I leaned back again, pressing my elbows into the soft sod of the roof. “You should listen to me more often.”
“Amazing,” he said. “I was thinking the same thing.” I braced myself for the jab that would follow. He’d most likely rattle off a few examples of times I’d suggested something stupid or childish. Life with Tuck was a never-ending chess match—you had to plan ahead at least ten moves or you’d be toast.
But Tuck was silent as he stared out into the night. His profile was so serene and un-Tuck-like that I did a double take.
I couldn’t help but wonder what Tucker Halloway was thinking about while sitting alone in the dark with me.
As if in answer to my unspoken question, he said, “It’s funny. Norway almost reminds me of Oregon. My father and I went on a few fishing trips, back before he got remarried. I loved it there. I think I love it here, too.” I could hear the smile in his voice as he added, “Thanks for sharing your roost with me.”
“It’s not like you gave me much choice,” I said, even as my mind was scrambling to figure out what he was up to—why he was acting so bizarre. Sure, Tuck sometimes decided to be sweet, but it was usually a side effect of whatever ridiculous thing he’d set out to do in the first place. “If I’d left you downstairs alone, you’d probably be halfway through the bottle of schnapps Grandmother keeps under the sink.” As I said it, I reached over and pinched his arm just above the elbow, like he always did to me.
“Nah. Would have gone back to bed.” Tuck glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. “Would have been a shame to miss this.” He slipped his hand over mine as I set it back down on the grass. I did my best not to let it be strange when he just left it there.
But it was.
More than a few anxious minutes passed as I waited for the first—or any—shoe to drop, but gradually, inch by inch, I started to relax. It was as if we were just two friends sitting on the roof in the middle of the night.
Tuck was so still that if not for the warmth of his fingers pressed against mine, I could have forgotten he was there. I was alone with my thoughts of Valkyries and white-on-white eyes. Something about Tuck’s steady, constant presence at my side made everything that had happened, everything other than that moment, feel a million miles away. Like it had taken place in a dream.
The silence wrapped its arms around us until a drop of water brushed my cheek. I looked up at the sky. While it had been clear minutes ago, a storm had rolled in from the ocean, and my upturned face was instantly coated with a thin film of droplets. Each was smaller than a grain of sand, more a mist than rain.
“We’d better go in,” I said. “Slippery is not a good thing when you’re climbing down from a roof.”
“I guess,” Tuck said as I scooted forward. “You need a hand?”
“Nope.” I gripped the edge of the roof and expertly shimmied down the side of the house. “Do you?” I looked up as I reached the windowsill and sat with one leg dangling outside and the other resting securely on the hardwood floor of my room. All I could see was the flash of his teeth in the darkness as he peered down at me.
“Is that really all you’ve got?” he asked, grabbing the edge of the rain gutter and lowering himself back into the window of his room without using his feet. It was an impressive display of upper-body strength.
“Show-off,” I said.
“I’m glad you were impressed.” His head popped out the window just enough to look at me. “And for the record, I hate heights.”
“Is that meant to dazzle me even more?” I replied.
“Dazzle? Overshot my mark.”
I rolled my eyes, even though he couldn’t see. It was a reflex born of years of enduring Tucker Halloway’s ego. “Good night,” I said, ducking my head back under the window frame and lowering the window enough to keep the rain out while letting the breeze in.
“Night, Ells.”
I could hear Tuck moving around in the adjacent room, searching for something in his suitcase. Then I heard the scrape of the chair he dragged to the window, probably to look out over the fjord awhile longer. I curled up under my comforter and closed my eyes. Even though Tuck spent all his time in our house back home, he never stayed overnight. What was the point when he lived two doors down?
That night, his proximity was a splinter in my brain as I drifted off to sleep. I kept straining my ears for any sounds from his room. Finally I was rewarded with soft footfalls as he padded across the hardwood floors, followed by the creak of the bed under his weight. Only then was I able to sleep.
