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whence she came.”
    Kristin had moved to the area from California two years ago and quickly established herself as the reigning Popular Girl complete with bitchy reputation – destined to crush her competition under stiletto heels on the path to obtaining the Homecoming crown. Sorcha and Paula secretly referred to her and her cronies as the Cliché Clique because there was one in every school. For Sorcha and Paula, though, Kristin and her friends were like mosquitos, easily brushed off and forgotten.
    On the drive, Sorcha briefly filled Paula in on Enid’s day trip to Jedediah’s cabin. Paula knew better than to ask many questions afterward, and they fell into a pensive silence as the countryside flew by. Sorcha gazed out the window at the bright fall foliage, thinking that any day now the trees would be bare and the ground frozen solid. A lone bicyclist on the dirt path paralleling the highway caught her eye as he hit a mound at full speed and launched into the air. His backpack lifted off his back and slammed back down as he nailed the landing. She saw his face, bright with victory. Ben .
    She turned away and studied the terrain as they drove onto the exit leading to Cliffside condominiums. They’d been built right up against the steeply rising hill where Jedediah’s cabin once sat. The Indian Artifact Exhibition building was located at the far eastern edge of the property, on a strip of ungroomed grass and trees that contrasted sharply with the neatly trimmed patches of landscaping between each condo unit.
    Paula parked on the side of the road and they got out of the car and approached the small abandoned building. Cans, bottles and cigarette butts littered the area, testimony to its popularity as a party place.
    Sorcha paced up the wooden ramp and tried the door. Locked. The two tiny windows on either side had been boarded up. They walked around the whole building, but it was tightly sealed against intruders.
    “What did you expect to find?” Paula asked.
    Sorcha frowned. “Nothing, I guess. Thought I’d check just in case. That’s where I really wanted to go.” She pointed to a thin, overgrown path that led away from the museum, up the rocky slope, and disappeared somewhere behind the condos.
    “You don’t want to go up there.” The voice came from behind and both girls whirled around. Ben stood there, shoulder-length hair blown back from the wind of his bike ride.
    “Why not?” Sorcha met his eyes, challenging.
    “Well, it’s private property for one thing. Plus, there’s a homeless old Indian dude who camps out up there every winter.”
    The girls exchanged a startled look before Sorcha turned back and lifted her chin. “How do you know?”
    “He’s my uncle.”
    “I thought your uncle was in jail,” Paula said.
    “Different uncle.” His head tilted to the side. “Oh, hey, you’re Paula, right? You gave Loony a ride this morning.”
    ‘Loony’ must be his sister Luanne’s nickname. “Yeah,” Paula said. “This is Sorcha.”
    Ben’s dark eyes lingered on Sorcha’s face for only a moment. He didn’t say anything; just pushed his bike over to the museum entrance ramp, wrapped the chain around one of the posts and clicked the lock. With his backpack slung over one shoulder, he strode past them up the narrow path. He’d walked ten yards or so before looking back. “You coming?”
    Sorcha and Paula exchanged another look, more alarmed than the first, but Sorcha couldn’t afford to hesitate. She followed him, skipping a little to catch up. Paula brought up the rear.
    Ben didn’t chit-chat on the hike up the rocky hillside and for that Sorcha was grateful. The déjà vu she’d been plagued with all day was back in full force. Her surroundings were far from identical, but her inner perspective kept shifting to Enid’s memories of the ride on Jedediah’s mare; the jolting and the odors and the apprehension. When they reached the top, Ben turned to her and that eyebrow of his