“Why? Is Gordie sick?” Theilan asks, straightening immediately.
I pay attention too. Gordie is Renthrow’s baby girl and, by default, the niece of every member on the team.
Renthrow nods gravely.
Theilan claps his hands together loud enough to wake the dead. “Come on, boys. Let’s get this started. Gordie needs some chicken soup and a bed time story.”
The boys scramble to change and get on the ice where coach runs us through a harsh set of drills. By the time we’re finished with practice, everyone’s wrung out and panting.
“I think Coach wants to kill us,” Theilan groans, dragging himself off the ice and onto a bench.
Watson guzzles a bottle of water.
I move over to Renthrow. “Do you need anything for Gordie?”
He shakes his head. “I already asked Mauve to make some chicken soup. I’ll swing by The Tipsy Tuna to pick it up before heading home.”
“I can do that.”
He shakes his head. “It’s alright, but I appreciate the offer.”
I nod.
Renthrow nods back.
Limping to the showers, I open my locker door and reach for my gym bag. At that moment, I hear a buzzing sound and check my phone.
The moment I see the name rolling across the screen, my blood runs cold.
UNCLE STEWART:Heard you’re dating the Hart girl.
UNCLE STEWART:That better be a joke.
CHAPTER
NINE
REBEL
The drivefrom the Kinseys to the neighborhood where I grew up is a long one. With every mile, I notice a sharp difference in my surroundings.
Even the sky changes, turning from a cheerful blue to a sunset red firing across the horizon.
With the sky ablaze and the buildings ahead growing more and more decrepit, I feel like I’m driving out of a dazzling, utopian world into a dark and hopeless apocalypse.
But it’s notallbad.
Children play on a basketball court happily. The basketball net was lost or stolen ages ago, but that doesn’t stop the game or the laughter.
An abandoned lot filled with garbage sits next to the old pharmacy where Abe Jenkins has been handing out lollipops to little kids since before I was born.
My perusal lands on a pack of dogs. I screech to a stop as the wild canines prowl the neighborhood, on the hunt for trash bins they can tear into and scatter across the streets.
Okay.
So even if there are pockets of good in my community, there’s no hiding the fact that we’re the abandoned people of Lucky Falls.
There are no wide, spacious parks, nor upscale boutiques or fancy restaurants out here.
