Don't Look Behind You (Don't Look Series Book 1) Emily Kazmierski (ereader that reads to you TXT) 📖

The bird makes another attempt and goes back to fake foraging. Evil, wily creature.

Taking a peek at my heel, I hiss under my breath. It’s bleeding from a small hole where the freaking aggressive bird bit me. I look to the house twenty feet away. Back down at the bird. Should I make a break for it?

The front door opens and Noah steps out. He’s got a bright purple feather boa around his neck, and his wavy black hair is tousled over his forehead. It’s almost enough to make me chuckle despite my current situation.

Noah’s mouth drops open when he catches sight of me huddled in a tree like a trapped raccoon. “Megan? Crap. Napoleon! You stupid rooster.” Jogging over to the base of the trunk, Noah shoos the bird who I swear glares at me before trotting around the side of the house. If I didn’t believe birds were somehow related to dinosaurs, I do now.

“Here, let me help you down.” Noah’s hands land lightly on my waist, and I jump down from the branch. “I’m so sorry about that. I was going to come out and warn you about our guard rooster, but my sister got me invested in building a blanket fort and… You’re bleeding! God, Megan, I’m so sorry. What a disaster.”

“It’s okay. Thanks for the hand down.”

When I meet his eyes, I’m surprised to see a tinge of pink in his cheeks. Is Noah blushing? He seems to realize that his hands are still on my waist, because he pulls away and scratches the back of his neck. “Let’s get you inside before Napoleon remembers he likes the taste of human flesh, okay?”

I force a laugh, but I’m wary of the demon bird until we’re safely inside.

Noah was not exaggerating about the blanket fort he and his siblings have made. The entire front room of the house is a canopy of blankets upheld by dining chairs, a floor lamp, and lots and lots of wooden clothespins. One snaps and flies through the air as a little girl crawls out the nearest flap in the fort and looks up at me with open curiosity.

“Anza, this is my friend Megan. Megan, my sister Esperanza. Anza for short.”

The little girl grins, showcasing a gap where her two front teeth should be. “Are you here to see our fort?”

A little boy crawls out of the flap, takes a peek at me, and scuttles back under the blankets.

“That’s Matteo,” Noah explains. “He’s shy around new people.”

“Come on. Let me show you our fort. It’s the biggest one we’ve ever made. Noah helped, but Mattie and I did most of it.”

“You did? That’s impressive.”

The little girl nods, still grinning, but Noah begs off, telling her we have homework to do. He leads me around the giant patchwork of blankets to the dining table, which is missing all but one chair and a long bench. Noah gestures for me to take the chair before folding himself on to the bench. It’s so tall, the boy’s long legs barely fit under the table. When I try to get him to switch, he waves me off. “I’m used to it,” he says with a small smile.

We’ve just pulled our class notes out when Esperanza approaches us, towing her younger brother behind her. “We’re hungry,” she says. “Can you make us quesadillas? With just cheese. No tomatoes.”

Matteo whispers in Esperanza’s ear loud enough that I can hear he doesn’t want beans in his either.

I stifle a laugh.

Noah sighs, pulling his gaze toward mine. “You don’t mind, do you? Want one?”

“Go ahead. Kids have to eat, right?” Esperanza returns the warm look I send her way. Matteo is hiding behind her, and she’s just tall enough that it works.

Noah excuses himself to work on quesadillas while Esperanza climbs onto the bench and grabs one of the coloring books Noah pushed to the far end of the table when we set up shop. Pulling a bin of markers toward her, she goes to work on a rainbow unicorn, showing me her progress after each color.

I look around for Matteo, but he must have disappeared into the blanket fort again.

“Did you know that my brother and I are raising a pig?” Esperanza says with a giddy grin.

“You what?”

“Her name is Piglet, and once she’s big and fat we’re going to sell her and buy a car just for us.”

A whine comes from somewhere under the blankets. Noah catches my eye from where he’s standing at the stove, a knowing smile playing over his features.

Esperanza leans closer to me. “Mattie wants to buy new video games, but I think a car would be better.”

“A car would be pretty awesome. I don’t even have a car.”

The little girl’s eyes widen and she dives under the blanket fort, loudly informing her brother of my lack of vehicle. Esperanza is sweet, and I’m betting Matteo is too.

I scroll through the images on my phone, trying to decide which one to post. I’ve been posting most days, and it feels great to put my work out there again. The likes and comments don’t hurt either. I’ve reconnected with a couple of girls I used to do photo challenges with, too.

“How’d you get that big white scar on your face?”

Noah’s jaw drops in horror at Anza’s bald-faced question.

“Were you born with it? I was born with a strawberry mark on my arm. See?”

I look down at the little girl’s arm where she’s pointing to a mark that really does look like a strawberry.

“Anza! You don’t ask people rude questions like that,” Noah scolds. “Sorry about that. Six-year-olds, you know?” It would be easier to shrug off if Noah wasn’t scanning my face with intent eyes, the question clearly visible there. How did you get that scar?

I don’t want to talk about this. “I have to go to the bathroom,” I blurt.

Noah tells me where it is, and I hurry away from Anza. Don’t follow me, don’t follow me, don’t follow me.

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