Magda and Drew left straight for the swim meet after school, and Tori caught the bus home. Kyle was already sitting in one of the front rows, sandwiched between another kid and the window, by the time she climbed in. At first, he looked surprised to see her, but when she paused beside his seat, he quickly turned away, pressing his forehead against the window glass and pretending to ignore her. So she headed down the aisle toward the back of the bus, and claimed an empty seat for herself.

Tori set her backpack on the bench beside her as if she were saving the seat for someone, and sank into the sun-warmed vinyl, her thoughts consumed by the previous night. She chewed on her nail, watching the fields blur past the window, wondering if Nathaniel had come back to the shed. She should have told Magda and Drew the truth. She should have asked Magda what to do. A big part of her hoped Nathaniel was gone. That he’d wandered away into someone else’s yard. Because if he hadn’t, she would have to face the half-naked, delusional boy waiting for her in her toolshed. And then she’d have to figure out what to do with him.

The bus rolled to a stop; Kyle was out of his seat and scrambling down the steps before the doors were even open. By the time Tori had grabbed her bag and maneuvered down the aisle, her brother was already halfway down the road to their driveway. It didn’t use to be like this. They’d been close back in DC. Even closer after their dad had died. Things were weird after he’d caught her cutting and told her mom, just before they’d moved, but he’d still looked at her then. Still talked to her. Still picked fights after school when their mom wasn’t around, and made the occasional effort to get under her skin. Even when he was being a royal pain in the ass, she’d always known where she stood with him. But ever since they’d moved, she wasn’t so sure anymore.

The bus pulled away, and when the exhaust settled, a flash of white caught Tori’s eye. The edges of a flyer stapled to the stop-sign post turned over in the breeze. The word MISSING had been printed below a color photo, and she stepped closer to get a better look at the boy’s face. He was familiar in a faraway sort of way she couldn’t place, and it left her feeling a little uneasy.

William Slaughter. Thirteen years old. Last seen yesterday morning. The boy was probably one of Jesse’s cousins; she felt a pinch of remorse for being grateful that Jesse hadn’t been at school that afternoon. He and his cousins had probably been hanging these flyers.

“You that new gal?”

Tori turned. A woman stood hunched on the rickety front porch of an old bungalow across the road. The house sat in the shadow of a large walnut tree, and the roof was sprinkled with dried yellow leaves and wrinkled nutshells. Peeling and splintered, with warped siding and missing shingles, the old place looked as if it could blow to the ground with the next stiff breeze.

“You that gal lives in Al Senior’s ol’ house?” She pointed a knobby, arthritic finger at Tori.

Since the move, Tori had grown accustomed to greetings that said welcome on the outside and felt more like a rejection in her gut. But the woman on the porch smiled, and it seemed warm and genuine. Her rich umber skin creased deeply around her eyes. Tori felt them focus on her, but she couldn’t be sure. They were clouded with a silvery film that matched the woman’s thinning tufts of hair.

Tori nodded and kept walking past the lopsided mailbox that said MATILDA RICE.

“I always knew he’d come back.” The woman’s brittle voice carried through the air.

Tori turned, shielding her eyes from the afternoon sun, uncertain who the woman was speaking to. Matilda Rice stood bowed in the shade of her porch, her clouded eyes watching Tori. She must have seen Tori reading the flyer.

“Did they find him?” Tori called to her.

“That boy,” the woman said with a shake of her head, “he wasn’t supposed to die like that.”

A cold weight settled in Tori’s chest. “What?”

The old woman’s gap-toothed grin melted into a thin line. She looked hard at Tori. “Emmeline always said that boy would come back. He’s got business here. Old business. You mind yourself ’round that Bishop boy. It’s dark magic brings him back.”

The hairs on the back of Tori’s neck prickled as the woman’s bent frame disappeared into the house.

Tori was still standing in the road, staring at Matilda Rice’s empty porch, when a big blue pickup truck pulled up alongside her. Jesse rolled down his window. “Hop in. I’ll give you a ride home.”

Tori turned back toward the direction of her house. It was a long walk to her driveway, and she couldn’t think of any excuse to turn him down that wouldn’t make her seem rude or ungrateful. With one last look at Matilda’s porch, Tori climbed in. The cab was high and she struggled to keep her skirt from riding up. Yanking it back in place, she rested her backpack on her lap. Her eyes slid to Jesse. He wasn’t wearing his uniform, just a soft-worn University of Maryland sweatshirt, some muddy work boots, and a faded pair of jeans.

