Ethan was woken by the moonlight. Or, more likely, by his desperate bladder-but when he opened his eyes, a clear white beam of lunar light slashed sharply through his window and into his vision. He put a hand over his eyes and felt his way into a sitting position, then eased his weight onto the carpet. The bathroom, which was only a few feet down the hall, seemed miles away, but he gritted his teeth hobbled toward the door.

He had been in Ellison for nearly two weeks now, but it felt as if time had stopped moving. He had no concept of anything except morning and night, day in and day out, countless starts and finishes to get to the very last one.

Two and a half months left to go.

The hallway was cloaked in near darkness, but through the kitchen Ethan saw a light on in the living room. At first he assumed that it was his uncle, up late watching television-then he heard his aunt's drawling voice.

"-just not sure if this was the right decision," she was saying. "Right for him or for us. I don't think Andrew thought it through."

Now Ethan paused, all bladder needs forgotten, and edged closer to the kitchen doorway as quietly as he could.

"Like hell he thought about it," Uncle Robert scoffed in reply. "The man grew up here; he should know better than anyone that folks in this town don't approve of marriages like his, much less the kids that come out of it. That boy was a pariah before he even set foot in Ellison."

Aunt Cara was quiet for a long moment, then Ethan thought he heard her sigh. "I hear them whispering when I'm in town, how sorry they feel for me, how embarrassing it must be to have one of them in my house. I can only imagine what he must be hearing."

"People are cruel, Cara. But you can hardly blame them. After what happened with the Scott boy, you can't expect anyone in this town to be kind. But it's only a few months, you know. It'll be over before you know it, he'll be gone, and our lives will return to normal."

They continued speaking in hushed tones, but Ethan reeled away from the doorway, his ears burning. He wasn't sure who the "Scott boy," or what this town thought was the wrong kind of marriage, but he knew that his aunt and uncle were talking about him. He thought about the people on the street, the way his uncle sometimes wouldn't meet his eyes. This was not Arcadia.

He lost sense of direction his confusion and reached the open door to his bedroom much sooner than he expected. He crashed into the room, knocking the door back against the wall. The soft murmur of conversation in the living room swept to a halt.

"Ethan?" Aunt Cara called hesitantly.

Ethan swallowed hard. "I was just-um-going to the bathroom."

There was a pause, then he heard his uncle sigh. "Go back to sleep, son."

Ethan nodded, though he knew they couldn't see him. "Okay," he mumbled. "Yes, sir."

***********

Aunt Cara was distant at breakfast the next morning. She kept her head down as she flipped eggs on the pan, and twice her blonde hair brushed by the open flame and nearly caught on fire. Uncle Robert was scanning the front page of the Sunday paper, a pair of wire-rimmed glasses perched on his nose. He seemed unconcerned with his wife's lack of grace.

"Oh, heavens." Ethan looked up from the color funnies to find Aunt Cara waving her apron over a pan full of smoking scrambled eggs, an expression of exasperated misery on her round face. She turned to the empty carton and heaved a sigh. "No eggs with breakfast today, I suppose," she said. Ethan shifted in his chair.

As he turned back to the Peanuts, Aunt Cara set a stack of pancakes on the center of the table. Uncle Robert grunted. "Thank you," Ethan murmured, keeping his eyes trained on the page. She hovered longer than necessary, and when he finally glanced up at her, she was leaning heavily against the table and smiling that sickly smile.

"Rob, if you wouldn't mind, there are a few things I need from the general store. Eggs, flour, sliced bread...just a short list."

Uncle Robert rolled his eyes. "Can't you go yourself?"

"No," Aunt Cara said testily, placing a hand on her bulging stomach. "You know I haven't been feeling well."

"Fine, fine," her husband replied, but before he could continue, Ethan interjected with a too-loud, "I'll go."

Both his aunt and uncle looked at him, their eyes widening and narrowing, respectively.

"It's all right," Uncle Robert said slowly. "I can do it."

Ethan shook his head. "Really, it's no trouble. The fresh air will be, um, good."

Because the truth was, he felt suffocated. After the conversation he'd overheard the night before, the air in the house felt heavy, oppressive. His lungs seemed unable to gulp a single starving breath. He needed to get out, even if it was into the town, even if it was just for a little while.

"All right," Aunt Cara shrilled, her voice too bright, too high. "Ethan will go." She clapped her hands twice, then glanced at the clock that hung above the refrigerator. It was nine thirty-five. "I'll make you a list, give you a few dollars, and you can head out."

Twenty minutes later, Ethan was stepping onto the cracked and uneven pavement of the downtown intersection. Aunt Cara's list and a small wad of bills bulged in his back pocket, and he kept his head down as he made his way to the general store.

He'd passed the building, with its faded green paint and lopsided neon sign, many times since arriving in Ellison, but he'd never once step foot inside. It was usually packed with townspeople, and he hadn't yet built up the courage to enter.

