Free Grave Girl by Amy Cross Page A

kids might have climbed the cemetery wall again. She listens out for any sound that might seem out of place, and eventually it happens: another brief burst of laughter, followed by a muffled shout. Sam blinks, realizing that she's not definitely imagining any of this. Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she sighs as she grabs her clothes from the floor and starts to get dressed. Eventually, she steps over to the window and looks out across the cemetery. All she sees is darkness, and the top of the wall running around the perimeter; above, the moon is bright and full, its calming light picking out the edges of just one or two gravestones. It's a peaceful scene, still and restful, but Sam knows better than to be lulled into a false sense of security. This is only her second night in Rippon, but she knows that there are bored kids in town. Kids with nothing to do, and all day to do it; kids who sleep away their days and then emerge at night, driven by hormones and frustration. They bothered her last night, chasing her with a stone angel and making her feel like a fool, and it seems they're back for more.
    She smiles. This time, she's ready for them.
    Glancing over at the dressing table, Sam spots the unopened bottle of wine that she found in one of the cabinets. It's so tempting to open it up and take a quick swig before she goes out to find the source of the noise, but she reminds herself that she doesn't really need that kind of fake courage. Not these days.
    "I need to pee anyway," she mutters, wandering through to the bathroom. Once she's finished, she grabs her shovel from by the door, slides the bolt across, puts her shoes on, and steps out into the moonlight. At least it's not too cold out here, she reminds herself, as she squints in an attempt to get a better view of her tormentors. Looking down at her own legs, Sam realizes she's standing in a bright patch of moonlight, which means she's clearly visible to anyone who's hiding in the darkness. Sighing, she takes a few steps over to the shadow of the beech trees. Now, finally, she can observe her observers from the shadows.
    "Come on," she mutters quietly, "where are you?" Turning and craning her neck to take a look down the side of the cottage, she's relieved to see that Sparky the stone angel is still chained to the drainpipe. "Sorry, Sparky," she says quietly, feeling a little guilty for leaving her only friend restrained in such a harsh manner. Still, she knows she has to work out where to place the angel, and she figures she has a little time left in which to make a decision. That's one of the good things about moving from Leeds to this little town in the middle of nowhere: life's so much slower in Rippon.
    Suddenly she hears the laughter again, and this time she's certain it's coming from the far corner of the cemetery. Making sure to stay in the shadows, Sam creeps slowly over the soft grass, with her spade slung over her shoulder. Her eyes scan the darkness, keen to get any sign of the interlopers' exact location. Finally, she hears whispered voices nearby, and she stops to listen.
    "I don't get why you're always like this," a male voice is saying. "It's the same every night. If you're not careful, Anna, I'm gonna start telling people you're a tease."
    "It's not that," replies a female voice. "I just don't get why you always want to come here."
    "You'd rather go to a bar?"
    "That's not what I mean."
    "Well, where else do you wanna go? Your place? Mine? There's nowhere. At least we'll be left alone here. You're not scared, are you? Come on, you know I'm gonna keep you safe. Feel these big, strong arms around you."
    "Oh, please," Sam mutters under her breath. All this trouble, just for a couple of horny kids. They're not even trying to cause trouble; they're just looking for a quiet, discreet spot where they can do the kind of things that horny kids always do. If it had been left up to Sam, she'd probably just let them get on with it, but she knows she can't