Dad asked, shaking his head. “Huh? No way!” I cried. “They were right behind me. One almost bit me, and—” “And then they disappeared into thin air!” Dad declared. “Come into the woods with me,” I pleaded. “They’ve got to be there.” I ran to the edge of the woods, desperately searching for some sign of the dogs. Dad followed right behind. But there was nothing to see. I turned and slunk back to the house. Dad didn’t say anything until we were back in the yard. He sat down on the jungle gym slide. His eyes studied me. “Cooper, tell me what’s wrong,” Dad said in a low voice. I could tell he thought I had made all this up. “I told you, Dad. Two dogs chased me through the woods. They were inches from me! One tried to tear my leg off!” Dad continued to stare up at me, his expression thoughtful. “Dad, listen,” I pleaded. “We have to move. We can’t live here!” He climbed to his feet. “What are you talking about, Cooper?” “We have to move back to Boston,”
