She Danced under the Stars ✔

6

Needles rain down on us as Lily pulls herself out of the fir tree. I rush behind her in a great rustle of branches. We run up the main path.

'If he knows where you live, he'll see that we're not there yet!' Lily moans, panting. 'He can catch us whenever he wants on our way back!'

That great thrill of excitement couldn't have chosen a worst time to run through my body. I can't understand anything about what's happening. I can't shrug off anything either. I am not a normal person . . . I am not like Lily. At least she is overcome with pure fear and it's only natural. I shake my head and do my best to think rationally. 'Look, there's nothing to say that he wants us. He's just watching the area to steal the engagement rings of innocent people. He gets a better view from up there, that's all!'

'What if he wasn't a thief? I don't want you to spell out what he does for me if he goes in through the dormer windows that some girls leave ajar!'

I nearly choke while running. 'Stop it!' I roar, elbowing her. 'Why do you say such things?'

I feel on edge when I screw my head round to look back: the top of the fir tree disappears into the starry sky. Up on the roof of the building, the dark figure is gone. I slow down and stop by a bench. Lily, with her hands on her knees, tries to catch her breath.

I quickly estimate our position in the district: if we take the tulip-lined passage on the right—which is not lit, yes, but constitutes a shortcut—we can walk around the rest of the garages and come out onto the street that is a continuation of mine. Then we'll just have to rejoin my courtyard, all of this without being overexposed.

'Follow me,' I order Lily.

She obediently falls into step behind me. The main path, bathed in the warm light of the garden lamps, bends to the left. That's where the fork to the tulip-lined passage is. Chestnut trees stand in the lawns on either side of us. Beyond them you can make out the lumpy shapes of the bushes and the line of the hedges.

'What time is it?' Lily asks worriedly.

I look at my watch. 'Ten past eleven.'

'We're gonna get chewed out by your father!' she moans.

'You seriously mean it's the only thing you're worried about?'

We enter the dark passage with the tulips. I am twice as careful to muffle my footsteps in the gravel. Lily does the same. I had forgotten about the unfortunate habit she has when she feels nervous: she may well be a non-smoker, but blowing gum bubbles doesn't suit all the situations. Already wound tighter than a spring, I jump when I hear the pop. I look daggers at her.

Lily, with a sheepish look, digs her hands in her pockets. 'Sorry.'

'You want to get us spotted right away? Spit this out.'

She pulls her strawberry gum out of her mouth and throws it in a lawn. My hand quivers over my right pocket—the one where I keep the knife. My eyes meet Lily's: the apprehension that crushes my heart is reflected in her green eyes.

Despite the knife, we are awfully vulnerable.

My world collapses when a scream twists Lily's features. She steps back, her hands buried in her hair as she clutches her temples, looking terrified by the mere sight of me. I realize a second too late that she's not terrified by me but rather by something behind my back.

I feel dragged backwards. Someone grabbed my shoulders and threw me in the grass. I roll. Things happen in a flash: I bang into a trunk, sink into a bush, struggle among the leaves and the branches. Some hands are pushing me and turning me over. Everything spins out of control. Lily is screaming somewhere. The sounds fade around me.

I roar and press my hands against my assailant and push him away. We struggle for a few seconds, our arms bumping into each other's and blocking each other's strikes, then he grabs me by the throat.

I pull the knife—how, I don't know—out of my pocket. I've lost my cardigan and my arms are bare. He tightens his vice-like grip around my neck. I gasp for air. His other hand, icy-cold, slides down my right arm. I strike. In the face. He lets go of my neck and leaps back. I pick myself up, panting and coughing, with my knife at the ready. I stagger, quite stunned, but I stab the air a few times. I can only hear the swishing sound of my blade. Lily's screams have fallen silent.

My throat is burning. I stare at my assailant, his tall, dark figure crouching in the grass like a panther on the hunt. He looks up at me: under his black hood, his face is pale. There's a gash across his cheek. I recognize the mark of my knife. Gaping, I realize that this scarlet gash is disappearing in the moonlight. It is healing all by itself, the blood flowing back under the skin. I just can't believe what I'm seeing. And yet everything is real: I am really here on this lawn before this nightmare creature that cannot be wounded.

He slowly crawls up to me. I stagger back and lose my balance and fall on my behind. He looms closer. A smile plays over his lips. That's when I catch sight of the two canine teeth sticking out. Far too long to be human.

The knife slips from my hand as I can feel myself sagging. I'm so dizzy that I slump into the bush. Despite my best efforts, I lose consciousness.