Debbie blew into her hands and rubbed them together.

"You should be wearing gloves," I told her.

"Look who's talking." She sniffed. I'd forgotten to put on a pair before leaving. "Anyway, that's what I'm here for — I lost my gloves earlier and I've been roaming around from store to store trying to find an identical pair. I don't want my parents to find out I lost them on only my second day out of bed."

"What were they like?" I asked.

"Red, with fake fur around the wrists," she said. "My uncle gave them to me a few months ago but didn't say where he got them."

"Have you tried this place yet?" I asked.

"Uh-uh," she said. "I was on my way in when I spotted you."

"Want to come in with me?" I asked.

"Sure," she said. "I hate shopping by myself. I'll help you choose a CD player if you want. I know a lot about them."

"Okay," I said, then pushed the door open and held it for her.

"Why, Darren," she said with a laugh, "people will think you have a crush on me."

I felt myself blushing and tried to think of an okay response — but couldn't. Debbie giggled, walked in, and left me to trail along behind her.

CHAPTER FIVE

Debbie's last name was Hemlock, and she hated it.

"Imagine being named after a poisonous plant!" she fumed.

"It's not that bad," I said. "I kind of like it."

"Shows what kind of taste you have," she scoffed.

Debbie had only recently moved here with her parents. She had no brothers or sisters. Her dad was a computer whiz who regularly flew around the world on business. They'd moved five times since she was born.

She was interested to learn that I was also used to moving around. I didn't tell her about the Cirque Du Freak, but said I was on the road a lot with my dad, who was a traveling salesman.