And then all four of their car doors swing open. Four doors? “Wait…” Wait. My pulse is in my throat. Is Boom Box riding with more cameramen? The two of them couldn’t have opened all four doors. “What?” Donnelly asks. “Luna? You alright?” Dread wraps around my windpipe like a vice, and I can barely breathe. “What’s going on?” Dad questions. “Lil? Is she okay?” “They’re getting out of their car,” Mom tells them. “Jesus Christ,” Dad curses
