by Sierra Dean
“No, Señor McDougal, lo siento.” Marnie sat back in her desk and gave Lou a sly grin.
Such rigid social strata had never been an issue for Lou before. At her old school there were popular kids, unpopular kids, and kids no one thought about—just like every high school ever—but she’d never believed she’d lose friends if she talked to the unpopular ones. She tried to imagine Priss giving her a warning like Marnie had, telling her social suicide hung in the balance if she so much as talked to a boy in the hallway.
What the hell was wrong with this town?
Lou gave Marnie a careful smile. She liked her new friend, she really did. But a four-hour friendship didn’t mean she was going to pick Marnie and a bunch of strangers over Cooper.
And it didn’t mean she was going to pick Cooper over them.
It was about time she figured out why everyone in the town hated Cooper and his family so much, and decide for herself if she was going to join them or ignore them.
Forty minutes later the lunch bell chimed and everyone made a mad dash out of the classroom.
“Shall we?” Marnie asked. “I have soooo many people for you to meet.”
“I need to go to my locker first.” Lou pointed out the stack of textbooks she’d been adding to throughout the morning. She also wanted to hit the ladies room so she could test her sugars and take some insulin without everyone staring at her. Jabbing yourself in the hip with a needle was a surefire way to make sure no one liked you on your first day. The kids back home had grown up with her illness since she’d been diagnosed at the age of ten, and they’d learned not to stare. These people were new, and they wouldn’t be so polite.
“Well hurry up, and then meet us in Building 2. It’s where the cafeteria is, and I can show you the gym so you’re not late.”
Lou found her locker and managed to get her combination to work after only three failed attempts. It wasn’t easy to get the numbers right while holding a half dozen different books that each weighed twenty pounds.
She crammed the textbooks in, promising herself she’d make an attempt at organization before she left at the end of the day. The hallways were mostly empty except for a few students sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of their lockers, sharing bags of chips and peering into their Wonder Bread sandwiches.
Granny Elle had insisted on making Lou’s lunch, so she was pretty sure she’d have enough food to share with the entire group when she found Marnie’s table. In true grandmother fashion, Elle thought Lou was wasting away, so she’d made two different sandwiches and thrown in an assortment of fruit, chips, and cookies. Lou had put the cookies aside for later, knowing a sugar boost might come in handy after gym.
Making a quick stop in the bathroom, Lou checked her sugar and took her shot. She found herself checking the mirrors, not sure if she was hoping to see something, or was relieved to find them containing only her reflection. After she stopped checking for apparitions, she left the main school building through the back door and crossed the big field between Building 1 and Building 2.
Dozens of students were having makeshift picnics on the lawn. A few girls had rolled up their tops to get some sun on their already brown midriffs, and a small group was playing soccer near a bank of picnic tables.
At one table, sitting by himself, was Cooper the Pariah.
Lou stopped walking and shifted her glance from the doors into the cafeteria and back to Cooper. He was reading a book, one hand propped up to shield the sun from his eyes. She could keep walking and he’d never notice, but Lou knew she’d feel terrible for charging ahead now that she’d seen him.
She trotted across the lawn and plopped down across from him at the table.
“You’re not a very popular guy, Mr. Reynolds.”
He kept his hand over his eyes and glanced up at her, then looked beyond her as if checking for anyone else she might have brought to the party.
“The Welcome Committee got to you?”
“I’ve been told you’re no good. I should steer clear.”
He smiled, but she wasn’t buying it. It was the same way people had smiled at her when they said Everything will be all right during her dad’s stay in the hospital. It was a lie of a gesture, and she knew it.
“So if they said to avoid me, why are you here?” Cooper turned the book facedown on the picnic table and cocked his head slightly, regarding her with open curiosity.
“Since I got here I’ve spoken to two people. You and Marnie Jackson.”
“Ahhh,” Cooper said, as if Marnie’s name was all he’d needed to hear.
“Look, I know you about as well as I know her. I like her, but I also like you.” She felt her cheeks flush when she said the words. “I mean, you’re my lab partner, after all.”
“Many a lifelong friendship has been formed over noxious gases.”
“Right. My point is, before I believe what Marnie says, I thought I’d give you a chance to state your case. Seems only fair.”
Cooper lowered his hand, instantly squinting when the sunlight hit his eyes. He fiddled with the corner of the book’s cover, not looking up at Lou. “What exactly did Marnie say?”
“She compared you to Area 51. And a bear cub.”
Cooper glanced up, his brow wrinkled in confusion or amusement. “I don’t know what to say to that.”
“Why would she say you were bad news?”
He shrugged. “Why does anyone hate anyone?”
“Usually there’s a good reason.”
“My family has never been all that popular in this town. My dad left us when we were really young.” Lou started to say she was sorry, but Cooper plowed ahead. “It’s fine, I just think he got tired of what people said. They believe a lot of crazy things about us, and because of that they like to keep their distance.”
“Crazy stuff like what?” Lou picked up his book so she didn’t have to stare right at him. The hurt was a little too apparent in his eyes for her. It was a sci-fi novel he’d either bought used or read a thousand times. The cover was battered and the spine had been worn through in places so she could see the yellowing pages.