THE NEXT MORNING, the sun woke me at six, shining right into my face. Early as it was, by the time I made it to the kitchen, Tuck and Graham were scarfing down their breakfasts like they were in a speed-eating contest. There was a soccer ball on the table, wedged between the saltshaker and a vase of flowers.
As I sat down, Graham rose.
Something metal flashed around his neck. “What’s that?” I asked, pointing at the thin chain sticking out above his shirt.
Graham gave me a sheepish smile. “Grandfather’s old good-luck charm.” He pulled the small metal disk out of his T-shirt. It was identical to the necklace Kjell had carried the other night to ward off Astrid. The charm Grandmother had given to him.
“I promised Grandmother I’d wear it always,” he said, sounding none too pleased about it. “Guess I’ll humor her for a few days.”
“You should at least wear it the whole time you’re here, then,” I told him, gathering one more scrap of evidence that Grandmother was guarding some hefty secrets. “You don’t want to hurt her feelings.”
“I s’pose.” Graham shrugged. “We’re going to find a field to practice,” he said. “You want to come?”
“Nah,” I replied. “I thought I’d finish my book. Maybe go for a run.”
After braving Margit’s hostility and being attacked by an old lady in the bakery, I wasn’t all that eager to venture into town. But I wasn’t about to tell Graham. That was exactly the type of problem he’d be determined to help me solve.
“You’re in Europe. Right outside is the kind of stuff people write books about. You can’t sit around reading all day.” Tuck nudged the spot between my shoulder blades with his knuckle. “Come with us.”
I narrowed my eyes, wondering why he cared—what he was up to. We fell into an awkward silence. I waited for him to tease me, to steal my book or yank the rubber band out of my ponytail. But he didn’t. He just smiled like it was perfectly normal for us to get along. And then I realized he was waiting politely for me to reply. Which was just too weird. It was as if the unspoken truce we’d forged the night before had carried into the daylight.
Suddenly I wasn’t sure how to act. What to say. It was horribly unfair that he was changing the rules on me. I had enough things on my mind already, without being hyperaware of Tuck’s hand brushing mine when he passed me the box of cereal.
“I’ll come later,” I said, rising to escape Tuck’s scrutiny by pouring myself a glass of orange juice.
The screen door snapped shut behind Graham. He was already outside, talking to Grandmother while she watered her flower beds. When I turned back toward the table, Tuck was standing in the middle of the room. Waiting for me.
“Promise?” he said.
“Promise what?” I asked, honestly confused.
“That you’ll come later.”
His disconcerting gray eyes were watching me, unreadable as ever. I’d never noticed the way his eyelashes cast them in shadow, making them even harder to pin down. Then again, I’d never stood this close to him before unless we were exchanging fire—when all my concentration was channeled into what I’d say next.
For an instant, my natural reaction was held in check by the memory of the roof the night before. The sweetness of our shared silence. But then the words came tumbling out anyways. “Only if you promise to tell me why you’re suddenly pretending to care,” I said. “You’re up to something.”
“I won’t deny that.”
He flashed a private smile that sent my stomach floating away, like someone had just reached out and switched off gravity. It made me feel wary and confused and a little bit hopeful, all at once. “But it doesn’t follow that it’s something bad.” It was the flirty voice he usually used on everyone but me.
“I’ve known you too long. Yes, it does.” Fortunately, my voice held steady even if my hands wouldn’t.
He frowned. His forehead creased with an emotion that I couldn’t quite place—I just knew it wasn’t a happy one. But Tucker Halloway was never one to dwell too long on anything unpleasant. He shrugged, and that troublemaker’s grin settled back into its rightful place. Then he was gone.
By the time I glanced out the window, Tuck was jogging to catch up with Graham, who was already halfway down the long, rocky driveway. I watched as Graham tossed Tuck the soccer ball and Tuck bounced it off one knee, sending it flying down the hill. They both tore after it—until Graham took Tuck out with a brutal shove that sent him crashing into a shrub.
