Free Wolf Hollow by Lauren Wolk

one of the sweetest, gentlest people I knew, and I began to cry, too. “I’m so sorry you got hurt,” I said.
    Ruth stiffened. “I didn’t get hurt,” she said. “Someone hurt me.”
    I wiped my face. “Did you see anything?”
    â€œNot really. Something moved on the hillside and I looked up and that’s why the rock hit me so square in the eye. If I’d been looking down just a little . . .” She brought her knees up and crossed her wrists under her chin. “They say I’ll get used to it. But I don’t think I will.”
    â€œTime to go, Annabelle,” my mother said from the doorway. “Ruth needs her rest.”
    When I said good-bye, I didn’t even hug Ruth or wish her well. I didn’t know that this would be the last time I’d ever see her.

    The visit to the Glengarrys was worse.
    It was strange to sit between my parents on a threadbare settee in the Glengarrys’ front room while Betty and her grandparents sat on kitchen chairs arranged in a line across from us. They sat higher than we did, and their faces were serious, but my parents were calm and warm on either side of me.
    â€œI’m glad for the chance to thank you,” Mr. Glengarry began. “For the jewelweed. By the time I got home from Ohio, Betty was already on the mend. We’re very grateful for your help.”
    â€œAnd we’re glad to give it, always,” my mother said. The “but” hovered on her lips.
    My father said, “We want to talk with you about what’s been going on at school.”
    â€œSo do we,” Mr. Glengarry said. “Betty has told us some very serious things about what happened to Ruth.”
    â€œTo Ruth?” my mother said. “We’re not here about Ruth. We’re here about what happened to James, our youngest. And to Annabelle.”
    The Glengarrys looked puzzled.
    Betty simply stared straight at me, unmoving.
    Everyone in the room knew why Betty had come to live in the country, so I did not expect to surprise anyone when I said, “Betty told me that if I didn’t bring her things, she would hurt me and my brothers. Which she did. First me, with a stick, twice, and then a quail she caught, and then yesterday, my little brother, with a sharp wire strung across the path to school. But I think Andy Woodberry helped with that part.”
    It came out faster than the silence that followed it.
    â€œBetty?” Her grandma looked torn right down the middle, one half resigned, the other a little hopeful. “Did you do these things?”
    Betty shook her head. “I never did,” she said. “I wouldn’t do that.”
    â€œBut you did, and you know you did,” I insisted. “Even though I brought you a penny and tried to be your friend.”
    My mother put a hand on my knee to hush me. “Annabelle wouldn’t lie about such things,” she said.
    â€œBut Betty would?” Mr. Glengarry didn’t sound angry quite, but I could see where this was headed. I imagined that my own grandfather would stand up for me no matter what I’d done.
    â€œAsk Toby if you don’t believe me,” I said. “He saw what happened when I gave her the penny. She threw it away and hit me with a stick, and I have the bruise to prove it. And when she killed the quail, Toby told her to leave me alone. But she didn’t. She’s the one who strung that wire. I know it.”
    â€œHush, now, Annabelle,” my mother said. “It’s all right.”
    â€œToby?” Mr. Glengarry said. “That wild man?” He looked at his granddaughter. “Tell them what you told us.”
    When she didn’t say anything, her grandmother put an arm around Betty and said, “It’s okay, Honey. You don’t need to be afraid now.”
    Betty tipped her head to one side, just a little, her eyes still on me. “I saw Toby on the hillside up above