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in the clearing. Standing before her was a clean- cut boy about her age wearing a fancy yellow raincoat and galoshes. The matching rain hat was too big for his head, making it look about twice the normal size. He grinned as if she looked just as ridiculous to him as he did to her.
He extended his hand. “My name’s Milo Fisher. What’s yours?”
Fisher... Why does that name sound familiar?
Lucy opened her mouth to speak but a wave of nausea hit. She bent over and retched the remains of her dad’s meatloaf on the soggy forest floor. When she was done, her headache was gone and there was a warm hand rubbing gently between her shoulder blades.
“Do you need an ambulance?” asked Milo. “Are there even ambulances out here?”
Lucy laughed. “Yeah,” she croaked. “There’s ambulances out here. But let’s not get one. I’m OK.”
“I can’t believe you survived that,” he continued. “I’ve never seen anything like it, and
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