Page 98 of Tis the Season to be Bullied

Serpents

Chapter 1

Nim

Which deadly creature looks like a dog, sounds like a dog, and eats like a dog?Adog with a machete, obviously.

Never knew I’d be the punchline to such a bad joke.

The puppy that just wandered up to me doesn’t look deadly. Not even a little bit. It has floppy ears too big to ever grow into, a brown, black, and tan brindle coat, and a white star on its chest.

“Oh my fucking word, who’s the cutest liddle puppy in the whole wide world?” Whenever I see a cute dog, I instantly switch to baby talk. Which is weird, because that doesn’t happen when I see a baby.

Crouching, I hold my hand out to the little critter. Going from the blue collar, I assume he’s a boy—or possibly the fur-baby of woke parents who refuse to bow to gender norms.

The puppy cocks his head, regarding me with a shrewd frown.

“It’s okay,” I murmur. “I won’t hurt you.”

If I’d known this adorable bundle of fur and frowns would turn out to be just as dangerous as the dog with the machete, I wouldn’t have made kissing sounds to lure him out from behinda fern until he was close enough that I could scratch him behind his ears.

“See? All I have up my sleeve is loooove.” If he wasn’t so fucking cute, I might have spent more time trying to figure out what a little rascal like this was doing in the woods.

Fuck, I could ask myself the same question. I’m the furthest thing from outdoorsie, but here I am, knee-deep in green things.It was this or wait in the car outside some massive mansion’s wrought iron gates. And since I’d just spent six hours in the car with my parents already, I felt like I needed a change of scenery. Not that I don’t love them, but if I had to listen to one more anecdote about Cinderhart, the kind where they alternate sentences and laugh so much, I can barely make out what they’re saying, then I would have lost my fucking mind. Plus, forests always seem so cool. We don’t have any back home in the city. It’s all concrete and glass.

“What’s your name?” I gingerly grab the dog’s collar and hunt for a tag. “Boomer?” There’s a phone number on the bag. “Are you lost, boy?” Now that the puppy is closer, it’s apparent he is, in fact, a boy.

I take out my phone and start putting in the number. I have two more digits to go when the crack of a gunshot makes me gasp.

Boomer lets out a deafeningyip, and bolts away.

“Boomer, no! Wait. I mean, stay! Come back!” Shit, the poor little spud can’t be left alone out here by himself. He must be terrified. I know I am.

I shove my phone in my pocket and rush after him, glad I decided on sneakers and not my usual thick-heeled boots. Although, when I stub my toe on an exposed root a few seconds later, I change my mind.

“Fuck!” I lose sight of Boomer and, when I spin around, realize that I’ve wandered off the faint path I’d been following all the way from Vicky’s house.

“Goddammit,” I mutter. I’m seconds away from calling my parents and requesting air support.

This trip to Cinderhart started out pretty fun. I don’t remember much about this place. Our family left when I was a baby, so I didn’t get a chance to make many memories. My parents came back for their twentieth reunion, and felt the need to drag me along. Now I’m being forced to spend the weekend in this tiny mining town while my best friend gets to ogle all the hot guys at the club where we work.

Life really isn’t fair.

As much as I want to rescue Boomer, I should be heading back to civilization. The last thing I need is to get lost in these tangled woods, especially with hunters around. At least…I hope that gunshot I heard was from a hunter. Oh my God...is that what Boomer’s doing here? He must have gotten separated from his pack, the poor little sod.

There’s a faintyipin the distance.

Speak of the devil’s adorable little dog.

I’ll feel terrible if I leave him out here. I have GPS on my phone—I can’t getthatlost, right?

I start in the direction I heard him bark, moving at a jog so I don’t lose him but not at a run so I stub my toe again. It’s tough going, but searching for a dog in an overgrown forest is still more fun than sitting parked in a car with barely functional air conditioning.

Not to say I’m not super intrigued about the little town my parents were born and raised in. Their lives here sound like something out of a fairy tale. They met in junior high, fell in love, and got married while they were still in college. They say the biggest mistake they ever made was moving to the city oncethey’d graduated...which makes me wonder why they didn’t just stay here. But if they had, I wouldn’t have become friends with Peggy, wouldn’t have landed such an awesome job, and I’d probably be spending my weekends doing this—running around in a forest.

“Boomer!” I call out. “Come here, boy!”

I have no idea if I’m headed in the right direction. Everything looks exactly the same and it’s a lot spookier out here than I’d anticipated. I thought forests were supposed to be serene places of natural beauty. Trees and shadows and moss. Only dangerous if I fell into poison ivy, or bumped into a wild boar.

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