Read Online Beware the Wild by Natalie C. Parker - Free Book Online Page B

little more, force-feeding me counterfeit memories of loving and hating my sister, and it’s only because I’m as stubborn as my dad was mean that she hasn’t erased Phin entirely. But how long will that last?
    Settling into bed, I gaze through the open window. The swamp chitters and snaps, alive with more danger than I know how to name. I remind myself I’m not alone. I have Heath. And Abigail saw someone tonight. A boy. Maybe Phin. But having allies isn’t thesame as having answers, and there’s only one surefire way to get those.
    I fall asleep with one dreadful thought in my mind: if I want to save my brother, I’ll have to follow him inside the swamp.

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
    HarperCollins Publishers
    ..................................................................

    I N THE MORNING, THERE’S A note taped to the mirror of my dresser. The script is so pretentious and cursive, I can barely read it:
    Need a ride?—L M
    I overslept and everyone’s up with something to say. Mama holds my face between her palms while I reassure her I’m fine, fine, fine. Darold heard I was driving around with “that Durham boy,” and exerts parental authority under the guise of the law.
    â€œYou know that boy’s troubled. I may not have had cause to pick him up in a while, but that doesn’t mean he’s changed his ways.” He doesn’t leave it there. “Drugs. Alcohol. Raving about the swamp. I don’t like the thought of you getting mixed up with him.”
    â€œHe just gave me a ride home,” I say.
    â€œThat’s not what I heard,” Lenora May sings as she packs her bag. She’s acting for Mama and Darold, pretending to needle at her little sister. I glare and she adds, “But who listens to rumors?”
    â€œRumors about Heath might not be far from the truth.” Thankfully, Darold either missed Lenora May’s point entirely or ignored it. He speaks in a way that leaves no room for argument, on the edge of condescension and caring. It’s a trick all men of the South have to learn before they’re accepted as one of the good ol’ boys. “I think it’s bestif you find other ways home from now on.”
    I’m about to share exactly what I think is best for me when Lenora May cuts in, “Ready, Sterling? I’m leaving now, if you want a ride.”
    Some things are better left unsaid.
    The Chevelle’s parked exactly where it always is, wet with dew and streaked yellow with pollen.
    â€œHow’d you find it?” I ask, disappointed, but not surprised.
    Lenora May casts a furtive glance at the swamp before answering. “I remember things the way you do, Sterling. I remember Dad—well, the Lillard House seemed like the only likely place. It’s where I’d have taken it.”
    I’m startled by her honesty. And I can’t help but be grateful that she stopped herself before intruding on my most painful memories of the man responsible for starting my life. This is becoming an all too familiar dance: treading lightly through the minefield of my memories, grasping at some, sidestepping others, and fleeing the ones that stick to me like burs.
    Lenora May unlocks the doors and has the engine revving in two seconds. I hesitate, but I’d rather get answers from her than the swamp. I settle into the passenger seat and buckle up. Once again, she’s in a sundress and sandals with a white cardigan thrown over her shoulders. In spite of the morning shade, she’s covered her eyes with huge, polka-dotted sunglasses that make her skin seem as pale as the moon and her lips as red as the Chevelle. She takes turns at reckless speeds and, as soon as we’re on the main drag of Sticks, accelerates to fifty in a thirty-five-mile-per-hour zone.
    â€œYou know school’s the other way, right? And my dad’s a deputy?” I resist the urge to grip the seat. Never let