CHAPTER FOUR

The Boy in the Red Hat

The boy stares at me with a look of bewilderment as I swing the branch wildly in the air. His eyes add a pop of colour to the woods. They remind me of a freshly cut lawn during the spring. He’s dressed in thick layers of clothing and a red, woollen hat that’s frayed at the corners.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” He gives me a reassuring smile, holding both hands up in the air.

“I wasn’t scared.” I hug myself tight, and swallow the lump caught in my throat.

He looks at the branch in my hand, and I let it slip to the floor, avoiding his gaze. The boy doesn’t look much older than me, even though he is a few inches taller. That’s pretty tall because everyone is always telling me how tall I am for an eleven-year-old. I get it from Dad who towers over everyone he meets. Lana used to joke about having our very own BFG in the house.

“I’m Timmy, by the way. You ran past me back there. It looked like you were in a hurry to get somewhere.”

“You saw me?” I try to remember if I saw Timmy, but the whole thing is a messy blur in my head.

“Just about. I’ve never seen anyone run that fast before. Except in the Olympics.”

“Did you see which way the cat went?” I ask him.

“What cat?”

“The one I was chasing. It has black fur and white eyes.”

“White eyes?” Timmy repeats slowly.

“Yeah, weird I know. Dad figures the cat is old, but I think it might be a mutation or worse . . .” I pause, unable to bring myself to tell Timmy about Lana. “I saw a rat that had the same colour eyes,” is all I can manage.

Timmy’s pupils grow large. He turns his head to the side and when he looks back at me, his eyes seem far away.

“What? Don’t tell me the cat is yours!” I say.

“No, I don’t have any pets.” Timmy plays with his hat, drawing it even further down his face.

“Then why do you look so freaked out?”

“It’s just creepy that’s all.”

Timmy has a wild look about him suddenly, like he is on the prowl for something. I notice the muddy stains on his trousers and the small tear on his right leg, exposing his knee.

“Do you live round here?” I ask.

“Right by the lake.” He points behind him.

“What are you doing out here then?” I look at him suspiciously—it’s not often I see someone alone in the woods.

“Exploring,” he says this like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Your parents must be really chilled to let you explore on your own.”

“They can’t choose to live near the woods and expect me not to want to explore! That’s what the woods are made for.” His eyes fill with a playful twinkle.

I make a mental note to use that line next time Mum and Dad have a go at me about the woods.

“Do you want to trade parents for the day?” I chuckle.

“Well . . . technically, they don’t know I’m out here. I’m very good at sneaking away. Actually, I’m a pro at it,” he confesses.

I haven’t had anyone confess anything to me before, except Lana. It feels good. The kids at school are always whispering in each other’s ears and laughing, trading secrets of their own. No matter how hard I tried, I could never get anyone to trade secrets with me. I smile at Timmy, and he smiles back.

I wish I was good at sneaking out, but I’m convinced my parents have spider senses. Mum tagged along to the cinema, not ONCE, but a big fat shameful TWICE, which would never have happened if Lana was here, and yes, you guessed it, I’ve not been invited out since.

Timmy stares at me. The expression on his face is very serious. He opens his mouth to say something when a scuffle nearby makes us both jump backwards. A frog leaps out of the overgrown spicebush by our feet. We both squeal at the same time and cover our heads with our hands. It makes a loud ribbit noise before hopping past us in a hurry.

Timmy and I look at each other and burst out laughing.

“You should have seen your face.” He clutches his belly.

“My face! What about you?” I mimic his scream.

“I don’t like frogs much, they’re too jumpy. Things that jump scare me. Cats scare me too, but I’m really good with snakes. I had a royal python once.”

“I can’t imagine my parents letting me get a snake for a pet. I had to beg them for a goldfish, and they only said yes because my sister promised she’d help me clean the bowl,” I confess.

“Mum worked as a zoologist at the time, so she didn’t mind.”

“What happened to the snake?”

“My sister let it loose, said it’s cruel to be keeping it in a box.” Timmy plays with his hat again, readjusting it so that it sits just above his eyebrows.

“Do you go to Hanging Hill High?” School would suck less if I had someone okay to talk to.

“I’m home schooled.”

I frown. “What is that exactly?”

“I have tutors that teach me the subjects at home, and my parents help whenever they can.”

My eyes widen. “Wait, you’re telling me you don’t have to physically go to school?”

“It sounds better than it is.”

