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hands up in frustration and follows the arm inside. Frankie stays outside.
    â€œOkay,” says Candace. “I’ll be back in a minute.” She starts to move, but I grab her arm.
    â€œListen,” I say. “Don’t be offended, but if you jump out of the bushes at this kid, he’s going to think that he’s being abducted by the angel of death. He’ll be in therapy for years, if he doesn’t die of shock first. Let me do it.”
    I run into the yard and over to Frankie.
    His jaw drops when he sees me. “Tooth fairy?” he asks, his eyes wide.
    This is something I can work with. “Yes!” I say. “It’s me, the tooth fairy! Where’s your sister?”
    â€œMom made her call Grandma for her birthday,” says Frankie. “I already talked to her today, so I’m allowed to stay outside.”
    â€œWell, boy oh boy, Frankie,” I say. “Have I got a surprise for you!”
    â€œA surprise? But I haven’t lost any teeth lately.”
    â€œUmm, that doesn’t matter! Because you—have won—the tooth fairy lottery!”
    â€œWhaddaya mean?”
    â€œAll you have to do is answer one skill-testing question, and you get the grand prize! Just tell me where the backpack is and you’ll be the winner!”
    â€œYou mean the backpack from the park? The one with all the hairspray in it?”
    â€œYeah, that one!”
    â€œMy sister hid it behind the toolshed.”
    â€œExcellent! Good job! You’re the winner!”
    â€œWhat do I win?”
    â€œUmmm…” I reach into my jacket and pull out my wallet. No cash, just cards. “Hang on a second.” I run back to the hedge. “Quick!” I say. “Do either of you have any cash?”
    â€œI told you, my wallet’s in the backpack,” says Candace.
    â€œWhat’s the deal?” asks Paul. “Is he holding it ransom?”
    â€œI don’t have time to explain. Come on, I need some cash!”
    Paul digs into his pocket and shoves a five-dollar bill at me. I run back to Frankie.
    â€œWho were you talking to?” he asks.
    â€œMy reindeer,” I say. “He carries my wallet.”
    â€œYou have a reindeer? Lemme see!”
    â€œHe’s invisible. Listen, kid, I’ve gotta get moving. These lottery prizes won’t deliver themselves.” I shove the fiver at him.
    â€œWow!” says Frankie. “Five bucks! Thanks, tooth fairy!”
    â€œYeah yeah, no problem.” I quickly glance at the house. “Where’s the backpack?”
    He trots behind the toolshed and comes back a moment later with the pack.
    â€œThanks, buddy,” I say, turning to make my getaway. “Remember to brush and floss, and don’t play violent video games!”
    Back at the hedge, I hand the pack to Candace.
    â€œYou’ve got one hell of a heavy hobby,” I tell her. “Let’s get out of here.”
    Once we’re in the truck, she rips open the pack and rifles through it, pulling out cans of spray paint and plastic bags full of markers.
    â€œAwesome,” she says. “Everything’s still here. I don’t know why I even bothered to take this shit with me. It’s not like there’s anyplace worth painting in this bullshit town.”
    â€œI wouldn’t be so quick to judge if I were you,” I tell her.

ANDREA
    Granite Ridge got its name from the abandoned quarry that’s half hidden in the woods on the east side of town. Because one side of the quarry is a steep wall of granite that rises above the tree line, everyone calls it the Ledge.
    When I was a kid, my mom made it very clear that I was to stay away from the quarry. She said it was a place where bad people went to do bad things. When I was eight or nine, I saw Dirty Dancing on TV, and for a while I was convinced that the Ledge was a hangout for people like Patrick Swayze and his dance crew. I pictured girls with