CHAPTERONE
Six years ago. Bardstown
He’s a criminal.
He has to be.
First, he’s wearing all black: black jeans and a black hoodie with the hood up. In summer, no less.
And second, he’s very carefully and cautiously laying out a string on the ground.
It’s a very long string too.
It at least circles around the thick bushes that border this massive back yard, and goes well into the woodsbehindthat back yard. Where I’m currently standing behind the thick trunk of a tree and watching him secretly.
Or more like watching his back, because he’s facing away from me, walking backward.
When he’s come far enough I guess, he stops and kneels on the ground, completely blocking my view.
I can’t see what he’s doing.
Why he’s bent over that string.
Whatever it is though, it can’t be good.
It might even be dangerous.
The prudent thing to do — prudent means practical; also known as feasible, realistic, sensible, matter of fact — is to turn around and run. To get away from him. Especially when no one knows that I’m here, wandering around the woods in the middle of the night, and not up in my bedroom, sleeping like I should be.
In my defense, tonight is special.
Plus I couldn’t sleep in my new bed, in the new house, in a new place.
We — my parents and I — only arrived here last week, see.
Both of them got a new job and so we packed up and left our old apartment in Brooklyn and came to Bardstown to start a new life. As opposed to Brooklyn, everything is super open here: our big two-story house; these woods that I’m taking an impromptu walk in; the back yard beyond it, the giant manor beyond the back yard.
But I’m not going to lie, I miss Brooklyn. I miss my friends, my old school, even our old rundown apartment that had more leaks and squeaky floorboards than not. But it’s okay. My mom always says that you make sacrifices for people you love. That this is what love is.
To compromise. To make adjustments and to be good to the people you love.
So I’m happy as long as my parents are happy.
Except forthis.
I’m not happy about this, whatever it is that this boy is doing.
I mean, if he’s really doing something bad then shouldn’t I confront him? Shouldn’t I stop him? I’m new here, yes, but these are my woods now. This is my house, my property and estate.
Well, not technically.
We only live here, but…
“I know you’re there.”
My thoughts come to a screeching halt at those words.
Hiswords.