The sound of shouting pulls us out of our daze. Todd’s hand squeezes my own as we both turn sharply to see an old man—the local crazy, up in a tree, and a younger boy running away. “Oh my god,” Todd says suddenly.

“What is it?” I ask sharply. I know that voice. That’s Todd’s pained voice; his panic voice; his what-have-I-done voice. This can’t be good.

Todd is frozen in place, staring after the boy running away. “It’s….him. I know him. He was….he is….he’s my…” he can’t seem to find the right words. “He’s Tom,” he finally settles on.

“Tom,” I repeat slowly, wondering if there’s a hidden message in those simple words. “And who is Tom?”

“I thought I’d never see him again,” Todd murmurs.

“Who? Who is Tom?” I demand. I’m facing him now, suspicion rising in my jealous mind.

“He’s new in town.” That’s not Todd’s voice. I turn sharply to see the old man standing next to us, looking at Todd curiously. “He was spying on you,” the man adds.

The breath catches in Todd’s throat. “Oh no,” he whispers.