He was chasing after Petey.
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Then, as I took a few reluctant steps toward Josh, watching him bend low, then change directions, his arms outstretched as he ran, I realized I had it completely backward.
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Josh wasn't being chased. Josh was chasing.
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I called to Josh again, and this time he heard me and turned around. He looked worried. "Amanda -- come help me!" he cried.
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"Josh, what's the matter?" I ran as fast as I could to catch up with him, but he kept darting through the gravestones, moving from row to row.
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Okay, okay. So sometimes my imagination runs away with me. Running through an old graveyard like this -- even in bright daylight -- it's only natural that a person might start to have weird thoughts.
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"Petey! Petey!" Dad started calling the dog. But Petey was moving from stone to stone, sniffing each one, then running to the next.
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"Josh -- what's wrong?" I turned and saw that Mom and Dad were right behind me.
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"It's Petey," Josh explained, out of breath. "I can't get him to stop. I caught him once, but he pulled away from me."
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"Help!"
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"I had to follow Petey," Josh explained, still looking very worried. "He just took off. One second he was sniffing around that dead flower bed in our front yard. The next second, he just started to run. He wouldn't stop when I called. Wouldn't even look back. He kept running till he got here. I had to follow. I was afraid he'd get lost."
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It took Dad a few tries, but he finally managed to grab Petey and pick him up off the ground. Our little terrier gave a halfhearted yelp of protest, then allowed himself to be carried away.
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"Petey's never been on a leash," Josh protested, wearily climbing into the backseat.
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Josh stopped and gratefully let Dad take over the chase. "I don't know what that dumb dog's problem is," he said to me. "He's just weird."
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We all trooped back to the car on the side of the road. Mr. Dawes was waiting by the car. "Maybe you'd better get a leash for that dog," he said, looking very concerned.
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"Well, we might have to try one for a while," Dad said quietly. "Especially if he keeps running away." Dad tossed Petey into the backseat. The dog eagerly curled up in Josh's arms.
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"How did you get all the way over here?" Dad asked as he caught up with my brother.
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Anyway, that was my theory.
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The rest of us piled into the car, and Mr. Dawes drove us back to his office, a tiny, white, flat-roofed building at the end of a row of small offices. As we rode, I reached over and stroked the back of Petey's head.
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Why did the dog run away like that? I wondered. Petey had never done that before.
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I guessed that Petey was also upset about our moving. After all, Petey had spent his whole life in our old house. He probably felt a lot like Josh and I did about having to pack up and move and never see the old neighborhood again.
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The new house, the new streets, and all the new smells must have freaked the poor dog out. Josh wanted to run away from the whole idea. And so did Petey.
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Mr. Dawes parked the car in front of his tiny office, shook Dad's hand, and gave him a business card. "You can come by next week," he told Mom and Dad. "I'll have all the legal work done by then. After you sign the papers, you can move in anytime."
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He pushed open the car door and, giving us all a final smile, prepared to climb out.
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Chuckling at his terrible joke, he climbed out of the car, lowered the wide black Stetson hat on his head, pulled his blazer from the trunk, and disappeared into the small white building.
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Mr. Dawes shook his head. "No," he said, "I'm the only Compton in my family. I have no idea where the name comes from. No idea at all. Maybe my parents didn't know how to spell Charlie!"
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"I guess," Josh said without enthusiasm. Petey was sound asleep in his lap, snoring quietly.
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"Compton Dawes," Mom said, reading the white business card over Dad's shoulder. "That's an unusual name. Is Compton an old family name?"
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"You're going to love your room," I told Josh. "The whole house is great. Really."
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Josh stared at me thoughtfully, but didn't answer.
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Dad climbed behind the wheel, moving the seat back to make room for his big stomach. Mom got up front, and we started the long drive home. "I guess you and Petey had quite an adventure today," Mom said to Josh, rolling up her window because Dad had turned on the air conditioner.
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But the weird, thoughtful look didn't fade from Josh's face.
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I poked him in the ribs with my elbow. "Say something. Did you hear what I said?"
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The next couple of weeks seemed to crawl by. I walked around the house thinking about how I'd never see my room again, how I'd never eat breakfast in this kitchen again, how I'd never watch TV in the living room again. Morbid stuff like that.
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I had this sick feeling when the movers came one afternoon and delivered a tall stack of cartons. Time to pack up. It was really happening. Even though it was the middle of the afternoon, I went up to my room and flopped down on my bed. I didn't nap or anything. I just stared at the ceiling for more than an hour, and all these wild, unconnected thoughts ran through my head, like a dream, only I was awake.
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I wasn't the only one who was nervous about the move. Mom and Dad were snapping at each other over nothing at all. One morning they had a big fight over whether the bacon was too crispy or not.
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In a way, it was funny to see them being so childish. Josh was acting really sullen all the time. He hardly spoke a word to anyone. And Petey sulked, too. That dumb dog wouldn't even pick himself up and come over to me when I had some table scraps for him.
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"It's not like you're moving to China or something," she answered, chewing hard on her bubble gum. "Dark Falls is only four hours away, Amanda. We'll see each other a lot."
