Teaser Tuesday

From another new project I'm toying with... Because I can't make up my mind lately! *fickle and stuff*
This one's the opening of a YA horror. New genre for me, so all advice is welcome!

The sun hasn't yet risen over eastern Pennsylvania, but already I'm trudging down the street, bundled in three layers of winter clothes, with a thousand-pound backpack on top. The snow/sleet/slush mix under my feet alternately crunches and sloshes with each step. It's hard to see where I'm going in the dim light from the streetlamps. The one right outside our house burned out two weeks ago, and the next closest one flickers too often to be much help. I misstep, and my right foot almost slides out from under me. I have to catch hold of my next-door neighbor's iron fence to steady myself.

Only a mile left to go! Joy.

Then I hear it. The soft swish of someone else skidding along the sidewalk behind me. I press my body to the fence so they can pass. As coordinated as I am directing skirmishes in Dagorhir, for some reason I turn into a lumbering oaf the moment there's ice underfoot.

I glance around to tell the person to pass, and that's when I realize there's no one there. Just the empty suburban street, lined with silent, dark houses. I go in early on Mondays for extra help in Spanish, so it's not really surprising I'm the only one out. I've walked to school alone a million times before – every Monday, along with any other day that my neighbor Rebecca and her chattering siblings are away on one of their many family hunting expeditions.

There's no reason this morning should be any different. But when I release the fence, I start to walk a little faster.

A few more steps and there it is again. A soft crunch this time. I whip around. No one. In the pile of snow between me and the road, however, there's a deep footprint.

That was there a minute ago, wasn't it?

I walk backwards now. Stupid, but hey, there's nobody here to see me do it. Under my breath, I hum the first song that pops into my head – one of those stupid club songs everyone pretends to hate but secretly kind of loves dancing to.

Far up the street, beneath a lit streetlight, a shadow darts across my vision. “Just a cat,” I say out loud. My own voice startles me. Do I always sound this shrill?

“Get a grip on yourself,” I mutter. There, that sounds more like me. Groggy and annoyed.

I spin around again and choke back a scream.

Someone is crossing the pavement not five feet away from me, almost invisible because they're dressed head-to-toe in black. They're at least a head taller, and I catch a glimpse of long hair swinging below a hood. I try and catch my breath to tell them off, when I hear the double-beep of a car door unlocking. Without a word, the person climbs into a van parked at the curb.

Just some old person on their way to work. That explains the footsteps. Jesus. They could've said hello instead of giving me a heart attack.

“Good morning to you too!” I call irritably as the door slams shut.