Page 1 of Into the Woods

Chapter 1

Devotion

Winnie

twelve years old

Sunlight streamedthrough the gently swaying leaves, dappling the forest floor in bright polka-dots that almost perfectly matched the bow swinging at the end of my braid. I’d salvaged the piece of ribbon from where one of my mama’s friends tossed it toward the trash can. She’d missed of course, but that was just how things played out when Mama and her friends were celebrating. That’s what they always called it when they got together and acted all silly.

When I was little, I had no reason to think it was anything other than that, but as I grew older, I knew their parties were nothing more than an escape. That they were drowning their screams of suffering as the lives they thought they’d be living died tragic deaths worthy of Shakespeare, or one of the thrillers Christophe had told me about.

I didn’t blame them for wanting an escape. Life in this town was shitty unless you were one of the elite families, and we had never been able to claim that title. But everyone needed a place where they could let their worries go, pretend nothing bad existed. A place where the world was nothing but sunshine and honey.

These woods were that place for me, but only for a few precious weeks of summer.

I shifted on the fallen log, anticipation making me restless and antsy. I’d woken up early, taken extra care twisting my blonde hair into a French braid—my newest skill—holding the intricate design together with the pretty scrap of ribbon.

I closed my eyes and concentrated, listening for any telltale sound that he was near.

We’d made plans yesterday, actual plans like a date. My first official date and it was with Christophe Robicheaux.

Every summer, for as long as I can remember, he appeared like a breath of fresh air and a hint of what the world outside of mine might hold. We were opposites in every way.

Christophe’s family was rich. Mine was dirt poor.

Christophe’s clothes were new and fashionable. Mine were old and dated.

Christophe’s burnished hair was always freshly trimmed. My locks were unbleached and wild.

Christophe left at the end of every summer to spend another year at the private all-boys school he attended—the one he lived at that cost more money than I could even imagine. Living the charmed life as the only son of a wealthy family. Attending parties. Playing sports. Traveling over holidays and seeing the world.

My public school and peanut butter and honey sandwiches couldn’t begin to compare to the lavishness of his life. But wewere friends. Had been since he first sauntered into the woods that separated our worlds.

The snap of a stick had my eyes popping open and my heart stuttering in anticipation. Today was his last day before he left for another year. Would he ask me to be his girlfriend? Would he kiss me? My hands were sweat slicked, nervousness zinged through me as I checked to make sure my braid was still neatly in place.

As silence settled once again, I closed my eyes and tried to find calm with a deep breath. My hands on my belly, my shoulders rose as I breathed out through pursed lips, the honey-vanilla lip gloss that I splurged on at the dollar store mostly gone from the number of times my tongue had darted out in anticipation.

I was nervous.

I was excited.

I was ready and I was terrified.

“You waiting for me?” Christophe’s voice came from nowhere. Without a sound, he was right in front of me. Closer than he had any right to be with as silently as he’d approached.

I blinked, taking in the boy standing in front of me, but just out of my reach. Leaves rustled, parting in the gentle breeze, casting Christophe in shadow.

As the leaves settled, he came into focus. Navy-blue shorts crisply pressed and topped with a bright white shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows. Copper hair artfully pushed back from his face, stunning icy blue eyes dancing over me as he waited for me to respond.

Christophe Robicheaux was the most beautiful boy I’d ever seen. He took my breath away and stole the words from my lips without even trying. That part was new and had gotten more and more pronounced over the last summer or two—ever since mybest friend at school and I started giggling over boys. She said I had a crush on Christophe, but I knew different.

“Cat got your tongue, Win?” he asked, dipping his chin as he towered over me. There was a broad smile stretched across his face. Warm eyes and perfectly straight teeth thanks to the braces he’d worn in summers past.

With the way he’d grown so much taller than me and the way he was just so sure of himself, he was intimidating and comforting all at the same time.

A wave of shyness fell over me and it took so much more bravery than I’d ever known to squeak out a single word. “Yes.”

He cocked his head to the side, his smile settling to one side as a lazy smirk played along his lips. His brows rose as he asked, “Yes, the cat has your tongue?”

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