Page 3 of By the Book

“This conversation isn’t over, Dash.”

By the time I got to the hall, Millie was already halfway to the stairs. Keme was hurrying after her, carrying a toiletry bag, a hair dryer, and several cans, tins, and bottles of various hair products. He glared at us—daring us to make a comment—and then gestured with his chin to the far side of the house before trotting upstairs after Millie.

“Okay,” Bobby said, “we definitely need to get that checked out.”

“I’ll take care of it. Trust me, Bobby, I’ve got everything under control—”

The lights flickered. And then the power went out.

Bobby didn’t say anything. He just breathed out slowly.

“It’s probably Millie’s hair dryer,” I said, but my voice wasn’t at a hundred percent.

From upstairs came: “DASH, THE POWER’S OUT AND I DIDN’T EVEN USE MY HAIR DRYER.”

In the gloom, Bobby’s breathing sounded very loud.

“Uh, that’s strange,” I said in what I hoped was my most convincingly baffled voice.

“Dash,” Bobby said.

I tried not to say anything, but he waited me out. “Yeah?”

“Why is the power off?”

“I don’t know?” But it sounded way too much like a question.

The wind wrapped itself around the house, shaking the old shutters.

Finally, in a surprisingly even voice, Bobby asked, “Don’t you have an event here tonight?”

I did. In fact, I was hosting an event that most of the town would be attending. Hey, renting out Hemlock House as a venue hadn’t gone well the first time—but maybe tonight would be better?

Besides, I was desperate.

All I said, though, was “Yup.”

More silence.

“Okay,” Bobby said. “I’ll—”

“No, Bobby, please. You don’t have to do anything. I’m sure it’s a misunderstanding. I’ve got everything under—”

“Don’t say it.”

“—control.”

That was when the front door opened again, and my parents stepped inside.

Chapter 2

For what felt like a small eternity, I stared. My parents stood in the doorway, lit from behind by the afternoon sunlight. They were here. In Hastings Rock. In Hemlock House. Where I lived.

Since the power had gone out, the contrast between the bright light outside and the dimness of the vestibule must have kept them from noticing me at first, because when they started to talk, they were clearly addressing each other. (They werealwaystalking to each other.)

“Why is it so dark?” my mom asked.

“Leave the door open,” my dad said. “There you go.”

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