The cobblestone street is almost empty, save for a few cars and a couple walking a shaggy dog. I can see the sealed community gates from here. A trembling breath eases my tight chest a fraction. Although it feels excessive, I return to my camera bag and fish out my pepper spray.
My eyes snag on the DSLR camera nestled inside the bag. Instead of affection for my favorite hobby, borderline fear washes over me. How dare H.Y. taint the pictures I took today.
My head snaps up.
What if I accidentally caught H.Y. in one of them?
I claw my camera bag open, dispel my SD card from the camera body, and slide the card into my laptop. I drum my fingers along my dining table, waiting for it to load.
Rows of icons splay before me, each square possible evidence. I dismiss photo after photo until I falter on the very last one. Beneath the bare cherry blossom branches foregrounding an azure sky, something catches my eye.
A shadow punctuates the line of trees from behind one of the trunks. I strike my keyboard to magnify the image. The silhouette of ahuman stretches in an eerie expanse, somewhat traversed by the tree’s shadow. I can just make out the curve of a neck between the head and shoulders.
Unless an unidentifiable stranger decided to play hide and seek, there’s no feasible reason for anyone to standthatclose to a tree.
Vague suspicion solidifies into a boulder that drops into my stomach.
I clamp a hand over my mouth.
I think I’m being stalked.
twenty-one
PRESENT DAY
BRANDON
Saturday night, the doorknob on the Sandersons’ front door turns easily, just like old times. I don’t remember the first time Tuck’s mom, Heidi, said that I shouldn’t knock anymore, but that level of acceptance was never lost on me. I step across the threshold, brushing snow from my leather jacket.
The hallway creaks the same as when Tuck and I would run down it when we were boys. Then Heidi would yell that we were disrupting the girls’ violin practice, and we needed to cool it or go outside. But it was almost always her husband’s fault, either by chasing us or trying to teach his son a football play.
The series of events that followed were almost always the same: Heidi would get mad at Eric for instigating, then Eric would justify it because “well, Brando’s here, and Tuck and I can’t run this play by ourselves.” He’d then coax the frown off her face with a flirty comment, and the whole routine would end with a gross kiss that Tuck and I would run screaming from.
The formal living room near the front door is vacant. Patterned couches and arm chairs line the pale blue walls, and I can’t remember a time when this space was ever really used. The Sandersons’ floor plan is like a mullet: business in the front, party in the back.
Which is exactly where I’m heading.
I turn the corner at the end of the hall into the wallpapered family room filled with people. Tucker’s entire family, my mom and her boyfriend, Chaz, and a few of my mom’s realtor friends are grazing around long tables covered in food. It seems like almost the whole neighborhood showed up this year.
“Aloha!” Heidi’s five-foot frame pops up out of nowhere, and she brandishes a Hawaiian lei at me. I laugh, bending so she can loop the bright plastic flowers around my neck. “Glad you could make it!”
I return the hug. “Couldn’t miss the annual Sanderson Luau.”
Her hazel eyes shine behind her thick tortoiseshell glasses. “What better way to brighten up dreary January than withthis?” She twists back and forth, making her grass skirt rustle over her blue jeans. Her auburn hair sticks out at odd angles beneath her crown of flowers. “Eric!” she hollers. “Look who’s here!”
Eric’s brown eyes light up when they find me. “Brando! You made it!” He strides over wearing a gleaming coconut bra over his oxford button-up, like he barely got home from the office before throwing it on.
I laugh as he claps me on the back and pulls me in for a hug.
“Mr. Sanderson,” I say. “You’ve never looked better. New bra?”
“Sure is.” Eric fists his hands on his hips and puffs out his chest. “Fresh coat of lacquer and everything.” His bald head shines as he gives me a toothy smile.
Heidi sidles up to him in her grass skirt and fits herself against his side. Eric isn’t exactly tall, but he looks massive compared to his tiny wife. Together they could certainly be featured in a “Wilderness Over Fifty” advertisement, outdoorsy as they are.
Tuck bobs through the room, brown hair especially messy today. I swear, if the guy would just use hair product, he probably wouldn’t have been single all these years.
“Gross, Dad. Put those away. Brando didn’t come to get his eye poked out.”
