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"Oomph," Callie grunted, letting me go. "Idiot. It’s just me."
Too late, I stepped on her hand, then jumped back, splashing into the muck. She hissed in pain.
“Sorry Callie!”
"Get down here," she groused, grabbing me again, jerking at the rubber of my boots. "It's going to be your fault if they find us.”
I lay next to her in the tall grass, a mirror of her blonde hair and blue eyes, my heart still pounding like crazy.
It was cold and wet and muddy down here. “Who’re you hiding from?”
“Those boys.”
“Which boys?”
“You know.” She didn’t answer me, though I definitely suspected I knew. The boys who’d been bullying her, though I wasn’t sure why.
I copied her, peering through the cordgrass. The whole bottom floor of our house was lit up, where I knew that people would stay until it was past my bedtime.
“What happened, anyway?” I whispered.
"Nothing." She tilted her head away from me stubbornly, but her fingers dug into the grass. Either from anger or maybe fear.
“Come on, you can tell me." If they'd done something to her, I was going to kill them.
"Nah," she shook her head, “now shush, they're goin’ to hear you."
When my sister didn't say anything else, an eerie silence settled over the bay, except for the large chirp of crickets, hooting owls, and a splash now and then from out towards the ocean. Mud oozed into my fingers and skin and the smell of salt and silt filled my nose.
Something felt different tonight. As if the whole wetland was holding its breath, waiting for something. It was creeping me out.
A shiver ran up my spine at the thought of the ghost of my mom returning to haunt us.
To reassure myself, I pat my pocket, checking to make sure I hadn't lost my Bugles, intending to feed them to Ollie. I’d kept them since that night; it was the last bag my mom had given me before she died.
Then, I heard them, a sound that made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end, “Oooo-eeee! Where are ya, little Callie? I know you're out here."
* * *
The sound was haunting and evil.
I felt a shiver by my side—Callie. Pressing her forehead to the ground, she squeezed her eyes shut, breathing heavily. What the heck had they done to make her so scared?
I tried to see through the darkness, finally making them out. Harrison was a red-headed, blue eyed devil-boy, and I could see the glimmer of his copper hair glinting in the moonlight. Could barely make out his scrunched up face, his eyes squinting.
"Come on, Harrison. Let's go back." Harrison was flanked by his best friend, Blake, who was just as dangerous, if not more. Except he didn't pick on girls like Harrison did. “I’m bored."
"Shut up, you shit,” Harrison argued. "I'm tryin’ to find that little bitch. She's out here somewhere."
Hey! He couldn't call my sister a bitch. She was barely even eight. I was about to jump to my feet but little fingers grabbed my wrist, making me freeze.
I turned to look at Callie.
She stared back at me with wide eyes, giving me a meaningful look. She shook her head slowly, begging me to keep quiet, for once.
"Why do you even care?” Blake asked, sighing loudly.
“Because I do,” Harrison answered, a sneer to his voice, “believe me, she deserves what she's got coming."
