I know I’m running out of time; flames have already reached the trees behind the house. Limbs snapping, snow melting from leaves, bark wheezing as it peels away.

A light shivers from the front windows, a dim glow—hardly visible through the smoke.

I don’t bother knocking—there’s no time—I yank open the door and burst into the living room.

The room is dark, woven with shadows. A long dining room table that must seat ten people sits against one wall, and a broad fireplace burns hot on the other.

And on the couch, someone is asleep—a boy—a blanket half pulled over him.

Oliver.

My heart stops beating and I take a step closer, hope rising dangerously up into my chest.

“Hello?” I ask. I can’t make out his face, partially covered by an arm, but then he rolls onto his side and the arm drops away. The motion startles him awake and he flinches upright—pale-blond hair pressed awkwardly to one side.

It’s not Oliver. Not Oliver.

It’s someone else—a boy I don’t recognize. With a narrow face and bright-blue eyes.

Disappointment sinks through me.

“Who the hell are you?” he asks.

“Who the hell are you?” I ask right back.

He tilts his head, confused. And I feel my expression draw tight—both of us unsure of the other. I survey the house quickly: the small kitchen with plates stacked high, cans of food on the wood counter, cupboards left open. He’s pilfered whatever he could find—which surely wasn’t much, considering the Harrisons rarely visit their summer home. Expired dried beans and stewed tomatoes left behind. Emergency food. A bottle of bourbon sits on the coffee table beside the boy, only a few sips left at the bottom. He’s been in here getting drunk. Maybe he ran away from the boys’ camp, maybe he’s been in here since the party a few houses down—still wasted, no idea what day it is.

I scowl and he scowls back.

“You have to get out of here,” I tell him sharply, turning away to head for the door—whoever this boy is, I don’t care, he just needs to leave.

But he doesn’t move from his place on the couch. “Why?”

“There’s a fire heading down the mountain.” I point to the window, so he can see for himself.