She shook him again, harder. His eyes fluttered. She could see movement behind his lids.
“Yes, Elijah. Come on. You’re going to be okay.”
His eyes fluttered open and looked right at her. Zee gasped and scurried away.
They were all black with a bloodred pupil.
“No,” Zee whispered, her back against the bleachers. She pulled her legs up against her and cried. This was all her fault. She was supposed to stay home after the storm. If they had not been in the cemetery, the hound would never have found her. If she hadn’t been so determined to prank Nellie, the hounds would never have found any of them.
If it weren’t for her, Elijah would be okay. If it weren’t for her, her sister would be in college. Her mother would be alive.
All those times she’d read Frankenstein she’d always thought that she was the doctor—the creator, the one who brought things to life, the one who made something out of nothing—but now she realized that wasn’t true.
I am the monster, Zee thought.
“My son,” Scratch said, and Zee watched in horror as Elijah stumbled to life, taking awkward shaking steps toward him. He was almost at Scratch when Elijah collapsed to his hands and knees.
“Rise, my child,” Scratch said. “Rise and enjoy your new body.”
A few feet away, Nellie woke from her stupor. “Elijah? Zee?”
Zee covered her ears. She couldn’t bear to hear her own name.
Elijah—or what used to be Elijah—rocked slightly on his hands and knees. His breath hitched.
“That’s it, my child. Stand up. For too long have you walked like a hound. Stand.”
But Elijah didn’t stand. Instead he started to pitch forward, violently. His body was racked with great shuddering spasms, and then, with a cry, he turned and exhaled a long stream of black smoke out of his mouth.
Zee sat up, wiping at her tears. Could it be?
The smoke poured from him for what seemed like forever. Scratch screamed and clawed at the air as the smoke vanished.
When the last tendrils leaked out, Elijah coughed and sat up. He looked directly at Scratch and with a ragged but determined voice, a voice that sounded much older than his eleven years, said, “That which is not freely given.”
Scratch fell to his knees, cursing. The two remaining hounds howled in grief.
Elijah looked at Zee. With incredible relief, she saw that his eyes were normal. She ran to him. “Are you okay?”
He nodded and with a raspy voice said, “That was weird.”
He hiccupped, and a last puff of black smoke came out.
Zee laughed and then wiped at her tears again. Nellie appeared at his side. “Guys, what just happened?” she asked. “The last thing I remember was coming in here.”
“We’ll catch you up later,” Zee said, turning toward Scratch.
He was up on his feet again, hovering over them. He was furious. He stretched that red-gloved hand toward them and Zee put her arms out, protecting her friends.
“NO!” she yelled. “That which is not freely given.”
“How dare you?” he hollered.
“You take and you take and you take. You convince people that they want something and that want matters more than anything. But you’re wrong. What matters is taking care of each other. What matters is being there for each other. What matters is friendship. And that is something you can never ever have.”
There was a terrible sound like a freight train screaming, and the doors to the gym blew open. Zee hung on to her friends. They couldn’t hear each other over the noise. But they could see Scratch.
Before their eyes, he shifted, his jaw split open. Dark smoke tunneled out of him as his body dropped to the floor, a pile of ash.
The smoke that was once Principal Scratch swirled through the air, and all three of them covered their mouths, fearful that he, like the hounds, would pick a new home. It swirled and dipped around the gymnasium like a terrible dark ghost.
The hounds also turned to ash, their bodies rising into one giant tunnel of smoke blasting straight out the gym doors.
Zee and Elijah and Nellie ran after it. The smoke raced through the halls and out of the school, swirling up into the sky before dipping and heading straight for the ground. It streaked toward the school lawn and smashed into the dirt and vanished. For a second, everything was still.
Then a ripple washed over the ground like the whole earth was shaking.
And then nothing.
“Did we . . . ?” Nellie asked.
“Did we just . . . ?” Elijah trailed off.
“Yeah,” Zee sighed. She smiled at her friends. “We just won.”
