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

ease of it,” Esau says immediately. “Being with people who know me without constantly expecting something. I can just be myself, you know?”

I nod. I get it. More importantly, Esau gets it. The constant nagging at the back of my mind that everything I do is a performance. Not for my benefit, but for the benefit of the people around me. Aunt Karen. My classmates and teachers. The sheriff and his deputies.

“I feel a little of that. When I’m with you,” he whispers in my ear.

My cheeks warm. “Me too.” It’s the reason I came out here. Because as much as I told myself I was using Esau as a distraction, it becomes less and less true with each minute we spend together. I’ve learned so much about him these past few weeks. And I’m starting to give him glimpses of the real me in return. The version I hide underneath. He never rejects the flashes of truth I show him.

We ride in comfortable silence, the sun and the warm breeze our only company. Water burbles in the irrigation ditch as we drive alongside it. Something slips beneath the surface of the water. Probably one of those crawdad things.

I am 100 percent glad I played hookie today. V. I. C. T. O. R. Y.

“Want to see the corn maze?” he asks over the coughing of the engine.

“Is that allowed?” I ask, turning to look up at him.

In lieu of answering, he winks.

“What’s it shaped like?”

“Let’s see if you can figure it out. Just give me a minute.” Cutting off the tractor’s engine, Esau jumps down from the high seat and turns off an irrigation valve. The rich dirt beneath the sprawling vines is a rich cocoa brown.

When he swings himself up behind me, I nestle against him again. Being here, with Esau, I actually feel something. It’s been so long since I felt that way that it takes me a second to recognize it. Safety. I feel safe with Esau.

The corn looms up before us, rows and rows and rows of it so dense and wide and tall that it takes my breath away. The stalks wave in the gentle air as Esau helps me down, his hands tightening on my sides. His attention dips to my mouth.

“You can’t catch me!” I squeal, bolting toward the shelter of the maze. My laughter trails behind as Esau gives chase.

I run under the wooden arch into the maze, making turns at random. Left. Left. Right. Dead end.

I crouch in the corner and wait, listening.

“I helped cut this maze,” Esau calls from nearby, a cocky slant in his tone. “You can only hide from me for so long.”

“We’ll see.” I’m off, running down another path.

Footsteps thud behind me as I push my legs to their limit. Suddenly I stop in a little alcove where there’s a bale of hay set up as a bench. Easing down on it, I wait for Esau. My heart is drumming a gleeful rhythm in my chest. Whatever this game is, I’m pretty sure I’m winning.

Esau calls a taunt from somewhere to my right just as something snags the back of my dress. I stifle a gasp as I whirl around.

Nothing there but giant stalks of corn.

Weird.

Shaking it off, I wait for Esau to come around that corner, his eyes lighting up when he spots me.

A minute stretches out. I can hear Esau moving in a distant part of the maze. Somehow, he hasn’t found me yet.

Nearby, something snaps.

I whip my attention in that direction, but there’s nothing there. Slowly, I turn to face the path. Listening.

I can’t hear Esau anymore. He must be at the other end of the cornfield.

How big is this maze anyway?

The aisle feels narrower than it did before, as if the corn is looming in toward where I’m sitting. There’s a rustling in the next row.

“Took you long enough,” I say, but Esau doesn’t appear.

“Esau?” I call. “Hello?”

No response.

Nervous energy tingles up my back, making me pull my shoulder blades in. Being alone in this place is starting to get a little creepy. Like that Stephen King movie about people who were lost in an endless corn field for so long that they started to lose their minds.

Around me, the corn creates a tall, green wall that blocks everything from view. Above, the blue sky is empty. No clouds, no airplanes, no birds.

Maybe I should keep moving.

I make lots of noise as I advance through the maze, trying to find the way out.

I yell for Esau again, louder this time. He doesn’t answer.

A crow flies out of nowhere, cawing in my face, flapping its wings as it ascends.

I scream in surprise, and then I’m running blind. My feet beat a path over the dusty ground as I try vainly to find the exit. A stalk whips across my face as I take a sharp corner. My cheek stings, but I don’t stop. I have to get out of here.

I round another corner and run smack into Esau.

“Whoa, whoa. What’s wrong?” he asks, his hands gently rounding my shoulders.

I shake my head. Take in a shaky breath.

I can’t tell him. He’ll think I’m a scaredy cat. A paranoid kitten.

“Got scared by a crow,” I say with false bravado. Force out a laugh that’s faker than a blizzard in July.

But when I look up, Esau isn’t focused on me. His attention is on something over my shoulder, his mouth is parted in shock.

When I spin around, I see it. A black pillar of smoke coming from the edge of the cornfield. Birds flee with loud squawks from the growing spark of flame. Slowly, corn stalks begin to burn. Then more quickly.

“Shit!” Esau runs down the narrow path between the maze and the next field of corn. “Flip the valve!” he yells over his shoulder.

I’m frozen in incomprehension for a second before I spring into action. Running to the spot where the irrigation valve meets the larger line from the ditch, I open it wide. Rushing