Chapter 1: The First Day 1 The First Day
INSIDE HER IMAGINATION, SYDNEY VOLKE lived through the same night nine hundred different times. In each scenario she played out, the sleepover birthday party she was supposed to arrive at in five minutes would end in catastrophe. The worst part was that she hadn’t been personally invited to the party. No, her mom had gotten the invitation for her, and she’d done so all because she was trying to be nice and help Sydney make new friends. But Sydney didn’t want new friends. She liked the two she had just fine.

Mom turned backward in the front passenger seat of their car, interrupting Sydney’s scattered thoughts. A halo of dyed blond hair frizzed around her face, as if she’d run her fingers through it on the drive. “I’m glad I was able to get you an invite for this party.”

I’m not. I hate this so much, Sydney thought.

“Can we hurry?” asked Dianette, who sat to Sydney’s left. Dianette was older than Sydney by only ten months, and right now, she flipped a page in her Dungeons & Dragons book, oblivious to Sydney’s irritation.

“I’d rather we didn’t,” said Sydney.

“I have to be at Cass’s in fifteen minutes, and it’s a twenty-minute drive from here.”

Their parents were dropping Sydney off before bringing Dianette to a friend’s house for a Dungeons & Dragons session. As dungeon master, Dianette was in charge of the whole campaign—a fact Dianette was proud of but that Sydney’s two friends thought was super weird.

“We’ll get there when we get there,” said their mom.

Their dad turned up the radio, and immediately both he and Mom started singing along to some oldies song. The car slowed and took a left onto a long gravel drive, passing a brown, iron sign that read, WILDLIFE SCIENCE CENTER: The Wild Science of Saving Lives. Panic slipped up Sydney’s sternum and into her throat. Turns out, she didn’t have five minutes before she arrived. She had about two seconds.

She knew “of” Ari, the girl whose party she was heading to, but she couldn’t help but know “of” everyone in school when there were only 112 kids in the seventh grade. Everyone had gone to the same school since first grade, which meant that friend groups had been solidified for… well, the last seven years. There hadn’t been any place for Sydney to belong when she’d moved in last September.

Not so secretly, her mom was hoping that eighth grade would be the year that Sydney would find a solid friend group. That was half the reason for the party invite. The second half was that her mom loved making friends herself, and she’d always wanted to know Ari’s mom better.

The science center was located in Stacy, Minnesota, just twenty minutes from Sydney’s house, but an hour from Minneapolis, where she’d lived up until a year ago. She’d thought last summer would be the worst one of her life, with moving from a city of skyscrapers to a town of flat fields. This summer, though, was turning out to be even worse, beginning with this party.

“We’re here!” Sydney’s dad announced. He pulled the car to a stop at the end of the gravel road, right before a tall, gated fence.

“Is it closed?” Sydney asked hopefully.

“Nope!” Her mom held up her phone and pointed to a message. “Jae Park, Ari’s aunt, messaged and said you can come in. She’s walking through the park to come and meet you. Now, out you go.”

Mom opened her car door, and at once, a sound slipped inside—wolves howling, their voices climbing on top of one another’s as they sang into the dusk. The eerie wails made Sydney feel the same as when she’d visited the ocean with her family and had gotten stuck beneath a wave for a moment too long, as if she couldn’t breathe.

“What a beautiful sound,” Mom murmured. She stood outside the car, clearly waiting for Sydney to join her.

Sydney hauled her body out of the seat, dragging her backpack and a birthday present after her. A blast of summertime humidity fogged up her sunglasses, made her armpits sweat, and glued her jeans shorts to her thighs. Far above, the sky shifted, turning a dusty lilac that spoke to the increasingly late hour. Past the fence was a squat building, as well as the fenced enclosures that held the wildlife animals she did not want to meet. As if punctuating that thought, the wolf howls rose in pitch and sent prickling goose bumps running over her arms. It made her body forget, for the briefest of moments, that it was stiflingly hot out.

“I’m sorry we can’t walk you in. Remember that Ari’s aunt is in charge. Listen to the adults.” Mom took hold of Sydney’s shoulders and brought her in close for a hug. Into her ear, she said, “Remember to stay open to new opportunities and experiences. These kids might be really nice. You might surprise yourself and have more fun than I know you’re currently expecting.”

I won’t, Sydney thought, but she pulled away and plastered a smile to her face so her mom wouldn’t know how miserable she was. It would only make her mom worry, and the last thing she wanted was for someone to worry about her.

“MOM,” shouted Dianette.

“We’ll pick you up tomorrow morning. Nine a.m. sharp!” Mom shut herself back into the car and, through the smudged window, gave Sydney a happy little wave.

Sydney gave a limp, grumpy little wave back. Nine p.m. to nine a.m. was twelve whole hours for everything to go wrong.

Pressure built in Sydney’s chest, a feeling she well knew. It expanded in her lungs and surged against her rib cage and felt like a suffocating burp she couldn’t release. She considered her choices: go to the birthday party and be humiliated because everyone knew she’d received a pity invitation, or run into the woods and disappear to live as a hermit. Somehow, the second option sounded more appealing.

As she watched her family drive away, she realized her hands were clenched into fists, fingernails etching little moon marks into her palms. She forced herself to stretch out her fingers and take a slow, steadying breath in an attempt to clear out the gross feelings that suffused her body. She turned to enter the grounds, but as she did, her eyes caught the shape of a person crouched in the woods to the left of the gate. They blended into the foliage, squatting in the shadows of long-limbed trees and razor-leafed bushes.

Unmoving. Alert. Staring at her.

Sydney stood unmoving, alert, staring back at them, and as she did, a thick, rotten scent rose on the breeze. The person shifted. What had been hidden by foliage came into view—an extended snout, wiry hair that feathered their shoulders, claws that protruded from oddly jointed fingers. The creature’s marble-black eyes fixed on her own. It leaned forward, no longer crouching on hind legs but bending over onto all fours, the stance predatory and alien.

It was definitely not a person!

A jolt of fear launched Sydney into motion. She grabbed the latch of the gate, ripped it open, and threw herself inside. With one swipe, she locked the fence back up, then bolted toward the building before her.