Would I think better of the guy if he followed through and scored with every girl he could? No, but he seemed like a cat toying with a mouse—no plans to make a meal of it, just batting it around awhile, leaving it wounded and dazed, then sauntering away.

He’d taken a run at me shortly after he arrived. When I turned him down, he’d seemed to take the hint and had backed off. Had that only been a temporary reprieve? I hoped not.

“Maya?” a soft voice called.

I glanced over to see Nicole Tillson, the mayor’s daughter, at her locker. She looked from me to Rafe, concern darkening her blue eyes. I mouthed “Save me,” and her pixie face lit up in a grin.

She scampered over. “Oh, thank God I found you. Did you read that chapter for history? I was halfway through when Hayley called and I never got back—” Her eyes widened as if she’d just noticed Rafe there. “Oh, hey, Rafe. Do you mind if I steal Maya’s brain for a minute? I seriously need it.”

She tugged my arm, pulling me away before he could answer. “Okay, so the first part was on World War II, right? I got as far as …”

She continued babbling for another minute, then glanced over her shoulder. “Okay, he’s gone.”

“Thank you.”

“Anytime. I know you don’t like him so—” She glanced up at me. “You don’t, right? I mean, I guess not, or you wouldn’t have asked me to save you, but if you do …”

“No. Hayley can have him.”

“Good. So did you bring your lunch today? If you didn’t, I was thinking maybe we could all pop over to the Blender. My treat. Mom finally paid me for that extra work I did at the clinic.”

We stopped at her locker so she could get the book she’d come for. I had to help her with that. I’m only five foot five, but Nicole’s at least four inches shorter, and the guys like to stick her books up where she can’t reach them.

Nicole was on the swim team and in the choir, so she’d been more Serena’s friend than mine. That changed after Serena died. We’d kind of taken on each other as replacement pals. It wasn’t a great fit—we didn’t really have that much in common—but it filled a gap.

THREE

I DON’T MIND SCHOOL. I’d like it a lot better if it wasn’t indoors. Being inside just seems to sap my energy. It’s gotten worse the last couple of years. I go home and I crash.

That worries my parents, but the doctors say it’s a combination of hormones and my metabolism—I’m used to being outside and active, and being a teen only makes it worse. They gave me some vitamins, but I still need a nap most days.

When school ends, I get outside as fast as I can. Today I was waylaid by Ms. Morales, who wanted a firsthand account of my cougar encounter. When I finally escaped, I spotted Nicole with Daniel on the other side of the playground. He had an eighth-grader pinned to the grass, arm twisted behind his back.

“Bully!” I shouted.

Daniel glanced over and grinned. Then he let the kid—Travis Carling—go and got down on all fours so Travis could try the move on him. As Daniel gave instructions, Travis’s brother, Corey, made suggestions that had everyone within earshot laughing. Travis and Corey were Chief Carling’s sons.

Dark haired, over six feet tall, big, and burly, Corey was the school’s second-best wrestler and boxer after Daniel. Also Daniel’s best guy buddy. I could only imagine what he was suggesting Travis do to Daniel while he had him pinned. It was drawing a crowd. Corey always did. He was one of those guys who can talk to anyone—and talk his way out of trouble, which in Corey’s case is a necessary survival skill.

If I had to pick the most popular guy at our school, it’d be a toss-up between Daniel and Corey. Daniel’s the one everyone wants on his team—the steady, responsible leader. Corey’s the guy everyone wants to party with.

As I headed toward them, I felt someone watching me. Rafe. When I looked over, he sauntered my way, grinning like I’d been the one caught staring.

Nicole said something to Corey, who looked in my direction. Daniel was on his feet now, coming to meet me. He veered toward Rafe, gaze on me, like he didn’t see Rafe there. He cut right in front of him, so close that Rafe had to stop short. Daniel pretended not to notice.