“Just that we’re no good, that’s all. Maybe they’re onto something. I mean, Jer…” He stopped dead. “Never mind.”
“Jer is your older brother?”
“Was.”
“Oh.”
“Look, Lou… I think you’re nice, but Marnie is right. If you want a chance in hell of fitting in here, you shouldn’t be hanging out with me.” He took the book from her hand and snapped it closed as he got to his feet.
“Why?” It was like he was trying to get rid of her, which made no sense. He’d been so nice to her only that morning, and now he couldn’t escape her fast enough.
He brushed his hair off his forehead, big brown eyes turning towards her.
“There’s no point. I just don’t… I don’t have time.”
“Time for what?” Lou asked, but Cooper was already jogging across the lawn.
Chapter Eight
Rather than being dissuaded by Cooper, Lou was more determined than ever to figure out what his deal was. It wasn’t normal for everyone in a town to hate a whole family without reason. Granny Elle knew everyone and everything about Poisonfoot, so if anyone could tell Lou about the deep dark Reynolds family secret, it would be her.
She just had to figure out how to ask without sounding like she cared. Her grandmother had a preternatural thirst for gossip, something Lou had realized after mere days living under her roof. If Granny Elle suspected anything other than curiosity was behind the questioning, it would only result in Lou becoming the interrogated rather than the interrogator.
With the first day of class blessedly behind her, Lou dumped her school bag on the kitchen table and rummaged around in the fridge for a snack. She settled on a wedge of cheese and a jar of homemade pickles. Back at home she would have sat on the kitchen counter and munched happily over the sink, but she had a feeling if Granny Elle caught her mid-snack, she might indu
ce a heart attack.
Putting things on a plate, she sat at the table and cracked open her first English assignment, Pride and Prejudice. She’d read it before, but a refresher couldn’t hurt if she was going to be tested on the material. A pop quiz had been threatened, so she needed to be able to tell the Misters Bennet, Bingley, Collins and Darcy apart.
She was barely into the first chapter when her mind started to wander.
“Good book?” Granny Elle toddled into the kitchen with her garden apron on. Lou jumped, startled by her grandmother’s sudden arrival. “My goodness, must be something else if you’re so focused.”
Lou forced a smile and closed the book. “Granny Elle, can I ask you something?”
“Of course, dahlin’. Anything at all.”
“There’s this boy at school…”
“Gracious, Miss Eloise. First day and already you’re twitterpated. That didn’t take long.” She pulled a glass vase down from the cupboard and filled it with tap water, neatly arranging the roses she’d finished cutting.
“No, it’s not like that.” Lou thought of Cooper’s messy brown hair and those giant eyes, and wasn’t sure if she was trying to convince Granny Elle or herself. “I’m just curious about what people were saying about him.”
Her grandmother stopped arranging roses and stared at her. “What were people saying?”
“They told me to stay away from him, but I don’t understand why. I thought you might know what the deal was.”
“The deal? My dear, what were the schools in California teaching you?”
“Sorry. What’s the story?”
Granny Elle sighed, clearly not thrilled with Lou’s adjustment, but she removed her apron and hung it by the back door. Late-afternoon light dappled the floor through the windows, giving the room a warm yellow glow. “What’s this boy’s name?”
“Cooper Reynolds.”
The vase exploded on the counter, sending water and roses spreading across the linoleum floor as if they were the debris of a small tornado. Shards of glass picked up the light, glinting like tiny stars.
Granny Elle stared at the mess, her hands braced on the counter. Lou was on her feet, shocked by the suddenness of the glass breaking for seemingly no reason. She looked at her grandmother, expecting the older woman’s hands to be cut up, but aside from the white-knuckled grip, they seemed fine.
“You stay away from Cooper Reynolds,” Granny Elle said, her voice low and angry. “I should have said something sooner. I don’t want you anywhere near the Reynoldses. Especially not that boy.”
“But why?” It was the question that nagged her the most, and one that most defied answering.
“Don’t question me, Eloise Whittaker. I said stay away from Cooper Reynolds and I mean it. No good can come from that association. Now stop asking silly questions and help me clean this up.”
She got the dustpan from under the sink and helped Granny Elle sweep up the glass shards and rose petals. When all the debris was gone, Lou used the dishtowel to mop up the water. Still crouched by the sink, she looked up at her grandmother and asked, “Can you at least explain why?”
“Baby, can’t you trust me?”
Abashed, Lou wiped her hands on her pants and stood, giving her grandmother an apologetic hug. The gesture felt forced since Lou barely knew her grandmother, apart from a few visits.
“I do trust you. I just wish people would tell me why.”
“He’ll leave. He might come across as charming and sweet, but he won’t stick around, dahlin’. The Reynolds men, they were born to leave. They always leave. Every single one of them. I want you to trust me, stay away from him, don’t get attached. Save yourself a lot of trouble because he ain’t nothing but trouble.”
Her grandmother appeared to be keenly aware of the personal history of the Reynolds family. Maybe it was true what people said about small towns, that there was no such thing as privacy. Yet, with a secret everyone seemed to know, no one was willing to tell her anything.
