“Will you tell me what really happened last week?” she asked. “With Tyler?”

Michael looked back out at the water. “It’s not important.”

“It is to me.”

He sighed. “The twins were cutting through the woods to walk home. Tyler and Seth roughed them up.”

She frowned. “So you went after Tyler to get back at him?”

“I never went after Tyler.” His sudden fury was palpable. “Believe me, I’d leave you all alone if—” He stopped short. “Forget it.”

“Tell me.”

“In the woods, Nick got away. He ran all the way home and got me. By the time we made it back to them, they’d ganged up on Gabriel. Tyler and Seth ran when I got there.”

Emily frowned. “But Tyler had a black eye—”

“Yeah. You know who gave it to him? Gabriel.” He shook his head. “Of course he’d say it was me. Can’t be running around telling people he got decked by a twelve-year-old.”

She wasn’t surprised to hear her brother was a liar and a bully. “I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t start this fight, Emily.” He looked down at their joined hands. “Even this . . . it won’t work.”

But he didn’t let go.

“We could try,” she whispered.

He stared back at her. “Emily . . .”

“We could stand up to them. I could tell the others about you, that you’re not—”

“Wait. Shhh.” He put a hand to her lips, his attention focused up the hill.

She whispered around his hand. “What?”

His eyes snapped back to hers. “They did follow us. They must have had another car. Is there a different way back up the hill?”

Then she heard branches breaking, boys calling to each other in the darkness. Fear punched her in the stomach, hard.

Michael squeezed her hand. “Come on. Is there another way?”

She shook her head quickly. “No—we beat down this path last summer.”

“We know you’re down there!” Tyler’s voice. “We saw the truck.”

She could almost feel his presence through the air—he was close.

“Through the water,” said Michael. “We can swim across the quarry.”

“You go,” she said. “I’ll stall them—”

He swore. “You are out of your mind. I’m not leaving you to face them.” Then, before she could answer, he was dragging her down the hill, to the edge of the rocks, until the water was glittering below them.

“So we run?” she said.

“Yes. For now.” He glanced back at the darkened woods. “The underbrush will slow them down.”

“When we get to the other side—” she started.

“We’ll figure it out.”

“Together,” she said.

He nodded. “Together.”

Then he took her hand, and they jumped into the water below.

FEARLESS

CHAPTER 1

Hunter Garrity ducked behind a copse of trees and waited. The last week of school, and those jerks were still pulling this crap.

He held his breath and listened. Nothing.

But someone was still back there. He could feel it. He’d been feeling it the entire walk home, but sometime during the last fifteen minutes, they’d drawn close.

They’d never be able to wait him out. He knew that from experience. He had patience in spades and could sit here all night, letting the air and the earth feed him information. His talents weren’t strong enough to demand answers from the elements—yet—so he had to wait, to pay attention to what they were willing to offer.

But if he missed dinner again, his dad would be pissed.

A branch snapped underfoot about twenty feet behind where he was hiding.

Hunter eased out a breath and waited. Another branch, a rustle of leaves.

It seemed like one person, which was surprising. None of them ever had the guts to face him alone—not anymore, anyway. Freshman year, sure, before he’d come home with one bruise too many and his father had taught him to put up a fight.

This year had started differently. Jeremy Rasmussen had been the first one to find out the hard way. On the second day of school, he’d walked into the boy’s bathroom and slammed Hunter face-first into the tile wall.

Hunter had slammed him face-first into a mirror.

Jeremy had earned a broken nose, stitches across one cheek, and a chipped tooth. Hunter had earned two days’ suspension and some greater regard from his classmates.

But they didn’t leave him alone, though they wouldn’t mess with him at school. No, now his walk home was a challenge. A gauntlet. They kept coming up with more creative ways to screw with him.

He kept coming up with more creative paths to travel.

Like this afternoon. He’d turned his walk from one mile to three, cutting through the dairy farm at the end of his road, easing between fence boards until he reached the acre of corn that led to the woods backing his parents’ property.

Just because he could fight didn’t mean he wanted to.

The crunching underbrush stopped, but Hunter couldn’t look without giving away his hiding place. He held his breath again, wondering what their weapon would be this time. Bricks? A two-by-four? Once they’d actually thrown cow manure at him. Idiots. Maybe one day they’d shock him with something effective.

He let a breath out, drew one in, and held it.