As Lena had expected, Kara was already drunk when she got home that afternoon. She skipped going inside, slipped around the back and sat under the open dining room window. Kara wouldn’t spot her there unless she leaned over the sill and looked down, and Lena knew she’d be long gone before the woman stumbled to the kitchen door and got it open. She stifled a laugh as her stepmother failed to slur various curses, choking on it as an empty bottle sailed over her head, shattering when it hit a rock sticking out of the overgrown grass. She swallowed, rubbing her arms as a chill shot through her.

I can’t risk her finding me while she’s like this.

She waited until a door slammed further inside, then got up and sprinted to the trail curving into the woods that backed the street, wondering briefly why none of the yards were fenced in. She’d spotted it from her window a few days after they had moved in, but this was the first time she’d followed it. It led to a quiet clearing; the grass scattered with early fall wildflowers, a smooth boulder dipping on the bank of a large pond. Across the clear, still water, a doe and her fawn were heading back into the trees.

It’s so peaceful out here. She pulled in a deep breath of fresh air. Wait, where’s that music coming from?

She followed it to a stand of towering pines that nearly cut the clearing in two, peeking around one to see an iPod speaker set on an old stump.

That’s the guy from my chemistry class, she thought. But what’s he doing out here?

He was wearing loose black sweatpants and old sneakers, his damp white shirt clinging to every curve and contour of his body. His long black hair was tied back as usual, his tan skin shining with sweat. Her jaw dropped when he performed a flying spin kick, his landing nearly silent. The heavy rock track that had been playing faded out as he caught his breath, replaced with a soothing instrumental that reminded her of her father’s tai-chi music. She was surprised when he switched to it, undiluted power clear in each graceful move.

She ducked behind the tree before he noticed her, leaning heavily against the trunk. Feeling the blush burning her cheeks, she bit her lip, the memories flooding back. She still couldn’t forgive herself for what had happened to Andy, not long before the fire. The survivor’s guilt twisted and roiled in her gut—she couldn’t go through that again, she just couldn’t!

She hardly noticed when the music stopped, the chill in the wind biting through her thin jacket. The sun had dipped past the tree line, the sky overhead tinged with the first stars.

How long have I been standing out here?

She jumped when her phone went off, a reminder that there were only five minutes until curfew. It had taken almost twenty to reach the clearing. She gulped, hoping Kara had passed out on the couch, and that she’d been too drunk to remember to set the alarm.