We ran as fast as we could over dirt, roots, and fallen leaves. We finally reached the entrance to the woods where our cars were parked.

A figure was sitting inside Nash’s car. We paused. We crept toward the car, Dylan and Jake leading the way.

The door opened and out popped Nash. I had to admit I was relieved, until he displayed a cheesy smirk.

The group laughed at his joke, now comforted that we’d found our friend. Jake high-fived him. But I wasn’t so proud. I noticed beads of sweat dotting his brow. He appeared shaky.

Dylan wasn’t as quick to give Nash props, either. “Hey, you left two guys alone in the woods with three girls. I think the joke’s on you.”

“Not so fast…” Nash took my hand, protecting his turf. “It was just a prank.”

But I knew better.

We all hugged good-bye, and each couple got into their separate vehicles.

As Nash turned on the ignition of his car, his hands were still shaking. Nash had frightened himself — by his own story and by the timely howling animal. I slunk into the passenger seat and put on a brave face to mask my disappointment in my boyfriend’s cowardice.

“You really had them fooled,” I said flatly. “More so than you think.”

I’d lived my seventeen years in Legend’s Run in an average American four-bedroom house with my “still married” parents and snotty older sister, Juliette. I had a decent upbringing in Legend’s Run and didn’t have too many complaints about the town except that it was full of social tension from being divided into two parts — the affluent suburbs on the east side and the blue-collar, rural town on the west. The Eastside was built up with new developments and rolling estates, while the Westside, or Riverside, was more agricultural. The Eastsiders felt their new homes were superior to the country homes, and the Riversiders resented that cornfields and silos were giving way to concrete driveways and street lamps.