“Do you have to wear a uniform?”

Timmy shakes his head.

“WOW! You get to learn in your pyjamas, that is so awesome.”

“Why were you running after the cat?” Timmy looks at me intently.

I open my mouth and close it again, like a fish gasping for air. “It’s silly,” I say at last.

“It can’t be that silly if it had you running that fast.”

“The cat made me think of someone.”

I pick up a stick by my feet and play with it, trying hard not to look at Timmy’s watchful gaze. Thankfully, he doesn’t ask any more questions. It’s nice he doesn’t know about Lana, because that’s all anyone ever wants to talk about at school. Even now, over a year later, it’s always, “Hey, Ari, have you heard anything else? Has she been in touch? Really sorry, dude, she’s probably just enjoying the freedom . . . I wish I could run away from my parents.” They don’t actually care; they just love gossip.

Above us, the last sliver of sunshine melts into the cloudy sky. A growing panic begins to settle in my stomach, making me jumpy and on edge.

“I better get going before Mum notices I’ve gone. I’m not supposed to be out here by myself.”

“You’re not by yourself.”

“What do you mean?” The pit in my stomach starts doing jumping jacks.

“I’m here too, aren’t I?” Timmy smiles.

“Oh! Yeah . . . try telling my parents that.”

“Do you know the way back?” Timmy asks me.

“Not really,” I admit. Fear prickles my arms and legs. It’s that feeling again, of being watched.

“Where do you live?”

“Just by the motorway at the start of the woods. Hop Cottage, the one with the green door. We used to have a sign, but Dad keeps running over it by accident.”

“Oh, I know where that is. Come on, I’ll walk with you.”

“Thanks!”

“You’re shaking.” Timmy notices my clattering teeth. “Here.” He takes off his padded coat and hands it to me.

“What about you? It’s freezing.”

He looks at my pyjamas and I can see the sides of his mouth twitching. I feel my face burning. I take the coat from him and put it on quickly, hands numb from the biting chill. It’s a size too big, but I don’t care because it’s so soft and warm. Right now, it’s the next best thing to being wrapped up in a heated blanket.

“Thanks. Cool top by the way,” I say.

Timmy looks down at his shirt and grins ear to ear.

“Is that manga?”

“Dragon Ball Z.”

I stare at him blankly.

“You haven’t heard of it?” He looks at me in disbelief.

“No, what’s it about?”

“These super warriors who have to defend the world from aliens and monsters.” Timmy’s face glows as he animates a fight scene with his hands. “Piccolo is my favourite character, he’s the one that can grow back his arms and legs and . . .” Timmy stops. He glances over my shoulder as something dark flashes across his eyes.

“What is it? Did you see something?” I look behind me uneasily.

“I think it was another frog.” He trembles and laughs off the rising tension, but his eyes remain watchful.

For some reason, I feel the urge to take one last look behind me before we head off. In the shadows, I see two round orbits of light. They move from one spot to another. I rub my eyes and look again, but there’s nothing there.

Get a grip, Ari!

“This way.” Timmy beckons me down a bendy path littered with bracken and swarming midges. When we finally emerge from the woods, there’s no sign of Dad’s car. I hurry to the door, hoping Mum is still snoring on the sofa.

“Thanks for helping me get back. I guess I’ll see you around?”

Timmy nods.

“We can play footie or something tomorrow if you want,” I quickly add.

“I can’t tomorrow. What about the day after?” Timmy suggests.

“I’ll be at home so you can come round whenever.” I try not to sound too excited, because that’s just tragic. I can’t help it though; Dad will be pleased I’ve made a new friend.

“There’s just one problem,” Timmy says.

“What’s that?”

“I’m terrible at football.” He smiles sheepishly.

“You’re in luck then because I’m only like, the best ever. I’ll teach you.”

Timmy laughs and waves me off. I fumble with the keys and open the door slowly, sticking my head inside to find Mum still cocooned beneath the blanket, one foot sticking out over the side of the sofa. When I go to close the front door, I hear Timmy run up behind me.

“Hey, Ari,” he whispers.

“Yeah?”

When he looks at me, his eyes start doing this weird, twitchy dance. “Never mind.” He shakes his head.

“Spit it out!”

Timmy lets out a huge breath. “You’ve heard of the Twig Man?”

“Who hasn’t?” I laugh, but Timmy doesn’t join in.

“He’s awake,” Timmy whispers.