Penelope hoped her pathetic disguise was enough. Her teal hair was, once again, tucked up into the hood of her sweatshirt and she had a pair of sunglasses on, even though the sky was overcast.

At least there were waffles at the end of this, she told herself.

Waffles had been a long-standing tradition on camping trips, and a particular favourite of Penelope's. The promise of waffles had even been enough for her dad to lure her out of the cabin. Of course, now that they were here, back in front of the diner and around people, Penelope was beginning to doubt if any waffle was worth this price.

"Let's go get them waffles," her dad said cheerily, undoing his seatbelt.

Penelope slid her sunglasses down her nose and scanned the street like some kind of spy. Like the day before, there weren't many people out and about; there were a few semi-trucks parked in the empty gravel lot next door and a mud-splattered JEEP a few spaced down from them.

"There's nothing but old timers and truckers in there," he assured her, opening his door and climbing out. "Seriously, I don't think I saw a single person under forty last time. You don't have to worry about being seen."

Penelope scowled and pushed her sunglasses back into place. She knew full-well that she looked stupid, but that wasn't enough to convince her to take them off.

He was probably right. It was unlikely that anyone in that crowd would recognize her, but the mere chance of what-if-they-did haunted her too much. Penelope fidgeted as the voice at the back of her mind kept up its chant.

What if? What if? What if?

"It'll be fine, I promise," he said. Without another word, he closed the door and headed for the restaurant.

After a moment, Penelope took a deep breath, unbuckled her seat belt, and slid out of the truck cab, too. As she stood on the pavement, breathing seemed suddenly much harder. Her back was surprisingly sweaty despite the chill of early morning.

Nope. Nope, I can't do this, Penelope thought, turning back and reaching for the door handle. Waffles be damned.

Click.

Penelope strained on the handle of the door but it didn't budge. She glanced over to the diner only to find her dad standing in the entrance, staring at her with the key fob raised in the air.

He had locked the truck.

"Oh, come on!" Penelope muttered under her breath.

Her dad just nodded towards the diner and then disappeared through the door.

Penelope groaned, pulled her hood down as far as it would go and followed him in.

The diner was warm and smelled of coffee, fried potatoes, and ever-so-faintly of cigarettes even though it had been several decades since they were banned. Her dad had already found a seat in a booth in the diner's farthest corner. He beckoned. After a glance around, she hurried over and slipped into the spot across from him, thankful he had left her the seat facing away from the door.

"Thought you'd prefer some privacy," her dad said, looking mighty smug with himself.

"Yeah, thanks a lot," Penelope hissed. She knew her father meant well, but she hated being forced to do anything.

"It's good for you to get out," he said. "I gave you yesterday, and I know you want to lay low for a while, but I don't want you to become a total hermit."

"I know, I know," Penelope replied even though becoming a hermit sounded like exactly what she wanted to do. "But I have to say... you're wrong."

"What?!" her dad said, hamming up his faux-surprise. "About what?"

"About the patrons of this fine establishment, of course." Her voice took a formal tone, slipping into a bad English accent.

Her dad smirked, doing the same. "Oh, all these fine fellows?"

Penelope glanced over her shoulder. There was a large table of seniors tucked against the window, all chatting animatedly with each other and playing cards between their plates. At the counter were a couple of burly guys—brothers, Penelope guessed, due to the fact they had the same shade of bright red hair—in full camo gear, each shovelling back a formidable stack of pancakes. And at the other end of the counter, nearest to them, sat a middle-aged man in a suit jacket, nursing a cup of coffee while reading the paper.

"Yes, indeed. I recall you said there'd be no one in here under forty," she continued. "But I'm only eighteen."

Her dad rolled his eyes. "Yeah, you really bring the average down."

Penelope, now the smug one, was starting to feel much more comfortable. She took her sunglasses off and but kept her hood up to hide her teal hair. She toyed with an escaped strand, twisting it between her fingers—though it was fading, it still was far too noticeable.

"You could dye it," her dad suggested, noticing her fidgeting.

"I might," she said, tucking the hair out of sight, "if I can find a pharmacy."

"There's one on the main street, near the café," her dad said. "I saw it when I was picking up the pizza last night."

"Good to know."

She reached for one of the diner's menus pinned behind the metal napkin dispenser and cracked it open. Her stomach sank.

Everything on the menu had something to do with the Raven. Feather this, beak that... She realized then that the name of the diner was The Raven's Nest. There was even a special pancake that was chocolate-flavoured and shaped vaguely like a bird.

Ridgestone certainly took their Raven seriously.

"What waffles are you going to get?" her dad asked.

"I-I don't know yet," she muttered. She glanced over the menu, looking for something, anything, that didn't have to do with that damn bird. She found the waffle platter her dad had mentioned earlier. It did look epic, but it was called Best of the Nest and came with a tiny Raven cookie perched on a dollop of whipped cream.

Her appetite was shrinking by the second...

The door's bell jingled as someone else entered. Out of habit, Penelope turned.