Boys.
I opened the fridge again, debating what to eat. There was a slip of paper secured to the side by a ceramic magnet I’d made in first grade.
ELLIE—KJELL HAS THE DAY OFF WORK AND WANTS YOU TO CALL HIM IF YOU ARE FREE.
Beneath was Kjell’s cell phone number.
I took one more look at Graham and Tuck as they disappeared around the corner toward town. My eyes lingered on Tuck, on the square, determined set of his shoulders and the way his hair looked brown but had streaks of gold in the sunlight. It was strange I’d never noticed that before. Then again, I’d been looking at Tuck a lot more carefully lately.
I removed the magnet, crumpled my grandmother’s note, and dropped it in the trash.
I SPENT MOST of the afternoon reading in the kitchen or, more accurately, using my book as cover to mull over my crackpot theories without having to chat with Grandmother.
Fortunately, she seemed to be avoiding me, too. She spent the entire day in her garden, only coming in for lunch, so the whole morning we set eyes on each other only once.
As the afternoon wore on, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right. I had the oddest sensation that someone was watching me. And the second time I went to the front window, just to check, I saw Grandmother standing in the middle of the driveway, hand shading her eyes as she stared off in the same direction I kept glancing myself.
I opened the screen door, and Grandmother’s eyes snapped to mine. “Thought I saw a raven,” she said. “Strange to see them this far north.” Not only was her delivery off, so were her facts. It was like she’d reached into a bag of excuses and read the very first one aloud without thinking about it.
She stood there a moment longer, hands on her hips, before she turned and attacked the weeds in her vegetable beds like they might attack back.
I wasn’t the only who had that itchy feeling under my skin.
Her behavior was just further proof that my grandmother knew something, and the more I thought about it, the angrier I got that she’d sidestepped my questions the day before—especially if Tuck and Graham were in danger. Still, every time I rolled our conversation around in my head, I couldn’t think of a way to make it end differently. No matter what I said, Grandmother would just clam up and change the subject all over again unless I found the right leverage—something that would force her to talk. Fortunately, given her lame explanation about the raven, I had a feeling it wouldn’t take long for her to slip up and tell me everything.
GRAHAM AND TUCK didn’t come home until late that afternoon, as the warmth from the kitchen had nearly lulled me to sleep. When they finally arrived, they took the house by storm. They barged into the kitchen and I jumped, sending my book tumbling to the floor.
“Plans tomorrow?” Graham asked, reaching into the fridge for something—anything—to eat. “Met some guys at the pickup game. We’re going out on a fishing boat tomorrow morning. You in?”
“I don’t know,” I said slowly, wondering if it would just be a repeat of the first and only time I had hung out with boys from this weird Norwegian town. That was an experience I wasn’t all that keen to repeat.
“Why not?” Graham asked. “You love fishing boats.”
I hesitated, wondering if it was safe. Wondering if we’d run into Margit and her friends, or worse, the strangers who’d invaded the bar. Strangers who were much scarier to me than a girl with a grudge and a locator beacon.
“Of course she’s coming.” Tuck grabbed my book and opened it to a page at random. “She just wants us to beg. Make her feel special.”
I tried to grab the book back, but Tuck held it up and away, out of my reach. I told myself it was a relief to have him acting like normal again, but part of me also wondered how long we’d be keeping up this Jekyll and Hyde act. It wasn’t fair how he kept resetting the terms without warning.
“I’m shocked, Ells. Shocked and appalled that you’d be reading this smut. What is this?” he asked after a moment, flipping back to the cover.
“Lolita. Nabokov.”
“For AP English?” Graham asked, glancing over at me.
I nodded.
“So it’s about a younger girl,” Tuck said, skimming the blurb on the back. “And the older guy chasing her? Sounds right up my alley.” He shot me a private smile that almost jolted me out of my chair. If he was any other boy, that would have sent Graham into DEFCON-2. But he was Tuck, and he always flew underneath the radar.
