone base. Saylor had been very thorough where David’s protection was concerned.