"What should we do now?" Sasha asked, crouching behind some thick shrubs near the stream behind the office building.
"I don't know. This was your idea," Tashell whispered, bumping her shoulder against Sasha's. The two girls giggled softly as they peeked through the leafy brush. They spotting Theo helping Cindy out of the RV. Adrian stumbled clumsily with two large bags, nearly toppling over. Allen followed behind, pushing the wheelchair with Cindy's oxygen tank strapped securely to the back.
The girls went on to toss pebbles into the stream and skip rocks while laughing and teasing each other. Nearly half an hour passed before the sky dimmed and the golden sunlight began to fade behind the distant mountains. Long shadows stretched across the ground as dusk fell.
"It's getting dark. Let's go back to the front," Sasha said, flashing a mischievous grin. "I'll race you! You go left, and I'll go right."
"What if I get bitten by a snake?" Tashell frowned, staring nervously at the thick overgrown bushes lining the left path.
"You won't! Just move fast before Mom starts hollering our names like a crazy person," Sasha said with a wink. "We'll meet at the front!"
Without waiting for a reply, Sasha darted off toward the right side of the building, her laughter trailing behind like a melody in the wind.
Tashell stood frozen. The air had changed. Before it was warm and playful now it felt cold and eerie. The breeze carried strange echoes, and the trees rustled with an almost whispering tone.
She wrapped her arms around her chest and took a hesitant step forward. Tashell wasn't afraid of the dark, but she wasn't the outdoorsy type. She hated bugs, loathed snakes, and anything even remotely creepy-crawly made her stomach twist.
"Come on, slowpoke!" Sasha's voice rang faintly from ahead.
Tashell closed her eyes and swallowed the lump in her throat. "I'm coming," she called out, her voice trembling. She pushed herself forward and paused to slow her racing heart as she rounded the building's edge.
Just as she was about to break into a run, something yanked on her hair—hard. Her neck jerked back painfully. "Ouch!" she yelped, spinning around in a panic.
Her ribbon flew loose, and her long, waist-length curls whipped around her face as she tried to brush them from her eyes.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—"
Tashell didn't give the stranger a chance to explain. Her fist flew on instinct and connected squarely with the boy's eye.
"Why did you pull my hair?!" she shouted.
The boy blinked in pain, stumbling back as he cupped his eye. "You punched me!" he exclaimed in disbelief. "You're either really brave or just plain stupid to swing at someone older and twice your size. How old are you anyway, eight?"
"I'm eleven," Tashell shot back, raising her fists again, ready for round two.
The boy let out a short laugh, still holding his face. "Relax. I'm not gonna fight a girl. I was just trying to help you. There was a centipede crawling on your head."
Tashell froze. "What?! Is it still there?!"
She spun in frantic circles, swatting at her hair like a maniac.
"Whoa, whoa, easy there little girl," the boy said, placing his hands gently on her shoulders. "I got it. It's gone."
Tashell exhaled a huge breath of relief.
Now that she could see him properly, she noticed how his blond hair glinted under the moonlight. His bright blue eyes practically sparkled. He looked a little like a young Brad Pitt.
The boy thought she was the prettiest girl he'd ever seen. Her warm light-brown skin, delicate pink lips, and those wild dark curls reminded him of a fairytale princess, though he couldn't figure out which one. He almost asked what she was mixed with but held back, not wanting to sound rude.
"How old are you?" Tashell demanded, crossing her arms. "You keep calling me a little girl, like you're some grown man or something."
"I'm only fourteen," he said, grinning as he handed her the ribbon. "You should probably fix your ponytail."
"Oh... right. Thanks." She took it and smiled shyly. "But I can't do it myself. My hair's too long. I keep asking my parents to cut it, but they always say no."
"Do you want me to tie it for you?"
Tashell blinked, surprised. "Uh... sure."
She turned around and stood still while he gently gathered her hair and tied it back with the ribbon.
"There. Done. And don't cut it. I think it's perfect the way it is."
Tashell's heart fluttered a little. "Thanks," she said quietly, running a hand over the freshly tied ponytail.
Meanwhile, Sasha was growing anxious. She had waited nearly three minutes and there was still no sign of Tashell.
"Where is she?" Sasha muttered, walking quickly toward the left path. Her eyes darted through the shadows, her pulse quickening. "Tash?" she called out.
"Hey, you look lost," a voice said suddenly, making her jump.
She turned to see an older boy, maybe fifteen or sixteen, standing nearby.
"Oh... I didn't see you," she said, narrowing her eyes. "But no, I'm not lost. I'm looking for my friend."
"Need any help?" he offered casually.
Sasha instinctively stiffened. Her parents had warned her not to talk to strange boys, especially ones older than her.
"No, thanks. I'm good."
"Alright." He shrugged.
She resumed walking, but after a few seconds, she sensed he was still strolling behind her.
"I said I don't want your help," she snapped, spinning around.
"And I said okay," the boy replied, a smug grin on his face.
Sasha studied him with caution. He had smooth, dark brown hair slicked neatly back and striking grey-blue eyes. He was handsome, like a young Johnny Depp. Sasha felt a rush of heat in her cheeks as her palms got clammy.
She cleared her throat and turned away again, trying to shake it off. But the boy kept following.
What the hell? Sasha thought. She stopped abruptly. She was irritated, she didn't know what this boy's deal was, but she wasn't having it. With a force that seemed too big for a twelve-year-old girl, she stretched her palms and shoved the boy with all her might. He went stumbling back, falling over with a loud thud to the ground. "Stop following me, you creep," she cursed while the boy groaned in discomfort.
"What the hell is wrong with you, kid?" He scoffed as he scrambled to his feet, brushing the dirt from his backside.
"If you don't stop following me, I will scream," Sasha warned, her voice low and serious.
"Go ahead," he scoffed as he dusted his jacket off. His gaze softened as he got a better look at her. Sasha was stunning. Her dark skin was rich against the moonlight and her black kinky hair dropped nicely against her shoulders. But what stood out the most was her eyes. He had never seen such big, beautiful eyes. He didn't know what color to refer them to. All he knew they sparkled like diamonds.
Sasha opened her mouth to scream, but before she could, the boy suddenly clamped his hand over her mouth and yanked her into the shadows. He saw something over her shoulders that not even a sixteen-year-old boy should see much less a girl Sasha's age.
She panicked, thrashing and biting down hard on his palm.
"Shh!" he hissed, but Sasha wasn't listening.
She stomped down on his foot—hard.
"Ah! Dammit!" he cried, hopping back as pain jolted through his toe. He doubled over slightly, trying to muffle his yells.
Sasha didn't wait. She bolted until she found Tashell just around the corner, laughing with the blond boy.
"Let's go!" Sasha snapped, grabbing her friend's wrist.
"Hey! slow down!" Tashell said, glancing back at the blond boy, who had started following.
"Wait! What's your name?" the boy called out after her.
"Don't answer him!" Sasha ordered.
Tashell wanted to respond but didn't.
A moment later, the brown-haired boy limped up behind them. "Hey, where have you been?" he asked the blond-haired one. "Gramps is looking for you."
"I was by the lake," the blond boy said, then squinted at his limp. "What the heck happened to you?"
"This one right here," he said, pointing directly at Sasha.
"Come on," Sasha said through clenched teeth, tugging Tashell along again. "We're done with these strange boys now."
The two boys watched as the two girls walked away without even giving them a second glimpse.