As Rafe stopped, Samantha—Sam—Russo walked past and shouldered him aside with a smirk. She switched it to a genuine smile as she said something to Daniel. Sam is our second newest student. Her parents died three years ago, and she’d come to live with the Tillsons, who were her second cousins or something like that. If there was any resemblance between Sam and Nicole, though, I couldn’t see it.

Sam is an inch taller than me, kind of stocky, with dark spiked hair and wide-set blue eyes. She has freckles, too, and the only time I’ve seen her wear makeup is when Corey teased that her freckles were “cute” and she tried to cover them up.

When she first arrived in Salmon Creek, we’d all tried to make her feel welcome. Serena and I tried harder than anyone, because we thought she was cool, in a smart-mouth, big-city way. But Sam wielded her outsider status like a shield, so we’d given up.

I still liked her. She was different. She was interesting. And we got along fine, although it’d become clear that “getting along” was the best I could hope for. The only person at our school she really liked was Daniel. It wasn’t a crush, though. She didn’t even seem interested in him as a guy, only as a potential friend. Daniel was nice to her, but he already had his quota of female friends.

The student she liked least these days was Rafe. He’d made one halfhearted move toward her and I have no idea what she’d said or done, but he’d steered clear ever since.

“Texas boy taking another run at you?” Daniel said as Rafe veered away and continued on.

“It’ll pass.”

“Want me to talk to him?”

I gave him a look. If there’s one problem with having the toughest guy at school as my best friend, this is it. Daniel has a protective streak a mile wide. Sometimes, when a summer guy is bugging me, it’d be great to have Daniel barrel in and handle it. But what does that say about me? Nothing I want to say.

“You want us to take care of the guy?” Corey said in a gangster voice as he walked over with Nicole. “We could do that. Lots of places to hide a body around here. Deep caves, deep ravines, deep lakes—” He stopped short, then smacked me between the shoulder blades. “So, how’s the almost birthday girl? Getting ready for her big party? Sweet sixteen and never been—”

Daniel cut him off with a sputtering laugh. “Believe me, Maya’s definitely been kissed.”

Corey gave a devilish grin. “Oh, I wasn’t going to say kissed.”

Nicole blushed furiously, and I laughed.

Across the playground, Rafe had been waylaid by Hayley Morris, another member of our swim team and singing group. Like Serena and Nicole, she was petite and blond—we used to joke that this was a requirement for joining. Hayley was not a friend. She was, however, Rafe’s number one admirer. She was also the first of his not-quite conquests and the only one who hadn’t taken the hint when he moved on.

She’d planted herself in front of him. He eased back more politely than I would have expected, just shifting until she was out of his personal space. She got right back into it. He moved back. She moved forward. It was an oddly formal little dance, and I was watching it when Daniel said, “Maya?”

“Hmm?”

“Ready to go?”

“Anytime you are.”

“Can I get a lift to the community center?” Nicole asked. “I want to squeeze in some swim practice before Ms. Martin comes by for my singing lesson.”

Corey frowned. “That’s a lot of practice, Nic. Are you sure you’ll have time to do your homework?”

“Of course. I do homework right after—” She caught his expression and blushed as she realized he was teasing her.

“At least she does her homework,” I said.

Daniel turned to Nicole. “Sure, I’ll give you a lift. You ready, Maya?”

“Doesn’t look like Maya needs a ride today,” Corey said.

I followed his gaze to see my dad barreling down on me, scowling in a way that really didn’t suit him at all.

Daniel mouthed, “Call me,” and headed for his truck, Nicole trailing.

“In the car,” Dad said, pointing to the Jeep at the curb. “Now.”

“What did I—?”

“I said now, Maya.”

He strode off, leaving me tagging along like I was five, every kid still in the school yard watching. Mom was in the passenger seat. She rolled down the window, smiling, then saw my expression.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“No idea,” I said. “He won’t tell me.”

She moved the seat forward for me to squeeze in the back. “Rick, what—?”

She laughed, then I saw Dad’s grin as he slid into the driver’s seat.

“Payback for this morning,” he said. “You embarrass me; I embarrass you.”

