fight.”
“And no, I’m not having any dreams or seeing anything,” I said.
“How come?” Becca said.
“How come what?”
“How come you’re not having any dreams?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “Because I’m not. Why does it even matter?”
“Maybe the Red Lady hates you,” Becca said.
I sighed, openmouthed. “Who even cares? What’s she going to do? Come and haunt me or stick dirt in my mouth? I’m not scared of a story.”
And that’s all she was. The rest was just my imagination. If I believed in her—or said I did—Becca would keep talking about her. She’d never let her go. I just wanted it to be over. I wanted my best friend back.
“She might,” Becca said, meeting my gaze. “You never know.”
The floor above creaked. All four of us jumped. There was a second creak, then a third.
“Did you lock the door?” Becca whispered.
“No,” I said. “I didn’t know everybody was here. I just shut it all the way.”
Becca moved toward the steps. Rachel grabbed her arm, but she shook her off. Her feet made tiny noises as she crept up.
“Come up,” she said, after what felt like an hour. “You need to see this.”
I went first, my ears pulsing. I wasn’t sure if I was afraid to see whatever she wanted us to or to see her still mad or maybe both. Gia was snuggled up tight behind me. In the kitchen, Becca was crouched near the entryway to the hall.
“Look,” she said, pointing.
There was a wide streak of dark red on the linoleum. I peeked down the hall, but there was nothing there. It was only in the kitchen.
Becca fingertipped the mark. “It’s wet.”
“Is it …” Gia said.
“Yes. It’s blood.”
Rachel pulled her cheeks down. “Like in the stories. She was here?”
“I guess so,” Becca said.
“It’s your fault,” Rachel said to me. “You started it. You said she was just a story.”
“Whatever,” I said. “That’s probably not even real.”
“It is,” Becca said.
The air changed, thickened. Rachel spoke, but her words were distant. She doubled over, clutching her belly; Gia sagged against the counter, fingers splayed over hers. Becca hunched her shoulders. I felt pain, too, but in my side, a sharp sensation that snarled my breath.
The air snapped back to normal, like a vacuum cleaner had sucked all the thickness out. The pain vanished. We were all quiet, like no one wanted to go first.
Then Rachel said, “I think I just got my period.”
Gia wrinkled her nose. “Me too,” she said. “Like right this second.”
Becca said, “Me three.”
“All of us at the same time?” Rachel said.
Their gazes swung toward me. I shook my head. “Not me.”
“You made her mad,” Rachel said. “That’s why she did this.”
“If she was mad, then why do it only to you, huh? Why not me?”
“I don’t—”
There was a creak from the second floor.
Rachel was first to run; Gia second. I was third and didn’t check to see if Becca was following, but I heard her footsteps. Outside, Rachel and Gia were already nowhere in sight, but I waited by the hedge until Becca came out. She ran right past me. Didn’t even look back.
When I got home, I went into the bathroom, knowing what I’d find: my underwear sticky with a brownish-red smear. I covered my mouth. It didn’t mean anything. It didn’t mean anything at all.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
NOW
Ryan’s working late, so I don’t need to come up with an excuse for not coming home right away. Unfortunately, I leave the office at just the wrong time and fight traffic all the way to Towson. By the time I near the field, every nerve is screaming I’m a fool, I don’t need to do this, I won’t find anything. But I have to at least try.
I park on the same street as the last time. Check to make sure no one’s watching before I fetch the shovel from my trunk. Once I’m on the field itself, there’s no sound save the weeds my soles are destroying and the grass whisking against my legs. I nearly step in a fresh pile of dog crap so rancid I hope there’s a vet visit scheduled soon. It’s chilly tonight, and I’m glad I wore a jacket.
When I get close to what I think is the right spot, I see several darker areas around the base of the hill. Drawing closer, I recognize them as holes. But that can’t be right. A few steps closer reveal five, neatly—newly—dug, about eight inches wide and a foot deep, surrounded with scattered reddish-brown dirt. I spin,