I catch Suzy rolling her eyes. It’s obvious Jasper has had too much to drink, and it’s irritating even her.
Another brief quiet falls over the group, and I try to stop myself, to hold it in, but the question falls out anyway. “Notice what?”
“The voices,” Lin answers quickly, in a near whisper, before Rhett can stop him. And the whites of Lin’s eyes peer at me like I should know what he’s talking about. Like the moon witch can surely read his thoughts. Understand the hint of something hidden behind his pursed lips.
And maybe I do know what he means.
I think about the howls I used to hear when I was little, echoing from the cemetery—weeping howls, madness howls, the howls of the dead. Just like all Walkers before me, we hear what others can’t. We see.
My heart vibrates too quickly and a chill rolls down my back, one vertebra at a time. “What kinds of voices?” I ask. I need to know.
Lin’s eyes blink in slow motion, chewing over the words in his mouth before he spits them out. “At night, in our cabin. We hear things.”
Jasper flicks something in his free hand, and it catches my eye. It looks like a lighter, silver and shiny-sided. He stares down at the tiny flame before he flicks it closed and pushes it back into his pocket. Like he doesn’t want anyone else to see it, to admire it for too long. “It’s not just at night,” Jasper says, coughing once. “I’ve heard it during the day, too. In the trees, like it’s following me.”
I step forward, closer to the fire. “What’s following you?”
Lin shrugs and Jasper takes another drink of the whiskey. Rhett stares down at the flames—his round face a sharp contrast of light and dark shadows. But no one answers.
Maybe because they don’t know. Or maybe because they’re afraid of something.
Something they can’t see.
Or perhaps it’s all in their heads. Snow madness, my grandma called it. The cold can solidify itself in the mind, tendrils of ice scattering all sane thoughts. A buzzing fear that makes the eyes see things that aren’t there. Hear things that don’t exist. The forest playing tricks on you.
Jasper sways back from the flames, his face bright red. “It’s Max’s fault this happened,” he declares now, each word mashed together, a slurred jumble of sounds.
“Don’t blame it on Max.” Rhett’s jaw constricts. And this time his dagger eyes are focused on Jasper.
But my thoughts are stuck on one thing: Max.
Is he the boy who died?
“So you think we should blame Oliver?” Lin asks defensively, removing his hands from his oversized coat pockets, like he’s preparing for a fight.
“It’s someone’s fault,” Jasper counters, puffing out his chest.
But Suzy steps forward, lifting both hands in the air. “Stop it,” she interjects.
They all stand with rigid shoulders, like strings that were pulled too tight, about to snap. They eye one another, unblinking, the air tensed in their throats.
And I wonder: Do they know I found Oliver, that I’m the one who brought him back from the forest? Do they know that he’s been staying in my house, that he says he doesn’t trust them? A part of me starts to doubt that Oliver appeared on my doorstep as a dare. A silly prank. If he was friends with these boys, wouldn’t he be here with them now? At the bonfire?
“What did Oliver do?” I ask swiftly, my eyes ping-ponging between Jasper and Lin, hoping someone will tell me.
The strain in the air seems to soften, even if only just a little.
Suzy lowers her arms and even her gaze, sinking back beside Rhett.
The air between them has changed.
They refuse to answer my question, to tell me the truth. Maybe they’re protecting Oliver—they don’t want me to know what he did. And I can feel everyone holding their breath. The seconds stalling around us, waiting for someone to speak, to admit some truth I can’t yet see. What happened that night? I want to scream. What did Oliver do?
The fire writhes and spits up more smoke, chewing apart the damp wood.
Jasper rolls his head back, looking up at the trees. “I hate these woods,” he murmurs, staggering to one side, the bottle in his hand sloshing amber liquid onto his reindeer sweater. “Shit,” he cries out suddenly, lidded eyes going wide as he starts to wheel backward, off-balance. He trips on something—maybe his own feet—and he careens back away from the campfire, arms waving in the air, and crashes hard against the base of a broad fir tree.
Suzy clasps a hand over her mouth, stunned.
Jasper lets out a small gasp of air and a wheezing moan. Blood trickles from his cheek—where a branch sliced his flesh as he fell—and I watch the drops fall, painting the snow red. My heart stutters in my chest.
“Fuck!” Jasper exclaims, rubbing a hand over the gash, blood smearing his palm, as pinecones tumble down from the tree, plopping onto the snow around him.
“You’re so fucking wasted,” Lin remarks, shaking his head.
Rhett laughs at this, but the trees closest to us bristle, roots turning in the soil. They don’t want us here.
I take a swift step forward and kick snow onto the fire, dousing it in one quick motion. Gray, ashy smoke spirals up into the sky.
“Why the hell did you do that?” Rhett barks.
“Told you that you’d anger the trees. You can’t build a fire this close to the forest.”
Rhett takes a step toward me, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. “Stupid witch,” he spits under his breath.
But Suzy reaches out and grabs his arm, and he looks back at her. “Leave her alone,” she says.
Rhett’s eyebrows pull together, but his arm relaxes—as though just her touch is enough to calm his temper.
“I don’t like it out here anyway,” Lin admits, stepping back from the group and moving toward the trees, toward the lake.
Jasper glances down at the empty liquor bottle lying in the snow. “And I need more booze,” he slurs, before crawling to his feet.
“Fine,” Rhett says, his tone blunt-edged and irritated, eyes watching me a second more before turning back to Suzy. “We can go back to the cabin.” He slings an arm over Suzy’s shoulder. “You coming?”
She tilts her head up at him, giving up a coy little shrug, like she’s considering her other options for the night. Other plans. She glances at me and slips free of Rhett’s arm, saying softly so only I can hear, “You should come too.”
I shake my head. “No thanks.” I have zero interest in spending a single minute more with these boys.
Rhett slaps Jasper on the shoulder as he stumbles to his feet, laughing, but Jasper shrugs him off. Like he’s embarrassed.
“Maybe you shouldn’t go with them either,” I whisper to Suzy, keeping my voice low.
Her eyes sag a little, like she’s tired, or maybe it’s pity I see—she feels bad for me. Nora Walker who has no real friends. “I’ll be back before the sun comes up,” she says, like she wants to reassure me.
But I don’t nod; I feel only a twinge of unease. “I don’t think you should trust them.” Maybe I’m being paranoid, or maybe it’s only because Oliver said he doesn’t trust them. But I don’t want her to go with Rhett, with any of them.
She smiles, lifting an eyebrow conspiratorially. “They’re idiots, I know. But they’re fun and I’m bored.” She gives me a wink and reaches forward to squeeze my hand.
I open my mouth to tell her not to go, but I snap it shut again. She won’t listen to me anyway. And she can do what she wants. She can leave and sleep in Rhett’s cabin and she doesn’t owe me a thing. But it doesn’t stop the gnawing worry that presses at my temples. The hurt at the back of my skull.