chapter 22

Ray called about an hour after we got home. I picked up on the upstairs phone and dragged the handset into my room. He was saying I should’ve stayed at the picnic table. “In a couple of minutes, they would’ve all forgotten about it. But when you left, everyone was all like, ‘Yeah, it was his dog—that’s why he’s leaving.’ I had to stick up for you all by myself.”

I hadn’t thought about that. “Well, if it hadn’t been for Prater—”

“He’s a blowhard, man, everyone knows that.”

Even though he couldn’t see me, I shook my head. “They believed him.” It had been like being encircled by the enemy, with Jack and me at the center.

“I don’t think Jimmy did. Anyway, you missed my yo-yo routine.”

“Oh, man.” Some friend I was. Silence buzzed over the wire. “You know what? I’m an idiot. I should have told Prater to shut up.”

“Not that he would have listened.” Ray laughed. “Maybe I could have done a looping trick and popped him in the head with my yo-yo.”

First he called Prater a blowhard, now he was popping him in the head with a yo-yo. Something was up. “Remember you said he was mad at you? What was it for?”

“I showed him the arrowhead!” His voice raised, full of disbelief. “I told him we could probably find one for him, but he got all mad about it. He thinks I can only have one best friend.”

Best friend. Words of gold to a new kid. I had to be careful here, didn’t want to say the wrong thing. I just kept my mouth shut.

Ray sighed into the phone.

I pictured him yo-yoing. “How’d your routine go?”

“Great! My new trick—that one where I jump over the string—it was so cool. They blasted the music so loud, it was like a concert!” He paused for a second. “Are you still going to the fireworks at Harveys Lake? We’re all going to Hanson’s Park afterward. You have to go on the roller coaster.”

I’d already told Dad I didn’t want to go. “Who’s all going?” I asked.

“Everyone! Come on, you can’t stay home.”

Yeah, I could. Everyone included those kids who’d looked at Jack as if he were a monster. Everyone included the ice cream ladies. Everyone included Prater.

“My dad’s kind of busy.”

“We can pick you up.”

“No,” I said quickly. “I—I … I think Jack’s a little sick from all that barbecue sauce. I’m just going to stay home.” Maybe sit on the porch and listen for that coyote.

Then I said, “Hey … um … have you heard anything weird at night, like up in the woods or anything?” I tried to make it sound like it wasn’t any big deal. I wasn’t even sure if the sound could carry to the houses off the mountain. Ours was pretty high up.

“What do you mean? Like … ghosts?” He laughed.

“No, not like that.” I gazed out my window. “The other night I heard—Jack and I both heard—oh, you won’t believe me, never mind.”

“Tell me,” Ray insisted. “I will believe you.”

I bunched up the cord in my hand and let it spring out. “We heard a coyote.”

“No way!” Ray said. “A coyote?”

I knew it. I shouldn’t have said anything.

“Yeah.” My voice trailed down. I heard how stupid it sounded. I cringed as I imagined Ray’s face filled with disbelief. He’d hang up and call Prater and they’d both laugh at me.

“What does your dad say?” Ray asked.

“He doesn’t believe me.”

Silence. Then Ray said, “I’ve never seen one around here.”

“Well, I heard it. I heard it howling. It doesn’t matter anyway; no one believes me,” I said. “Everyone wants to blame Jack.”

“You really heard a coyote?”

“Yes,” I said firmly.

There was a moment of silence. I knew Ray was trying to decide if he believed me or not. It didn’t matter; I was prepared to face the rest of summer alone with Jack.

“Do you think that’s what attacked Schwartz’s chickens?”

He believed me. Before I could answer, he went on. “Oh, man, you should’ve heard what Jimmy said after you left—that coyote really tore into those chickens. I sure wouldn’t want to run into one.”

Hearing him talk about it made it even more real. Relief and determination rushed through me. I told him everything about the night Jack and I heard the coyote, how it made my hair stand on end. “No one else believes me, but I’m going to prove it.”

“How?”

I glanced at the tape recorder sitting on my nightstand.