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Dipper. He’s watching me stare at him and I blush, but I don’t turn away. He grins and hands me the shirt.
    “Thanks.” I take the shirt and wait, but he doesn’t turn to leave. After a slightly awkward beat of silence, his lips twitch a little and he raises his eyebrows at me.
    “Well? Aren’t you gonna put it on?” He leans against his sister’s dresser and crosses his arms over his chest like he’s going to stick around and watch.
    “Whatever, there’s no way!” I laugh and push him out the door. My face is flushed all the way to my ears; I can feel them starting to burn.
    “You’re cute even when you’re lobster colored,” Cody says. He leans over and kisses my forehead, then turns to go.
    I pull off my uncomfortably tight sweater and slip Cody’s shirt over my head. A mixture of fresh-scented deodorant and the glue he uses when he works on his movie special-effects stuff surrounds me. I breathe it in and my body starts to relax. Now that I don’t have a realhome of my own to speak of, this scent and Cody himself are the closest things I have to one.
    “Lyla!” Cody’s mom calls.
    “Almost ready,” I call as I put my book bag over my shoulder. But even if I’m not, it’s time.
    Fifteen minutes later we’re turning down the long road that leads to Culver Creek High School. I can see a large crowd of people, cars, and news vans—almost as big as the one at the hospital yesterday morning. Cameramen huddle close to the fence that surrounds the school, their cameras pointed out toward the road, at us. It looks like Cody wasn’t the only one who wanted to capture images of my first day of school.
    Taylor slows the car, but she can’t exactly stop or turn around. There’s a long row of cars behind us. She pulls down her visor and checks her face in the tiny mirror. “Looks like we’re about to be on TV, you guys.”
    “Crap,” Cody grumbles from behind me. His hand comes up and taps my shoulder. “Hey … duck down, okay?”
    Immediately I stuff myself into the footwell. Not exactly how I pictured myself arriving on the first day. I pull my head close to the cloth seat and cover my eyes. I can’t see now, but I can still hear the people outside. I don’t move until the car pulls into the lot, beyond the chain-link fence that surrounds the school grounds.
    I lift my head and peek out the window. The sheriff and several deputies are by the fence, near the open entrance, making sure that the media stay outside. They must be so tired of managing all of this. Taylor slows and rolls down her window and Cody’s dad comes over, leans down, and peers in at us.
    Cody says, “What’s up with all of this?” He jerks his head toward the swarm of media pressed against the fence.
    “They found out that the cult kids—sorry, Lyla, the
Meadows
kids—are starting today.” The sheriff hesitates. “And with Pioneer’s transfer and his first court date coming up, they’re all caught up in the story again. Just park as close to the building as possible and do your best to ignore ’em. They’ll hang around a day or so and then move on if they don’t get what they want. Cody—I’m having your car brought around for later. Can’t have you and Lyla stranded with this circus goin’ on, and Taylor’s gotta work after school.” He leans closer to the car and points at Cody. “But you’re still grounded. Head straight to the station for phone duty after dropping Lyla off this afternoon, understand?”
    Cody nods with mock gravity and for a second I almost feel like laughing. He loves his car. The sheriff just made his whole day—well, almost. If he didn’t have to go to the station to work after school,
then
it would have been made.
    I can hear the reporters calling to us from behind the fence. The sheriff lingering at our car has made them curious about us.
    “Sheriff, who’s in the car?”
    “Is she in there?”
    “Lyla!”
    “Hey, Little Owl!” When someone shouts this, a ripple of