Chapter 27

After the Drama, More Drama

I arrive at school on time, to avoid starting any rumors about last night’s drama. As usual, Wyatt meets me in the parking lot and walks me into the building. I’m exhausted, but thanks to my ability to heal myself, my shoulder doesn’t hurt much and I make it through my morning classes just fine. Word has gotten out that the police were at my house last night. Word always gets out fast in a small town like ours.

Before Uncle Johnny left, our small group of conspirators concocted a story about my dad shooting into the air to scare off a dangerous pack of coyotes that were cruising too close to the house. The cops who showed up at our house with Uncle Johnny have agreed to keep everything confidential, so our real story’s safe for now. Even the cops on the scene don’t know everything. They all went back to the station before we revealed the preposterous truth to Uncle Johnny.

At lunch Connor, Ryan, Meg and Jen ask about my ordeal and Wyatt and I skillfully field the questions they throw at us. After I manage to get through my afternoon classes, Wyatt meets me at my locker and we talk for a few minutes before leaving for our practices.

He tells me I look tired and asks, “How’re you going to be able to run? I’ve never seen you looking this awful.”

“Thanks for boosting my confidence.”

He smiles. “You’re welcome.”

“I’ll just take it easy. I’m sure the coach heard something about last night. He’ll know I was up late. I can run with the first-year people. Don’t worry. I’ll be fine. Running always helps me deal with stress and I need that more than ever right now. My uncle’s going to be lurking around the woods, hiding behind trees and bushes, keeping an eye on me. I hope he can keep up with my pace. He’s getting kinda old and the five mile loop might be too challenging for him.”

Wyatt laughs. “He looks pretty fit to me. Be careful. Call me later.” He kisses my forehead and squeezes my uninjured shoulder. I wish he could come with me, but he has to go to soccer practice. Besides, that would be weird. He lopes off toward the door opening out to the playing fields in the back of the school. I head out to the big yellow bus that’ll bring the team to the town forest where we’ll run along the winding paths in the woods.

About a dozen trails of different lengths meander through the acres of Eastfield’s Town Forest and I usually look forward to any time spent on this beautiful conservation land. Today, however, I feel tired and scared. The police didn’t find any good fingerprints on our downspout or Mr. Morse’s boat. They found shoe prints, but the intruder wears a common size and he had on a popular brand of running shoe. Uncle Johnny was going to question Mrs. McGuire this morning and I’m anxious to find out what she had to say.

Oliver and Jackson will be moving ahead with their plans to talk to Dr. Summers and Dr. Peterson. I hate waiting on the sidelines while Oliver, Jackson and Uncle Johnny meet with key people and ask important questions. Maybe I haven’t learned my lesson after all. I still yearn to be in the middle of the action despite the danger. Here, at track practice, however, at least I can keep moving. The exertion of running helps keep my focus off all the anxiety building up inside of me.

My jogging companions today are agreeable and I have no trouble keeping up with their pace. I’m running with two ninth-grade girls, Amy and Leah. This is the first time they’ve kept up with a varsity runner and I think they’re acting a little shyer around me than they might act with their own friends. When we were stretching and warming up, Amy, the more talkative of the two, asked me if I was going out with Wyatt Silver. When I answered yes, she told me she thought he was hot.

After we started down the path, I jogged along at what for me is a relaxing pace and they matched my speed. I was left to my own deep thoughts because my side-kicks, flanking me, were too winded to chat. But they kept running and didn’t complain…

Every few meters, I glance over my shoulder, expecting to see a dark figure aiming a gun at me. But I don’t see anything, not even Uncle Johnny. Wyatt’s under strict orders to stick with me at school, but I feel like I’m on my own right now with two fourteen-year-old girls in the middle of a forest. If my uncle would peek out from behind a tree and wave to me now and then I’d feel safer.

What if Mike the Bad Guy, as I’ve begun to think of him, has followed me here? There are tons of trees he could hide behind. Uncle Johnny’s not the only one who’s good at sneaking around the forest. It’s no secret I’m on the cross-country team and lots of people know we run in these woods every day. The branches moving with the wind and the dry leaves crunching underfoot spook me until I’m almost as out of breath as Amy and Leah. So much for the relaxing qualities of long-distance running.

The coach divided the team into thirds and each group’s running a different route. The other people in our group are either way ahead of us or way behind and I begin to fret silently about the solitude. I listen for crunches and thumps not made by our three pairs of sneakers. My head swivels left and right as I scan the forest on either side of the path for movement or shadows that don’t belong. Patting the right-hand pocket of my shorts, I feel the reassuring presence of my cell phone. It’s bouncing up and down, but still there.

A twitch of movement and an impression of something large catches my attention a few feet ahead, where the trees open into a large field. Shooting my arms out to either side, I effectively stop Amy and Leah in their tracks. “Shh,” I warn as if they could control their panting. I point left into the distance and the three of us focus through the trees and peer at the meadow beyond.

A huge deer with his white tail stuck straight up races across the open field with four others close behind him. Leah gasps and Amy whips out her smart phone. She aims, fires and shows us she got a couple of decent pictures for Instagram. We stand still and watch the deer disappear into the woods before resuming our jog through their forest, being careful to tread as quietly as possible.

After we finish our five-mile loop we join the rest of the team. Everyone’s sitting and chatting and guzzling water and Gatorade while we wait for the stragglers. Finally, the bus can leave and we head back to Eastfield High. In the school parking lot, I spy a familiar van and I’m happy and relieved to see Nathaniel, big, solid and reliable in his wheelchair, with Jeff by his side, sitting at attention, ears perked up, sniffing the air.

“I’m on duty to make sure nobody takes any potshots at you while you’re getting into your car. We figured someone should be here just in case you got out of practice before Wyatt. The soccer coach is keeping the team later than usual.”

I bend to kiss the fuzzy flat space between Jeff’s ears. “Thanks, I appreciate it.”

“No problem. What, the dog gets a kiss and I have to sit here all lonely, ready to take a bullet for you?”

I laugh and bend to kiss his cheek.

Rubbing my thumb against Nathaniel’s stubble, I tease him. “Shave much?”

“Actually not today and not yesterday, either. I’m going for the ‘drunk guy who slept on a park bench’ look.”

We share a laugh but then I get down to business. “Have you heard from Oliver or Jackson? Is there any new news?”

“They’re meeting with Dr. Peterson as we speak and they have an appointment with Dr. Summers tomorrow. We figure that everyone should sit down with your uncle the cop tomorrow night and go over what we’ve found out. Maybe your dad’s heard from him already. Anyway, the parking lot here’s pretty peaceful. I got here fifteen minutes ago and nothing suspicious has happened. You probably should’ve parked in the middle of the lot, though, not over there by those trees.”

He points at my car, which is squeezed into the very last space, right at the edge of the woods.

“I was running a little late this morning. You have to get here wicked early to get a good space. So I had to park over there.”

I jog toward my car then stop as I get close enough to see it clearly. “Nathaniel!”

He speeds over, Jeff at his side. Together, we stare at my car. Jeff begins sniffing all around the ground surrounding it.

In the grime on my back windshield someone’s written Next time I won’t miss.

Nathaniel whips out his cell phone and calls Uncle Johnny.