Marvin is trying to shove his nose up my butt.

When I'm not redirecting his eager attention, I'm stumbling over him every step I take through the dark garden. This nose-butt-obstacle course is pretty standard procedure whenever I come into the Hessian's yard. It is especially bad when I'm trying to be stealthy, sneaking into their backyard.

Marvin is Burlap's one-year-old boxer. He's a rust-brown beast with a white chest and a perpetually puzzled-looking black face. He is just tall enough for his nose to be highly invasive. He is not the brightest dog on the planet, but there's good reason for Burlap to adore the mutt. He's pretty cute.

Except when he is undermining my efforts to reach his master.

The dog might be obnoxiously trying to pretend he's a seal and I'm a ball he needs to balance on the tip of his nose, but at least he's not barking the household awake. He is making it seriously hard to fight my way through broad-leaved plants and muddy flowerbeds at the back of the house without face-planting, but I guess having him around will at least warn me if there are any snakes around.

I don't want to use the spare key hidden inside the horny gnome guarding the fishpond because he scares me. Just to clarify, the gnome has actual horns... on his head. He also has the kind of grin found on posters advertising a night of drunken debauchery at Sirus' Pub - the dodgy bar in the middle of nowhere between Silverview and Banana Bay. I have no idea what the creator of that gnome was thinking, but there it is, lounging on the edge of the small pond, constantly freaking me out because... Jet.

Need I say more?

If I can make it to the backyard, I can get into the house through Burlap's bedroom window. That way, I won't wake his parents or his grandfather. Not that anything ever wakes his granddad, even when they're trying to do so on purpose.

Burlap's bedroom is closest to the kitchen, dining room and living area. All the other bedrooms are tucked into the back of the house in a virtually separate wing, except for the guest bedroom across the hall from Burlap's. That was some seriously good planning because we're often here, being noisy while his parents are relaxing in their private living room or trying to sleep in preparation for the night shift. Unless we're being super loud, their section of the house is pretty well insulated against any sound from the front.

We usually avoid hanging out here when one of Burlap's parents is on the night shift at the hospital, but it happens occasionally.

After playing ball on the beach for a while, I called it a night since my heart really wasn't in it anymore, and I'd eaten enough sand for the day. I wanted to see Burlap. I told Delia and Sy that I was ready to go home and would catch a ride with someone if they wanted to stay longer, but they were also ready to leave.

We've been up since early this morning to decorate the yachts, and it has been quite an eventful day. Barn and Lurch also said they were going home, and Jet disappeared a while before that when his phone buzzed. Akari was ready for the next phase of their project, no doubt.

After parking my dad's car in the garage, I grabbed my bike and drove to Burlap's house, cutting the engine when I arrived to push it through the pedestrian gate. That was when Marvin showed up and started acting like I was the postman here to deliver his letters. For some reason, I'm apparently not carrying them in a bag like a normal person, so he has to dig for them in weird places.

"Seriously," I mutter, moving the dog's nose from its target for the 100th time. I'm about to slide the window open and climb in, and if he keeps up his molestation, this is going to become extremely awkward very fast once I'm halfway through the window, with my butt still sticking out within his reach.

I've suffered through that too many times before...

I carefully slide the window up and look around for something to distract the animal. I use my cellphone torch on the ground and grin, pleased when I see the seed pods, the Royal Poinciana, towering over me, conveniently scattered around me. Covering my wickets from the eager dog, I bend, grab one of the long, hard pods from the ground and fling it away. Marvin loves playing catch with these pods and happily gives chase just long enough for me to dive through the window.

This is not how this was supposed to go.

I have a pretty well-practised manoeuvre where I dive in, turn and shut the window, all in one smooth move. It's a thing of beauty! If Burlap is asleep, I bounce on the bed beside him and pester him until he decides to stop pretending he's sleeping. He will then swear at me, asking me why we're even friends and then I make us some coffee and after the first sip, he remembers.

Burlap is grumpy when he wakes up until he gets some good coffee.

It's a tried and tested technique that has worked well for many years, but it is not working tonight. The dive went smoothly, but the landing was soft and firm and weird and way too high. It makes it hard to figure out where the window edge is that I need to drag down.

Someone is groaning, and my attempt to jump to my feet causes me to fall flat on my side instead. I'm about to figure out what I'm looking at when a lamp turns on, blinding me. I blink my eyes, rubbing my eyelids with the hand covering my face to get away from the glare. When I'm able to see again, my involuntary startled movement smacks the back of my head into the section of the wall beneath the window.

Yikes!