Granny Elle patted her cheek and reclaimed her apron from the back door. “Tell Mary Anne dinner is at seven. That should be plenty of time for you to finish your homework.”
There were no overhead lights in Lou’s new bedroom because so much natural light was let in during the day. She’d been outfitted with almost a dozen lamps to keep things bright in the evening. She was sitting in the window seat under the light of an old stained-glass lamp when she heard the first howl.
It was high-pitched and eerie, almost like a human scream at first. But the longer it rang out, the deeper notes of melancholy came through, followed by short yips. The sound was close, reminding her of the coyote she’d seen in the yard days earlier.
Lou clicked off the lamp and blinked away the haze from the light, trying to see something in the darkness. When she couldn’t get a good look through the glass, she unlatched the window. Cool night air assaulted her, making the hairs on her arms rise up.
First there was only silence, and Lou thought she might have imagined the animal wailing, but then it rang out again, loud and crisp, convincing her the creature had to be nearby. Noises might carry, but this sounded so close she was amazed the coyote wasn’t standing in the room with her.
She leaned halfway out the open window, chilly air stinging her face, and scoured the landscape for a sign of her vocal new neighbor. It howled again, and Lou started. The porch light flicked on, and a pair of eyes was illuminated in the darkness, cutting off the howl in the middle.
The coyote yipped and dashed into the woods.
Lou felt a slow chill creep up her spine that had nothing to do with the temperature outside.
Back in the woods, Lou was running. She cleared the tree line and tumbled forward into a dirty town square where a group of men and women had gathered, carrying lanterns and forming a tight circle.
Lou moved forward, strangely certain she wouldn’t be seen. When she reached the edge of the crowd, they parted before her, giving her a clear view of what they were all gawking at.
The woman with a braid wrapped around her head like a crown was standing in their midst, holding the bloodied boy, her face stained with the red from his skin. She shook his limp body, her voice high and shrill.
“Look what has become of him,” she shrieked.
A man came forward, holding his hands up as if to soothe or comfort her. She took a step backwards, and the crowd moved to accommodate the gesture.
“He has been murdered.”
“Morena, calm yourself,” the man said, his voice soft and low, the way one might talk to a wild animal it was trying to coax.
“Would you allow yourself to be calmed if your boy was dead?” Tears streamed down her face, and in the light of the lanterns, Lou could see the woman’s eyes were a startling honeyed shade of yellow.
“Look at his wounds. He has been attacked by wild dogs. It is tragic, yes, but we cannot go around shouting out accusations.”
“This is murder. Why won’t you do anything?”
“We will send a hunting party in the morning to find the animals.”
“The animal who did this is here. Among us.” She clutched the child against her and wept anew. “Don’t you see that?”
“Let us take the child, Morena. We will find the animals.”
“Find the killer.”
“There is no human killer.”
The air crackled around Morena the way a building storm might, and the townspeople all took several steps backwards. Her yellow eyes appeared lit from within, as the lanterns around her were. She crouched low and laid the child on the ground.
“I will ask you one last time. Help me find my child’s killer.”
“Morena…” The man seemed to be losing his patience. He cast a glance from her to the men standing at his side who held ancient-looking rifles along with their lanterns. “I cannot give you what you’re asking for.”
When she spoke again, her voice was different, low and rumbling like a growl. “If I am not to
see my son become a man, then neither shall you. If I am to believe my son was devoured by wild dogs, then so shall your sons be.”
“What are you saying?” The man’s voice was thick with fear, and those around him took a step away, as if he was somehow tainted now.
“So long as my son’s killer goes without being named, your sons will spend their adult lives from manhood to death living as the animal you claim killed him.”
As she spoke those final words, a rumble of thunder rocked the clearing.
Lou’s eyes opened, her own pulse shuddering as loud as the thunder in her dream had.
What the hell?
Chapter Nine
Lyndon slammed into Cooper with the entirety of his considerable weight, laying him out on the field. With the wind momentarily knocked out of him, Cooper wheezed, staring at the swirling stars dancing around his head.
“Reynolds, if you want to take a nap, find somewhere else to do it. This here is a football field, not a Mattresses and More.” Coach’s voice boomed from the sidelines, amplified by a megaphone.
Cooper rolled onto his stomach and pushed himself up on his knees. His head still felt foggy, like his brain was wrapped in gauze, but that was par for the course when it came to a tackle by Lyndon.
Cooper hopped up and rejoined the line, getting set up for another drill. It was Saturday afternoon, and the sun beat down hot and merciless. The midafternoon heat was oppressive, smothering him in a blanket of breath-stealing humidity.
But still the drills had to be run.
As Coach was fond of saying, a winning team couldn’t rest on its laurels. So they practiced. And practiced. They’d practice until they puked, and then they’d line up and do it over.
“All right, you lazy crybabies, let’s do this again, and if one of you so much as bobbles that ball, you’ll be running bleachers for an hour. Understand?”
“Yes, sir,” all the boys chanted as one, as if the coach were an Army drill sergeant—a job he’d have excelled at in another life.
“Then let’s do this thing.” He blew his whistle.
