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in my direction and smiled, though his girlfriend glared at me for her friend’s sake. Noah left them, heading to the cashier, and I admitted to myself it would be stupid to let pride stop me from having a safe haven for the night. Scooting out of the booth, I hurried past his friends, not looking at them, and followed Noah to the parking lot.
    This time I got to sit in his passenger seat, which was much more comfortable than my last ride. Driving away from the center of town, we didn’t talk. He played the radio, and I watched the dark scenery stream by. My thoughts swirled in a slow eddy of disquiet. Who killed Georgie? Had that man saved me from Georgie’s knife, or was he shooting at me and missed, hitting Georgie by accident? Most of all,what about Jack? My brother had faked his death for a reason, and now I knew for sure that something serious was going on.
    Tomorrow I would head back to Seale House and check out Jack’s hiding spot. A slight shiver passed through me. When I did go back, I would be better prepared. I finally decided it was best not to worry about the cellar any more tonight; I’d save that for tomorrow. In the warmth of Noah’s car I even tried to convince myself that the scary stuff in my old foster home must have been triggered by childhood fears.
    Once we got to his place and went inside, Noah said, “You look tired. Why don’t you turn in?”
    â€œThanks.”
    â€œDon’t forget to use some of that antibacterial gel on your face.”
    I headed to the bathroom and the first thing I did was toss down three ibuprofen. Then I doctored my scraped face and hands the best I could. Going into the room where I’d slept last night, I dug one of Noah’s old T-shirts out of a dresser drawer and tossed it on the bed. It was clean and didn’t have the smoky smell from Seale House like my other stuff. I took my clothes off and threw them in a corner. Eager to collapse between the sheets, I reached for the shirt but paused when I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. There were welts and bruises in several places on my skin. In the muted lamplight I examined the growing bruise on my hip where I’d landed after my fall, as wellas the other bumps and cuts. Then I glanced down at the sore on my upper arm and sucked in a startled breath.
    Moving closer to the mirror, I recalled the sharp pain as I’d rolled from beneath the cellar stairs. I stared at it and all my terror during those minutes rushed back.
    Outlined in clear purple bruising was a giant bite mark.

Eight
The Deal
    The road twisted away like a white-gray ribbon, the landscape heavily draped in nighttime shadows. Our truck rattled along as we drove near the edge of a steep cliff. Above us the moon was a lopsided orb and the sky shimmered with stars
.
    My mind couldn’t process all my worries. Our mother, Melody, was muttering to herself in partial sentences as she drove, blurting out bits and pieces of regret, anger, self-satisfied revenge, and heartache. Sometimes she laughed with vengeful derision, at other times she wept or sang odd little songs that weren’t musical. During the years past, even in all the bizarre ranges of her emotions, I’d never seen anything like this. It scared me. Even more frightening—Jack was sick and couldn’t help me with her
.
    He was slumped against the passenger door, asleep with his head resting on the window, his breathing shallow. His fever was so high that his forehead was red. I wished he would wake up and be himself again, because he was the one who knew what to say to Melody
.
    Jack was always the calm voice of reason who managed to keep our mother’s dark fears away. I was only the witty jester who tried hard to make Melody laugh. When she did laugh, and when she was happy, it was better for all of us
.
    The old pickup shuddered at the high speed and jerky turns. Peering through the cracked windshield, I noticed red rust on