The Before by Emily McKay

that.
    I quickly scaled the fence to the west of our house, wedging my shoe on the cross-brace on this side and ignoring the way the wood bit into my palms as I levered myself over. The other side of the fence was smooth, so I had to drop to the ground in Mrs. Jensen’s backyard. I didn’t think she was the gun-nut type, but who could say for sure. She was in her seventies and lived alone. For all I knew she was paranoid. And suddenly I felt bad for not thinking to check on her before now. At least at our house we had each other. I kept to the back of her yard, creeping along behind her mountain laurels, praying that maybe she’d gone to visit those cousins of hers she was always complaining about.
    I had not done this tons of times. I had done this once. Precisely once. Ninth grade. Stevie Kessler’s kegger. Practically the entire school had been there and I’d talked my friend Katrina into going with me. She had had a great time. I’d spent the entire night flitting around the edges of the party hoping to catch sight of Carter Olson. It had not been the first or the last bad decision I’d made when it came to him.
    That was why I was so tough on Mom about Dad. I got it. I knew all about that crazy, obsessive thing we Price women seemed particularly vulnerable to. It made us stupid and weak. The world was changing quickly. The stupid and weak weren’t going to survive.
    By the time I’d climbed the fence separating Mrs. Jensen from the Munozes’ yard, I was starting to fatigue. I had two—or was it three?—more yards to go. Why couldn’t I remember how many houses were on our street? Or who lived in them? At the very end of the street was that sporty family with all the soccer balls littering their yard. And next to them was . . . shit! Next to them was the single dad with the gun rack mounted in his truck and all the hunting bumper stickers.
    No way I was going through his yard. I’d have to cross into the yard behind the Munozes and reach the street north of us that way. From there I’d only have to cross one major road to reach the high school. I dropped back down to the ground off the Munozes’ fence and landed hard on my ankle, yelping louder than I intended. A nearby dog barked, setting off a cacophony of yelps throughout the neighborhood. I crouched low, panting. Dogs. Why hadn’t I thought about dogs before now? Thank God I hadn’t encountered any before now!
    I crept along the wooden fence until I found a hole and peered into the yard behind the Munozes’ on the other block. A pit bull lunged at the hole. All I could see was sharp teeth and snarling gums. I staggered back a step, falling on my butt. Shit.
    A light flickered on inside the Munozes’. I saw Mr. Munoz walk across the living room toward the sliding glass door at the back of the house. If their house was like ours—and it would be, because all these houses were essentially the same—there would be a light switch for the back floodlights right by the door. And then I’d be screwed.
    I hobbled along the back fence, back toward my house, and scrambled up the fence. Pain screamed through my ankle as I scurried up the wood, which creaked ominously as I flung a leg over. The floodlights flashed on just as I dropped over the fence. Shit.
    Now I was wounded, exhausted, and closer to the house than I had been a moment ago. Great.
    My phone bleeped, letting me know I’d gotten a text.
    What the . . . ? Would Mom text me? Maybe she’d found Mel.
    I pulled it out of my back pocket and glanced at it. It was a number I didn’t even recognize, but from a local area code.
    Hey, Lily. This is Joe. Mel’s at my house. Don’t know what she wants.
    Joe? I typed back, my mind racing.
    Joe? Joe who? Did I even know a Joe? I tried to think of the places Mel might go. The Joes she might know. And then it hit me. Joe Mateo.
    I typed frantically. Joe! Thank God she’s with you! Thnx!
    He lived just a block over. We’d gone to elementary school