The Blanks (The Shivers Collection, #3)

by Grady Hendrix

They don’t know what they’re looking at or what to do about it, but they feel that caveman compulsion to stand there and scrutinize.”

out here with no cars, fewer screens, and slower schedules, everyone was their best self.

Back in the city, their classmates have panic attacks and social anxiety. They have eating disorders and self-harm. But every summer, Zee and Callum and our neighbors’ kids run free with sand in their hair and sunburn on their noses, and they go back to the city with a force field of self-confidence and independence that keeps them safe. It was so good for sixteen years. Until the Litvaks.

We always tell the kids that if they see something funny, look away. Ignore it. But we never worried too much. The Blanks never act like this. They haven’t acted like this in years.

They’re standing in the trees, barely ten feet away, outlined by the Stannards’ backyard light. There are more of them than I’ve ever seen before. Their tall, still shadows stand out against the trees; their dead eyes reflect yellow in the houselights. All of them stare at this window—all of them stare at my son.

Nothing bad happens if you leave them alone, if you just pretend they don’t exist.

because you’re not supposed to see them, no one sees them; you look away, you ignore them—everyone knows you ignore them; as long as you don’t see them, everything is okay; as long as you don’t notice them, you’re lucky. You’re blessed.