week. The canopy of leaves high above were beginning to reveal hidden pigments—hints of the yellows,oranges, and reds that would soon paint the landscape from horizon to horizon.
From the trail, Gabe noticed Seth standing off in the woods. Seth wore a subtle smile, watching silently as Gabe made his way through the brush. He waved Gabe around the other side of the rock pile, nodding at the spot where the M-80 had gone off.
A sensation of pinpricks danced across Gabe’s skin. Someone had restored the altar. “You did this?” Gabe asked.
Seth sniffed, amused. “I didn’t do anything.”
“Then how—”
“I don’t know,” said Seth, bending down to examine the repair. The stones fit together like perfect little puzzle pieces. “I had a weird feeling and came out early this morning to check. It wasn’t you, was it?”
Gabe laughed, though he didn’t find Seth’s question amusing. “Um,” Gabe said. “No. It wasn’t me.” Gabe remembered the voice he’d heard out here— Don’t! —and the whispering from the crevice underneath the stones. It had to have been Seth. The other option was too bizarre to even consider considering. “But nice try,” he added.
Seth flinched. “You think I’m making it up?”
“Well, yeah. That’s how we play the game, isn’t it? We make it up.”
Seth went pale, his face grew grim. “I’m not lying. I didn’t touch these rocks, I swear.”
“Then who did?” Gabe asked, teasing. “The Hunter?”
“It is his altar,” said Seth.
“No.” Gabe paused. “It’s just a pile of rocks that we found in the woods. The Hunter isn’t real. The game isn’t real.”
“Don’t say that,” Seth said.
“You’re joking, right?”
Seth turned away. When Gabe reached out and touchedhis shoulder, Seth spun on him, waving his arms wildly, indicating the stones, the tree, the entire forest. “How do you explain all this?”
“Easy,” Gabe answered quickly, frustrated. “You did it.”
Seth clenched his fists. “I did not .”
“Come on, Seth,” said Gabe. “If you don’t admit it, then I don’t want to play the game anymore.” The words came out of Gabe’s mouth before he’d thought about what their effect would be.
“But I didn’t do this,” he said quietly. Seth’s face seemed to slowly melt. He looked like Gabe had punched him in the stomach. “I called you as soon as I realized that someone else had been out here.”
“The Hunter,” Gabe said. As the truth finally registered, he shivered and stepped away from the altar. “You really do believe.”
Seth closed his eyes, deflated. After a few seconds, he shook his head. His voice trembled when he spoke. “And I guess I’d have to be crazy to think something like that. Right?”
IN THE DAYS FOLLOWING THAT WEEKEND, Gabe kept himself busy. Homework. Chores. Watching Miri while the adults were occupied. When he saw Seth on the bus or in the hallways between classes, Seth chattered on about a variety of topics ranging from the promising new movies coming out that fall, to the best types of feed for elderly horses, to the precarious state of the comic book industry—everything but the confrontation in the woods.
Gabe assumed Seth was filling up with noise what would have otherwise been awkward silence. In the moment when Seth had denied rebuilding the altar, Gabe felt their friendship change. There was no going back.
He was happy to have found a lunch table filled with kids who were welcoming, who were intrigued by stories about the big creepy house where he lived, who hadn’t once judged him or tried to trick him. And he found Mazzy to be more and more interesting. During gym class, she’d discovered a hula hoop in the supply closet and impressed everyone by keeping it going for the entire period. Forty whole minutes. It had been awesome. Even better, Mazzy came to the bus at the end of each school day to say good-bye. She really seemed to like him. And he felt the same. Every time he
From the trail, Gabe noticed Seth standing off in the woods. Seth wore a subtle smile, watching silently as Gabe made his way through the brush. He waved Gabe around the other side of the rock pile, nodding at the spot where the M-80 had gone off.
A sensation of pinpricks danced across Gabe’s skin. Someone had restored the altar. “You did this?” Gabe asked.
Seth sniffed, amused. “I didn’t do anything.”
“Then how—”
“I don’t know,” said Seth, bending down to examine the repair. The stones fit together like perfect little puzzle pieces. “I had a weird feeling and came out early this morning to check. It wasn’t you, was it?”
Gabe laughed, though he didn’t find Seth’s question amusing. “Um,” Gabe said. “No. It wasn’t me.” Gabe remembered the voice he’d heard out here— Don’t! —and the whispering from the crevice underneath the stones. It had to have been Seth. The other option was too bizarre to even consider considering. “But nice try,” he added.
Seth flinched. “You think I’m making it up?”
“Well, yeah. That’s how we play the game, isn’t it? We make it up.”
Seth went pale, his face grew grim. “I’m not lying. I didn’t touch these rocks, I swear.”
“Then who did?” Gabe asked, teasing. “The Hunter?”
“It is his altar,” said Seth.
“No.” Gabe paused. “It’s just a pile of rocks that we found in the woods. The Hunter isn’t real. The game isn’t real.”
“Don’t say that,” Seth said.
“You’re joking, right?”
Seth turned away. When Gabe reached out and touchedhis shoulder, Seth spun on him, waving his arms wildly, indicating the stones, the tree, the entire forest. “How do you explain all this?”
“Easy,” Gabe answered quickly, frustrated. “You did it.”
Seth clenched his fists. “I did not .”
“Come on, Seth,” said Gabe. “If you don’t admit it, then I don’t want to play the game anymore.” The words came out of Gabe’s mouth before he’d thought about what their effect would be.
“But I didn’t do this,” he said quietly. Seth’s face seemed to slowly melt. He looked like Gabe had punched him in the stomach. “I called you as soon as I realized that someone else had been out here.”
“The Hunter,” Gabe said. As the truth finally registered, he shivered and stepped away from the altar. “You really do believe.”
Seth closed his eyes, deflated. After a few seconds, he shook his head. His voice trembled when he spoke. “And I guess I’d have to be crazy to think something like that. Right?”
IN THE DAYS FOLLOWING THAT WEEKEND, Gabe kept himself busy. Homework. Chores. Watching Miri while the adults were occupied. When he saw Seth on the bus or in the hallways between classes, Seth chattered on about a variety of topics ranging from the promising new movies coming out that fall, to the best types of feed for elderly horses, to the precarious state of the comic book industry—everything but the confrontation in the woods.
Gabe assumed Seth was filling up with noise what would have otherwise been awkward silence. In the moment when Seth had denied rebuilding the altar, Gabe felt their friendship change. There was no going back.
He was happy to have found a lunch table filled with kids who were welcoming, who were intrigued by stories about the big creepy house where he lived, who hadn’t once judged him or tried to trick him. And he found Mazzy to be more and more interesting. During gym class, she’d discovered a hula hoop in the supply closet and impressed everyone by keeping it going for the entire period. Forty whole minutes. It had been awesome. Even better, Mazzy came to the bus at the end of each school day to say good-bye. She really seemed to like him. And he felt the same. Every time he
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