Because of Keala

Fog settled over the mountains while soft rays of morning sunlight attempted to break through the cloudy skies, casting a bleak look over the town of Ashgrove, nestled in between the rising mountains. As picturesque as a postcard. Chirping birds pierced the unnerving silence and a dog barked happily at them, shattering what was left of the peace as she raced through the empty, snowy streets.

"Keala! Keala, get back here!" a boy hissed halfway between a shout and a plea, chasing after the pitch-black puppy from hell. "Please." He groaned through deep, gasping breaths, slowing down in despair when the dog bolted through the McNally's fence and out into the woods. Bitter cold wind blew through the tan winter coat that was a hand-me-down from one of his brothers, and he shivered violently.

Breathing heavily, he fell to his knees in the empty street in front of the McNally's house, dropping his head into his hands, his dark brown hair falling into his clear blue eyes. Keala had won that round. No doubt about it. He thought about giving up right then and there and trekking home without the stupid mutt. But just as he picked himself up off the ground and dusted the snow off his jeans, he heard two of the best sounds he could've imagined.

"Slayer! Your dog's been pooping in my yard again!" a girl shouted from behind him, while Keala barked with fervor.

Jack Slayer wasn't sure what was better: that Laney Case was actually talking to him, or that she somehow managed to wrangle Keala into a collar and a new-looking leash that were the same bright red color.

"Uhm... I-I-I um... Thanks." He scrambled over himself to reach the girl and his dog.

"You're welcome," Laney answered breezily, as if it had been an easier task than her morning pee.

"Um... I-I-"

"You should probably keep better track of your dog, Slayer." The wind picked up strands of her honey blonde hair and whipped them around her angelic rosy cheeks. Her glasses sat perched daintily on the bridge of her nose and her dark brown eyes twinkled from behind the scratched and scuffed lenses.

"Sorry." Jack sheepishly took hold of the fire-engine-red leash she held out to him.

Laney eyed the chewed-up piece of rope he'd been using to restrain the mutt and smiled at him. "Go ahead and keep that. She needs it way more than my dogs do." Jack felt like all the air had just been sucked out of his lungs. Not only was she really talking to him, but she'd given him something too. It was turning out to be a pretty lucky morning after all.

"Thanks, but my dad-"

"Keep it," she interrupted, turning her back on him and heading across the large patch of land her family owned, situated right next to the McNally's. She stopped before she was more than a few feet away and turned around for just a second. "Justin's going to be late to school again. Don't wait for him today." Translation: Get to school early and cover for my brother.

"No problem. I owe you for grabbing Keala anyway. Are you gonna... be there too?" He blushed, as Keala barked energetically and yanked on the leash as hard as she could, trying to pull it free from his fist. He refused to let go.

Laney turned back around, headed up the brick walkway. "Maybe tomorrow." Translation: Mind your own damn business. He'd gotten really good over the years at translating the Case family double-speak, as he tended to call it. "Bye, Slayer!" she chirped, and then she was gone, disappearing into the trees that guarded the Case house from public view.

Jack and Keala didn't linger long, the puppy couldn't stand for that, so the two raced each other back to the big house on top of the hill that looked out over all of Ashgrove and doubled as home to the town's only cemetery. Jack pushed open the creaky metal gate, attached to the wrought iron fence that surrounded his house and the rest of the graveyard, slipping noisily through. According to his mom, the cemetery had been in their family for over a hundred years, which didn't actually sound like a point of pride, to him, at least. His family was known for their association with burying dead people for crying out loud. Who wanted to be proud of that reputation?