Sixteen-year-old new girl, Alaska, seems shy and jumpy. So Lash and his friends decide to take her under their wing and make her a part of their friend group.
But when one of their friends ends up dying, and a mysterious figure keeps showing up aro...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
#Lash
The rumbling of the truck just outside my bedroom window is loud enough to pull my attention from my computer game, so I peek out my window to see what's going on.
Outside in the neighbor's driveway sits a yellow moving truck with the metal ramp already slanting from the trailer and resting on the ground.
I pause my Cheeto halfway to my mouth, and lean closer, hoping to see who my new neighbor is. It doesn't help that the sun is setting, and much of the yard has fallen into shadows.
My breathing fogs the window and I wipe at it with my hand, smearing the view of the neighbors. Two moving guys carry a couch down the ramp and disappear into the house.
A woman with dark hair pulled into a ponytail emerges from the truck carrying a lamp, followed by a younger girl carrying a box.
Squinting, I wipe at the window again, trying to figure out how old the girl is, then I pull out my phone and dial Luke's number.
"Hey," Luke says, when he answers. "What's up?"
"I have a new neighbor. A girl."
"What's she look like?"
We rarely get new kids in Waitsburg, so when we do, it's news.
"I dunno. It's dark and she's wearing black."
"Can you tell how old she is?"
I shrug. "Hard to tell. She's got boobs so she's not a kid."
"That's not saying much. I've seen boobs on sixth grade girls. Go outside and say hi."
"I can't do that," I say, rearing back and distancing myself from the window as if the girl will somehow catch me spying on her.
"Sure you can. Or ask your mom. She's a talker. Have her welcome them."
As if overhearing our conversation, my front door slams and I watch Mom scurry across our lawn with a plate of cookies, making a beeline toward the moving truck. Where'd those cookies come from? Did she cook them? How come I didn't smell them earlier?
"Mom's already over there," I mutter into the phone, still eyeing her plate. If I weren't so curious about the girl, I'd already be downstairs looking for leftovers.
Mom stops by the bumper of the moving truck. She's talking to someone, but they're hidden by the corner of the neighbor's yellow house and a massive bush that looks like it hasn't been trimmed all year.
Mom offers the plate, and a pair of hands appear from behind the corner, accepting the cookies.
"She's talking to the neighbors but they're behind a bush. I can't see them," I say into the phone.
"Go out there!" Luke says. "Do this for the sake of all the high school guys in Waitsburg. We need to see if there's new meat in town. I don't wanna shower for nothing."
