Fire in the Woods by Jennifer M. Eaton

twisted the lock on the door.
    David shimmied out from under my bed. I brushed a dust-bunny out of his hair.
    He looked toward the door. His beautifully sculpted chest pressed against Dad’s sweatshirt with every breath. “Your father is in the Army?”
    “Yeah.”
    David rubbed his arms and continued to stare at the door.
    “Don’t worry. He won’t come back unless I scream again.”
    My comforter barely budged as he settled on my mattress. My heart jumped into my throat and choked me. If Dad ever caught a boy sitting on my bed—I shook away my stupidity. I had a story to focus on.
    “David, why are they hunting you?”
    He lowered his gaze. “I guess because I’m different.”
    Or sick with a disease they don’t understand .
    The implications sunk deep within. Whatever the different was, the Army was involved. Dad knew what was going on, and it scared the crap out of him.
    David was a military target. I was standing there talking to public enemy number one, and for all I knew, this guy was the key to Pandora’s box.
    I reeled in my flight reflex. I wasn’t getting ill, so he wasn’t contagious, and David totally scored brownie points for not trying to kill me. Deep down, I knew I wasn’t in any danger. I trusted David, and I needed to hear what he had to say.
    “Different, huh? How different?”
    He lifted his gaze to me. Turquoise. I bet those eyes weren’t contacts. It had to be some kind of lab experiment gone wrong or something stupid like that. I prepared for the worst, but what kind of threat could this sweet, timid guy possibly pose?
    “I’m very different. I think you know that.”
    His lashes fluttered, as if drawing me in, yet keeping me from seeing what was really inside. That’s what I wanted more than anything else, though—to see inside. To really know what was going on. Why wouldn’t he let me in?
    I guess he had no reason to trust me. We’d only just met. Then again, he was sitting in my bedroom. On my bed. With the guy who was searching for him just down the hall. Come to think of it, was he stupid or something? Did he want to get caught?
    “David, why did you come back here?”
    His head jerked up. “What do you mean?”
    “You snuck into my room in the middle of the night. You freaked me out and almost gave my dad a coronary.”
    “Sorry.” He hunched his shoulders. “It started to get cold. I got scared. I didn’t think. I didn’t mean for you to get into trouble.”
    Could he get any sweeter? Fugitive my left butt cheek. This guy wasn’t a threat to a fly let alone a nation.
    “I’m not in trouble yet, but if my dad catches you in here, we’re both in deep shi…well, we’d be in big trouble.”
    He glanced toward the door again. “You have no idea.”
    But I’d like to have an idea. How did reporters normally handle this? Badger the witness? Beat the info out of him? What did I have to do to find out what was going on?
    David stood and stretched his arms behind his neck. His biceps nearly split the stitching in dad’s sweatshirt. He glanced in the direction of the door again. The light in the hallway went out.
    Safe at last—for the time being, at least.
    “So,” he whispered. “I guess you could say I met your father. Where’s your mom?”
    “Umm…she, umm…” Boy, did that catch me off guard. I opened my mouth to speak, but couldn’t form the words. Why was I afraid to say it out loud? It’d been over a year now. It was bad enough Dad wasn’t dealing with it. One of us had to face the truth. “She’s dead. My mom is dead.”
    David flinched. “Oh. I’m sorry.” His gaze fell to the floorboards. “My mother is dead, too. It happened while I was pretty young.”
    I jolted in surprise. “Really? How young?”
    His gaze returned to me. “I was only a kid. I’m not really sure.”
    The sadness in his eyes nearly matched the ache in my heart. “Do you remember her?”
    “Yes, I remember her. I think of her every day just to make sure I don’t