Free Scare Crow by Julie Hockley

of me, pulling my T-shirt
     over my head. I wrapped my legs around his waist, taking the full weight of him on
     me as he took me w hole.
    We were one skin once a gain.
    This was the first dream of Cameron I’d had since his death. But it wasn’t like any
     other dream I’d ever had. This dream was vivid, to the point that I could still feel
     Cameron’s breath tingling against my skin even though I was awake now.
    If something actually happened the same way you remembered it while in slumber, was
     it still a dream? Or was it something else? Perhaps a memory. Or wishful thinking,
     as they say. When does dream become memory, and when does memory become d ream?
    This dream was not just a dream. It was exact. It was a few months ago. The night
     had started right here, in this bed, with a nightmare about Rocco just a few days
     after his death, and had ended with Cameron and me making love for the first time.
    Dream. Memory. Who cared? I went back to sleep, hoping to find Cameron t here.
    ****
    I took Meatball to the dock when I woke up again. He couldn’t wait to jump in the
     pond even if the water was freezing. I lay on my back and watched the sky through
     the trees, as I had done with Cameron. Even though I knew I was taking a risk by staying
     at the cottage for so long, I felt safe here.
    Spider was well hidden within the underworld, but Victor was everywhere, on purpose.
     He didn’t want to just rule the underworld; he wanted to control everything . He had made a good name for himself, even though it was all a lie.
    I had gone to the police station. I had thought about tarnishing his reputation—spreading
     the word on Victor’s deceit—and hopefully get him arrested, but what good would that
     do? Who would take my word against that of a hero? What evidence did I have, other
     than my own observa tion?
    And then there was Spider—as if Victor didn’t give me enough to worry a bout.
    I hoped that by finding out more about Cameron, I would find Spider. Cameron had told
     me that he and Spider had been so-called friends since they’d been in juvie together.
     They had been partners in crime when Cameron was in high school. Cameron’s hidden
     life would surely lead me to Spider, or at least give me clues as to how to find the
     bas tard.
    All this would take time, and time was not on my side.
    All these questions were floating around in my head; yet I was unusually calm. The
     rippling of the water against the dock, the sloshing of Meatball’s paws, the sway
     of trees—all made it easy for me to forget about everything else and focus on the
     biggest issue: how to sur vive.
    ****
    After finding dog and human food in the pantry of Cameron’s cottage, Meatball and
     I spent another night. But at the end of the weekend, I knew we couldn’t stay any
     longer. Eventually we would run out of food here too, and there weren’t many job prospects
     in the middle of the woods. I packed up whatever food was left and dragged Meatball
     into the car. I knew how he felt. I didn’t want to leave ei ther.
    Meatball’s head was low the whole drive home. It was weird and extremely lonely to
     know that my only friend, the only one who knew who I was and where I had been, was
     a dog.
    It wasn’t until I got out of the car and into the chilly night that I realized I’d
     left my jacket hanging on the kitchen chair at the cot tage.
    All the streetlights were on, and so was the porch light. I didn’t even know we had
     a porch light, let alone one with a working lightbulb. Between Meatball’s leash and
     the bag of stolen groceries, I struggled to turn the front door handle. It didn’t
     matter. The door flew open, and I got dragged inside. Even Meatball had been taken
     by surp rise.
    He had me in his arms so quickly that I didn’t have time to take a breath and validate
     who it was.
    “Bloody hell, where have you been?” he demanded. “I’ve been pacing this shithole for
     the last twenty-four h ours.”
    I