I'm definitely in Burlap's room. I didn't enter a stranger's house or the wrong room. This is Burlap's bed. I recognize the black, grey and red duvet cover. The bed's location is just completely off, and I'm looking at long blond hair flowing from the back of a girl's head. While I gape at her, trying to figure out how I ended up in Burlap's bed faster than planned, Wendy turns around to face me. She blinks blurry, swollen eyes and reaches out to touch my face, frowning in confusion. She might think she's dreaming.

I sure feel like I'm dreaming.

Using my elbow to prop myself up, I see Burlap on Wendy's other side, shoving pillows in place so he can lounge half upright to see me.

"Am I interrupting something?" I ask, getting a snort from him in answer.

"Are we going to have a threesome now? Score..." Wendy mumbles, giving me a smile that almost looks like hers but doesn't quite convince me.

"When did you move your bed?" I ask Burlap, patting Wendy's head when she snuggles into my chest. I'm pretty sure I'm getting mud on his duvet. I wasn't planning on getting into his bed, wearing my dirty sneakers, and Marvin made it impossible to stop and take them off first or clean them.

"I had to make room," Burlap says, indicating the area where his double bed usually stands, far away from the window. There's another table there now. The third one in his room so far and I can see why. The other two have no more room for his cool Lego projects, and he had to make more room for his current one, which has become huge since I saw it last.

"Wow!" I say, impressed to see how far he'd come with the massive AT-AT Walker from Star Wars. I helped him with it when he started, but this week, I've been working on my Kira project, and he got pretty far without my help... or hindrance, as he sometimes unfairly calls it. "That's so cool, dude!"

"Thanks," he grins. "I'm getting there, but I could really use your help with the upcoming tricky part."

"Why are you here?" Wendy suddenly demands to know, pulling away from me, her eyes anxiously scanning my face now that they're used to the light spilling from the bedlamp, bathing the room in gold. "You're not supposed to be here!"

"Wow! What's with the rejection?! Only a couple of hours ago, you wanted me to have your babies, and now you're chasing me away," I chuckle, rubbing the hair from her face.

She looks like someone who went to sleep with hair that wasn't properly dry or brushed, and now it's all over the place. Pretty scary-looking. Her eyes, though puffy, are more focused than they were at the dance, and her lip isn't bleeding any more. All in all, she seems more like herself.

"Are you just really fickle, or did Burlap give you a biology lesson, and now you're less keen on the whole baby thing?"

"Shut up," she chuckles, rolling onto her back to stare at the ceiling while Burlap and I laugh. "I have no idea what you're talking about," she huffs. "Why aren't you with Kira? Did I cause you to fight," she suddenly whispers in a voice so quiet I can barely hear her. I glance at Burlap for clues to Wendy's mental state and wince when he subtly shakes his head, the look on his face not soothing at all.

Come on! Burlap is supposed to be soothing! That's his thing!

I don't like this. I don't want to talk about myself; I need to know that Wendy is alright, and I need to understand the miserable look on Burlap's face. My brain is trying to fill in the blanks, and it always takes way too many detours through hellish landscapes when it has to do it without help.

"No, Wends, it's all good," I assure her. "Kicks went home because she was tired. She's still recovering from her fall. We had a blast, though. We really did. It was seriously fun."

Whatever Wendy sees on my face when she glances at me convinces her, and a small smile creeps onto her lips when she sighs and closes her eyes. In this light, I can see some scrapes on the side of her face, and my stomach clenches hard enough to be painful.

"Are you okay, Wends?" I ask in a voice as dry as sandpaper, reaching out to touch her warm cheek.

"Yes, Burlap gave me food and a shower," she grins, and when I make bug eyes at him, Burlap chuckles.

"Wow, seems like I missed a lot!"

"He did it wrong," she grumbles. "He was supposed to take my clothes off first."

"Yeah, yeah," Burlap scoffs, rubbing a hand over her head. Wendy is drowning in one of his T-shirts and track pants. She looks right at home in his clothes and on his bed. Usually, when she stays over, she sleeps in the spare bedroom, which has become more hers than anything else. A lot of her stuff made its way in there over the years. Even clothes, but she always says Burlap's T-shirts and track pants make the most comfy PJs.

The fact that she's in his bed rather than the spare one pushes up my worry levels. Exactly what happened to her since I saw her yesterday afternoon? I know she went home to work on a commission to create a large glass and iron terrarium for the town library. Wendy's metalwork started as a passionate hobby, but is fast becoming a possible career she's already making some money from.

When she gets inspired, she goes into silent mode and isolates herself in her shed to work like she did yesterday. At least, that's what I thought she did.