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I guess the hardest part about moving was saying good-bye to my friends. Carol and Amy were away at camp, so I had to write to them. But Kathy was home, and she was my oldest and best friend, and the hardest to say good-bye to.
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When she came over the night before the move, we were both terribly awkward. "Kathy, you shouldn't be nervous," I told her. "You're not the one who's moving away forever."
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"Yeah, I guess," I said. But I didn't believe it. Four hours away was as bad as being in China, as far as I was concerned. "I guess we can still talk on the phone," I said glumly.
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I think some people were surprised that Kathy and I had stayed such good friends. For one thing, we look so different. I'm tall and thin and dark, and she's fair-skinned, with long blonde hair, and a little chubby. But we've been friends since preschool, and best friends since fourth grade.
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She blew a small green bubble, then sucked it back into her mouth. "Yeah. Sure," she said, pretending to be enthusiastic. "You're lucky, you know. Moving out of this crummy neighborhood to a big house."
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"School won't be the same without you," she sighed, curling her legs under her on the chair. "Who's going to slip me the answers in math?"
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"It's not a crummy neighborhood," I insisted. I don't know why I was defending the neighborhood. I never had before. One of our favorite pastimes was thinking of places we'd rather be growing up.
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I laughed. "I always slipped you the wrong answers."
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I made a disgusted face. "Everything's in one building. It's a small town, remember? There's no separate high school. At least, I didn't see one."
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"But it was the thought that counted," Kathy said. And then she groaned. "Ugh. Junior high. Is your new junior high part of the high school or part of the elementary school?"
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"Bummer," she said.
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Bummer was right.
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We chatted for hours. Until Kathy's mom called and said it was time for her to come home.
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She turned and ran out the door. The screen door slammed hard behind her. I stood there staring out into the darkness until Petey came scampering in, his toenails clicking across the linoleum, and started to lick my hand.
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We made a promise that we'd always be together on our birthdays -- no matter what. We'd force our parents to make sure we didn't miss each other's birthdays.
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"I'm so miserable!" I wailed.
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Then we hugged. I had made up my mind that I wouldn't cry, but I could feel the big, hot tears forming in the corners of my eyes. And then they were running down my cheeks.
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The sky seemed to get darker as we neared the new neighborhood. The heavy trees bent low over the street. "Slow down, Jack," Mom warned shrilly. "The street is really slick."
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I had planned to be really controlled and mature. But Kathy was my best friend, after all, and what could I do?
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And then we hugged -- again. And Kathy said, "Don't worry. We'll see each other a lot. Really." And she had tears in her eyes, too.
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The next morning, moving day, was a rainy Saturday. Not a downpour. No thunder or lightning. But just enough rain and wind to make the long drive slow and unpleasant.
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But Dad was in a hurry to get to the house before the moving van did. "They'll just put the stuff anywhere if we're not there to supervise," he explained.
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He just wanted attention, of course. I kept trying to cheer him up by telling him how great the house was inside and how big his room was. He still hadn't seen it.
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Josh, beside me in the backseat, was being a real pain, as usual. He kept complaining that he was thirsty. When that didn't get results, he started whining that he was starving. But we had all had a big breakfast, so that didn't get any reaction, either.
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"Let's all try really hard not to get on each other's nerves," Mom suggested.
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Dad laughed. "Good idea, dear."
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"Can't you shut him up?" Mom screamed.
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But he didn't want to be cheered up. He started wrestling with Petey, getting the poor dog all worked up, until Dad had to shout at him to stop.
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They started to argue about who was more exhausted from all the packing. Petey stood up on his hind legs and started to howl at the back window.
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"Don't make fun of me," she snapped.
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I pulled Petey down by his hind legs, and Josh started to howl. Mom turned around and gave him a dirty look. Josh didn't stop howling, though. He thought he was a riot.
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I pulled Petey down, but he struggled back up and started howling again. "He's never done this before," I said.
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Finally, Dad pulled the car up the driveway of the new house. The tires crunched over the wet gravel. Rain pounded on the roof.
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"Just get him quiet!" Mom insisted.
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Petey was jumping up and down in my lap, desperate to get out of the car. He was usually a good traveler. But once the car stopped, he wanted out immediately.
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"Home sweet home," Mom said. I couldn't tell if she was being sarcastic or not. I think she was really glad the long car ride was over.
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I opened my car door and he leaped onto the driveway with a splash and started to run in a wild zigzag across the front yard.
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"It's as dark as night out there," Josh complained.
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"At least we beat the movers," Dad said, glancing at his watch. Then his expression changed. "Hope they're not lost."
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Dad ran up to the porch and, fumbling with the unfamiliar keys, managed to get the front door open. Then he motioned for us to come into the house.
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"At least someone's glad to be here," Josh said quietly.
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Yes. I saw it.
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Mom and Josh ran across the walk, eager to get in out of the rain. I closed the car door behind me and started to jog after them.
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A face. In the window on the left.
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But something caught my eye. I stopped and looked up to the twin bay windows above the porch.
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The boy.
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I held a hand over my eyebrows to shield my eyes and squinted through the rain.
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The same boy was up there, staring down at me.
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