“Not just a younger girl—a child.” Graham shook his head. “You read that last year. I’m glad Ellie’s getting a head start on the reading. It’s a tough class. Stop pestering her.” With that, he disappeared down the hallway.
“Am I pestering you?” Tuck asked, smiling sweetly as he handed me back the book, and keeping his hand on it a few beats too long. Like he didn’t want to let it go.
“No,” I said, hating myself for how much I savored his attention. “But you’re confusing me.”
“You’re not the only one,” he murmured, turning to leave. “Not sure I’ve been stood up before.”
“Stood up?” I repeated, so bewildered I didn’t even know where to begin.
“You never came today. You promised.”
I just stood there, my jaw hanging half open like a door with a broken hinge.
“C’mon, Tuck.” Graham called.
Tuck’s quick, light footsteps echoed as he followed Graham up the stairs. I exhaled, realizing I’d been holding that breath for ages.
5
My alarm went off the next morning when I could barely convince my eyes to open. If the thought of spending the morning on the open ocean in a fishing boat hadn’t brought back a thousand memories of my grandfather, I would have said screw it and fallen right back asleep.
Grandmother had a hot breakfast waiting when I stumbled into the kitchen. She’d always kept unconventional hours, since she’d spent decades helping Grandfather manage his fishing business. Awakening at what most people considered the middle of the night was old habit for her, so I tried hard not to growl my replies as she cheerfully chattered and I stifled yawn after yawn.
As we approached the docks, Kjell was standing on the deck of his father’s boat, dressed head to toe in an orange rain suit with long reflective strips along the arms and legs. He heaved something over the railing, and a rubber sack landed on the ground at Graham’s feet.
“Hey, Kjell.” The way Graham greeted him made it all too clear that Kjell was our host for this adventure. I wasn’t so wild about that, but it was too late to back out now. Graham lifted the heavy bag onto his shoulder. “What’s in here, lead bricks?”
Kjell’s eyes had barely left my face long enough to nod toward Graham and Tuck. “I was hoping you’d come,” he said to me. “I thought you might if your brother did.”
Graham stiffened. “You know each other?” Frost cracked the edges of his voice.
“Didn’t Ellie tell you we went out the other night—before you
arrived?” Kjell asked.
All three of them looked at me, all at once. I wanted to walk right off the edge of the dock and sink to the bottom of the ocean.
“No, she didn’t.” The chill in Graham’s voice could have grown icicles. “Is that why you pushed so hard to take us out today?”
“So it would seem,” Tuck said, looking at me even though I couldn’t bring myself to meet his gaze.
“Can you blame me?” Kjell asked, smiling.
From the frown on Graham’s face, he did.
Kjell just carried on, oblivious to the fact that every word he said carried him closer and closer to one of Graham’s talks. Only this time, Graham faced an adversary not only his size but also a whole year older. I’d love to be a fly on the wall for that macho showdown. Even if I was ambivalent about the outcome.
“All the gear you need is in the bag,” Kjell said. “And a bench over there if you need it. The boots can be tricky.” He pointed toward a dirty-looking café with a flickering neon coffee mug in the window. Other fishermen were loitering around outside, drinking out of chipped plastic thermoses or leaning on packing crates full of a dizzying array of ropes, nets, and mesh traps.
The rubber rain suit was at least three sizes too big for me. Even with my jeans underneath, I had to roll the waist four times to keep the pants up, and they still dropped down around my ankles when I tried to take a step. Tuck nearly fell into the water laughing at me.
“Here,” Kjell said, vaulting down from the deck of the boat with some black cords trailing from one hand. “This’ll keep your pants up.” The black straps turned out to be suspenders that he quickly fastened in place with two snaps in front. I thought that was the end of it, but then he started reaching around my waist to fasten them in back, too.
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