The stench hits again, stronger now. Closer.
My skin prickles.
Something is wrong out here.
“You sure this is where Fred wanted the games?” Cole asks, scanning the field.
I slap the tractor’s side. The metal rings hollow. “Relax. He said near the maze. This is near enough.” I nod toward the other field in the distance. “Grab pumpkins from over there. I’ll start setting up.”
Cole hesitates. His eyes drift to the fenced patch.
DO NOT TOUCH – SHOW FIELD ONLY.
The sign creaks, slow and lonely.
A prickle crawls up my spine. I flash a grin anyway. “I’m not messing with his precious pumpkins. Besides, the faster we work, the faster we can go help Sandie.” I wiggle my eyebrows for emphasis.
Cole snorts, nods, shoves his glasses up, and climbs back into the tractor. The engine coughs, then growls as he rumbles down the dirt lane, the trailer bumping along behind him. The sound thins. Then it’s gone.
Quiet rushes in to fill the space.
The corn starts whispering. Leaves scrape together, low and secretive, like they’re trading jokes at my expense. The stink thickens and coats my throat.
I grab a few regular pumpkins and line them up by a stump. I set out the tools. Hammers. Bats. A couple of knives that look like they came from a garage-sale horror kit.
The ground feels wrong under my boots. Soft. Spongy.
I stomp once.
The dirt dips. Not much. Just enough to notice. Then it settles back, slow and sticky, like it’s breathing.
I stare at the ground. My skin buzzes with unease.
“Get it together,” I mutter.
It’s dirt. It’s pumpkins. It’s a stupid festival.
I shake it off and get back to work. I focus on lining up tools. Anything to keep my head busy.
It doesn’t help.
Valerie Andrews. Here. Of all places.
If I ever made a list of people least likely to come back to Blandville, she’d sit at the top. Smart. Focused. Always moving forward. Always nice to others. And now she’s here, elbow-deep in construction paper and paint like the rest of us.
Good, though. Real good.
Maybe this is the kick Shaun needs. He’s stared at her like she hung the moon since forever. Everyone saw it. Everyone except her.
Shaun never went after what he wanted. Not her. Not anything that didn’t come with pads and a playbook. His dad drilled that into him early. You’re only worth what you can win. What you can score. Nothing else counts.
My jaw tightens. I set the sledgehammer against the stump harder than I mean to. The wood cracks.
His dad can go to hell for that.
Shaun bailed me out more times than I can count. Talked me through school when I barely scraped by. Pulled me out of a holding cell after that busted house party when I thought I was untouchable. He always showed up.
He deserves more than this town. More than the pressure. More than that voice in his head telling him he’s nothing now.
