Extraordinary October by Diana Wagman

I said. “I can’t stay, I—”
    â€œI’ve missed you.” He interrupted.
    â€œReally?” It had only been a few hours.
    â€œI keep thinking about you.”
    â€œYou do?”
    â€œFor real.” He turned to face me.
    The neon light from the Stop N Shop sign turned his face icy blue. I had never seen such perfectly smooth skin, as if he were a marble statue. He looked down and his long black eyelashes brushed his cheeks.
    â€œWhy?” I whispered. “Why me?”
    â€œI want to know,” he began, smiling impishly. “Do you like to play in the leaves? Have you ever been swimming in a river? Have you climbed up a mountain to see the view?”
    Each thing he said conjured up images so real I could smell the dusty leaves, taste the river water on my tongue, and feel the breeze from the top of a mountain.
    â€œHave you ever played Hide And Seek in a forest?” He kept going, “Danced on moss? Watched a mother fox with her babies?”
    I laughed. I had to. He looked like such a city boy. “Sure,” I said. “Some of those things. With my dad.”
    â€œWould you like to—with me?”
    â€œI think so.”
    He put out his hand as if would lead me to the woods right then and there. In the shadowy car, his hand looked huge, almost inhuman. His nails were too long and dirty. Involuntarily, I leaned back.
    â€œLet’s go right now,” he said.
    I could see my reflection in his eyes and my face was stretched and distorted like in a funhouse mirror. He bent toward me. His breath smelled like green plants and very faintly of rot. I frowned, but for some reason I wanted to kiss him so badly I didn’t care what he tasted like. He smoothed my hair off my face and blinked and my reflection was gone. I leaned toward him—
    Crunch! The car jerked forward at the same time I heard metal meet metal. We’d been hit. “What the?” My mom’s car was a lot nicer than my dad’s. I looked at Trevor. He was furious and in his anger his chin looked pointier, his eyes larger. Then he shook all over like a dog waking up and shrugged at me.
    â€œWhat a drag,” he said.
    â€œNo kidding.”
    I got out of the car. Jed’s fancy red Charger was somehow connected to my bumper.
    â€œOh wow,” Jed said. “It’s you. Wow, man, I’m sorry.”
    â€œWhat were you doing? Are you wasted?”
    â€œAbsolutely not. I dropped my phone. I just looked down for a minute.”
    â€œOh my God. You are such an idiot.”
    When I glanced back in the car for Trevor, he was gone, and the passenger door was wide open. I was disappointed in him, running off at the first sign of trouble. What did I know about him? Nothing much. For a second I saw again his odd angry face and I could smell something dead. I shivered.
    Jed jumped up on his bumper and rocked his car up and down. The two bumpers disconnected. “No problem-o,” he said.
    â€œWhat? Look at my car!” But surprisingly, the bump hadn’t done any damage.
    â€œThose plastic bumpers you got are awesome,” he said. Then he looked around. “Where’d your friend go?”
    â€œI don’t know.”
    â€œLock your doors on the way home, okay? This isn’t such a safe neighborhood anymore.”
    â€œThat’s funny coming from you.”
    â€œThere are worse things than a fender bender.”
    â€œBye, Jed.”
    Another perfect opportunity with Trevor—ruined. Angrily I got into my car and started it up. Jed watched as I backed around him and drove away.

6.
    The computer screen was the only light in my room. Sometimes I think the Internet was invented for insomniacs. I have never been a good sleeper, but the web—the perfect name for the way it catches you and won’t let you go—makes the middle of the night much more pleasant. There is a whole world out there that is never asleep.
    I carried my