Part 4 (1/2)

”She's looking for you. And, man, she's not happy. I don't know how you could do that, Cooper. I mean, six-month anniversaries are a big-”

”What do you mean, looking for me?” I said, cutting her off. As if I needed a reminder of my screwup.

”She said she was going to your house to find you and tell you what a loser you were. Something about looking for you at the tree or-” Rebecca groaned and gave the two cheerleaders above her a glare. ”Ow, Colleen. How many times did you go to the freakin' snack bar today?”

”Shut up. I'm not the only cow here.” Colleen Carter s.h.i.+fted her weight, which only made Rebecca's face pinch into the Darth Maul mask.

”My house? The tree?” The words sank in one at a time, like concrete blocks. But Rebecca had stopped paying attention. She and Colleen were arguing about who gave elephants a bad name.

Megan.

The tree.

Which was in the woods. By the- Oh G.o.d. I broke into a run, air sucking into my lungs, this time ignoring the calls of my friends as I broke across the football field like a quarterback on fire, then down the school driveway, and finally onto the sidewalks of Maple Valley, rounding the corners at a skid, stone dust kicking up beneath my shoes, nearly slipping as I shredded rubber to get to Megan.

The tree was in the woods behind my house. We'd meet there sometimes because StepScrooge Sam frowned on my entertaining friends in the house. I had never wanted to go into those woods again, but now I had to get there. Fast.

Every block felt like a mile, every street as long as a runway.

Then, my street sign. My house. My driveway. I ran down the long, long length of bricks, and then, when I hit the gra.s.s, I dropped my backpack. It hit the ground with a thud.

A sickening thud, almost a premonition.

”Cooper!”

I spun around so fast, I was a human top. StepScrooge Sam stood on the deck, his arms crossed over his chest. He was dressed in his golf clothes. White s.h.i.+rt, plaid pants. I snorted. Hard workday for him, apparently. ”What?”

”Where the h.e.l.l do you think you're going?”

Whatever answer I gave would be the wrong one. I heaved in a breath, trying not to look like I was in a hurry. When StepScrooge Sam wanted to talk to you, it was now, no later about it. ”Nowhere.”

He headed down the stairs. Came up within two feet of me. ”You're moving awful fast for going nowhere, mister.”

I shrugged. I didn't care what he thought.

”Att.i.tude again. You know how I feel about att.i.tude.”

”Sorry.” Appease him now-maybe he'd shut up.

But no, his voice got louder, his face got redder, and he got closer to me. ”You are an ungrateful leech in this house, Cooper. I provide the food on the table, the roof over your head, the clothes on your back, and what do you give me?”

I toed at the ground. I knew the drill. I'd heard it a hundred times before. ”Nothing.”

”That's right. Nothing. Don't you think you could do more around here? To help out?”

”Yes.”

”Yes, what?”

”Yes, sir.” The words escaped through gritted teeth. I shoved my hands into my pockets so he wouldn't see them curl into fists.

”Don't you dare run off right now. Because you have ch.o.r.es. Your room is a disaster. The trash needs to be taken out. The garage a”

He went on and on, but I didn't hear him. My brain just kept repeating Megan-Megan Megan like some kind of internal drum. An urgent beat to get the h.e.l.l out of here and find her. Something wasn't right, I just knew it.

”I'll do it all in a little while,” I said. ”I promise.”

”No, you'll do it now.” StepScrooge Sam advanced on me, anger flaring his nostrils like a bull. ”I don't have time for this c.r.a.p from you. I have a business to run. On top of that, one of the workers didn't show up today and the whole place is a mess. So don't you be adding another ha.s.sle to the pile. You'll do what I say and you'll do it”-he came even closer now, his index finger like a pointer at my chest, punctuating the last few words-”when I tell you.”

All of a sudden, Whipple came running out of the doggy door, hurling his little fur body down the deck stairs and into the s.p.a.ce between us. The dog started to growl. The sound was low and guttural, as vicious as a Doberman's. StepScrooge Sam turned toward the dog, glaring, and for a second I thought he might kick Whipple. ”What the-?”

”Whipple, quit that,” I said. What was wrong with the dog? He'd done that only once before, when I'd come out of the well.

For a second, I considered asking Sam about the well, but then I remembered how long-winded he could get when it came to the history of the Jumel Vineyards. I didn't have time for that now. Besides, he was probably half the reason my mother was going psycho. He made her feel forced to choose between him and her own kids. Whipple was just protecting me from the angry tones in Sam's voice.

The dog backed up, standing beside my feet, but he was still, like a statue. I glanced back at the woods. Was Megan in there? Waiting for me?

And was she okay?

”Cooper, go do your ch.o.r.es.”

Him again. He never let up. ”I will.”

Sam glared at me.

”Sir.” I sucked in a breath. ”Seriously, though, I really gotta exercise the dog first. It won't take long. I swear.”

His cell phone chirped, and he let out a curse. He studied me and the phone rang again. ”How long?”

The Megan-Megan Megan drumbeat kept sounding in my head, so urgent my feet started shuffling. I wanted to turn and run and not answer my stepfather, but I didn't want him to come down on me with the privileges ax. ”I'll be back in ten. Sir.”

My mother's car swung into the driveway. Sam looked from the Audi to me, then back again. She called to him, saying something about needing help with groceries, making the decision for him. ”Ten minutes,” Sam warned, flipping out his cell phone and barking a greeting to whomever was on the other end.

Just before he headed off to meet my mother, I saw Sam shoot Whipple another glower. The dog held his four-legged stiff stance, not relaxing again until Sam was gone.

I didn't care. Megan was in those woods somewhere, and I had to find her. I turned and ran, running harder and faster than I had during football practice, pus.h.i.+ng myself further than I ever had in conditioning. I charged down the lawn, and even though it hurt after the two-mile run from school and my lungs burned like kerosene chased by fire, I pumped harder, forcing my arms back and forth like pistons, pus.h.i.+ng my aching, screaming legs to keep charging. Nothing mattered but finding Megan. Whipple ran after me, barking like he thought this was a game of chase.

I ignored the dog and shoved into the woods. Branches grabbed at me, long, sharp wooden fingers reaching, stabbing. Roots snaked out to trip my feet, as if the forest didn't want me to find her.

I shouted her name, then tried to run faster, but my body wouldn't cooperate. My lungs and legs had had enough, and they slowed, a train running down. The dog kept pace easily, running circles around my legs, nearly tangling me. I cursed and tried to push him away with my feet, searching all the while for Megan's tall, thin frame. She wasn't near our tree, the huge, ancient oak in the center of the woods that stood taller than all the others.

No. She couldn't have. But some instinct told me, some sickened knot of dread said the worst.

I kept going, deeper and deeper into the woods. Through the trees, I could see the vineyard way off to my right. Whipple barked and jumped at my legs, bouncing off them with his front paws. ”Cut it out!”

The dog kept it up. The vines tangled around me, a ropy spider web blocking my way into the cove surrounding the well.

And then, buried between the tall, thick trees, I thought I saw a flash of light blue among the greens and browns. Was it Megan's jacket?

But that flash of blue was close, too close, to the well.