“Alex, get your shoes on,” my mom said. “You’re going to be late.”
I sat, barefoot, my socks in one hand, and stared at the morning news.
“This morning people are panicking in the quiet town of West Marshall,” the reporter said—a tall, middle-aged man with olive skin and salt-and-pepper hair that made him look slightly exotic in this part of the world—as he stood in front of a patch of lawn. “The sheriff’s department released news of another animal attack. Like the others, this most recent attack is believed to be by a pack of coyotes that are wintering in the area around West Marshall.”
My heart was floating in my stomach with the milk and fruity flakes that I’d just finished eating.
“Alex, come on,” Mom said again. “I’m not driving you, and you’ve missed too much school as it is.”
Mike dropped onto the edge of the sofa and gave me a look. It was a look that very clearly said, What the hell are you doing? Put your shoes on. I’m waiting.
I gave him a look that said, Leave me alone. You have a stupid face.