The Poison Eaters and Other Stories by Holly Black

got close.
    "I thought those things were bold as hustlers,” I said.
    "No, they're shy.” He tossed the remaining pieces in the air, juggling them. Each throw was higher than the last.
    "You're a virgin, aren't you?"
    He looked at me like I'd hit him. The bits of bread kept moving though, as if his hands were separate from the rest of him.
    That night I followed Zachary home. Through the winding, urine-stained tunnels of the subway and the crowded trains themselves, always one car behind, watching him through the milky, scratched glass between the cars. I followed him as he changed trains; I hid behind a newspaper like a cheesy TV cop. I followed him all the way from the park through the edge of a huge cemetery where the stink of the zoo carried in the breeze. By then, I couldn't understand how he didn't hear me rustling behind him, the newspaper long gone and me hiking up my backpack every ten minutes. But Zachary doesn't exactly live in the here and now, and for once I had to be glad for that.
    Then we came to a patch of woods and I hesitated. It reminded me of where my foster family lived, where the trees always seemed a menacing border to every strip mall. There were weird sounds all around and it was impossible to walk quietly. I forced myself to crunch along behind him in the very dark dark.
    Finally, we stopped. A thick bunch of branches hung like a dome in front of him, their leaves dragging on the forest floor. I couldn't see anything much under it, but it did seem like there was a slight light. He turned, either reflexively, or because he had heard me after all, but his face stayed blank. He parted the branches with his hands and ducked under them. My heart was beating madly in my chest, that too-much-caffeine drumming. I crept up and tried not to think too hard, because right then I wished I was in Tanya's apartment, watching her snort whatever, the way you're supposed to wish for mom's apple pie.
    I wasn't cold; I had brought Tanya's boyfriend's thick jacket. I fumbled around in the pocket and found a big, dirty knife, which I opened and closed to make myself feel safer. I thought about walking back, but if I got lost I would absolutely have freaked out. I though about going under the branches into Zachary's house, but I didn't know what to expect and for some reason that scared me more than the darkness.
    He came out then, looked around and whispered, “Jen."
    I stood up. I was so relieved that I didn't even hesitate. His eyes were red-rimmed, like he had been crying. He extended one hand to me.
    "God, it's scary out here,” I said.
    He put one finger to his lips.
    He didn't ask me why I'd followed him; he just took my hand and led me further into the forest. When we stopped, he just looked at me. He swallowed like his throat was sore. This was my idea, I reminded myself.
    "Sit down,” I said and smiled.
    "You want me to sit?” He sounded reassuringly like himself.
    "Well, take off your pants first."
    He looked at me incredulously, but he started to do it.
    "Underwear too,” I said. I was nervous. Oh boy, was I nervous. Mostly I had been drunk all the times before, or I had done what was expected of me. Never, never had I seduced a boy. I started to unlace my work boots.
    "I can't,” he said, looking toward the faint light.
    "You don't want to?” I took one of his hands and set it on my hip.
    His fingers dug into my skin, pulling me closer.
    Why are you doing this?” His voice sounded husky.
    I didn't answer; I couldn't. It didn't seem to matter anyway. His hands—those juggling hands that didn't seem to care what he was thinking—fumbled with the buttons of my jeans. We didn't kiss. He didn't close his eyes.
    Leaves rustled and I could smell that rich, wet, storm smell in the air. The wind picked up around us.
    Zachary looked up at me and then past my face. His features stiffened. I turned and saw a white horse with muddy hooves. For a moment, it seemed funny. It was just a horse. Then she bolted. She