Consequences Read Free Page A

it.He was about a year older than Tim and went to a different school, but boarding made them friendly. He had a blond buzz cut, and wore his baggy trousers low. Tucking his skateboard under his arm, he shoved his hands into the pockets of his windbreaker.
    â€œHey.” Tim stood and greeted Scott. “What’s wrong with the lot?”
    â€œI had Darlene out here the other night, hoping for some privacy,” Scott explained. “Between her parents, the guard dogs, and my stupid brothers we never get any chance alone, you know?”
    Tim didn’t, but he nodded anyway.
    Scott took a few steps into the tall grass of the lot. He laid his board on the pavement and held it still with one foot as he surveyed the area. He seemed to be troubled by the place.
    â€œSo what happened?” Tim asked.
    â€œWe’re in there, Darlene and me, and we’re heading for the big tree, but we stop. I’m hearing stuff in the grass. Rustling. Like someone or something’s following us. Then Darlene says it ain’t just grass she’s hearing.”
    â€œWhat was it?” Tim’s eyebrows rose.
    â€œShe thinks it’s something whispering. Only we can’t see it.” Scott knelt down and rummaged in the grass. “Where’d the bloody thing go?” hemuttered. “I know I chucked it right about here. Oh, here it is.” He held something out to Tim. “Then she steps on this, and we hear a nasty laugh.”
    Scott stood and plopped the object into Tim’s hand. “We got out of there right quick, I tell you.”
    Tim stared down at the object in horror.

Chapter Two
    I T COULDN’T BE , TIM told himself. He was holding a little head in his hands. It looked as if it might have once belonged to some kind of elf or sprite. As far as he could make out, its face, its ears, and its hair all would have blended easily into the woods, as if it were designed to be camouflaged. But the little head had been cruelly severed from its body, and its mouth still seemed to be howling in pain. It had also been burned, and flecks of soot and ash came off in Tim’s hand.
    â€œWhoa,” Tim murmured.
    â€œYeah,” Scott agreed. “Sick, isn’t it? Somebody making a cute little thing like that just to chop it up and burn it. Like it was garbage or something.”
    Scott picked up his skateboard. “Like I said, I’m not sticking around this place. I don’t want to meet the dude who thought that was fun. You coming?”
    Tim never took his eyes off the little head. “No, thanks,” he replied. “I’ve got stuff to do.”
    Scott shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
    â€œThanks for the warning,” Tim called after Scott. The older boy quickly skate-boarded around the corner and vanished.
    Tim stared at the head. It was more than eerie—it was familiar. He recognized the face. “Is it really you?” he asked it. For in his hand he held none other than Tibby, one of his imaginary playmates from when Tim was a little kid. Or what was left of him.
    Why would anyone kill an imaginary playmate? Tim wondered. Hold on—how do imaginary playmates become real in the first place? He had never tried to make a doll of Tibby, as he had with some of his other fanciful ideas. So how could he be holding this physical manifestation in his hands?
    He scanned the lot and realized that it had changed somehow while he’d been standing there. The tree had grown larger, the grass taller. The area had expanded, so that he couldn’t see to the end of it. Yet just a minute ago the brick back wall of the Furniture King had been quite visible.
    â€œUh-oh,” Tim murmured. “Here we go again.” There was magic here. Was it the place? Was it him? Was it someone else here? He’d have to find out.
    He took a few steps deeper into the lot and realized it now looked the way it had back when he was about five years old, when he had