“Ew, that’s just creepy,” James says.

We sit outside our secret fort in the woods. The fort isn’t much; its only side is an old wood pallet we found in a ditch, and a ragged tarp stretches above it in case it rains or—as is often the case—it’s too hot out and we need shade. The doll lies in the old fire pit we’ve built in the center, staring up at us angrily.

“You really didn’t leave it as a trick?” I ask.

I watch James’s and Alicia’s expressions carefully, but neither of them look like they’re lying when they shake their heads.

“Pinkie swear?” I ask, just to make sure.

They both hold out their pinkies and shake mine.

That settles it; neither of them left the doll on my pillow. Or set it on my doorstep. Or changed its smile into a frown.

“So … who did this?” I ask.

“Maybe Peter?” Alicia responds.

Peter is the biggest bully in our school. He’s beefy and mean, but he’s not that smart. He’d be more likely to shove a girl than try to scare her with a doll. I can’t imagine he’d be this creative.

“No, I don’t think so,” I say. “He’d think even touching a doll was too girlie. And it doesn’t seem like something he’d do, anyway.”

“You’re probably right,” James says. “Do you have any enemies? Maybe spies from overseas?”

“This isn’t funny,” I say. Though I appreciate him trying to make a joke out of it.

I think about what he asked: Do I have any enemies? Anyone at school or in town who hates me enough to want to scare me? I can’t think of any. We’ve been out of school for over a month and I don’t talk to anyone but Alicia and James. And maybe Mr. Jones, but I don’t have any late library books so I don’t think he’d try to frighten me either.

“I can’t think of who would do it,” I mutter. “I just wish I knew who was following me around.”

“It’s a little scary to think that they might be outside your house, watching you,” James says.

I hadn’t even thought about that part. Now every time I look into the forest, I’ll wonder if someone is looking back.

“Yeah,” Alicia continues. “Have you told your mom yet?”

“No. I don’t want her to worry. She has enough to deal with.”

The two of them share a look. Clearly, they think I’m out of my mind for not telling an adult. But if I’ve learned anything from the adults around here, it’s that it’s easier to do things yourself and only bring it up to adults if necessary.

So if it isn’t a prank … what is it?

None of us mention the other option, even though it’s the one thing I’ve been thinking ever since the doll appeared on my pillow:

What if there isn’t someone else involved? What if it’s just the doll?

And what if what it wants is me?