If ever there was proof that I need Oliver and Chloe to survive the night, this is it.
“Yes,” I say, and there’s another immediate change, this time in Oliver’s mood. He brightens from the inside out, a smile cracking across his worn face. “But I have one request.”
Oliver blinks, doubt creeping in.
“I want you to invite Chloe to join us.”
18
CHLOE
It’s been a week since I’ve heard from Theo. Or from Oliver, for that matter. I thought he would show up at my house after his chores that day he intercepted me on the peninsula, but he never did. There’s been no sign of him since then, either. I’m not sure if I should be worried or not.
Theo, I have fewer expectations for. He might be a Hunter, but he’s still a man, and men have always been a source of disappointment. That doesn’t stop me from waking up in the middle of the night, hoping that it was his footsteps that woke me. Never is.
“You’re fucking lucky,” Penelope told me after three days of silence from him. “All he wanted to do was fuck you.”
I scowled down at her face on the laptop. It was just me and her on the Zoom call. Abi’s been distracted by something. An investigation, she said in her text, which apparently didn’t warrant more explanation.
“You don’t have to say it like that,” I snapped, because I certainly don’t feel lucky. I feel rejected. I couldn’t tell Penelope that, though.
“Whatever,” she said. “Hopefully, he’ll stay away. Otherwise, I’m coming down there.”
I’m not talking to PenelopeorAbi tonight, though. The sun’s just starting to set, and I’m watching TV, although my attention really isn’t focused on it. I keep thinking about Theo. Replaying the last time I saw him until my body feels hot and distracted.
That’s when I hear tapping on my back window.
I sit up, my heart leaping in my chest, even though I doubt it’s Theo. I already know he doesn’t knock.
The tapping continues, soft and insistent. When I push back the curtain, Oliver’s standing on my porch, wearing his blue-and-green dinosaur backpack and, more unusually, carrying a sleeping bag tucked under his arm. Worry blooms in my chest.
“Oliver?” I sign at him through the glass. “Is everything okay?”
He nods and signs, “Can I come inside?”
I push open the door. Oliver promptly marches into my living room, sets down his sleeping bag, and digs through his backpack. I watch him, frowning. I’m fine with him being here, I really am. I just don’t understand what’s going on. Or why he has a sleeping bag.
He pulls something out of his backpack. I think at first it’s one of his drawings, but when he hands it to me, I see it’s a yellowed envelope with my name written across the front in big, block letters. Not a child’s hand, although Oliver is such a good artist, I imagine his penmanship is probably pretty good.
“What’s this?” I ask, looking up at him. He smiles deviously at me, his eyes glittering a little. “Is it going to explain why you have your sleeping bag?”
“Open it!”
I do. The envelope’s paper feels old, as does the stationery inside, which is festooned with a swirling, feminine flower print. There’s not much written on it, although it’s in the same blocky hand as my name.
Chloe,
I have invited Oliver to camp in my territory tonight. I would like you to do the same.
-Theo Shorn
I jerk my gaze up at Oliver, and he bursts into a huge, gleaming smile. “Will you come?” he signs furiously, hands flying. “Please! Theo says we can build a fire and he says if you have marshmallows you can bring them but he’ll cook breakfast for us. Please, please, please!”
I blink, my brain struggling to parse the onslaught. Oliver keeps signingpleaseover and over.
“Why is there a letter?” I ask.
Oliver sighs dramatically. “He wanted me to ask you but I said what if you didn’t believe me and so I told him to write you an invitation and so he did.”
