in my high school remembers that summer. In the end, the girls were found dead, both killed by men who had already been in jail.
Two days later, Lark was found dead. Her parents called mine and told them she was found in the woods near our street, the same woods we used to explore when we were best friends. Since then, I’ve been waiting for something to happen, some kind of meeting or conference where all kinds of experts get together to figure out why this sort of thing keeps happening to girls. I keep wondering if the police have put up a warning sign in the woods.
MISSING GIRL FOUND DEAD
JANUARY 25: The body of a 16-year-old Arlington girl missing since last Monday was found yesterday in a heavily wooded area of Potomac Overlook Park. Medical examiners report the girl had been beaten and stabbed, but the likely cause of death was exposure. The girl had been tied to a tree, then left during the night of the area’s first major snowstorm.
Lark Austin was reported missing when she disappeared after her gymnastics lesson at the Virginia Gymnastics Academy. She was last seen getting into a dark car heading north on Lee Highway.
Chapter 3
Lark
I was tired, leaning against the glass door, wondering when it was finally going to snow, waiting for my father to pick me up. I shifted my weight, trying to find how to stand so my knee wouldn’t hurt.
My coach saw me wince after I dismounted the beam. I wanted to go on, but he made me sit on the bench. I iced my knee, watching the other girls practice, my stomach in knots. I’d have to see the orthopedist and go back to physical therapy. I’d have to ice it every night and wear my brace. Even then I might not be able to compete in regionals. The night I died, I had an essay to finish and a physics test to study for. I was planning to be up past midnight, studying and writing and taking care of my knee.
A black car pulled up. The driver rolled down the window and gestured me over. I thought he was the father of one of the younger girls. His face was shiny and pink, like he scrubbed it with a rough cloth.
“I need help,” he said. His breath turned white in the air. “My kid’s in the ER. Oh, he’s awful messed up. Got hit by a car riding his skateboard. I just got the call.”
He was fast talking and frantic. He kept looking from me to his overhead mirror. The light was on. A map was spread out on the front seat.
“You know where the hospital is?”
“I’m not really sure. . . .”
“The cop said it’s on Lee Highway.”
“I think it’s over that away. . . .” I pointed far down the road to the next intersection.
“That’s what I thought, too, but it isn’t. Can you look at this map, please? Can you show me Lee Highway? Please, miss. You seem like a nice person. I gotta get to the hospital. My kid might not make it.”
I let my bag fall to the sidewalk and went over to his car. He opened the door.
“Oh, thank you,” he said when I sat down. I picked up the map and turned it around, then he reached across me and slammed the door. He took off so fast, I was flung back in the seat.
“Hey!” I yelled. “What are you doing?”
“I need to get to the hospital.”
“Stop!” I yelled. “Let me out!”
He kept driving, saying, “You need to help me find the hospital,” and when I said I had to call my dad, he gave me his phone but the battery was dead.
Chapter 4
Nyetta
Lark’s ghost is lonely and sad, not like she was in real life. In real life, laughter burst out of her like soda does when you shake the can. She’d flick her ponytail from one shoulder to the other, then dart her eyes into yours to tell you a joke.
When my dad left, she used to babysit me so my mom could work in her office. She liked our backyard because it’s spongy and smooth. She showed me her floor routine with the handspring and splits. She taught me to cartwheel and pivot, and how to kick up to a handstand against the wall. She gave me my own set of ribbons and
Two days later, Lark was found dead. Her parents called mine and told them she was found in the woods near our street, the same woods we used to explore when we were best friends. Since then, I’ve been waiting for something to happen, some kind of meeting or conference where all kinds of experts get together to figure out why this sort of thing keeps happening to girls. I keep wondering if the police have put up a warning sign in the woods.
MISSING GIRL FOUND DEAD
JANUARY 25: The body of a 16-year-old Arlington girl missing since last Monday was found yesterday in a heavily wooded area of Potomac Overlook Park. Medical examiners report the girl had been beaten and stabbed, but the likely cause of death was exposure. The girl had been tied to a tree, then left during the night of the area’s first major snowstorm.
Lark Austin was reported missing when she disappeared after her gymnastics lesson at the Virginia Gymnastics Academy. She was last seen getting into a dark car heading north on Lee Highway.
Chapter 3
Lark
I was tired, leaning against the glass door, wondering when it was finally going to snow, waiting for my father to pick me up. I shifted my weight, trying to find how to stand so my knee wouldn’t hurt.
My coach saw me wince after I dismounted the beam. I wanted to go on, but he made me sit on the bench. I iced my knee, watching the other girls practice, my stomach in knots. I’d have to see the orthopedist and go back to physical therapy. I’d have to ice it every night and wear my brace. Even then I might not be able to compete in regionals. The night I died, I had an essay to finish and a physics test to study for. I was planning to be up past midnight, studying and writing and taking care of my knee.
A black car pulled up. The driver rolled down the window and gestured me over. I thought he was the father of one of the younger girls. His face was shiny and pink, like he scrubbed it with a rough cloth.
“I need help,” he said. His breath turned white in the air. “My kid’s in the ER. Oh, he’s awful messed up. Got hit by a car riding his skateboard. I just got the call.”
He was fast talking and frantic. He kept looking from me to his overhead mirror. The light was on. A map was spread out on the front seat.
“You know where the hospital is?”
“I’m not really sure. . . .”
“The cop said it’s on Lee Highway.”
“I think it’s over that away. . . .” I pointed far down the road to the next intersection.
“That’s what I thought, too, but it isn’t. Can you look at this map, please? Can you show me Lee Highway? Please, miss. You seem like a nice person. I gotta get to the hospital. My kid might not make it.”
I let my bag fall to the sidewalk and went over to his car. He opened the door.
“Oh, thank you,” he said when I sat down. I picked up the map and turned it around, then he reached across me and slammed the door. He took off so fast, I was flung back in the seat.
“Hey!” I yelled. “What are you doing?”
“I need to get to the hospital.”
“Stop!” I yelled. “Let me out!”
He kept driving, saying, “You need to help me find the hospital,” and when I said I had to call my dad, he gave me his phone but the battery was dead.
Chapter 4
Nyetta
Lark’s ghost is lonely and sad, not like she was in real life. In real life, laughter burst out of her like soda does when you shake the can. She’d flick her ponytail from one shoulder to the other, then dart her eyes into yours to tell you a joke.
When my dad left, she used to babysit me so my mom could work in her office. She liked our backyard because it’s spongy and smooth. She showed me her floor routine with the handspring and splits. She taught me to cartwheel and pivot, and how to kick up to a handstand against the wall. She gave me my own set of ribbons and
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