This new diner guest was no middle-aged trucker. He pulled off his hood, shaking off the chill. His shiny dark hair was overlong and hanging in his face. Penelope recognized him—it was the guy who had chased her from the little private beach yesterday.

He turned and looked right at her.

Embarrassed, Penelope whipped back around and buried her face in her menu. Great, she thought. The last thing she needed was to run into him again.

"You're Craig, right?"

Penelope peered over the edge of her menu. To her horror, the boy was right there, at their table.

"Yeah," her dad said, squinting at the boy before his eyes widened with understanding. "You're... Liam, right? Beth's kid?"

Beth's kid? Penelope realized. So, that's how he had found her on that beach.

"Yeah," he said with a weary smile. "My mom said you needed a second key for your daughter." Liam's eyes slid down to Penelope.

She pretended not to notice and acted very interested in the Raven-shaped pancake. She suddenly wished she was still wearing her sunglasses.

"Yes!" her dad said, oblivious. "Any idea when it'll be ready?"

"Right now," the boy said. He dug in his pocket and held his closed fist out to Penelope. He opened his hand and a simple silver key was in his palm, attached to a big green diamond-shaped keychain embossed with MOONLIGHT CAMPGROUND.

Penelope peeked up at him. His dark brown eyes were focussed right on her, waiting. She quickly snatched the key and dipped back behind the menu. "T-Thanks."

"They're staying at your campground?" came a new voice.

Penelope was forced to look up again. There was a new person at their table edge, the middle-aged man in the blazer who had been sitting at the counter. His ice-blue eyes were bright and youthful, but his blonde hair had started to recede and whiten.

"Yeah," Liam answered for them, narrowing his eyes at the newcomer. He didn't look happy to see him, but Penelope was just glad that he was no longer looking at her.

"Tourist season has begun!" the man said, triumphant, ignoring Liam's stare and clapping his hands once. "Staying long?"

"Well, for a bit, I guess," her dad began. "But—"

"Why, I should introduce myself," the man said, cutting off her father. "I'm Gunnar Christensen, the mayor of this lovely little town. Allow me to be the first to welcome you." He offered his hand to Penelope's dad.

Her dad stared at the hand, looking a little dazed about the sudden intrusion of the stranger, before finally taking it. "T-Thank you?"

"They got in yesterday," Liam said, smirking at Gunnar. "They've been welcomed plenty."

Gunnar shot Liam a look while giving Penelope's dad a strong, perfect-politician shake. "Well, I may not be the first, but I sure am the happiest. Y'all have some good timing," he said, looking back to her dad. His cheery demeanour returned. "You're just in time for the festival!"

"Festival?" her dad echoed.

"I should be going," Liam cut in, sounding irritated. "Let Beth know if you have any issues with the key." He gave the mayor a strange look as he turned to leave before his eyes slid down to Penelope again.

This time, the look on his face was different. The look was hard like he liked her as much as he did the mayor—which was not at all.

It sent shivers through her.

Did he recognize her?

If Liam did, he didn't say anything, and he didn't hold her gaze. Instead, he strode past, pulling his hood up again as he stepped through the door and into the cold morning air.

Mayor Gunnar didn't seem to care or even notice Liam's exit. He was now leaning on the table edge, now, looming over her dad.

"You have to stay for the festival!" the mayor continued. "It's the fortieth anniversary, so we're going to go all out. You've heard about our Raven, haven't you?"

"Well, uh, s-sort of," her dad sputtered. His gaze turned unintentionally to his daughter, his eyes wide with desperation. But there was nothing she could do to save him.

Unfortunately, the mayor's gaze followed his and landed on Penelope, too. Penelope pressed back into her hood but it didn't provide much cover.

"I'm sure you've heard of the Raven," the mayor continued, now focussed on her. "Kids your age love this sort of spooky—"

Penelope didn't give him a chance to finish. ​​"Sorry, I have to go," she said, sliding out of the booth. "I have to, uh, do an errand." She didn't want to make small talk with a stranger—let alone small talk about the monster.

"Pene—Peab—Wait!" her dad called. He tried to follow after her, but the mayor was blocking his way.

Penelope didn't wait for him to untangle himself from the pushy man. The mayor said something about "kids these days" to her dad, but she didn't stick around long enough to hear the rest before she threw herself out the diner's door.

With the truck door locked, she had nowhere to go, so she headed down the street, retreading the ground she had covered the day before.

Ridgestone was no longer the sleepy ghost town she had explored only a day before. It had awoken. Stores were open, people were out and about—both local and visitor. Even the scenery had changed. There were new, bright-purple banners hanging from the street lamps, a large raven on each one. And hanging across the street was a larger banner, purple letters on black, reading: RAVEN DAYS, JUNE 20th–27th.

Penelope didn't want to be here. There were way too many people, people who stared as they walked past. Maybe it was the fact that she was an out-of-towner or because she was standing stone-still in the middle of the sidewalk. She couldn't go back, so she had to go forward. She dove into the early morning crowd.

