“Don’t make me shoot you,” the guard growls. His voice is closer; he’s no more than seven feet away.
I glance over my shoulder and immediately recognize the guard. Bryce Hawkins, a heavyweight wrestler a year ahead of me in school.
“Summer?” he barks, spitting my name out like a curse. “What the hell are you doing?”
I whip around, hoping to hide my face, but it’s too late. He’s already seen me.
Craptastic. No way Cal lets this go.
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Reminder to self: criminals wear disguises for a reason.
In my mind’s eye, I picture the white farmhouse in the distance. The dark shapes bobbing around the lawn could be goats or even cows—if any of those were around anymore. But I know that each blob is a child. An orphan, like me. Rescued from horrible situations I can’t bear to revisit.
I can’t leave them. If Cal or his father catch me . . . there is no law here. No courts or justice. In the borderlands, the Millers are the law—which means I’m screwed.
Unless . . .
I take a step toward the Shimmer, heart thundering in my chest.
It’s mesmerizing. Completely, utterly wonderful in its strangeness. The way the rainbow surface seems to move and slide like the shell of a bubble. A breeze emanates from the other side, cool and biting against my bare arms. A few fluffy snowflakes break through and cling to my cheek where they immediately turn to water.
In this infernal heat, it seems impossible that only a few feet away lies a place of frost and magic and strange, dangerous beings. A place where day is night and summer is winter and the ordinary is extraordinary.
I place a hand on the wall. It’s frigid and smooth and gelatinous, not at all solid like I imagined. red milk. Check.
Ramen noodles. Check.
Three crates of eggs. Check.
Giant bag of pinto beans (yuck). Check.
Cheetos (for Jane). Check.
Tampons (for me). Check.
Charms lollipops with gum in the center. (Because they make life better.) Check.
A few items, like toilet paper and razors, are impulse grabs.
My loot ends up being twenty items total. The pallets are sent by the government outside the tainted borderlands, so everything is family size.
I glance over my wimpy arm muscles. This could take a while.
A quick check outside the window above the door shows the coast is clear. The light is fading, the world outside a silvery-gray.
I laugh at the new deadbolt as I unlock the door and prop it open with a rock. Deadbolt, Cal? Really? That’s all you got?
I would give almost anything to see Cal’s face when he realizes I was inside this whole time.
It takes five trips to haul everything to my wheelbarrow, and when I’m done, I’m sucking humid Texas air like it’s the sugar inside pixie straws.
Right before I leave, a mental image of the cat, his ribs sticking out, flashes across my mind.
No. I will not go back for the cat. I will not . . .
I go back for the damned cat. The poor guy practically throws himself into my arms, yowling so loud my aunts can probably hear it back at the farmhouse. His legs clasp around my neck, his claws digging into my flesh.
“Shh,” I whisper-scold. “Chatty Cat, if you’re coming with me, you have to be quiet.”