Moya Fairwell has just turned thirteen. Her odd, weed-eating grandmother is talking in riddles, a ring on her finger is itching like crazy, and she's been hearing this strange voice whispering to her all day.

 

But when the moon suddenly flashes, and the clock strikes thirteen, and the odd boy with white hair finds himself on her doorstep in the middle of the night, things really start to get weird.

© 2016 Melissa Volker

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