"In the arms of stone angels I am not afraid"
–Brenna Nash

Two years ago I did a terrible thing. I accused my best friend of being a killer after seeing him kneeling over a girl’s body. That moment and that outcast boy still haunt me. Now my mom is forcing me back to Oklahoma and I can’t get White Bird out of my mind. But when I find out he’s not in juvie—that he’s in a mental hospital, locked in his tormented brain at the worst moment of his life—I can’t turn my back on him again.

No one wants me to see him. My mom doesn’t trust me. The town sheriff still thinks I was involved in the murder. And the other kids who knew the dead girl are after me. I’m as trapped as White Bird. And when I touch him, I get sucked into his living hell, a vision quest of horrifying demons and illusions of that night. Everything about him scares me now, but I have to do something. This time I can’t be a coward. This time I have to be his friend.

Even if I get lost, as well...

Excerpt: When I saw White Bird crying in the shadows of that dry creek bed, the sight of him sent chills over my skin. I should have paid attention to what my body was telling me back then—to stay away and leave him alone—but I didn't.

He was rocking in the shadows and muttering words I didn't understand. When I got closer, I saw he wasn't alone, but I couldn't see the girl's face. And tears were running down his cheeks. They glistened in the gray of morning, at the razor's edge of dawn. I wish I had stayed where I was that day—hiding in the dark—but my curiosity grabbed me by the throat and wouldn't let go. Like an omen, the buzz of flies should have warned me. And thinking back on it, I wished that I had paid more attention to the sound. Even now, a single housefly can trigger that dark memory. And on nights when the dead can't comfort me to sleep, I still hear the unending noise of those flies and I think of him. Our paths had crossed that day as if it was always meant to be...