When Zee returned home, she found Abby at the kitchen table.
“Oh my gosh, there you are!” she said, gathering Zee in a hug. “Are you okay? What happened?”
Zee wasn’t sure where to start. She noticed that Abby looked less wan. She had color in her cheeks, her hair didn’t look so damp, her eyes no longer puffy.
“What is it, Zee?” Abby asked.
“What’s the last thing you remember?”
Abby exhaled her eyes searching the room. “Your principal was here. He wanted me to focus, to visualize what I wanted. And then my phone rang. Everything after that is a little fuzzy.”
Zee’s lip quivered, but she kept the tears in. “Everything is okay now,” she said, hugging Abby. “I love you so much.”
“I love you more.”
“I love you both more,” said a voice from the doorway.
Zee spun around, and there he was. Her father, his dusty work boots on his feet, his hazel eyes, his bearded face, standing in the doorway. He looked older. Weary. For a second, she paused. “Is this real? Is it really you?”
“Of course it’s me,” her father said. “I couldn’t get ahold of you guys, not on your cell or the house phone or even at the diner. Everywhere I called I got a busy signal. So, I panicked. Came right home. Drove through the night. It was the strangest thing, though. It was like one night lasted for weeks. No matter how fast I drove, the road just stretched on forever. Like something was keeping me away.”
Zee let a little sob escape her lips and ran to him. He held her while she cried, her heart drumming out a thankful beat.
Whatever had happened in Knobb’s Ferry was over. Whoever, whatever, Scratch was, he was gone now. He had lost. The terror that the storm had dredged up so many nights ago had finally cleared.
And most important, Zee had her family back.
21
ZEE MET NELLIE AT THE END OF THE DRIVEWAY. SHE LOOKED NERVOUS, as if she was in a place where she didn’t belong.
“Nice flowers,” Zee said.
“Thanks,” Nellie offered quietly, shifting the bouquet to her other hand.
“There’s nothing to be nervous about,” Zee said.
“I’m not.” Nellie cleared her throat. “Are we going or what?”
“Sure.”
Zee bounded up the steps and rapped hard on the door.
Elijah opened the door and smiled. “Hey,” he said.
“Hey yourself,” Zee said, punching him in the shoulder.
Then he turned toward Nellie and pulled her into a hug. “I’m so glad you came,” he said. “Come inside.”
“Thanks for, um, inviting me,” Nellie said nervously.
Zee watched them and rolled her eyes. Is this what happened when you liked someone? Did you suddenly act so weird?
Elijah ushered them into the living room. On the couch sat Mrs. Turner. She was slender and petite, and her hair was in pretty box braids down her back. She had a smooth beautiful face and bright laughing eyes. She radiated a warmth that felt like sunshine.
“Zee,” she said, standing and folding her into a hug. “And you must be Nellie.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Nellie said.
Elijah’s mother laughed. “No need for all that formality.”
Nellie relaxed into her smile, and Zee could see the nervousness wicking
off her. “These are for you,” she said, holding the flowers out. “Thank you for having me.”
“Well, aren’t you the sweetest? Thank you. I’ll go put these in water. Dinner should be ready soon. We’re having ham and macaroni and cheese,” she said, pausing. “Not that bread crumb–topped kind, though.” She glanced back and smiled. “The béchamel-topped kind.” She disappeared into the kitchen but then popped her head back out. “Nellie dear, my lil’ chicken has been saying the nicest things about you.” She winked at Nellie, and Nellie smiled.
“Mom!” Elijah said, blushing. “Stop!”
“I don’t tell lies, Elijah Watson Turner,” she laughed, and disappeared again.
“‘Chicken’?” Nellie said with a smile.
“Don’t you start too.”
“How’s your mom doing, Elijah?” Zee asked.
“When we got home, after, you know, that night, she was up but weak. She seemed out of it, kind of confused. But that happens with her. My dad found her a new doctor, and he diagnosed her as bipolar.”