Today, though, there wasn't a single soul visible through the tinted glass windows apart from the owner, Abrams, who was sitting at the desk and studying the newspaper through a round pair of spectacles. Ethan figured that most people were attending mass at the tiny church on the edge of town. His aunt had informed him that theirs was not a religious household, which suited him just fine. And as for the general store owner, well, Ethan had (much to his horror) heard his uncle refer to the man as a "penny-pinching, big-nosed Heeb."

A bell tinkled brokenly as he pushed open the door. Ethan crammed his hands into the pockets of his jeans and tried to duck behind the shelves before he could be noticed, but he had hardly made it across the threshold before Abrams called out, in a surprisingly high-pitched and unfamiliarly accented voice, "I wondered when I would see you here."

Ethan looked up meekly, swallowing the sudden urge to bolt from the store. "Sir?" he said under his breath.

The man scratched his full beard, smiled cruelly, and stared at Ethan with a cold, beady gaze. "I've heard all about you," he announced, setting his newspaper onto the counter. "This town is full of dead-end knobs who are talentless at everything except running their idiot mouths. I certainly consider it a privilege to meet the boy who has singlehandedly sent those good-for-nothing blabbermouths into an uproar."

Sarcasm dripped from his words like molasses, and Ethan did nothing but nod.

"I welcome you to my store," Abrams went on, sweeping his arm to encompass the small but tightly packed space. "I hope you find what you're looking for."

There was no discernible order to the organization of the shelves, but Ethan circled the store ten times until he found everything on his own. The last thing he wanted to do was ask this strange, angry man for help. Nervous sweat crawled beneath his t-shirt collar as Abrams's eyes followed him from the jams to the sewing supplies to the stacks of sliced bread.

It felt like an eternity before he had finally filled his basket and placed it on the counter. Abrams rang up the items one at a time, his pace painstakingly slow. Ethan crumpled and straightened the money his aunt had given him.

"Ah, Twinkies," Abrams noted, shaking the box with cynical affection as he drew it from the basket. "Cara never fails to bring home a pack of these, even now, with the baby on the way." He paused to key in the price. "Your aunt is a lovely woman," he told Ethan, "but your uncle is an ass. Though, unlike most of the people in this godforsaken town, he is not a complete ars. A yokel."

"Oh," Ethan said. Uncle Robert and Abrams had gotten into an argument earlier that week-the former had been spitting mad during dinner. This, apparently, was a common occurrence. The next morning, they had met for coffee. Ethan wasn't sure whether or not they were actually enemies.

"All right, son, that will be two dollars and sixty-four cents." Abrams stuck the three creased bills that Ethan handed him into the drawer and passed back quarter, a dime, a penny, and two paper bags of groceries.

"Thank you." Ethan nodded at the man. "Have a nice day."

"And you as well," Abrams replied. He waited until Ethan's hand was on the door before he added, in a slightly kinder tone, "You chose a good time to do your shopping today. For your own sake, I'd avoid this place like the plague when the usual manyaks are here."

"Right," Ethan said, as if he understood. "Thanks for the tip."

The stuffed brown bags seemed filled with anvils as Ethan trudged home, struggling to keep the groceries afloat in his sweaty palms. Dust stormed around his ankles in small tornadoes, and he coughed when the occasional stray speck tickled his nose.

As usual, the dirty clouds remained unsettled.

The sun was relentless today, but the thick, knotted trees above his head provided some hint of protection. Despite the heat, the groceries, the stagnant dust, Ethan felt, for the first time since arriving, a sense of calm. Not a single bird called from its hidden nest, nor did even the wind dare to whisper through the branches. He was alone on this dirt road, the only person left on earth, maybe.

His only qualm was that he couldn't run. The beaten-up Chucks laced to his ankles where not his usual trainers, but even they could carry him the distance. And if he squinted enough, this path almost looked like the track at his school back home. There, he'd run a mile every morning, but here, he wasn't sure what his aunt and uncle would think. Like his uncle had said on that very first day: no one should even notice that he was there.

So he kept his head down and his pace slow.

Ethan was about halfway back to Aunt Cara's house when he heard the forest cough. Or rather, he heard the sudden rustle of a thousand branches and nearly jumped out of his skin. A moment later, three kids that looked about his age emerged from the foliage, dressed in their rumpled Sunday best. The girl, a pretty brunette, giggled as she smoothed a flyaway hair back into her bouffant. Her arm was linked with one of the boys, a tall, stocky blond. The other boy was dark and lanky, and he followed the couple with crossed arms and a shark-like grin.

They were evidently in the middle of a conversation, but when they noticed Ethan standing quite conspicuously in the center of the road, they all halted in their tracks. Surprise crossed their faces, but almost immediately, the blond boy's lips twisted into a sharp leer.

"Well, well, look who it is," he drawled, dropping the girl's arm. "The new fream in town. My ma told me all about you."

Ethan's feet itched to sprint away, but he held his ground. "Excuse me?" he said.

