Sarah sat on her bed and held the red hoodie, trying her best not to bury her nose in it again to get one more whiff of Caleb's scent. It was the most peculiar thing. She'd only spoken to him for a few minutes and all he did was be borderline decent to her, but she couldn't get him out of her head for the rest of the day.

It was dumb. She'd never had a crush on a boy before and the last thing she needed right now was to become infatuated with someone who'd never feel the same way about her.

The high school quarterback. Huh. Yeah, right. Maybe if she'd had a similar meet-cute with the president of the history club or the editor of the school paper then this daydreaming would be worthwhile.

Angry with herself for the false hope, Sarah tossed the sweatshirt on the desk chair and with the same momentum, plopped backwards onto the bed. The hard mattress rocked under her and a fine layer of dust flew up.

She'd need to remember to throw the comforter in the wash tomorrow. It's not like she had much else on her schedule. Maybe occasionally going into the high school was a good idea. And if she picked the right subject, this fake capstone project might transfer over to her college coursework.

Then again, she hadn't even considered a topic, especially since Aunt Jane pulled the suggestion out of thin air. What in the world could she study that would tie a basic high school curriculum together into a comprehensive research project? Ugh. This was sounding worse by the second.

Closing her eyes, Sarah listened to her own even breathing as she lay on the bed. The light of the overhead fixture filtered through her closed lids and she could almost feel herself drift off to sleep.

In, out. In, out. Her lungs rhythmically expanded and contracted with each relaxing breath until she was on the edge of slumber. Nearly there, she could feel herself slip into sleep . . ..

Then a shadow blocked out the light.

Sarah opened her eyes and bolted upright, wincing at the glare from the bright bulb. Although she could have sworn that someone--or something--had physically come between her and the light fixture hanging from the ceiling, the room was unchanged.

The door was still closed, as were the curtains. Making sure that it wasn't a disturbance from outside, Sarah peeked through the window. But the darkness there was also unbroken: no headlights or any other explanations for what could have created a shadow within her second-story bedroom.

Pulling the curtains closed again, Sarah noticed her hand shake. As she watched her extended fingers dance on their own accord, something above her thumped. The sound was quick and muffled, but it was clear enough to draw her attention to the ceiling.

What was past that? She recalled the house's layout both from the exterior and what she'd explored over the last day and a half. Downstairs, there was a parlor with a couch and a small piano, the dining room contained a table with six chairs and a sideboard for dishes, while the kitchen connected to a pantry and a mudroom. On this level were three small bedrooms and the single bathroom. A phobia of both enclosed spaces and spiders kept her from even poking her nose down into the basement, which--according to her aunt--was just for the utilities and storage.

And with the second story having window dormers on the side of the mansard roof (Sarah finally let Aunt Jane give her whole presentation about the unique architectural features of the cottage that she was dying to explain on her arrival), her ceiling was basically at the top of the house and only the tower's attic extended further.

Thump. The noise rang out again, and Sarah held her breath. Focusing on the resulting silence, she both wished for the sound to repeat and also hoped it would not.

But she got neither. Instead, a quick succession of tapping footsteps scurried across the roof above her.

"Squirrel," Sarah exhaled the word in relief at the realization that she'd let a pesky rodent get the better of her nerves.

Deciding that it was probably best if she called it a night, Sarah brushed her teeth and went to bed. The old clock on the nightstand read ten fourteen.

At one twenty-nine, Sarah was awoken.

Rain pitter-pattered softly against the window, but otherwise it was eerily silent. The room was also drenched in pitch black, and even after opening her eyes, Sarah could barely make out the four corners, let alone any of its other details.

Laying still, she waited for whatever had disturbed her sleep, but now there was just the sound of her own breathing as the air passed in and then out of her nostrils.

Thump.

The noise she'd heard earlier repeated from above. Damn squirrel.

Pulling the bedcovers up to her chin and rolling onto her side, Sarah tucked in again and hoped it wouldn't take too long for her to fall back asleep.

Thump, thump.

She internally groaned as she felt her anxiety rise, not from fright, but from frustration. If past experience was true, once she was fully awake, her insomnia would kick in and it could be hours before she could drift off again.

Sarah covered her ears with her hands and squeezed her eyes shut, imagining a flock of sheep at the foot of a low fence. One-by-one, she mentally saw them jump over while counting.

One . . . two . . . three---

Thump, thump. . . . Thump, thump. . . . Thump, thump.

The sounds this time were less random knocks and more like footsteps, making the hair on Sarah's arm stand on end.

She sat up.

Thump, thump. . . . Thump, thump. . . . Thump, thump.

"What the hell?" she whispered while wondering what to do.

She had a few options. First, she could wake her aunt and get her to investigate. But Jane had work in the morning and she probably wouldn't appreciate being roused just to find a loose shingle or something blowing in the wind.

Sarah could also just go see for herself what was making noise, yet even the thought of going up into the tower attic gave her the creeps. It was something she might consider doing during daylight hours, but she'd seen way too many Wes Craven movies to venture up there alone now.

Finally, there was always the option of ignoring the sounds and staying put. Given her elimination of choices one and two, Sarah stuck with doing nothing.

Although the noises didn't return, she'd never had such a restless night of sleep in her life. The next morning, she couldn't decide whether the crick in her neck, the knot in her lower back, or the stiffness in her shoulder was worse.

Having woken to her aunt's six o'clock alarm bell from next door, Sarah kept her achy body in bed until she heard Jane go downstairs. After slowly also getting ready, she made it down to the kitchen as the toaster popped.

"Oh, hey. You're up. I wasn't expecting to see you before I left," Jane said, putting the waffle on a plate. "Hungry?"

Sarah waved her off. "No thanks. I can never eat this early," she said as she pulled out a chair in the breakfast nook that overlooked the backyard. Below, withered remnants of rose bushes stretched their thorny branches upward as if begging to be let inside before winter struck.

"Did you sleep okay?" Jane asked, placing the plate across from her and returning to the counter for a mug.

Sarah had debated most of the night whether she should bring up the noises from the attic. It wasn't that she didn't trust her aunt to take her seriously (even though so many adults in her past had dismissed her concerns when they'd been about a lot more serious things). Rather, she'd just only been here a few days and if she wanted to be treated as a grown-up, she should deal with more things on her own.

"Uhm, not really," she admitted nonetheless, knowing that the dark circles under her eyes had probably already given her away. "That storm last night woke me up and I couldn't fall back asleep after."

Having popped a coffee pod into the machine, Jane started the brew. "What storm? It didn't rain last night," she said as the dark, steaming liquid began to pour into the mug.

The statement caught Sarah off guard, and for a moment, she didn't know how to respond. Did her aunt sleep through the bad weather that she was certain had caused the light tapping on her window last night? Surely that could be the only explanation for her denial.

"What do you mean--"

The ringing of the landline cut her off.

"Excuse me," Jane said, holding up a finger and walking over to answering the phone. "Hello? . . . Yes. . . . Oh, no! Of course. I'll be right there," she said before hanging up and turning to Sarah. "There was some type of plumbing issue at my school and wouldn't you know it, it happened right above my classroom. I need to go in right now to save whatever I can before the kids start arriving. Do you need anything before I leave?

Sarah shook her head. "No, I'll be fine. Don't worry about me. There's a load of laundry with my name on it," she said with a forced smile, already dreading what she'd find in the attic.