Chapter 7

Bryce and I waited for the bus at the end of our driveway. The sky was dark, like our moods. We had searched through the newspaper but found only a tiny story about the attack.

We weren’t happy about not being able to ride our ATVs. We always rode them unless it was raining or had snowed a few feet. The news said it might snow, like it does a lot here in April. If it did, we wouldn’t feel so bad.

When we got on the bus I could tell some kids were surprised to see me. Marion sat near the back.

“Find out anything?” I said.

She pulled out a sheet of paper with several names on it. “These kids live near town and probably walk.”

I leaned over and read. Most were eighth graders, but there were a few in Bryce’s and my grade, seventh, and a couple of sixth graders.

“Somebody said the girls died last night,” Marion said.

I could barely get my breath. “Died?”

The kids in front of me turned around, and Marion made a face. “Shh,” she whispered. “I heard the guy tried to kidnap them and when they wouldn’t get in his car, he ran over them.”

That hadn’t been in the paper or on the radio.

A police cruiser sat outside the school, and the drop-off area for kids getting rides was packed. Inside, a poster directed everyone to the auditorium. I couldn’t remember the last time that had happened.

When everyone got there, the principal, Mr. Forster, walked stiff-legged to the microphone. He has a kind face and light brown hair, blue eyes, and a goatee. He limps—Marion said he’d been probed by aliens—and each time he saw me in the hall he said hello and remembered my name. When Bryce and I first moved to Red Rock, he had told us how sorry he was that our father had died and that he would do anything he could to make our years at the school good ones.

“Good morning, students,” he began. “As most of you heard, two of your classmates were attacked yesterday as they walked home from school. I want you to know that you are all safe, and we’ll make sure you remain that way.”

Teachers stood along the walls, watching over us like mother hens.

“You will see a police officer here throughout the day,” Mr. Forster continued. “He’s here for your protection.”

Someone raised a hand and asked if the police had caught the guy.

“No, but the students are at the station trying to identify him.”

So much for their having been run over.

“Who are they?” someone said.

Mr. Forster frowned. “We’re not saying. I’m sure you can understand how tough this has been for both of them.”

When the assembly was over, everyone moved to their lockers like zombies. I don’t usually feel this way, but I couldn’t wait to get to band.