Students gathered fast, circling his desk, whispering and snickering like it was a museum exhibit. Phones came out. Laughter followed.
I didn’t bother hiding mine.
“I know this was you, you little shit.” His knobby finger jabbed at my chest. “You’re putting everything back. Then you’re serving Saturday detention for a month.”
I shrugged, calm as could be, and tossed the last bite of my breakfast burrito into his trash can.
His eyes locked on it. Burning. Furious.
“And,” he snapped, voice climbing, “I’m adding community service hours on top of that.”
Worth it.
And now here I am, paying for it. Sneezing my lungs out in the middle of a farm, eyes burning as the wind shoves dust and hay straight into my sinuses.
I straighten with a groan, cracking my back. Sweat runs down my spine, soaking my shirt as the dying rays of the sun beat down on my neck like it’s personal. I scan the games area, searching for a flash of Drew’s stupid, bright red letterman.
Nothing.
Figures.
Of course he bailed. Probably off flirting with that blond girl from the barn while I’m hauling pumpkins like an idiot.
“Unbelievable,” I mutter, heaving another pumpkin onto the tower. It lands with a dull thud, jostling the others. I thought he was different. Not just another loud jock who ghosts the second the work gets boring. Guess that one’s on me.
The tractor engine ticks as it cools, the sound sharp and hollow in the heat. Somewhere metal pops. Beyond it, the cornmaze rises in tight rows, leaves brushing together in a constant whisper. Less like a maze, more like a wall. Like something you don’t come back from once you step inside.
A chill slides down my spine, completely ignoring the heat.
I wipe my nose on my sleeve and glance across the field.
That’s when I notice the scarecrow.
One of Fred’s ugly ones stands a few yards away, slumped on its post. The flannel hangs stiff with grime. Straw guts spill from its torn belly as though an infernal embryo burst out of it.
Nope. I don’t need to add fuel to my nightmares, thank you very much.
I bend for another pumpkin and stack it with the rest beside the smashing station. Lift. Set. Repeat. Mind-numbing work does its job, and for a minute I disappear into the rhythm.
That’s when I notice how quiet it’s gotten.
No wind. No rustle of corn. Even the insects have shut up.
I’m setting the last pumpkin on top of the pile when?—
Snap.
The sound cracks through the air like a bone breaking.
I freeze. My pulse picks up, stealing my breath. Slowly, I scan the rows. Pumpkins sit fat and motionless. The corn stands tall, barely swaying. Nothing moves fast enough to explain that sound.
My eyes slide back to the scarecrow. Its head is turned all the way around.
That’s not right. It wasn’t like that before.
I blink hard. Once. Twice. Maybe I missed it. Maybe the heat’s frying my brain. Maybe?—
Then I see the hair.
