"Want to talk about it?" Sharon asked.
Mark glanced at her curiously. "Talk about what? Did I do something wrong?"
"No," Sharon replied. "But I'm your mother. I can tell when something's bothering you. You get quiet. But quiet won't fix anything."
Mark took a deep breath, then sighed. "I-I guess I'm just not sure I like Silverdale," he said, looking away.
"This is only Thursday. In less than a week you've already decided you don't like it? You were the one who was so excited about coming, remember?"
Mark nodded glumly. "I know. And I know how much Dad likes it. Even Kelly's stopped sulking about her friends at home."
"And you don't want to rain onanybodys parade. Right?"
Mark hesitated, then nodded. "I guess so," he admitted. But then, as he met his mother's gaze, everything that had been building up inside him since Monday came pouring out. "All anyone here thinks about is sports," he said. "Mom, I can't even get a job, 'cause I'm not on any of the teams."
Sharon stared at him in confusion. What on earth was he talking about? "A job?" she asked. "Why are you looking for a job?"
Mark flushed self-consciously. "I-Well, I thought if I had a job, Dad might get off my back about going out for sports. I mean, if I was working, I wouldn't have time to play, would I?"
Sharon could hardly keep from laughing out loud, but the look of appeal in her son's eyes stopped her. "Well, aren't you the devious one," she said, allowing herself a small chuckle. "I have to admit, it would probably work. So what's the problem?"
Mark shrugged, and told her what had happened at the camera store on Monday afternoon. The scene had been repeated on Tuesday and Wednesday afternoons, as he'd presented himself at other shops. Today, Henry Spalding's words had been repeated to him again, this time at the drugstore. "What am I going to do? I'm not going to make any of the teams, and I'm not going to be able to get a job, and Dad's going to start riding me."
The two of them sat without speaking for a few minutes, as if the silence itself might provide a solution. Finally, Sharon shrugged. "I wish I knew what to tell you," she said. "I'll try to keep your father from pushing you too hard. But you know your father." She gave Mark an affectionate pat on the back, then scrambled to her feet. "Come on. Supper's almost ready."
But Mark shook his head. "I'm not very hungry," he said, looking up at her. "Is it all right if I just skip dinner? Maybe I'll takeChivas up into the hills."
Sharon considered it for a moment, then made up her mind. He's almost sixteen, she told herself. He has to start working things through for himself. "Okay," she agreed. "But just make sure you get back before dark. I don't want you getting lost up there."
Mark grinned at her, and the change in his expression alone was enough to make Sharon certain she'd made the right decision. "I won't. But even if I did,Chivas would get us back."
As Sharon started back to the kitchen where Kelly was already yelling that the steaks were going to burn, Mark andChivas disappeared down the driveway.
Mark wasn't certain how long he'd been gone. In fact, he hadn't really been paying too much attention to how they'd gotten here. WithChivas romping ahead of him, he'd walked north until he'd come to the edge of town, then followed the winding course of the river for a quarter of a mile to a small footbridge. Crossing the bridge, he'd found three paths leading in as many directions, and chosen the one that would take him uphill. Within twenty minutes they'd come to the edge of the valley and started up into the mountains.
The tree-dotted meadowlands of the valley quickly gave way to thick stands of pines interspersed with groves of aspen.Chivas, his whole body quivering with pleasure at the strange aromas that filled his nostrils, kept bounding off into the woods, giving chase to the squirrels and birds, or anything else that moved. Mark himself kept to the trail, working ever higher. Then, as he came around a tight bend, he found himself standing at the top of a steep bluff that commanded a view of the entire valley. For some reason the crest of the bluff was clear of trees, but in several places the tall grass had been matted down where deer had apparently bedded for the night. Mark glanced around forChivas, but the big dog was nowhere to be seen. The sun, still a little above the horizon, felt warm after the deep shade of the woods, so he dropped down onto one of the deer beds and gazed out over the valley.
A few minutes later he stretched out on his back and let his eyes close. Just for a few seconds…
It was with a start that he realized the sun had dropped below the horizon.Chivas, a low growl rumbling in his throat, was standing next to Mark, his body trembling as he gazed off into the distance, one forepaw raised slightly off the ground, his tail dropping in a slight curve behind him, every muscle in his body tense.
Mark shook the sleep out of his head, then got to his knees. Squinting in the fading daylight, he followedChivas's steady gaze but could see nothing.
Still, something had alerted the dog, and jarred Mark himself out of his light sleep.
But what?
And then he heard it.
It was a low, vaguely wailing sound, and when it first drifted up to him out of the valley, he wasn't sure he'd heard it at all. But then, as he strained his ears andChivas's growl grew louder, the sound changed, becoming a scream of something that sounded like pain.
Pain, or fury.
It was an animal sound, vicious and feral, and Mark felt a chill in his body as the howl slashed through the peace of the evening.
A split-second later the howling abruptly ended, leaving not even an echo to reverberate through the hills.
Chivas, at his side, barked once then fell silent.
The two of them stayed where they were for several long minutes, listening for the sound again, but a silence seemed to gather, and as the sun continued to set and the sky in the west took on a brilliant, pinkish tinge, long, deep shadows could be seen in the valley below.
"Come on, boy," Mark said, instinctively dropping his voice to little more than a whisper. "Let's get home." He rose to his feet and started back along the path through the woods. This timeChivas, instead of bounding off on a path of his own, stayed close to his master. Every few yards the dog paused to look back, a soft whimper rising in his throat. Mark hurried his step, but it wasn't until they'd crossed the bridge once again and were back in the more familiar surroundings of the town that he finally felt himself begin to relax.
Linda Harris watched anxiously as Tiffany Welch took a deep breath, ran three quick steps, jumped, then hit the end of the springboard perfectly. The board launched her upward, and she executed a near-perfect flip in the air before landing unsteadily on the shoulders of Josh Hinsdale and Pete Nakamura. The two boys, feeling Tiffany's legs tremble, grasped her ankles to steady her, and she threw her arms wide as she remained on their shoulders for a moment before losing her balance. Yelling for them to let go, she jumped back to the mats that covered the floor of the gym.
"All right," she said, reading the look in Linda's eyes. "So it wasn't perfect. But at least I got up, and by the time we have the homecoming game, I'll be able to stay up."
Linda shook her head. "Or you'll wind up with a broken back. I'm telling you, Tiff, if Mrs. Haynes finds out what you're doing, she'll kill us all."
"So we won't let her find out," Tiffany said. "I'll just keep practicing until I get it right, and then we'll show her."
"Well, I'm not practicing anymore tonight," Linda told her. She glanced up at the clock. "It's almost nine, and I still have to do my algebra. Come on."
The two girls said good-bye to Josh and Pete, then hurried into the locker room, showered quickly, and dressed. "Want to grab a Coke?" Tiffany asked as they left fifteen minutes later, their hair still wet, but drying quickly in the dry mountain air.