Her parents wouldn’t leave her alone in her room forever, but it might buy a few hours. Especially if they were tired and preoccupied with Hallie stuff. Leaving the kitchen and living room lights on, Maren slipped out the front door, into the shadows and cricket song.

Eleven

The streetlights cast round puddles of yellow on the sidewalk as Maren jogged toward the bus stop. Though her neighborhood lay miles from the ocean, the air was damp and salty and faintly blue-tinged. Heavy clouds of fog came whispering in, blurring the stars and the edges of everything.

Most of the people on Maren’s street were home for the evening, the multicolor glow of television screens flashing in their windows. Maren wondered how many families were sitting together, arguing over what show to watch. Not realizing what a fragile thing they had. She’d give everything she owned to be able to sit on the couch again with Hallie, wrestling for the remote.

The lights in Amos’s old house were out, and on a whim Maren stole into the backyard, pulled a nail file from her bag, and scraped a few splinters from the side of the deck. She plucked three leaves from a forsythia bush, scooped a pinch of dirt from the old sandbox, and tucked everything inside the spare plastic bag she kept beside the EpiPen in her backpack. She still hadn’t decided about making that dream for old Mr. O’Grady, but it didn’t hurt to have the ingredients.

On the main road just outside the neighborhood sat the empty bus stop. The air had grown darker and colder and foggier, and Maren wanted to run back to her house, but that wasn’t an option. She zipped her sweatshirt up to her chin and perched on the edge of the bench. With every car that flashed past, wiry curls of fear twisted through her chest.

This is the same bus stop you go to every morning, she told herself. It’s exactly the same place as before, just dark now.

A dirty white delivery truck rumbled by. The driver turned to look at Maren, his face a blur of shadows, and she shivered and pulled up her hood.

Shuffle step shuffle step shuffle ball change.

She wondered if Maybe Ms. Malo knew where she lived. Peering into the shadowy bushes, she listened for rustling or creeping sounds, but all was silent except for the crickets. Maren wanted to crawl under a blanket on her couch, turn on her dancing show, and forget about everything. But tomorrow would come no matter how she ignored it, and that woman would be waiting.