"I've been trying to train him on how to shower people, but it's not sticking, sorry," I tell her, and she smiles, rubbing a hand over her eyes. "Seriously, I'm dying here, guys," I beg. "Please, what's going on?"

"I... uhm, I just..." Wendy being unable to say what she wants to say is not a good sign and when she rolls over, burying her face under Burlap's arm, I'm ready to scream at them.

"Franklin locked her in the storage closet in the front hall this morning while he and two friends robbed the place," Burlap blurts, seeing how tense I am.

"What?!" That was not what I expected.

"Last night, her mom and Julius left for their weekend away."

Yes! That's right! Wendy mentioned they were joining some friends for a couple of fishing days at Lake Asra, two hours inland from here. Lake Asra is a beautiful salt lake with zero fish in it. These frequent fishing trips only involve fishing for bottles in their refrigerator. They always come home hungover and sleep the entire day following their trip.

"I think he forgot I was in there after a while, and I was too scared to break out and remind him because he wasn't alone anymore. I can take on one or two, but not three of them," Wendy says, turning her head to rest her cheek against Burlap's chest. I try to digest what she's telling me while Burlap runs his fingers through her hair, looking at me over her head.

The guy looks ready to commit murder.

"Did they hurt you, Wendy?" I ask with a throat that has gone tight with dread.

"No," she says. "Well, not much. Franklin knocked me out before he shoved me in there. I don't think he knew I was out. He just wanted me to stop biting him and trying to hit him with my bull pin. I don't know how long I was out. I couldn't tell if it was day or night when I came to," she swallows, taking a deep breath. "I heard music and shouting and cupboards and drawers opening and closing. When it became quiet, I thought they passed out drunk... or left. I had to pee, so I kicked the door open."

I know the closet she means. There's a spot that isn't very strong anymore because Julius and Franklin are always punching holes in it when they are drunk or mad or both. It's patched with cheap, thin plywood and painted over.

"I got my hand through, unlocked the door and rolled out. I was ready for a fight and frantically searching for a good weapon, but I was alone in the house, and it was afternoon."

That is a relief.

"I'm sorry you spent hours in the storage closet, Wends." That could not have been comfortable, it is a small space with a couple of shelves and a bottom area packed with junk. She would've barely fit in there.

"There's more," Burlap says, wrapping his arms around Wendy when she shakes her head. "They weren't gone. While she was in the bathroom, they were clearing out the shed."

"No!" Dread crashes over me like a bucket of ice water.

The shed is Wendy's domain. It is her happy place, where she spends hours doing metal and woodwork. Sometimes, she sleeps in there on a beat-up old couch if she works until late. She creates awesome candle holders shaped like tree branches with leaves, funky frames for glass coffee tables, and coat racks. So many things.

It's part of who she is, and her work is really good. I bought my mom two small three-branch candle holders for Christmas, and she ordered two more... and then another one when Delia decided one was hers.

Delia dripped hers full of wax and colour crayons to give it an old, used look... because she's Delia and to her, it's all about the art. She says the wax hanging from the holder parts and running in dried rivulets over the leaves enhances... something.

"Did they do a lot of damage?"

"She saw a panel van leave just before she reached the shed. The shed's doors were open, and when she hurried inside to see how bad it was, Franklin jumped her and knocked her down. He must've still been inside."

Anger is boiling inside me in an acidic brew, pushing at the back of my throat, making me gag. I am itching to get out of here and deal with the bastard.

"I did the self-defence moves Hunter always teaches me when he's visiting you," Wendy mutters. "It was harder to use because Hunter never tries to hurt me..."

"She hit him with a two-by-four," Burlap says, seeing the horror on my face grow.

"I planked him," Wendy laughs humourlessly. "I would've rodded him if I could reach my iron rods, but the planks were closer, and I was pinned on my back. I could only twist so far... it had to do. He squealed like a piglet when the blow made him lift off me enough to knee him in his family jewels. I crawled to my feet, hit him with the plank again, and ran."

Burlap protectively wraps his arms around her head, his lips turning white in an angry line. I have so many questions, but Wendy is crying, and I can't handle seeing that. It's like watching the Eifel Tower melt. Wendy is a fighter; she never backs down. She never cries.

I think she's been crying a lot tonight.

"How did you end up at the dance?" I ask, laying a hand on her back.

"I walked," she sniffs.

She is fit and could do that, but it would've taken her about three hours, and I'm not sure what state she was in. There are no shortcuts from here to town, and there's a section where you have to walk all the way around a small lake, which makes it further, even by car.

"Wends, why didn't you call us at any stage?" I ask, feeling horrible that I was enjoying the afternoon and the dance while she was in hell.

