Lightbringer by K.D. McEntire Page A

panting, asked, “Since I'm done, do you mind if I take the rest of class off?”
    The sub's elated grin faded. “The rest of the hour? I can't let you do that. Are you nuts?”
    “I'm not leaving campus,” Wendy lied, keeping the spot where she'd seen the flickering light at the edge of her peripheral vision. “I just thought I saw a couple samples I can use for my biology project over there.” She pointed toward the edge of the field with a promising thatch of thorny bushes splashed with red and purple flowers. “It's just a little flower-picking. I'll be fast, I swear. You can hear that whistle anywhere near here.”
    The bulk of the class was coming, nearing the end of the first lap. The sub glanced at them, eyed the bushes, and sighed. “Fine. But stay dressed out. I've got my eye on you. Don't you think I'll forget, either. No funny stuff.”
    Skipping backwards toward the field, Wendy grinned and dropped a quick salute. “You got it, Coach!” Then she was off.
    Under the patchy shade of the eucalyptus at the edge of school property, Wendy took a deep breath and glanced around. The flicker had faded while she was talking to the sub.
    “Damn it, damn it, damn it,” Wendy muttered under her breath, angling her head to make sure the sub was paying more attention to the last group of gossiping girls finishing their first lap than to her. The instant the sub's head dipped down to mark off the last stragglers, Wendy grabbed the edge of the fence and went up and over.
    The dim flicker was gone. Wendy squinted and crouched down, pushing through the thick, thorny bushes until the sounds from the school grew muted. The canopy overhead was thicker here, the shadows denser. Her mother had been great in the woods; it was as if she were a ghost herself, flitting through the trees easily. She always knew where to step, how to navigate. She never got lost. Wendy wasn't quite that good.
    Resting against a nearby tree, Wendy hesitated; pushing on would take her out of the range of the sub's whistle. There was a chance the sub might not notice Wendy missing at the end of the day, but she'd seemed like one of those teachers who actually cared. It might be better to just not risk getting in troub—
    There!
    Catching the flicker out of the corner of her eye, Wendy pushed through the underbrush, scouring her shins and calves against thorny wild blackberry bushes. Longingly she thought of her thick jeans, neatly tucked away in her cubby back in the girl's locker room. Shoving through the dense patch, Wendy grimaced as her sneaker splooshed into a slurry of black rot and dank mud beside a rotted out trunk.
    “So-so-so gross,” Wendy groaned, making sure to look up and eye the green-brown canopy overhead. Her mother had taught her well—she could see a tangle of dead and dying branches hanging above, remnants from the storms of the previous week. Every one of them was at least seven or eight inches across, minimum. Widow-maker branches. Wendy eased back, making sure she wasn't beneath the heavy load. If the wind blew just right the whole mess would come crashing down, crushing anything unlucky enough to be directly beneath.
    “Crap,” Wendy muttered. She thought now she might have an idea where the flicker was coming from. Skirting the edge of the clearing, keeping to the thorny sides, she shoved deeper and deeper in until, just as she'd suspected, she found a dim shape hovering around a heavy fall of deadwood.
    “I was wondering if anyone'd find me,” muttered the ghost of the homeless man, clutching his tattered parka close. “Figures it'd be some kid playing hookey.”
    He leaned in, waving a hand right in front of Wendy's face and shouted, “Hey! You! Kiddo! You turn right around and you march up to your principal and you tell him what you found here! Do you understand me? You don't just leave me here!”
    “I can't do that,” Wendy said and hid a smile when the ghost jumped back.
    “You can hear me? Really?” He