Penelope takes out her phone. “Whatever’s going on, at least school is almost over. I just hope they let us back inside to get our stuff.”
“They will,” I assure her, knowing her thoughts are on that painting.
After another ten minutes, some of our classmates flop down into the grass, and Penelope and I follow suit. Two guys near us start making a TikTok about our plight, and I consider texting Adam, just to check on him.
When Penelope taps my arm, I look up to see Mr. Ortega striding through the back doors to speak with the teacher from the next class. He quickly makes his way to Ms. Barrett, but between the constant buzzing and the chatter, I can’t make out a word.
The next class over starts to wander in herd formation back toward the building, and finally, Ms. Barrett nods and turns to us. “We have the all clear!” she shouts over the alarm.
“Great,” I say, grabbing my ears as we near the doors. “It sounds like everything is totally resolved.”
Behind me, some of the baseball players joke about taking their bats to the alarm. But before we reach the building, the buzzing stops.
“Oh, thank God,” Penelope says. “My head was about to explode.” We barely cross the classroom’s threshold when another buzz sounds.
My body tenses, but it’s only the final school bell, releasing us for the day.
I grab my things and head out the door to my locker, scanning the hall for Henry. Even though I have my license, the moment the boys turned sixteen, sophomore year, they started driving me to school and even home on days we didn’t have extracurriculars.
They’re probably waiting for me in the parking lot. I heft my backpack and head through the front doors. When I make it downthe steps, spotting Henry and Adam talking beside the boys’ shared black Mustang, a distant shriek tears through the air.
I continue toward the car, a joke on my tongue about the dramatics of the crows in Silver Creek, when I hear it again. Louder this time, the sound sends a chill down my spine.
Henry’s wide eyes meet mine, and I know.
That wasn’t a bird’s call. That sound was a human scream.
AdamLast October
“Listen to my tale; when you have heard that, abandon or commiserate me, as you shall judge that I deserve. But hear me.”
—Frankensteinby Mary Shelley
Adam scanned the list of outside reading novels, his eyes glazingover the titles. He hated to read and wasn’t interested in anything apart from the sports section of the newspaper—though often enough, the school’s online newspaper featured some flattering articles about his prowess on the football field. But all the books on this list sounded boring, and worse than that, Mr. Armstrong said they’d have to write a term paper on one of them.
They were to choose a book by the end of the week, only there was no bookstore in Silver Creek. He could try the school library, but they never kept more than one copy of any title. It would be cleared out by the time school was over. Adam considered online shopping, but the delivery drivers never bothered to try the gate at the edge of the Abbott property, which meant they never made itup the hill to the house. Packages were always left at the bottom of the dirt road and eventually stolen, or soaked and ruined by the automatic sprinklers. The brothers kept telling their father to fix the issue by getting a PO box in town. The man never listened.
Adam wandered over to the classroom bookshelf. Mr. Armstrong said that they could borrow a book from there if it was on the list.
“Hey, Adam.” Tanya Rockwell gave a shy smile and sidled up next to him. Her eyes were on the books as she asked, “Are you excited about tonight’s game?”
“Uh, sure. Nervous more than excited, I guess.”
“You don’t have anything to be nervous about.” She patted him playfully on the arm. Tanya wasn’t the only girl who kept doingthis, trying to talk to him. He knew it was because homecoming was approaching; it happened every year around this time.
“Thanks. Well, I’d better get to it.” He forced a smile and gestured to the bookshelf, effectively dismissing Tanya, whose face fell before she wandered off.
It was slim pickings on the shelf. Adam recognized one of the books on the list, a battered copy of Mary Shelley’sFrankenstein, and his mind went to the old movie clips he’d seen of the monster with bolts protruding from its neck. The slow walk and the green skin—or maybe it had been in black and white. Adam hadn’t watched the entire movie. He had no interest in reading the book either and scanned the shelves again for something slimmer.
But nearly everything had been claimed by Mr. Armstrong’smorning class of juniors. Thesmartkids.
Adam glanced over to where Bram sat, looking completely unbothered as usual as he watched something on his phone. The reading list was folded up at the corner of his desk.
Bram was much smarter than Adam, but he only ever did the bare minimum in school. That was why they were both in this class. Today, though, even the bare minimum required finding a book. Adam ambled to his brother’s desk. “So what are you going to pick?”
“I’ve already got a book.”
“What is it?”