The boy came closer and circled Ethan like a lion observing its prey. "Anyone ever tell you we don't like your kind coming round here? Nothing but a germ, is what you are. Alex, look at this kid." He beckoned to the other boy, who sauntered over with that predatory smile. Now Alex joined in the orbit, and only the girl stood off to the side, eyeing Ethan with a shaky sneer lifting the corner of her painted pink lips.

"Hey, blackie," the blond boy jeered, leaning in toward Ethan's face, "why aren't you saying anything, huh? You scared?"

Ethan gulped, but did not respond. "The little half-breed is terrified!" Alex snorted, and rammed his shoulder into Ethan's. The shorter boy stumbled, but righted himself quickly. His heart beat relentlessly against the butterfly bones of his rib cage, but he still refused to respond.

His silence set the blond boy's face on fire; his cheeks turned red and his eyes flashed. "Say something," he ordered hotly, shoving both of Ethan's shoulders. "Come on, man up!"

Ethan gritted his teeth. He didn't know these kids, but he'd met blockheads like them at home; all they wanted was a reaction. He wouldn't dare give it to them.

"All right," the blond said, breathing hard. "All right. Seems like you don't care about anything, so I guess it won't rattle your cage if I, say, do this." His arm shot out, knocking one bag of groceries from Ethan's straining grip and onto the ground. The box of Twinkies rolled into the dirt.

"Or," Alex added, coming up at Ethan's shoulder, "if I did this." He used both hands to shove down the other bag before Ethan could jump out of the way. He heard the sickening sound of a dozen eggs shattering to bits.

He clenched his fists and said nothing.

"God, this kid's a riot!" Alex and his friend grabbed their stomachs and laughed, cruel guffaws that sliced at Ethan's skin. The blond reached forward suddenly and pushed Ethan to the ground.

As he sat there in the middle of the path, feeling dirt coating the seat of his pants, Ethan thought hot lava might stream from his ears. The fury pulsing through him now was burning, not like the summer sun, but like a true inferno. He dug his nails into the dust, looked straight ahead, and glared.

They were still laughing.

Then, suddenly, like an unexpected rainstorm, a pair of tires came squealing to a stop just a few feet from where Ethan sat. When the dust cleared, he saw Juniper Jones, her fiery head framed by the mid-morning sun and a hard frown on her thin lips.

"What do you think you're doing, Noah O'Neil?" she demanded, stepping off her bike and letting it fall to the ground.

"Oh, well if it ain't Little Miss Juniper Jones," the blond boy, Noah, replied. "Or should I say, Starfish."

Alex barked a laugh, and the girl giggled.

Juniper strode over until she was face to face with Noah. She hardly reached his chin, but her eyes were glittering and cold.

"Hey, I've got a great idea," she said. "Why don't you put an egg in your shoe and beat it. Leave Ethan alone."

"Oh, you're buddies with blackie here now, are you? Not surprised. Nobody wants either of y'all here in Ellison. We're respectable folk, no time for people like the two of you."

"You're bad news, is what you are. Come on, Noah. Scram."

Noah glanced at Alex and the girl, both of whom were studying Juniper the way they might a small, dumb animal. "Whatever, Starfish," he snapped. "Guys, let's cut out. They aren't worth it, anyway. Come on, Courtney." He grabbed the girl roughly by the arm and seemed not to notice when she stumbled into his side. He pulled her after him as Alex trotted behind.

Ethan sat still as the three of them turned and, with one last collective laugh, headed down the path toward downtown.

When they were gone, Juniper sighed, shuffled over, and held out a hand to Ethan. He let her pull him to his feet, but kept his eyes trained to the ground. Standing face to face with her for the first time, he realized that she was only a hair shorter than him, her nose nearly parallel with his. He stepped away.

"Here, let me help you," she said gently, making no mention of Noah and his friends. She squatted down, seemingly oblivious to the way her floral skirt was pooling around her ankles and collecting dirt, and began to load the fallen groceries back into their bag. Ethan, paralyzed with mortification, made no move to help her.

When she finished, Juniper stood, both bags cradled in her arms, and handed them to Ethan. "Careful with the one on the right," she said. "It's a little damp from the eggs." She paused as he took them without a word, then added, "I wish I could walk you home, but my aunt-I need to get going."

Ethan licked his lips and mumbled, "It's okay. Thanks."

"Sure thing," she said. After a pause, she brightened suddenly, adding, "And never fear! I promised you an adventure, and by gosh, I'll give you an adventure. Just you wait, Ethan Charlie Harper. I'll fix everything. There's a lot more to this town than those jerks, and I'll prove it." She skipped over to her bike, lifted it from the ground, and settled herself onto the seat with a small grin. "I'll see you around, okay?"

She pedaled off in a cloud of dust, but somehow, it settled in her wake. Ethan watched her go, and when she was a mere speck at the bend, he murmured, "See ya, Starfish."

Then he righted the bags in his arms and trudged on down the path, leaving a puddle of egg yolks in the dust behind him.