“What does that mean?” Nellie asked.
“It means she has depressed days, where she doesn’t want to get out of bed or do anything. Then she has manic days, where she’ll bake all day and do everything. Then she has days where she’s balanced. He gave her some medication to make the sad days less sad and the manic days less manic. It’s early still, but I think we’re finding our way.”
“How’s everything with your dad?” Zee said.
Elijah shrugged. “About the same. He’s trying, though. He even asked about my advanced classes and how things were going. I don’t think he fully understood what I was talking about but . . . he’s trying. And he stopped talking about sports and exercising so much. I appreciate that.”
“That’s great.”
“Speaking of that night . . .” Nellie said, “I found Max! I got home, and as I was climbing the porch steps, I heard whimpering. He was under the front porch. Poor thing looked like he’d been through . . . well, you know. But he’s okay now.”
“It’s really Max?” Zee asked.
“Yes,” Nellie said with a little laugh. “It’s definitely the real Max.”
“You should have brought him,” Elijah said.
“I didn’t want to assume.”
“Tomorrow, how about I come by and we can take him for a walk? I’d like to meet this infamous dog,” Elijah said.
Nellie smiled. “That sounds great. Zee, you should come too.”
Mrs. Turner stuck her head back into the living room. “Dinnertime, kids.”
The ham on the table glistened, and the macaroni and cheese was all crusty and golden brown.
“Oh, Mrs. Turner, this looks amazing,” Nellie said.
“That’s because it is,” Elijah said.
“But save room for pie, dear,” his mother added.
They gathered round the table, bathed in the warm light of the kitchen, the laughter of Elijah’s mother, and a gentle tune that played over the stereo.
“We should pray,” Elijah’s mother said, and everyone clasped hands.
Nellie and Zee and Elijah exchanged a nervous glance. After everything, Zee didn’t know what to pray for. In fact, she kind of had everything she wanted in that moment. She thought about Principal Scratch and how he made people focus on what they wanted. She thought about the way it all got distorted when people did that. When they put their desires before everything. The way they got corrupted.
So instead of praying for something she wanted, she sent a little gratitude out into the world.
Gratitude, for good friends.
The following evening, the sun was just starting to set when Zee slipped on her boots.
“Where you going, hon?” her father asked from the living room.
“Just for a walk.”
“To Elijah’s?”
“No. There’s someone else I want to see.”
“You know I trust you, but don’t be long, okay? Dinner’s at seven.”
“I’ll be here, I promise.”
Zee headed through town, taking her time. It wasn’t that she had to work up the courage, it was more that she wanted to be ready. Things at school had gone right back to normal. There was no record of Principal Scratch, and no one seemed to remember him. It was like the whole town had woken up from some long, sleepy, strange dream.
Zee smiled to herself. One day she would write that story down.
She wended around the headstones until she reached the gates of the new section. She thought about how this was where it had all started. This was where she had seen the first hound.
But tonight, the shadows held no danger.
Her first stop was a shiny new headstone. The name engraved there made her smile a small sad smile. She hadn’t heard from Deanna since she’d helped Zee get away from Scratch at the town assembly. Zee took comfort in this knowing that she had done it—she had helped Deanna find peace. Like a breath held too long, finally exhaled. “Safe travels, Deanna. I’m glad you’re free.”
Then she turned toward the willow tree, took a deep breath, and pushed the gate open. This part of the cemetery was neater, the headstones in more even rows. In the light of the setting sun, it was actually peaceful.
She knew where to go even though she’d never been there before. It was only a few rows ahead, tucked back from the road over a little hillside. She sat down in front of the stone. Traced out the letters cut into the rock.
LAURA ANN PUCKETT
BELOVED MOTHER AND WIFE
FOREVER MISSED
She thought it would be hard to see the date, her own birthday carved in that stone, but it wasn’t. It was sad, but she felt like she could finally stop running from it. Like she could finally be forgiven.
