Something snapped behind me, sounding exactly like the breaking of a bone. When I whirled around, a scream already lodging in my throat, I saw it wasn’t a scarecrow.
It was Lucas, his black sneaker on top of a turned-over cornstalk. He froze. “Hey.”
“Why are you following me?” I demanded, pulling my arms closer around myself. “Did Donnie send you?”
“More or less. We were both worried about you getting—”
“I’m not going to get eaten by a scarecrow!” I cut him off so loudly that my voice echoed.
Lucas’s eyes widened. “I was going to say getting lost, but all right.”