"I didn't have my phone," she shrugs. "It fell somewhere during our tussle before he shoved me into the closet."

I'm going to wring that bastard's neck when I find him; there's no doubt in my mind.

"How did you get so drunk?" That is the part of her story that baffles me the most. Was she upset and bought a case of beer and drank it all?

"I didn't have my phone or my wallet with me, and I was getting really thirsty. When I passed through the park near the lake, I found a soda bottle someone had left on a picnic table. It was about a third full still, so I drank most of it..."

"I take it, it wasn't soda?."

"From her description, I think someone mixed shooters with lemonade in that soda bottle," Burlap clarifies the situation for me. "She also had a bad headache after breaking out of the closet and drank a couple of pain tablets earlier while she was in the bathroom."

"Oh, no!" I gasp. That could've been really bad! "Wends, I'm so sorry we weren't there for you," I exclaim, sliding closer to lie against her back. She must've been so scared and felt so alone.

"You didn't know," she mutters, taking the tissue Burlap pulled from the box on his nightstand to blow her nose. "I heard Burlap looking for me while I was in the closet, but I didn't want to answer. I was afraid they would hurt him. I didn't know they were gone."

"Yeah, they must've left periodically because nobody answered from the house or the shed," Burlap agrees.

"I was working most of the night and slept in the shed. I was about to lock up and go to my room to get ready for the yacht decorating when I heard things breaking in the house. I grabbed the closest weapon I could reach, a Broad-head Bull Pin, locked the shed and ran to the house."

I can feel her body tensing while she relives the memory, and I instinctively pat her head like she's my pet. "That's when he grabbed me. I bit him, and I tried to hit him with the Bull Pin, but he punched me... and then I woke up in the closet.

"He was alone when I fought him. He wasn't alone when I woke up. I have no idea how long I was in there. I felt pretty bad. I was nauseous and thirsty, and my head hurt. I noticed many open cabinets and closets on my way to the bathroom. I think he stole everything with some value he could get his hands on."

"Wendy, why did you run to town? There are many people around who would've taken care of you," I mutter, moving away from her because being part of a human sandwich - even just one of the slices of person-bread - is too warm.

"I... wasn't thinking straight," she mutters. "I knew you guys would be in town... I just wanted to get to you."

I lay my hand on her hip, covering my eyes with my other hand. My brain is furiously rejecting all this news.

For a while, we don't talk. Between Burlap and me, we try to comfort Wendy as much as possible, promising her we will take care of her. She's not completely over the effects of the alcohol and pain pills, and we eventually lull her into fitful sleep.

Burlap and I are having wordless conversations over Wendy's prone body, giving each other meaningful looks. I can see that he is as upset and angry as I am and would love nothing more than to hunt Franklin down now that Wendy's taken care of.

I lift my eyebrows, nodding my head at the door, and he carefully extracts himself from Wendy's arms and rolls off the bed. It's a bit harder for me to leave the bed, as I cannot roll anywhere; I have to worm my way to the bottom of the mattress while I try not to get mud on the duvet. It's a lost cause; I already left some when climbing through the window.

It doesn't seem to bother Burlap. He'll just toss it all in the wash in the morning. The only thing on his mind right now is the distraught girl in his bed and the many ways he is going to make Franklin pay for what he did to her. I quietly follow him down the hallway and into the kitchen.

"She should've come straight to my house; my parents would've taken care of her," Burlap grumbles, sitting at the kitchen table while I get everything ready for coffee. Right now, he doesn't look like my calm, collected, capable friend. He looks defeated and stressed. "I was off, looking for her at all our hangout spots while she was walking to town. She must've been really out of it. What the hell, Ethe?! What would've happened to her if he followed her and dragged her into one of the wild conservation parks all over her route to town?"

The thought is making me light-headed with horror.

"It sounds like he's escalated badly." The guy has been handsy before. He slapped her a few times too, and she's had to fight him off and flee when he became too much, but nothing like this. "Did she kill him with the plank?"

"No, I went to her house while my mother examined and treated her. He wasn't there... I found a tooth in the shed," he grins, happy about that news. "Definitely not Wendy's. His bike was gone too. I think he skipped Summerfields for good... hopefully. I mean, he robbed his own father..."

"Burlap?" I prompt, seeing the mirth leave his eyes and his jaw clench.

"I don't know what I would've done if he were there," he says through his teeth, his hands balling into tight fists on the table. "Ethe, he wiped her out," he says, his voice breaking on the words. "He took everything, even most of her projects. Everything."

