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“Dad took Jake to Veronica’s. Mom hasn’t been around since I was two. I don’t remember anything about her.”
The urge to spill the truth to him, to tell him how I’ve been searching for Mom, tickles in my throat. But I haven’t told anyone. Is it weird he’s the one person I want to share with?
He stops suddenly, sticking out his hand to halt me in my tracks.
“What is it?” I whisper.
My ears prickle. About thirty feet up the trail, a bush rustles, the leaves shaking and shivering.
A deep growl rumbles through the air.
Oh, shit.
My mouth goes dry.
Atticus steps further in front of me, blocking me from whatever is up ahead.
Okay, so the protectiveness is kind of hot.
I grab his hand.
His fingers squeeze mine.
I peek around Atticus, trying to get an idea of what’s up ahead.
Is it a bear? Is it going to eat us? This is it. We’re going to die. We’re going to get eaten by a bear and die.
The headline will readlocal hippie and hot botanist eaten by wild bears. My obituary will be blank because what the hell have I done with my life to this point? Nothing.
Except listen to some really great music and fail to get the hot botanist into bed.
I’ve done nothing of true value. I haven’t helped anyone, I’ve only run away from things.
All of these thoughts form and then fly away as the bushes part.
My heart pounds so loud, my vision blurs and I have to blink to take in the creature. Black and white and gray fur, beady eyes... whiskers?
It’s a goddamn raccoon.
My grip on Atticus eases and a shaky laugh tumbles out of my mouth.
Okay, so it’s the biggest raccoon I’ve ever seen, sure, but it’s so cute, the little black nose twitching while he wiggles his little human-shaped hands in the air.
The raccoon ambles toward us, rearing up on its hind legs.
“Is it supposed to be doing that?”
Atticus’s throat bobs as he swallows. Is he scared? He’s six four and at least two hundred pounds. The raccoon is smaller than a golden retriever.
He whispers to me out the side of his mouth. “Maybe it’s a female protecting her young. Or maybe it has rabies.”
Rabies?“If it bites us, will we die?” The words are a strangled hiss. The only thing I know about animals with rabies comes fromOld Yeller.
Jake begged and begged to watch the old movie when he was six because Dad made a comment about how it traumatized him as a kid. I think Jake thought it was some kind of horror movie. When the dog got rabies and died in the end, Aria cried for three days straight.
Because of course she had to watch it if Jake wanted to.
Why am I thinking about this?
