BooksBarbecue
Back Reverie
Chapters (53)
  1. Front Cover
  2. Letter from the Author
  3. Title Page
  4. Copyright
  5. Contents
  6. • One •
  7. • Two •
  8. • Three •
  9. • Four •
  10. • Five •
  11. • Six •
  12. • Seven •
  13. • Eight •
  14. • Nine •
  15. • Ten •
  16. • Eleven •
  17. • Twelve •
  18. • Thirteen •
  19. • Fourteen •
  20. • Fifteen •
  21. • Sixteen •
  22. • Seventeen •
  23. • Eighteen •
  24. • Nineteen •
  25. • Twenty •
  26. • Twenty-One •
  27. • Twenty-Two •
  28. • Twenty-Three •
  29. • Twenty-Four •
  30. • Twenty-Five •
  31. • Twenty-Six •
  32. • Twenty-Seven •
  33. • Twenty-Eight •
  34. • Twenty-Nine •
  35. • Thirty •
  36. • Thirty-One •
  37. • Thirty-Two •
  38. • Thirty-Three •
  39. • Thirty-Four •
  40. • Thirty-Five •
  41. • Thirty-Six •
  42. • Thirty-Seven •
  43. • Thirty-Eight •
  44. • ∞ •
  45. • Thirty-Nine •
  46. • Forty •
  47. Epilogue
  48. Acknowledgments
  49. Excerpt from Be Dazzled
  50. One
  51. Two
  52. About the Author
  53. Back Cover

In the back court, Kane once again sensed he was being watched. This time it was worse than homeroom because it was not the eyes of a crowd, but the stare of a predator.

Kane looked up.

Twenty yards toward the forest, slashed into the brightening day, stood the shadowy figure of the boy he’d seen that morning. He did not approach. He just stared, the gaze from his eyes radiating such intensity that Kane’s bones hummed with the urge to run.

Upon reflex Kane ventured a small wave, which the boy did not return. Instead, he pointed at the journal. Where nothing had been before, a photo jutted from the seams where the pages met. Plucking it out, it showed four pairs of shoes from above. Four people standing in a tight circle, their toes almost touching.

In the photo he recognized his own boots and what he remembered were Ursula’s running shoes, but the two other were anonymous: a pair of white ankles in straight-boy sneakers and a pair of gray sandals on brown feet.

Something flashed in Kane’s memory, like a far-off lighthouse whisking its beam across black waters, there and gone before he could tread toward it.

When Kane looked back up the boy was gone. Now—inches from where Kane sat—stood Ursula.

“Jesus!” Kane snapped the journal closed over the photo.

“You came,” she grinned. She had a hat over her curls, and she wore a neon green windbreaker. Her frostiness from the morning had thawed, but timidity still rounded her posture as she rocked on her feet. Kane looked around. The boy was for sure gone. Scared off when he saw her coming, maybe? How was everyone so able to sneak up on him? Was he that oblivious?

“You wanted to talk?” Ursula asked.

“Yeah.” Kane was prepared this time. “Where did I get my fish?”

Ursula stopped rocking. “Your what?”

“My fish. Where did I get him?”

There it was, the flash of deceit in Ursula’s eyes as she looked away.

“I have no idea what fish you’re talking about.”

Kane tore open his bag, dug out the photos, and slapped them down on the table. The one of Ursula holding the fish in the pouch of water was right on top.

“You’re lying.”

Ursula’s face went from pink to red to gray. She attempted to smooth out her expression, but there was no saving this. She’d been caught and she knew it. Her stiff posture relaxed, and a hint of a smile brushed her lips. Was she relieved?