Page 20 of The Intruder

It’s a mile walk home.

I used to have a bike, but the chain broke, and we never ended up replacing it.

I asked my mom for another one, but she kept saying that one was perfectly good.

Like our washer and dryer and every other broken appliance, it’s still in our basement, waiting to get fixed.

I’m hoping one day she will start dating a guy who is good at fixing things, and then I’ll be able to get my bike working again.

Anyway, in the meantime, I walk.

At least all the streets are paved, and I take a shortcut through this park that’s usually pretty empty, so that makes it take a little less time.

I don’t mind the walk, actually, and I like the fresh air.

The more I walk, the less it bothers me that Anton told the whole class that I smell.

Especially now that the winter is over, the spring weather is kind of perfect.

I’d rather be out here in the park than in our house, which reeks of cigarettes. And rotting peaches.

Also, the park is really pretty in the spring.

Everything is blooming. I got a book from the school library and learned the names of a bunch of the flowers, which was pretty cool, but I’m not allowed to take out books from the library anymore.

Apparently, I lost too many of them, which wasn’t my fault.

I swear, I leave my books in a safe place, but when my mom dumps a bunch of stuff in my room, things get lost.

I’m just about at the other end of the park when I hear a strange noise coming from a thick clump of bushes and trees where kids sometimes hang out to smoke. It almost sounds like somebody grunting, like scuffling feet. I’m in no rush to get home, so I wander over to investigate.

I thought maybe it was a couple of teenagers having sex or something, but it’s not that at all. It’s the opposite. It’s two kids, and one is totally beating the crap out of the other one.

They are too distracted to notice me, so I get a little closer.

I recognize both the kids, because they’re from my school.

One of the kids is this guy named Devin, who is the one who currently has the upper hand—he is the one administering the beatdown.

And the kid lying in the dirt, the one getting his ass completely handed to him?

It’s Anton.

I can’t say it’s not satisfying to see Anton getting his butt kicked.

After all the things Anton has said about me—the way he has tormented me—it’s good to see him with a lip split open and blood pouring out of his nose.

I don’t know what he did to piss off Devin, who is much more popular and well-liked than he is, but it looks like he’s paying the price.

I can’t help but smile to myself when Devin kicks him in the gut and he doubles over.

It’s nice to see someone else suffer for once.

Take that, you asshole.

But then something shocking happens. Devin reaches into the pocket of his baggy jeans and pulls out a Swiss Army knife.

A freaking knife. He opens up the blade, and even though one of Anton’s eyes is already swelling closed, the other one gets really wide.

Even more when Devin takes a step toward him.

What the hell? What is Devin going to do with that knife?

“No,” Anton chokes out as blood drips out of the corner of his lips. He always acts like he doesn’t care about anything, but right now, he looks really scared. “Shit. Please, don’t—”

I stand there watching, not sure what to do. Devin has a knife, but Anton doesn’t have anything at all. And that’s not fair. That’s, like, two against one, except even worse. Whatever Anton did to piss Devin off—and Anton pisses people off like it’s his job—he doesn’t deserve this.

Before I can think too much about it, I pick up a giant rock lying in the dirt.

At first, I’m worried it might be too heavy for me to lift over my head, but actually, it isn’t.

It’s just the right size. It’s light enough for me to lift, but when I creep up behind Devin and bring it down on his skull, he goes down hard.

I’m surprised at how easily that rock took him out. Devin dropped like a ton of bricks, and now he is lying in the dirt, right next to Anton, who is scrambling to his feet, breathing hard. Devin’s eyes are closed, and he’s not moving. Not even a little bit.

“Holy shit…” Anton wipes the blood from his face with the back of his sleeve. “Ella, you killed him.”