She decided to find that pharmacy her father had mentioned. Dying her hair was sounding better by the second—anything to blend in, disappear. She scanned the buildings as she made her way down the street, looking for it. She passed a particularly busy café; the line to the counter came out the door and onto the sidewalk. Penelope had to squeeze through the crowd, trying to get past without taking too much notice. Her dad had said something about it being near a café—

Someone slammed into her, sending her stumbling. Catching herself on the edge of a cement planter, Penelope was barely able to stop herself from falling. She looked back, ready to apologize, but the guy who had hit her hadn't even stopped. He was pushing past the line and into the shop, brandishing his phone like he was in some kind of hurry.

What the hell was his problem? Penelope thought as she shrugged off his rudeness. Even small towns weren't immune to self-important jerks.

But his passing made her take a look at the café itself. Chills shook through her as she realized that it—like apparently everything in Ridgestone—was Raven-themed. Fake birds were scattered throughout, sitting atop the counters and tables and shelving. A gallery of bird paintings adorned the walls and a poster taped to their window, advertising a new charcoal-infused latte called The Raven's Fog.

Penelope rolled her eyes. Her gaze slid past the poster, to the counter beyond and the person at the front of the line.

Liam.

As if he could feel her eyes on him, even for that split second, he looked up. Penelope immediately averted her gaze and dove back into the crowd. She didn't need to give him any other reason to look at her, to notice her, to recognize her.

No. Penelope shook her head. She wouldn't let these thoughts take hold anymore. She was barely famous if she could even call herself that. No one was going to recognize her—

But what if? What if? What if?

The thoughts followed her like whispers through the crowd. Finally, she made it past the line and to the other side. Just as her father had said, a small pharmacy set in a narrow brick building was right next door. She hurried inside. The pharmacy was small and cramped. The aisles of shelves were pressed so closely together so there was barely enough room for one person. Though not as busy as the café, the pharmacy was having its morning rush. People looked up as she passed, eyeing her oddly.

They know who you are, came the voice.

No, they don't! They're looking at you because you're being weird, she thought back, but the voice was not convinced. She threw herself down the first open aisle, just to get out of sight.

It didn't take long to find the hair dye but by the time she reached it, she was panting. Her heart was throbbing in her chest. It felt like the small pharmacy might collapse in on her. She counted her breaths, trying to slow her pulse...

They don't know you, she told herself. They won't recognize you. Why would they?

But knowing something and believing it were two very different things...

But what if? What if? What if?

A young girl darted into her aisle, making Penelope jump and drop the box of dye she was holding.

"Oops, sorry!" the girl said, giving her a look before dashing away again.

The girl was gone, but Penelope's heart was racing. She couldn't do this. She needed to get out of there. She abandoned the hair dye and turned to flee.

But there was now someone at the end of the aisle, blocking her exit. She turned the other way and took the first corner trying to find a different way out. But there was someone there too. Again the small pharmacy felt far too small, like the aisles pressing together until they'd squish her flat.

Gasping now, she ran past aisle after aisle, each one blocked with a person who looked at her with unsettling eyes.

This was too much.

Too much.

"Are you going to pay for that?"

Penelope turned.

There was a woman with greying brown hair wearing a bright red vest. She was glaring at her and pointing at something in her hand.

Penelope looked down. She was holding a box of hair dye, a cheap brand of blue-toned black. Penelope stared at it. She hadn't realized that she had even picked it up.

She looked back to the woman. She realized the red vest had the pharmacy's branding embroidered onto the front. She was an employee.

"O-Of course," Penelope said, trying her best to sound confident though she knew exactly how she looked, all shaky and sweaty and suspicious.

The employee narrowed their eyes at her. "Oh yeah?" She flicked her gaze up and down Penelope. She slowly turned and waved over their shoulder. "Follow me, then."

Penelope had originally hoped to use the self-checkouts and slip out, but now people were staring, so she did as the employee asked. She didn't want to refuse and make more of a scene.

She followed her employee up to the front, to the tills. The employee stepped behind a free counter and Penelope put her small box of hair dye down. The employee swiped the small box across the scanner, keeping a watchful eye on her all the while.

The price of the dye popped up on the screen behind her.

"And how would you like to pay today?" the employee said.

"Debit," Penelope said. She reached for her phone, like she usually did, to tap from her digital wallet, but then remembered that her phone was off—and why it was off. There was no way she was going to turn it on again. Not now. Not here. "W-Wait, no. Cash, actually."

The employee watched as Penelope dug into her wallet, hoping to find a rogue bill. She so rarely used cash these days but, fortunately, there was a crinkled 20 shoved into one of the back pockets. She shoved it towards the employee, who gladly took it and began to count out her change.

"Gloria!" Another employee ran up to the till his eyes so wide they looked like they were bugging out of his head. He, too, had his phone out and was waving it at her.

The employee, Gloria, scowled at the newcomer. "Can't it wait?" she huffed. "I'm with a customer right now."

Gloria's coworker rolled their eyes. "Oh whatever, I'll bet they'll be interested in hearing this too, if they haven't already," he said, leaning across the counter, his eyes wild. "The Raven has been spotted again."