14. Shelby
As it happens, I get my opportunity to launch my plan the very next day. When I wake up, there’s a note from Mac saying Chris is back, so he’ll be back in time for dinner tonight.
The minute Nate slams the door to catch the school bus, I get in the truck and drive in the opposite direction, down to Swan River. There’s a sporting goods store in the larger town south of Redbeard Cove, and there, I buy a brand-new set of workout clothes as well as a pair of runners. Being brand new, these look suspiciously squeaky clean, but hopefully Nate won’t notice.
Since I have a few hours before I need to be back, I do a little recon while I’m in town.
But from the moment I arrived, I didn’t get the same sense of Shelby that I do in Redbeard Cove. Maybe because Swan River isn’t the kind of place I’d ever want to live in. As the main ferry port for boats heading up this section of coast, it’s more functional than pretty. There’s a pulp mill at the far end of town that casts an unpleasant smell in the wrong wind, and the layout of the town wastes what could be an idyllic seaside location. Still, I poke around a bit, looking for any landmarks I may have seen in photos. Then I chat up a few older folks I spot while having lunch, though none of the three I speak to are as friendly as the seniors back in Redbeard.
I’m relieved to get back into the truck, and my shoulders soften as I arrive in Redbeard Cove. I can’t explain how—and I still haven’t checked out a few of the smaller communities up the coast—but somehow I know Redbeard was where Mom and Grandma lived. It has to be. I feel a sense of belonging here that’s almost cellular.
Even if I miss some of my creature comforts back in Vancouver.
Fred waves as I pass her cruiser on the way back to the beach. So does Lana as I pass her car, giving me a double honk.
Then I check the time and curse under my breath. My plan hinges on perfect timing.
The moment I get back to Mac’s, I change into the workout gear and put Tink on the leash. She’s so excited her tongue lolls out the side of her mouth.
“This plan’s gonna work, right, Tink?” I say. “Right, girl?” I waste another precious couple of minutes scratching her on the ruff and reminding her of what a good girl she is.
Then I remember my rush. I head out the door at a clip, making my way up the side road to where the school bus stops. I have to run to get there before the bus, which works out in my favor, because by the time the bus crests the hill, I’m all pink-faced and sweaty, as if I’m a person who runs on purpose.
The bus pulls to a stop with a lurch of brakes.
“Oh, hey!” I say to Nate, who’s tromping down the steps, like I’m just casually jogging by.
I’m not casually jogging by, of course, but the ten-minute walk from the bus stop to the front door means Nate will be forced to listen to my pitch. Or at least be forced to be in my presence while I make it. I also don’t want it to look like I was waiting for him at the bus stop, since I was sure that would be detrimental to his social standing.
Hence the fake jogging. Except I didn’t really mean to be exactly where the bus dropped him off. I also didn’t mean to startle him as he lands on the road.
Which I do.
Tink bounds up to Nate before the bus driver even closes the door.
Nate bends down and scratches her behind the ears. “Hey, girl.” The way he says it, it sounds like she’s his refuge. My heart squeezes.
But as the bus pulls away, a back window drops down with a clunk. “Hey, Nathanial!” a sneering voice calls.
I look up to see a dude who looks like an ATV jerk in training stick his head out the window.
He says something I don’t quite catch over the roar of the bus gearing up again. But I do hear the words fuckhead and pussy.
Anger surges in my chest, and I drop my facade for the moment. “Who the hell was that?”
Nate dips his head. “Nobody,” he mumbles, and starts walking down the road.
I have a sudden flashback of those exact same kinds of taunts. Only mine were from girls with shiny hair and perfect skin and petite bodies who wore crop tops and skirts they didn’t make for girls like me.
“I remember what that’s like,” I say.
“Really? You had dickheads give you shit for being a new kid?”
If I were his parent, I’d say something about language. He’s only fourteen. But I’m not.
“No,” I say honestly.
His mouth twists. He thinks I don’t get it.
“I was never the new kid,” I say. I have to walk fast to keep up with him. “I had the same kids tease me all the way from grade school.”
He glances over at me so quickly that if I blinked, I’d miss it.
“They just got better at it as they got older. You know what they called me in middle school? Jiggles. Because everything jiggled during gym class. Any chance I had of having fun, hell, of getting the exercise my mom said I needed, made the whole world laugh at me.”
I remember that feeling. The humiliation that used to dominate my life. The worst part is I didn’t feel like I deserved to feel hurt. I wasn’t the biggest girl in school. But I was enthusiastic. Flamboyant. I just didn’t quite fit the mold. They needed something to pick on, and my looks were what they chose.
A moment ago, I nearly needed to jog to keep up with him, but he’s slowed his pace for me.
“It’s all right,” I say, just in case he thinks I’m looking for pity, or worse, compliments. “I found out later that I like my jiggles.” Most days. “I also found out that peaking in high school is detrimental to an actually fulfilling life.”
Nate lifts a brow but says nothing.
But as we walk in silence, something strikes me. He said he was the new kid.
“Hey, Nate…did you just switch schools or something?” I ask. I can’t see there possibly being that many options out here, but what do I know about small-town educational jurisdictions?
“This year,” Nate says, as if I should know that.
I frown. But suddenly it starts to click. How did I not see it before? Nate calling his dad by his first name. Mac trying so hard to get this kid to come out of his shell. It’s not just teenage hormones and normal clashing with your parents.
“You didn’t use to live with your dad,” I say, “did you?”
Nate hoists his backpack up higher and subtly picks up the pace again. He digs in his pockets, fishing out his earbuds. This is not a topic he wants to talk about. Obviously.
We’re rounding the corner. The house is visible now. I need to act fast. “Okay. Hey, well, Nate, I…uh…I need to tell you it wasn’t a coincidence that I was out there when the bus came.”
His temple pulses as he sticks one earbud in his ear.
“I wanted to talk to you,” I say before he can turn on his music.
He walks faster, and it’s not subtle this time. Tink barks excitedly and begins to trot.
Nate pulls out his phone.
“It’s about the Fire games.”
Nate looks sharply at me. Then he lowers his phone. “What about them?”
I try to hide my excitement over my managing to get his attention. Casually, I say, “Do you know Avery?”
Now Nate comes to a full stop. “Avery Lee?”
“Mm-hmm. My company rebranded his business a few years ago, before he took off. I mean, I like to think we were the cause of him taking off, but I’m sure there were a lot of factors. Including the Fire series winning all those awards…”
Nate’s staring at me, definitely interested now.
“But hey, that’s not why I wanted to talk to you. What I was wondering is if you feel like helping me make dinner tonight, for you and your dad and Calvin? Like I mentioned yesterday.”
Nate’s brows furrow. “What does that have to do with the Fire series?”
I shrug. “I might be able to get an advanced copy of the next game in the series. What is it? Firepit? Firebox?”
“Firebrand?” Nate’s eyes are suddenly wide. “That doesn’t come out until next year!”
I keep walking. Now I’m in the lead. “The prototype exists now. Ayve sent me a copy, since he knows I had fun playing the first one.” I don’t call him Ayve. Nobody does, but it sounds good.
Now Nate has to jog to catch up to me. When he does, he looks like his head’s about to explode. “You’re telling me you have the original demo?”
“I don’t actually have it, but I can get it couriered here by tomorrow. And all it’ll cost you is helping me make a few hamburgers. And eating downstairs with us.”
Nate nods so vigorously I’m worried he’s going to hurt his head.
Damn it, I should have thrown in helping me with dish washing too. But the kid’s so excited I grin and thrust out my hand. He shakes it so hard I laugh.
At least I know the way to one of these MacGregor boys’ hearts.