Or more so, she could forgive herself.
“Hi, Mom,” she whispered, “sorry it took me so long to get here.”
Zee sat on the ground, her back against the headstone. She picked at the grass. And she talked to her mom. Some things she could say out loud. Others were too hard, so instead she said them in her head and hoped they got to where they were supposed to go.
When the shadows stretched, she got up, traced a finger across the stone, and headed toward the gate. She looked back once when she reached the willow tree, and stopped.
It was faint, just a flutter of light and dark, an outline mostly, but still clear enough to not be a trick of light.
Zee raised her hand and waved.
“I love you,” Zee whispered. “I’ll come see you again soon.”
There was a rush of warm air suddenly. Too warm this far into fall. But it was real and it wrapped itself around her like a hug. It was the same as the warmth she felt in the woods when they were looking for Deanna’s bracelet. Zee smiled, realizing it had been her mother there with her in the dark and dangerous woods.
Maybe she had always been there.
Zee headed out through the gate, letting the willow leaves touch her shoulders as she passed them by.
She had promised her father that she wouldn’t be out late.
And, as the story goes, Zee Delilah Puckett wasn’t the type to break a promise.
Acknowledgments
A small loud-mouthed towheaded little girl named Zee has lived with me for close to ten years, popping up in occasional short stories insistent that she get her own tale. So here you are, Zee. I’m sorry it took me so long.
It seems impossible to account for everyone whose input large and small had a place in these pages, but I’m going to try and do my best.
So many wonderful people helped bring this book into existence, but first and foremost, thank you to my incredibly generous agent Rena Rossner, who loved this book from the beginning. Rena, you have always believed in my writing and my storytelling and you’ve been with me on this journey from day one. I couldn’t have had a better agent, partner, and friend at my side. Next time you’re in town, drinks are on me.
Thanks to my extraordinary edito
r, Sara Schonfeld, who championed this book from the start. You took the time to meet with me and talk about this book’s potential and how to make it even better, and that made me realize that you were the kind of editor I dreamed of. You worked tirelessly with me, all the while honoring my writing and the story I wanted to tell. Thank you for bringing Zee and Elijah and Nellie’s story to life with compassion. Everyone at Katherine Tegen Books has been amazing to work with, especially Katherine herself, who helped steer this story in the right direction. Your insight and help was invaluable. Thank you to Laura Harshberger and Mark Rifkin, the managing editors; David DeWitt and Joel Tippie and the rest of the design crew; Kimberly Stella and Vanessa Nuttry and everyone in production. Thank you to Jacqueline Hornberger and Jessica Gould for your wonderful copy editing and proofreading. Thank you to Bill Wadman. And thank you especially to Maike Plenzke, whose art brought Zee and Elijah and Nellie to full beautiful color. This little book is so lucky to have such an incredible team to help her fly.
But it wouldn’t be a book without my amazing beta readers. Thank you to Jes Oliveri, Greg Andree, Amber McBride, and especially Tomi Tsunoda, who helped me see what this story was really about. You all have my deepest gratitude. And I cannot thank Rob Berg and Jeremy Voss enough for YEARS worth of writing help and support. You both stopped me from tossing my manuscript off the pier at Sixty-Eighth Street. For that, I am grateful.
To all my Renegades, especially Amber McBride, Linda Epstein, and Kath Rothschild—I am so lucky to be a part of this wild little gang. Flame Chickens and avocados and goats forever. You make Twitter a joyful space. One of these days we’ll all get to Highlights.
None of this would have been possible if all those many years ago a small magazine had not taken a chance on me and published my first short story. So to Jersey Devil Press—especially Eirik Gumeny, Monica Rodriguez, Laura Garrison, Sam Snoek-Brown, and Mike Sweeney—thank you for giving this girl a shot and for all the support over the years. You made me believe I could tell a story that people would want to read. That simple act put me on the road to making my dreams come true.
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