Of course, that didn’t stop my brain from spiraling out in anxiety about Oliver going over to the peninsula alone. Even if there isn’t a killer lurking in the woods, that place was wild. Certainly too dangerous for a kid on his own. So eventually, I bucked up my courage and walked next door. If nothing else, I wanted to know that his parents had gone over there with him, that they knew it was safe.
Now, though, I’m starting to regret my decision.
“I just wanted you to know about the story,” I say. “It’s awfully gruesome, and?—”
“And what?” Blaire counters. “So Oliver read a ghost story? You never read ghost stories as a kid?”
She glares at me from under her fringe of blonde hair.
“He spoke about Theo Shorn as if he were, you know, alive.” The morning sun beats down on my shoulders, hot enough to make the oatmeal I had for breakfast churn around in my stomach. “And I just worried, what if someone’s actually out there?”
“And what? They’ll steal Oliver away?” Blaire laughs cruelly, and for a second, I see the teenage mean girl she almost certainlywas. “I don’t know if you realize this, but Oliver isn’t normal. So I don’t think he holds much of an appeal to kidnappers.”
I gape at her, too stunned to speak. From deep inside the house, a male voice calls out her name.
“Is that all?” she asks sharply. “My husband needs me.”
“Have you been over there?” I blurt out. “To make sure it’s safe?”
Blaire stares at me coolly. “No one lives out there,” she says. “And I can’t believe you interrupted my breakfast to tell me my son has an imaginary friend.”
I swallow, my throat dry. I didn’t think this through. “But Theo Shorn really existed.”
It’s a stupid thing to say, and I’m immediately met with another cruel laugh. “So?” Blaire rolls her eyes. “I’m supposed to get worked up over the Hanging Lake boogeyman? It’s astory. Hikers get lost. Some serial killer came through here fifty years ago. So what? I still don’t understand why you’re on my front porch.”
I worry the hem of my shirt. I ought to just leave. I know that. It’s not like I can explain that Theodore Shorn might be an unkillable murderer—that’ll just make me sound even crazier. But I feel like I’m bolted down to this spot.
“My realtor told me there were dangerous animals out there,” I finally say, because there’s this awkward, heavy silence between us, and because part of me wants some sign that Blaire actually does care about her son. “Like rattlesnakes.”
Blaire sniffs. Behind her, a man stomps in the hallway, looking as clean-cut as a pastor. I can only assume it’s Mr. Jenkins. “What in the world is going on here?” he barks.
“It’s the neighbor,” Blaire says, looking at me. “She’s worried about Oliver going over to the peninsula. He told her about his little imaginary friend.”
The man scoffs at that. “We don’t need any do-gooders hanging around telling us how to raise that boy.”
They both stare at me, like they’re daring me to argue. I squeeze my hands into fists. “I just wanted to make sure you knew it was safe.”
“Mind your own business,” Blaire says icily, before stepping back into the cool dark of her house and slamming the door shut, the bang like a punctuation mark.
And all I can do is blink at the door for a few seconds, my heart thumping. That did not exactly go how I had pictured.
Not that I was even sure what I wanted to accomplish. I don’t have proof of anything. Just that prickling sense of unease.
I should probably suck it up and call Penelope about it.
I step off the porch, feeling guilty and shaken up all at once, and cut across the lawn, back toward my house. I’ve just crossed over the property line when I feel something brush against my hand. A second later, Oliver himself jumps in front of me and blinks through the tousled bangs of his hair.
“Oliver,” I say, too surprised to remember to sign. Oliver just grins and nods, then signs a quick, “Hello!”
“Did you hear me talking with your mom?” I ask, forming the words slowly.
He nods, and my heart twists around in my chest.
But then his fingers start flying, fast enough that I struggle to keep up. “I wanted to tell you not to worry,” he says, his expression earnest. “I know Theo seems scary, but he’s actually very nice. Did you meet him?”
It takes me a second to register that last question. “Theo?” I spell the name out. I still haven’t gotten the hang of the personalized sign Oliver uses for him.
Oliver nods. “You said you went to his territory! Even though I told you he doesn’t like visitors. But I think he would like you, because you’re nice, too. So I was wondering if you met.”