"Come on!" Wendy spent years building up her collection of tools. She worked so hard to earn enough to buy what she needed. She had so much joy and pride in it. We had silly ceremonies each time she'd saved up enough to buy a tool she wanted. This cannot be true. "Insurance?" I croak, knowing it would not make this much better.

"She has some, but not enough to cover all of it," Burlap mutters, opening his hands and staring at them in confusion when he sees them shake. "Besides, the payout never really covers the loss."

I close my eyes, swallowing against the bile rising in my throat. Every single thing I ate today is begging to be let out, and I ate a lot!

"Does she know?" I ask, dreading the answer.

"I'm not sure; she was disoriented when she asked me about the scale of her loss, and I told her." Sighing, he pushes his chair back and stands to fetch the milk from the refrigerator. "My dad and I called the police out to her house. We supplied them with serial numbers for most of the tools."

Wendy has a file with information on every purchase she'd ever made for her small, growing business. It is more for practical and sentimental reasons than insurance, but it will be helpful now.

Franklin's had run-ins with the Silverview and Palm Grove police. The Egret's Rest police chief and the town council do not want crime to spread here; they will go after him with everything they've got.

I pour our coffee, and Burlap drags a biscuit tin from a cupboard. For a while, we just sit at the table together, dunking biscuits and giving each other looks. Burlap and I can be together for hours without saying one word. Usually, being together brings us contentment. Tonight, it is not quite working as well.

"My parents insist she moves in here; they won't let her mother dissuade her this time. They contacted her mom to let her know what was going on, but she was too drunk to talk to."

Wendy's mother doesn't drink all the time, like Julius, but she likes to let loose during her weekends away.

"The police will send someone to see them in the morning and explain what happened. I think Franklin over-played his hand this time, Ethe. He must be desperate to rob his dad's house. He often steals stuff, but not at this rate."

"Will she stay here? She always worries about leaving her mom."

Burlap runs a hand over his tired face, stressing about the same thing. This is not the first time his parents are trying to get Wendy to move in.

"Ethe, how the hell am I supposed to go to UCL and just leave her here like this?" he says, his eyes haunted from being brown to appearing almost green.

"I'm still here, buddy," I assure him. "So are your parents, Barn, and my parents."

"Yeah, that's true," he sighs, not looking comforted by the knowledge. He doesn't want to leave her.

"Do you really want to go to the UK?" I ask carefully. I've never dared to ask him this before. I've always been afraid of the answer and afraid that I would influence him and rob him of something truly great.

"No," he grunts. "I had my doubts, but I'm starting to see that I really don't. I like going there for visits, but this is my home, Ethe. I love it here. I don't take it for granted. Silverview University's neurology department is pretty good. It might not be at UCL's level, but it's still good. If I went to UCL, it would be solely for tradition since my parents went there. I would give up too much; it's not worth it."

Lifting his mug, he downs the contents, and when he lowers it again, he grins at me. "Friggit, dude, who will keep you from writing yourself off if I'm not here?"

Who indeed.

"Kira?" he asks, cocking an eyebrow. "Yeah. Probably. I saw her face before I saw Wendy holding onto you. She looked ready to kill a bull at first, and then suddenly, her eyes softened. She looked at you with such love that it made me uncomfortable. Then I saw Wendy and realised that Kira admired you for taking good care of your friend. She didn't see Wendy as some girl getting in her way. She loves you."

"Yes," I smile, not doubting it anymore. "She does. She said so... sort of... I think."

"Awesome," he grins.

I'm glad to hear that Burlap might be staying here. I don't want to bank on it. Things could change. He could decide to go after all, but for tonight, the idea is making my heart feel lighter.

After putting our empty mugs in the dishwasher, we head back to Burlap's room to check in on Wendy before I go home. We both jolt to a stop when we see she is no longer alone. She is still lying in Burlap's bed, but someone lies beside her, holding her in his arms.

"Was that in here earlier?" I ask Burlap when I recognise Jet, and he lifts his head to look at us.

"No, and I'm pretty sure the vermin repeller is on outside."

"Is that a thing?" I ask, grinning at the narrow-eyed look Jet is giving us.

"It should be," Burlap says in that dry, serious way he often uses. "Just look at the size of that thing."

"Very funny," Jet grunts, sliding down the length of the bed, leaving more mud in his wake. I think he came for a visit and ended up in the same situation I did. "Why did you move your bed?"

"Was a bad idea," Burlap agrees, looking at the mud smears. "I'll have to move it again."

"Yeah," Jet agrees. "But before you do that, why don't you help me find out what this bastard was talking about tonight, saying he is not going camping with us tomorrow?!" 

♂♀