Page 1 of Firefly Effect

PROLOGUE

EVELYN

14 YEARS AGO

Wild flames from the campfire danced between us, the bright-orange glow resembling a bald cypress tree bowing and rustling with the wind. If only the imagery was enough to shield my view from him—Foster Pruitt, the cute older boy with the thick chestnut hair and intense focus on everything but me.

Not even his lack of acknowledgment was enough to stop the pitter-patter running rampant in my chest when I caught a glimpse of him.

“Tell us the story,” Kyle, a boy my age sitting near Foster, asked my Uncle Patrick. “The one about the Firefly Man.”

The wide eyes of every kid there fixed on my uncle, who sat beside me. Uncle Patrick had been forced to retell the same spooky story every night since we’d arrived at Deep Creek Campground.

Meanwhile, Foster’s natural pout deepened. “Again?”

His gaze shifted around the fire, as if to see if anyone would object, but he seemed to be the only one with a problem, and I didn’t know why. Not even I was sick of hearing this folklore for the fifth night in a row.

Just then, Lilith, a girl Foster’s age, sat down on the log between Foster and Kyle. She was wearing a short black skirt and tight black tank top that revealed a hint of cleavage. Jealousy swirled in my heart—Lilith had a far better chance of getting Foster’s attention than I ever could.

From my other side, Carley, Foster’s younger sister, elbowed me gently. “Lilith needs to get a clue. Foster hasn’t spoken a word to her all week.”

Her words soothed the daggers of envy swirling through me, and I smiled back at her, amused. “Really? She’s so pretty.”

Carley rolled her eyes. “She’s annoying. That’s what she is.”

Stifling a laugh, I watched Foster as Lilith whispered to him, his frown deepening by the second. As cute as Foster was, I couldn’t miss the constant glower on his beautiful face, like he lived beneath a cloud of gloom and doom. All I wanted to do was make him smile—but I was running out of time.

“You want the Firefly Man story again? Are you sure?” Uncle Patrick teased the lot of us.

“Yes!” several of us called simultaneously.

“Please, Patrick,” Carley added.

“It’s the last night. You have to,” said Kyle.

“It’s tradition,” Janessa reminded him.

Janessa was right. Every night, before we went out to watch the synchronous fireflies ceremoniously select their mates, Uncle Patrick would retell the story of a mysterious hiker who stalked the woods every year around this time. The Firefly Man’s mission was to scare away anyone who attempted to disturb his precious fireflies or their mating ritual that illuminated the woods.

Patrick cleared his throat and began to speak. Just like every other night, my friends and I huddled around the fire and giggled at the story. Meanwhile, I kept sneaking glances at the boy scowling from across the fire. I couldn’t look away.

“Daydreaming will get you nowhere, my dear,” my mother would often taunt when she caught me in a similar trance. I could hear those words rushing through my mind now as if she were here. While I hated admitting when my mother was right, Foster had clearly stolen my attention ever since Uncle Patrick and I had arrived here last week.

Not that I could help it.

At first glance, I saw that they didn’t make boys like Foster back in Raleigh. At least, not that I’d ever noticed. He was different—quietly observant, oblivious to my family’s wealth, and seemingly fascinated by the nature that surrounded us.

I desperately wanted him to be just as fascinated with me.

He was just so… interesting. Especially when compared to Carley. The siblings were opposites in most cases, but I loved how he watched out for his little sister.

I wondered if anyone else looked out for her like he did. Carley was a wild child, a rebel, but with the sweetest heart of anyone I had ever met. She had a curiosity that craved adventure, and I adored the way she often dragged me along for the ride. I felt like we’d known each other our whole lives rather than just the five days we’d spent together this week.

“Evelyn Beatrice Vaughn, did you hear me?” Carley asked.

My head whipped in Carley’s direction. The girl had an amazing memory, given she’d just asked me what my middle name was while swimming earlier in the day.

“Yes,” I said automatically, realizing Patrick had already finished telling the Firefly Man story.

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