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and I was too afraid to keep from asking, “What?”
    “Sadie, you shouldn’t be here. This is really dangerous.”
    Another bellow, closer now, just to our left.
    I gasped, “Was that a bear?” At that moment a red-brownbear burst out of the bushes a few feet in front of us. His back leg bled freely, and he held it at an awkward angle as he crashed past. I couldn’t breathe. I grabbed onto Dad, my heart beating like a hammer strike in my ears, behind my eyes, in my throat.
    “Let’s go.” Dad pulled me toward the Jeep.
    I wanted to run away, to hide from the bear and the gunner too, but the bear’s leg hanging useless tugged at my memory, reminding me of Cocoa’s leap from the top level of Pippa’s play structure. Just a puppy, he’d shattered his leg, but instead of letting us help him he had run, frenzied with fear and pain. “Shouldn’t we help the bear?”
    “Helen will know what to do. Come on. And Meredith will want to know too.”
    When we were almost out of the trees, Dad threw out his arm, holding me back. A dented black ATV bounced onto the road. We saw only the back of the driver’s head, his orange vest, and green fishing hat with a red feather. We waited until he’d passed and then sprinted for the Jeep.
    Not fast enough. By the time we’d pulled back onto the highway, the ATV was gone.
    “That was Jim Paulson, wasn’t it, Dad? He had that vest on the other night.”
    “Lots of people could have that same vest.”
    “But he was hunting, wasn’t he? It’s not September tenth yet.”
    “Correct.” We pulled up to a red light, and when Dad looked over at me, the corners of his mouth were white, “Big Murphy.”
    “What?”
    “I don’t think that was just any bear, Sades. That was Big Murphy.”
    Dad’s favorite. Hunting season hadn’t started yet, and already bears were getting hurt. “I hate this.”
    “Me too.” The light turned green, and our tires screeched as Dad accelerated too fast.
    “Then tell someone Jim is out shooting bears when he isn’t supposed to be. Isn’t keeping the law your job?”
    “I will tell Meredith about Big Murphy. I’m just not sure it was Jim …”
    “Dad!”
    “Enough, Sadie.” He turned into our driveway. “I have to call Helen and Meredith.”
     

Chapter 7
What You See
    R uth and I studied the case of ice cream tubs. Double fudge. Peanut butter cup. Licorice.
    “Vanilla, please,” Ruth said.
    “Vanilla?” Was she crazy?
    Ruth shrugged. “Vanilla is my favorite.”
    I finally decided on peanut butter cup and joined Ruth at a back booth.
    “My teeth still hurt from the dentist.” Ruth licked her spoon clean.
    She sat up suddenly and blushed bright red.
    “What?” I asked.
    “Nothing.” She shoved another spoonful of ice cream into her mouth. “Mmmm!”
    “Ruth, don’t you dare change the subject!”
    “Shush!” She jabbed at her ice cream with her spoon. “He’ll hear you.”
    “Who?” I glanced over my shoulder.
    “Don’t look!”
    “If you’d tell me, I wouldn’t have to.”
    “Fine,” she snapped. “It’s Cameron. He’s a grade above us —”
    “Which one is he?”
    “He’s wearing a green T-shirt and jeans, and he’s just about to … yeah.” Her foot stopped twitching. “He just went through the door.”
    I turned in time to see the back of Cameron’s head.
    “Hey, girls.” Frankie leaned against the counter next to us, catching me off guard. “It’s the flea-bag friends, out enjoying an afternoon on the town.”
    “Mind your own business, Frankie,” Ruth said.
    “I warned you about Sparkie’s fleas. Too late now.” She gave us a signature smirk before calling to Ty, “Hey, wait up.”
    I watched her go, not hungry for the last few bites of my ice cream. “I’m sorry, Ruth.”
    “Don’t be,” she said, eating her last bite of ice cream with a flourish. “And don’t let her ruin your ice cream. Frankie thinks she can bully anyone into doing what she wants. I like frustrating