The Grim Reaper's Dance

When Casey hesitated Bailey took a seat herself, followed by all three guys. Only Sheryl still stood, watching Casey from beside the oil lamp.

“So sit,” Death said, strumming a chord. “At least pretend to be social.”

Casey found a place on the edge of the blanket and sat butterfly style, ready to jump up at a moment’s provocation. She could feel Sheryl watching her, and kept the girl in her sightlines.

“What did you bring tonight?” Bailey leaned toward Terry.

Terry smiled and reached into his bag. When he brought his hand back out, it was holding a Tupperware container, one of the kind big enough to hold a pie.

Casey glanced at Death, who had stopped playing long enough to stand over Terry, sniffing. “Looks promising.”

Terry set the container down, looking around at the others. “Voilà!” He peeled off the lid, and there sat…

“Cinnamon rolls?”

Terry glanced at Casey, his eyes pained. “What’s wrong with cinnamon rolls?”

“Nothing. I mean, cinnamon rolls are great, but…just not what I was expecting.”

“Oh. You were probably expecting this.” He reached back into his bag and pulled out a half-gallon jug of milk.

Casey laughed. “Nope. Can’t say I was expecting that, either.”

Bailey grinned. “Terry’s folks own the bakery in town, so Terry’s always bringing us day-olds. What was it last night?”

Johnny moaned. “Blueberry muffins. They were amazing.”

“Yeah,” Martin said. “I missed those. Bummer.”

“Wait a minute.” Casey rubbed her forehead. “Do your parents know you’re here?”

The kids looked at her in shock. All except Sheryl, who still watched from the lamp, her face a blank.

“Our parents don’t even know we’re gone,” Terry said. “As far as they know, we’re in bed.”

Casey automatically looked at her wrist, where she used to wear a watch. “What time is it?”

“About two.” Bailey shrugged. “Our parents are way dead asleep. Now, Terry, how about passing out those rolls?”

Casey wasn’t going to say no, and her roll was gone in four quick bites, her milk in a few swallows. When she finished she found five pairs of eyes riveted on her face. Six, if you counted Death’s.

“What?” she said.

“Want another one?” Terry held out the Tupperware. “You look…um…a little hungry?”

“Sorry. I guess… I’d love another one.”

She ate another two, and finished off the milk. By the time the rolls were gone, the kids were digging in their packs and handing her more food. A granola bar, a bruised peach, a Snickers, and even a pack of gum.

“I’m okay,” she said. “Really. You don’t have to—”

“I know who you are.” Sheryl. Her voice was hard. “You’re the one who was in that truck accident. You ran away from the cops.”

Death winced, strumming an atonal chord. “Uh-oh.”

“I didn’t run from the cops,” Casey said. “I left the hospital. Nothing illegal about that.”

“Yeah, except they’ve been asking for you to come in to the station.”

Casey looked at Death, who shrugged.

“I didn’t know that. What else are they saying?”

Sheryl turned to her friends. “She’s wanted for questioning about the accident. The trucker died. She was with him. It was probably her fault.”

“They’re saying that?” Casey was shocked.

“No.” Bailey shot Sheryl a look. “That’s Sheryl’s interpretation. They’re just saying they want to ask you questions so they can determine what happened. They’re not blaming you. Right, Martin?”

He nodded.

“They’re also saying if anybody sees her they’re supposed to turn her in.” Sheryl reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone. “Anybody want to do the honors?”

“Sheryl,” Bailey said. “Cut it out. Put the phone away.”

“We’re supposed to—”

“And since when do we do everything we’re supposed to? Come on.”

Sheryl glared at Bailey, her thumb over her phone.

“Come on, Sher.” Terry this time, his voice gentler than Bailey’s. “Give the lady a break.”

“Why?”

“Because if you call you give up our place here. And because it would drive your parents crazy.”

Sheryl stared at him a long time before sticking her phone back in her pocket. “For now.”

Casey let out her breath. She had to get out of the area, and fast. She could take the bag of information with her, and figure it out on the road.

“You’re still wearing the same clothes, aren’t you?” Bailey indicated Casey’s shirt.

“I didn’t have any others.”

“And couldn’t buy any?”

“I don’t have any money.”

“Don’t have— Why not?”

“Because she’s a fugitive,” Sheryl said. “Her stuff’s probably still in the truck.”

Casey ignored her. “It’s a long story. Look, I’ll just be going.”

She stood, but Bailey grabbed her pants leg. “Don’t go. Please.”

“Thanks for the food. Really, I appreciate it. But I can’t be found here. I didn’t have anything to do with the accident. It wasn’t my fault. And I don’t want you folks getting in trouble because of me.”

“We won’t. And I believe you about the accident. We all believe you. Don’t we?” She widened her eyes at her friends, all of whom nodded vigorously. Except, again, for Sheryl.

“If it wasn’t your fault,” Sheryl said, “why can’t you talk to the cops? She’s running from something.” This last was to the other teens.

“So what?” Martin said. “Isn’t everybody? Aren’t you?”

“I am not running from the cops.”

“Sheryl…” Bailey sounded irritated.

“Don’t Sheryl me. You… She…” Sheryl shoved the sliding door open and barged out.

Bailey sighed. “Terry—”

“I’m on it.” He jumped up and followed Sheryl out the door.

“I’m sorry,” Casey said. “I didn’t mean to cause trouble.”

Bailey waved a hand. “Not your fault. Sheryl doesn’t exactly like strangers, or any adults, really.”

“Yeah,” Johnny said. “Especially after last week, when—.”

The others looked at him sharply and he jerked back, as if they’d slapped him. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to say anything.”

“Stay here.” Bailey wouldn’t let go of Casey’s pants. “Nobody will find you.”

“But Sheryl—”

“—will be fine. We’ll take care of her. Believe me, the last thing Sheryl wants is to call the cops.”

“We’ll bring you stuff,” Martin said. “Clothes and food and a sleeping bag. Stay as long as you want.”

“But won’t someone find me?”

“No one ever comes out here except us,” Bailey said. “I should know. We own this shed and all twelve hundred acres around it.”

“But—”