regarding a relatively moderate increase in reported deaths.”
Montague added that it was unusual to find reclusive creatures like mountain lions so close to densely populated areas. He declined to comment on the nature of the predator’s injuries.
The police department is asking that residents in the surrounding areas, especially those with property adjacent to the woods, keep all pets and young children indoors well before sunset.
“We’re certainly not discounting the fact that recent events could be linked to a roving pack of dogs,” said Winters Sheriff Robert Greenbauer. “Residents are asked to make sure their pets are accounted for and to check all fences and restraints before leaving the premises.”
Authorities ask that community members contact the Sheriff’s Department at (541) 455-1018 if they come across a dangerous animal.
A knock at my door sent me flying out of my chair.
“Aven, I’m back. Are you going to bed?” my dad called.
“Uh, not yet. I’m going to take a shower.”
I opened the door, hoping my dad hadn’t heard me unlocking the door before I turned the knob.
“Is she all right?” I asked, still unnerved by the frightened expression in Mrs. Hendrix’s ancient eyes.
“Oh, I think she’ll be fine. She’s just shaken up about some story in the paper. Dogs getting loose, that’s all. She’s worried about Angel. I think that little dog is all that keeps her going most days. That and your spaghetti sauce. I think I saw her sneak a couple of antacids before dinner.”
He paused.
“You know, honey, I think we’d manage all right if you wanted to go out with your friends one of these nights.”
I tried not to wince at his optimistic use of the plural when it came to the word friends .
“Thanks, Dad.”
He patted my head before heading down the hallway toward his room. I raced to get ready for bed, desperate to tell someone about Will Kincaid—even if my confidante was an inanimate object. As soon as I finished with my shower, I hurried back to my room and turned on my new computer.
I opened a blank document, and the empty page stared back at me. I suddenly felt ridiculously self-conscious, like someone was looking over my shoulder as I tried to think of something to say about Will Kincaid. I barely knew this person, and yet I couldn’t get the image of his face—his eyes in particular—out of my mind. He was unquestionably dazzling in a movie star kind of way. And like a movie star, he was indisputably out of my league. But there was something else about him. A strange intensity that made my blood rush.
My reverie was interrupted when my phone buzzed with a message. There was only one person, other than my dad, who had my new number. Sean. He was working late at the bookstore. I opened his message and laughed at the picture he sent—him with a goofy sad face and a message: Come with tomorrow night. We’ll have fun. Promise. S . I sent him a note back: Okay. You owe me.
Sitting down at my desk, I typed the words: I met Will Kincaid today . Then I saved the document and shut down the computer before switching on the lamp next to my bed. Darcy was already asleep when I turned out the light and laid my head on the pillow. I groaned at the unwelcome realization that I needed to find something to wear to the party I had just agreed to attend. But that could wait until tomorrow. I closed my eyes and tried to relax. But sleep wouldn’t come. I rolled over, staring up at the ceiling, the image of Will Kincaid stubbornly swimming in my head.
Snapping awake, I looked around the room, half expecting to find someone looking back. I shook my head groggily; other than Darcy’s snoring, the house was quiet. Apart from my mom’s desk, the newly acquired furnishings around my room created an unfamiliar terrain as a dull twilight-gray light filtered through the blinds. It was either very early, very rainy or both. I couldn’t remember having fallen asleep, but the digital
Montague added that it was unusual to find reclusive creatures like mountain lions so close to densely populated areas. He declined to comment on the nature of the predator’s injuries.
The police department is asking that residents in the surrounding areas, especially those with property adjacent to the woods, keep all pets and young children indoors well before sunset.
“We’re certainly not discounting the fact that recent events could be linked to a roving pack of dogs,” said Winters Sheriff Robert Greenbauer. “Residents are asked to make sure their pets are accounted for and to check all fences and restraints before leaving the premises.”
Authorities ask that community members contact the Sheriff’s Department at (541) 455-1018 if they come across a dangerous animal.
A knock at my door sent me flying out of my chair.
“Aven, I’m back. Are you going to bed?” my dad called.
“Uh, not yet. I’m going to take a shower.”
I opened the door, hoping my dad hadn’t heard me unlocking the door before I turned the knob.
“Is she all right?” I asked, still unnerved by the frightened expression in Mrs. Hendrix’s ancient eyes.
“Oh, I think she’ll be fine. She’s just shaken up about some story in the paper. Dogs getting loose, that’s all. She’s worried about Angel. I think that little dog is all that keeps her going most days. That and your spaghetti sauce. I think I saw her sneak a couple of antacids before dinner.”
He paused.
“You know, honey, I think we’d manage all right if you wanted to go out with your friends one of these nights.”
I tried not to wince at his optimistic use of the plural when it came to the word friends .
“Thanks, Dad.”
He patted my head before heading down the hallway toward his room. I raced to get ready for bed, desperate to tell someone about Will Kincaid—even if my confidante was an inanimate object. As soon as I finished with my shower, I hurried back to my room and turned on my new computer.
I opened a blank document, and the empty page stared back at me. I suddenly felt ridiculously self-conscious, like someone was looking over my shoulder as I tried to think of something to say about Will Kincaid. I barely knew this person, and yet I couldn’t get the image of his face—his eyes in particular—out of my mind. He was unquestionably dazzling in a movie star kind of way. And like a movie star, he was indisputably out of my league. But there was something else about him. A strange intensity that made my blood rush.
My reverie was interrupted when my phone buzzed with a message. There was only one person, other than my dad, who had my new number. Sean. He was working late at the bookstore. I opened his message and laughed at the picture he sent—him with a goofy sad face and a message: Come with tomorrow night. We’ll have fun. Promise. S . I sent him a note back: Okay. You owe me.
Sitting down at my desk, I typed the words: I met Will Kincaid today . Then I saved the document and shut down the computer before switching on the lamp next to my bed. Darcy was already asleep when I turned out the light and laid my head on the pillow. I groaned at the unwelcome realization that I needed to find something to wear to the party I had just agreed to attend. But that could wait until tomorrow. I closed my eyes and tried to relax. But sleep wouldn’t come. I rolled over, staring up at the ceiling, the image of Will Kincaid stubbornly swimming in my head.
Snapping awake, I looked around the room, half expecting to find someone looking back. I shook my head groggily; other than Darcy’s snoring, the house was quiet. Apart from my mom’s desk, the newly acquired furnishings around my room created an unfamiliar terrain as a dull twilight-gray light filtered through the blinds. It was either very early, very rainy or both. I couldn’t remember having fallen asleep, but the digital
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