“Oh, that’s mature,” I said.

“Keeps me young.”

“So, did you bump into Mrs. Morris today? I hear Mr. Morris is away at a conference.” I waggled my brows at him in the rearview mirror.

“Enough, you two,” Mom said.

“What’s with the ride?” I said. “You missed me so much you couldn’t wait for me to get home?”

“Don’t answer that, Rick.” Mom looked back at me as Dad pulled away from the curb. “We need to pick up some things in the city, and we thought we’d go out for dinner.”

By “city,” she did not mean Vancouver. When I tell online friends that I live on Vancouver Island, they start asking questions about the city of Vancouver. I guess it makes sense that it would be on the island with the same name. It’s not. It’s across the strait, and while it’s barely thirty-five kilometers away, the water flowing in between means we only cross for special occasions.

The city we were heading to was Nanaimo, on the eastern coast. With just under a hundred thousand people, it was hardly a major urban center, but on an island almost five hundred kilometers long, with a population of under a million—half of them living in Victoria at the southern tip—you take what you can get.

“I can pick the restaurant, right? Since Saturday is my birthday and apparently we aren’t going to Vancouver to get my tattoo. Not that I’m bitter about that or—” I stopped as I glimpsed a familiar face out the window. “Hey, there’s that hiker from this morning. Did you ever catch up with her?”

“No, and I really do need her to file a report. Hold on.”

Dad pulled over to the curb as a group of kids passed. He peered out the window. “Where’d she go?”

“Right there, behind Travis Carling.”

Dad opened the door and got out. The kids went by … and there was no one else on the sidewalk. I rolled down the window.

“She was right there.” I pointed. “In front of the library.”

The library was part of the community center, which took up most of the block, meaning there was no way the woman had ducked around it. Dad walked over and tried the library doors, but they were locked—it was open only three days a week.

“I think it’s time for a drug test,” Dad said as he came back to the car.

“I’m serious. I saw her.”

“Maya’s right,” Mom said. “I noticed her before the kids went by. I don’t know where she went, but she was there.”

“She doesn’t want to tattle on the cute kitty,” I said. “Don’t worry. Just hand her the papers while she’s cornered again by a hundred and seventy-five pounds of snarling kitty and she’ll change her mind.”

FOUR

IT TOOK US FIVE minutes to get out of Salmon Creek. Without exceeding the speed limit. When I tell people that I live in a place with fewer than two hundred people, they don’t really get what that means. They say things like, “Oh, I’m in a small town, too,” and I look up theirs to see it has a population of six thousand.

Two hundred people means Salmon Creek doesn’t get on most maps. It’s not even a town—it’s a hamlet, with only six streets—the downtown strip and five courts of about ten houses each.

There are three shops downtown. There’s a decent grocery, but if my mom needs anything more exotic than white mushrooms and dried herbs, she has to grow it in our greenhouse. There’s a hardware store, but if you want something unusual, it has to be ordered from the city. Then there’s the Blender, our only restaurant, owned and run by Hayley’s dad. Good food but don’t expect sushi.

Kids in other small towns complain about needing to go to the city to find a mall. We can’t even buy clothing here. Well, we can, but it’s carried by the hardware store; and unless your fashion sense runs to coveralls and rubber boots, you’d better plan a trip to Nanaimo.

The last building we passed on the way out of town was the medical research facility. That might sound like a huge hospital-sized place, with helicopters landing on the roof at all hours, but it’s just a boring-looking building, two stories tall, about the size of a small office complex. It looks innocent enough, like you could walk right through the front doors. And you could … you just wouldn’t get much farther.

Security is supertight in there. Every door has a key card lock and some have access codes, too. I know because I’ve been in it. Everyone has. One problem with running a top-secret facility is that it makes people curious. So every year there’s an open house. Most of us kids stopped going as soon as our parents let us. It’s an afternoon of hearing talks on their drug research and being toured around labs full of computers and test tubes. Drug research may be big business—big enough to build a town to protect it—but it’s killer dull.