He plucked off his ball cap and brushed his sweat-slicked hair from his forehead with a grin. The bench seat between them was piled with missing-person flyers weighted down with a staple gun. The rear of the cab was full of wooden pickets and election signs with Jack Slaughter’s face on them, and a big rubber mallet rattled around in the back. Jesse was driving slower than he normally did on this road, slow enough that the silence seemed to drag out between them. He stretched and relaxed, resting his right arm across the back of the bench seat. Then he threw her a sideways smile and cleared his throat, like he was getting ready to say something.

“I noticed you weren’t in History today,” Tori blurted before he could gather his thoughts.

The truck lurched over a pothole. Jesse’s eyes darkened and he put his hand back on the wheel. “I was hanging flyers with Mitch and my dad.”

Tori took one of the flyers from the stack on the seat and studied it, just to have something else to look at other than Jesse or the road. The bright blue shade and shape of Will’s eyes reminded her of Jesse. “Is he your cousin?”

Jesse nodded, gripping the wheel. “He didn’t come home last night. His teachers said he wasn’t in school. Everyone’s starting to worry,” he said, frowning at the road.

“You can borrow my notes if you want.” She backtracked quickly. “I mean, they’re probably not that good.”

“No, that’d be great.” Jesse smiled, bigger this time, his dimple cutting into his sun-kissed cheek. Not the fake-bake people wore in the city. Jesse’s tan was warm and uneven from hours spent outside. Tori quickly looked away. “I can use all the help I can get. That last test killed me.” He took the bend in the road even slower, and Tori felt his eyes skip from the road to her face a few times. “What happened to your friends? I thought you usually catch a ride home.”

“Drew had a swim meet today. And I had…something I needed to do,” she added awkwardly.

“You must be pretty busy. I never see you around on the weekends much. You probably go back home to visit your friends?”

Tori ignored the sting. She didn’t keep in touch with anyone back home. They’d all stopped calling even before she’d left. And this—this pitted dirt road winding through Slaughter Farm—was home now. “I haven’t been back to DC. Not since we moved.”

Jesse’s brow lifted. “You don’t miss it?”

Tori shook her head. It was easier than trying to explain that going back wouldn’t bring her any closer to what she missed most.

“I’d probably be up there every week if I were you. One more year,” he said, his foot on the accelerator hinting at his eagerness. “One more year and I can get out of here.”

“You? Why would you want to get out of here?” Tori asked, not bothering to mask her surprise. Jesse raised an eyebrow and looked at her sideways. “I mean, you’ve got so many friends and family here.” You’ve got everything, is what she’d wanted to say.

Jesse shrugged. “Sometimes there’s a lot of pressure being part of a big family. I mean, how are you supposed to figure out who you want to be when everyone’s trying to tell you who you are?”

“What do you want to be?” she asked, curious about this side of Jesse she’d never seen.

“I don’t know,” he said, thinking. “I want to go to college. Preferably someplace where nobody knows me.” Jesse stared out the windshield with a faraway look. And something about that made her feel a little closer to him.

He eased to a stop in front of the cluster of mailboxes across from Tori’s driveway, and Tori threw open the door. “Thanks for the ride.” She slid off the bench and shut the cab. But his truck didn’t pull away. Instead, Jesse killed the engine and got out.

“Hey, Tori. Wait.” He crossed to her side, and Tori tried to think of some polite way to excuse herself before he could ask her anything else.

He stood in front of her next to the mailboxes, his hands jammed in the pockets of his jeans. He raked his hands through his hair and flashed her a dimpled smile.

“I heard you don’t have a date to the Homecoming dance,” he said, cocking an eyebrow. “I thought maybe you’d want to go with me.” Tori opened her mouth to speak, but seeing the look on Tori’s face, Jesse added, “It’ll be fun. I promise. Bobby’s girlfriend’s parents are renting us a limo, and a bunch of us are riding together—”

Her palms were sweaty around the straps of her backpack, and her pulse felt quick. “Can I think about it?”

Jesse looked confused. “Sure.” He nodded, rocking back on his heels and scratching his head. “Sure, I guess you probably need to check your schedule. Or ask your mom or something.”

Tori gave a noncommittal nod. They stood there for a minute, not saying anything. Finally, Jesse turned and opened his family’s mailbox. Feeling stupid for still standing there, Tori turned and opened hers too. Beside her, Jesse thumbed through a stack of letters. Something in the shift of his posture made Tori glance up at the envelope in his hand. University of Maryland Office of Student Financial Aid. It was thin.

He folded it into his pocket without opening it, as if he already knew what was inside. “I’ll see you around,” he said stiffly. Without looking at her, he climbed into his truck and drove away.