“You okay?” a quiet voice asked from outside the bathroom door.
Tom was very perceptive about my crying. He could tell if I was crying from anywhere in the house, and he always came to find me. Like I said, he has crazy good hearing. One of the reasons I call him Bat Boy.
I wiped my eyes and nose and opened the door.
“Yeah,” I said sheepishly.
“Wow,” he said, stepping back. “You look good.”
He always liked to tell me I looked good. It was his little joke, I guess.
“Thanks,” I muttered. “You too.”
He was wearing new jeans and a cool graphic T-shirt I’d picked out for him.
He ran his hands down his shirt. “You think so?”
“Definitely,” I said. “The girls are going to go crazy over you.”
He wrinkled his nose. “I’m nine.”
“And a real catch,” I said, my voice cracking just a little.
It does that after I cry sometimes.
Tom suddenly reached out and squeezed my fingers. He also always knows exactly how far away I am. Sometimes I think he can see more than most people.
“It’s going to be fine.”
“I know,” I said. “Just a little nervous, maybe.”
He smiled, revealing his sparkling white teeth. “Me too. But I’ll be the most popular kid at school by next week. The captain of the football team always is.”
“That’s true. And I’ll be the head cheerleader, so I don’t know what we’re worrying about.”
“Exactly.” Tom suddenly frowned, looking past me. “Do you see that?”
I turned around. There was nothing there but the bathroom wall with its flaking green paint and brown water spots. “Where?”
He pointed at the wall, near my waist level. “Light,” he said.
“There’s nothing there, Bat Boy.”
He shrugged. “Strange. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going birdwatching.”
Tom also liked to come up with ironic tasks that he had to hurry off to. I shook my head as he strolled back down the hallway, using his hands for guidance. He really was a strange boy.
But he was also a brave one.
—
I flicked off the light and went to my room. I was done crying.
That night I lay in bed—my dad had somehow found the time to build it—splattered in white paint and thinking nervously that I was going to school the next morning. The house was coming along. We painted the living room that evening after we got back from the mall, and I’m pretty sure my dad was now hard at work installing new kitchen cupboards. The man didn’t sleep.
I was busy wondering what my new school would look like when the rattling started again. There was no doubt: it was coming from my closet.
Again, I didn’t investigate. I really am a wimp. I just lay there and once again pretended that nothing was rattling. Where was Bat Boy when I needed him?
The morning dawned, and only then did I creep over to the closet and peeked inside. Still nothing. This was getting weird. But I didn’t have time to worry about haunted closets—it was the first day of school. I changed into my new purple top and blue jeans, grimacing as I tugged them on. It felt like the stitching was about to blow.
I made my bed, grabbed my backpack, and started for the door. On the way I glanced out the window, just to make sure there wasn’t a shadowy figure standing in the trees. I stopped immediately. There wasn’t a man out there. There was something worse.
Two yellow eyes were watching me from the deep shadows of the woods.
They were large and pale, with thin, vertical black pupils like a snake. I hurried over to the window to get a closer look, but by the time I got there, the eyes had blinked closed and disappeared. I stood there for a moment, scanning the woods. Great. Now there were yellow snake eyes in my backyard. This new house was awesome.
Shaking my head, I went to the bathroom to get ready, convincing myself that it was just a particularly large cat. After fixing my matted chestnut hair and putting just a bit of blush on my cheeks—something my mom insisted I do—I went downstairs to eat some breakfast. I know most people eat breakfast before getting ready, but if I went down there on the first day of school without looking semi-presentable my mom would insist on doing my hair and makeup for me. I tried to avoid that as much as possible.
“You look nice,” my mom said brightly as I walked into the kitchen. “Maybe I could just curl your hair a little—”
“No,” I said firmly.
She returned to her paper, looking disappointed.
“I just saw yellow eyes watching me from the forest,” I said.
She didn’t even look up. “Was it a cat?”
I paused. “Possibly.”
“Maybe it was whatever ate the last owner,” Tom suggested.
“Tom,” my mom said, scowling at him. “Don’t encourage your sister.”
I plunked some bread in the toaster. “I saw eyes,” I muttered.
She looked up and smiled. “You’re just nervous for school.”
“Of course I am,” I said, glancing down at my tight purple shirt. “I look like fat Barney.”
Tom laughed and spit out a chunk of English muffin. He covered his mouth.
“Oops,” he said.
My mom just sighed.
After breakfast, I brushed my teeth and put on a brave face as I stared at my reflection in the mirror. I flattened my hair again, wishing it would just stay down and cover my cheeks and make me look skinny. You can do this, I told myself. It has to be better than Newcastle.
—
My mom always drives us to school because of Tom, so we climbed into her van and set off. We drove in near silence through Riverfield, which was a little smaller than Newcastle. It was nice enough, I guess.
The main street was about a five-minute drive from our house, and it was old-fashioned and cozy, with
