Page 92 of Weight of Guilt

He was going to get in so much trouble. Was it too late to run back to the party?

He knew it was. Glowworm Guy was too strong.

“Don’t be scared,” the man said. “I just didn’t want you to yell and worry people. You’re not in trouble. The glowworm I saw disappeared. But I know where another one is. Do you trust me?”

Christian didn’t trust the man, but he nodded anyway.

He wanted to ask the man who he was. But he couldn’t. The man didn’t move his hand from over his mouth.

He could only inhale the scent of woodsmoke and . . . maybe tobacco. Christian wasn’t sure.

“Good answer,” Glowworm Guy said. “I’m going to show you something really cool. It’s going to change your life.”

The man carried him through the dark woods. His feet brushed the ground.

He wanted to tell the man to stop. To yell at him. But he couldn’t. His body felt frozen. And the man was moving so fast . . .

A car appeared on the side of the road. The man opened the door and shoved Christian in the back seat.

Then he grabbed some tape. He wrapped it around Christian’s hands.

This wasn’t normal. Christian knew it wasn’t normal.

“I know this might seem strange, but I promise you that this is going to be fun,” the man whispered. “Just trust me. You won’t regret it.”

The man put him on the floor in the back, behind the front seats, and put a hood over his head.

“So you’ll be surprised,” the man said.

The door shut. Then the other door. Then the engine started.

Christian stayed down.

He was fine, he told himself. He was fine, and this was a mistake.

When the man figured out it was a mistake, he’d turn the car around and take Christian back. Everybody would still be in the yard because parties went on a long time. Mom always said the last people never left until after midnight.

He’d tell Marlowe about what happened. It would be a good story. She’d say, “You’re so full of it, Christian. You’ve got to stop making up these tall tales.”

They loved talking about tall tales. They’d been reading pirate books together lately.

He thought Marlowe loved them just as much as he did.

A tremor of fear rushed through him, but he tried to push it aside. Being scared wouldn’t help him right now. He needed to be strong—just like he’d been that time he’d cut his arm while trying to whittle and he’d had to go to the hospital to get stitches.

The car went slow at first. Then it stopped and turned. Then it went faster, and the sound of the road under him changed. It stayed changed.

His chest tightened.

He couldn’t get a whole breath. He tried, but he couldn’t.

He knew what Marlowe would tell him right now. She’d say to suck it up.

So he hummed instead.

It was the song Mama hummed. “Softly and Tenderly.” She hummed the song doing dishes, and she hummed it in the van, and she hummed it when she was mad at Daddy and didn’t want anybody to know.

Christian didn’t remember learning it. The song was just in him, like his own name.