She Can Hide (She Can #4)(22)

“S-school.” Derek’s breath rattled with his words.

Joe’s gaze dropped to the backpack hanging from Derek’s hand. Light gleamed off his bald head. His bloodshot eyes narrowed in a mean glint. “Let’s get one thing clear. I’m not here. OK? Anyone asks about me, you lie. Got it?”

Derek nodded, fear loosening his neck muscles to bobblehead.

“Now that we understand each other.” Joe released his grip.

Derek’s heels hit the floor hard, the sudden impact slamming his molars together with a jarring snap.

Joe scratched his belly through his T-shirt. “I guess you’d better get going. Wouldn’t want you to get into any trouble.”

The veiled threat sent fresh panic sprinting through his veins. Derek turned and bolted out into the stinging cold. His lip trembled and his eyes brimmed with tears as he stumbled down the porch steps. Sunlight glared off the icy lawn. Derek blinked against the brightness as he crunched through the crusty snow to the sidewalk, thighs shaking, breath catching. Snow melted and seeped into his sneakers. A tremor coursed through him.

Joe was different from the other losers his mom had picked up. This guy was dangerous to more than her wallet and pride. Was he an ex-con? A wanted criminal? A drug dealer?

A wind gust pushed against his back, hurrying him along. Derek hunched his shoulders against the cold, against the frustration, against the humiliation that was his life.

This had to end.

The longer Joe stayed, the more danger he posed to Derek and his mom. He pictured the needle marks on Joe’s arm. No doubt about it. The guy had to go. Derek’s mom had enough trouble. The last thing she needed was some guy getting her hooked on hard drugs. But how could Derek get rid of him?

He rounded the corner. The wind shifted to smack him square in the face. He put his head down and trudged forward.

“Hey, look. It’s the little faggot.”

Derek’s head snapped up.

Trevor and Trent were Derek’s twin enemies. In the same grade as Derek, they looked like they’d been nursed on steroids instead of a bottle. The high school football coaches already had their eyes on the pair of them. They rarely took the bus. Usually, their dad dropped them at school. Still, Derek remained vigilant on most mornings, except this one. The interaction with Joe had sidetracked him. Kids at the bottom of the food chain couldn’t afford to get distracted.

A mean grin split Trent’s square face. “Get him.”

Derek’s feet pivoted without any instruction. He slung his backpack over both shoulders in flight as he sprinted down the block. Heavy footsteps pounded the sidewalk behind him. The twins couldn’t outrun him. They were born linebackers, not running backs. They knew it, and Derek knew it. Like all predators, they still enjoyed the chase.

Derek turned onto a lawn and vaulted over a fence into old Mr. Sheridan’s backyard, the neighbor who lived behind Abby. The nosy old man took great pride in his yard and remained on constant vigil against kids or dogs trekking on his precious grass.

Derek ducked behind a fat tree.

A door opened. “Hey, you kids. Get the hell off my lawn,” Mr. Sheridan shouted.

“Come on. Forget him. We’re gonna miss the bus, and Mom’ll be pissed.” Footsteps crunched away.

Derek waited a few seconds for Mr. Sheridan’s door to close before slinking out of his hiding spot. Thinking invisible thoughts, he crept from the cranky old guy’s property, circled around the block, and approached the bus stop from the other side. The twins were facing the other way, probably keeping watch for him. Once he was on the bus, he’d be fine. The twins were assholes, but they wouldn’t risk getting in trouble at school. Rumor had it their dad was always looking for a reason to beat the shit out of them. An engine rumbled. Derek looked ahead. A block away, the school bus was pulling away from the curb.

“Wait,” he yelled, holding up a hand and breaking into a run.

But the bus drove away. It disappeared into the glaring sunrise with the bright white reflection of sun on metal. A tear leaked out of Derek’s eye. He wished it was from the frigid wind. One more late arrival to school was another chance for the social worker to take notice of him. Slogging forward toward the main road and the long walk toward the high school, his spine and backpack sagged under the weight of his load.

Sometimes invisibility had its drawbacks.




The morning sun blazed with deceptive strength in the clear winter sky. Ethan flipped up his collar against the brutal wind. A gust sent snow dust blowing across the frozen pasture. He rolled the barn door open. The snort of a horse greeted him.

He’d missed that sound. Closing the door behind him, he crossed to the roan’s stall. The pony greeted him with an eager nose. Four days of rock-star treatment had brought out the roan’s giant-puppy disposition. Twin plumes of steam puffed from its nostrils, like the breath of a miniature dragon. He rubbed the scrawny neck with a gloved hand. Clearly enjoying the attention, the pony leaned against him. Warmth unfurled in Ethan’s chest. He fished a carrot from his pocket. The pony ate it and sniffed Ethan’s pockets for more.

He gave the roan’s head a gentle nudge. “Sorry, this one’s for your buddy.”

“Morning.” Cam emerged from the other stall. “Can you give me a hand? I can’t get a rope on him.”

“Sure.” Ethan went into the stall. The horse was in the back, head in the corner, hindquarters—and sharp hooves—facing Ethan. The horse’s ears twitched. Ethan stepped sideways, so he was in the animal’s field of vision. Startling a flight animal in close quarters wasn’t a good idea.