Page 56 of Trapper Road

I nod. I’m not gonna force him to talk about it if he doesn’t want to. We walk the rest of the way in silence. I drop Connor at the coffee shop in town and then hitch a ride out to Juliette’s house, where Mandy and Willa are waiting for me on the sidewalk. They stand as the truck pulls to a stop, and I climb out.

“Who was that?” Mandy asks, watching the truck take off down the road.

I shrug. “Some guy who offered me a ride so he could lecture me about the dangers of hitchhiking.”

Willa’s eyes go wide. “You hitchhiked?” She sounds genuinely shocked.

I glance toward Mandy who seems shocked as well, but also impressed. I like the gleam it gives her, like I’ve just made myself a little more interesting to her. It cuts the edge off the intimidation I feel about being around the two girls who are so obviously out of my league.

“Gotta get around somehow,” I tell them.

“But what if he’d been an ax murder or something?”

“That’s what this is for.” I hold open my bag to show them a hard sided case sitting inside. When neither of them looks too impressed, I realize they have no idea what it is so I pull it out and flick it open so they can see my gun resting inside.

If Ms. P knew I’d brought it on this trip and that I’ve been carrying it around, she’d kill me. But she’s also always the first to carry herself, so clearly she understands the importance of self-protection. Besides, I’ve been going to the range plenty of times. I’ve been practicing — I know how to be safe about things.

Both girls gape at the sight of the gun. “You ever used it before?” Mandy asks.

I shrug. “A few times.” I don’t elaborate that mostly it’s only been at the range, but there have been a few times I’ve had drunk guys banging on my door in the middle of the night, either lost or confused. Flashing my gun usually fixes the problem.

They share a look and then Mandy smiles at me and holds out a hand, waiting for me to take it. It’s such a simple gesture, clearly one she’s done hundreds of times and doesn’t think twice about. But it’s not one I’m used to. Where I come from, we don’t just touch each other like that. We keep to ourselves.

It feels strange to have this girl — practically a stranger — want to pull me along with her. Want to include me. I think I like it.

“Come on,” she says. “Let’s go inside.”

I drop the gun case back into my bag and slip my fingers into hers, letting myself be pulled into her world.

Mrs. Larson has clearly been anticipating this afternoon because the house smells like a bakery, making my mouth instantly water. The two girls lead me into the kitchen, where Mrs. Larson stands in front of the stove, an honest to God apron — complete with ruffles — tied around her waist.

Mandy introduces me as a new kid at school, which I’m grateful about because the last thing I need is Mrs. Larson telling Ms. P I was here. The woman folds me into a hug like I’m not a complete stranger. I’m not really the touchy-feely type, and I stiffen up when her arms go around me. She holds on to me for a while, and I let her because her own kid is missing and I guess this is how she deals with it.

Finally, she releases me and fusses over Mandy and Willa, petting their hair and offering them cookies and looking at them both like she’s starving for something. She doesn’t find it strange they brought me to tag along; she just folds me into the group like I’ve always been there.

When Mandy asks if we can go hang out in Juliette’s room, Mrs. Larson waves us on with a smile on her face.

It’s weird. All of it.

I trail after the two of them as they trample up the stairs, as comfortable as if the house was theirs. The door to Juliette’s room is closed, and they push it open without second thought. Willa goes straight to the bed and drops onto it, falling back against the pillows.

Mandy goes for the closet and starts flipping through hangers.

I just stand in the doorway because this is the room of a girl who’s definitely missing and possibly could be dead, and somehow going inside feels like trespassing. Not that I’ve ever been much to stand on ceremony, but I learned growing up to respect the dead if you want them to respect you.

Mandy turns from the closet and eyes me. “What size are you?”

I shrug. It’s been a while since I’ve bought any of my own clothes. Most of what I wear I’ve borrowed from Lanny or snuck from Gwen’s drawers. Mandy pulls out a hanger with a halter dress draped from it. “This’ll fit, don’t you think?” She then glances at Willow. “She looks the same size as Juliette, doesn’t she?”

Willa joins Mandy in eyeing me up and down. It feels weird having them both stare at me like that. Finally Willa nods. “Shorter, but close enough.”

“Here, let’s see.” She tosses the hanger my way. “Try it on.”

I’m so surprised by the request that I fumble with the hanger, almost letting it drop. “Why?”

“You certainly can’t wear that to the party tonight.” She looks pointedly at my old jean cutoffs and the Ramones shirt I’d nicked from Lanny before we left.

“Party tonight?”

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