I could hear Old Lady Katcher, creaking around, hollering as she put her boots on. If we didn't move soon, we'd both be caught, sure as stars.
"Don't stop for anything, even if I get caught, okay?"
Brandon's dark eyes watched me, frightened but serious, his mouth turned down as though he were already at my funeral. "I won't look back."
I took off my over-sized pink sweatshirt and handed it to him, shivering in the fall breeze. He handed his camo hoodie over, and I pulled it on. It smelled like Brandon; some kind of baby powder and soap smell, mixed with a little bit of sweat. He always smelled like an old lady's bathroom. "She won't recognize you wearing pink if she doesn't see your face. So don't you dare look back."
Brandon pulled the sweater over his head. It was a little too tight. In any other situation, I would have giggled. He would look like a girl, from a distance. My heart shuttered in my chest as we stared at each other. I held out my hand and pointed.
"Good luck. Now run!"
We shattered, Brandon tearing off in the direction I pointed. I started off towards the Jefferson's house, the too-big camo jacket pulled up around my face. I cut around the fence, hoping against hope that the Jefferson's big, mean mutt of a dog wasn't lurking in the backyard.
Of course he was.
His bark shook my whole body as I rounded the corner, coming face to face with the dog's big, angry snout. He was solid black and evil, his liquid brown eyes filled with dark thoughts. Like how tasty I might be. Spit flew from his mouth as he barked, and I heard Old Lady Katcher change direction and charge towards me through the fall leaves.
I ran in the other direction, my fear for the dog outweighing my fear of being caught by Katcher.
As I doubled back through the leaves, I dove around the side yard and made a sharp left to run out into the street. That's when I felt a heavy hand clamp down on my shoulder.
A crotchety old voice chuckled coldly. "I got you now, you little trouble maker."