Citizens of Logan Pond Box Set

by Rebecca Belliston

  The second Carrie saw Greg, she rushed over. “Anything?”

  “No,” Greg said. “Sorry.”

  Closing her eyes, she hugged herself. “Tell me Zach’s okay. Tell me he’s fine.”

  “They’re thirteen, Carrie,” Greg said.

  “Meaning?”

  “They’re stupid. They probably wandered off, went too far, and got caught in the storm. If they’re smart, they’re huddled up under a tree. But the storm’s done now. They’ll be back soon.” Greg waited until she looked up. “They’ll be fine. Wet, cold, but fine.”

  She looked like she wanted to believe him but couldn’t quite.

  “What if patrolmen found them?” Amber asked, sniffling.

  Greg didn’t answer because they wouldn’t want to hear. Zach and Tucker would be made wards of the state, shipped off to live in some boys’ camp where they’d be raised on government propaganda. They’d never see their families again—assuming they weren’t brainwashed to give away the location of the clan. Greg thought of those young patrolmen finding stupid, naive Zach, and shuddered.

  “They’re fine,” he said more firmly.

  They had to be.

  “Then why haven’t they heard us calling for them?” Dylan Green said. “I know no one wants to consider this, but could they have drowned in the pond? Maybe they slipped in?”

  Amber covered her face and started crying. Carrie looked a few seconds shy of passing out.

  Greg’s temper flared. He shot Dylan a warning look.

  “What?” Dylan said. “We should be checking every possibility.”

  “Tucker’s a good swimmer,” Ron said.

  “Zach, too,” Carrie said, looking only slightly relieved. “I just don’t understand. Zach knows the rules. Doesn’t he know how dangerous it is out there?”

  “Do you?” Dylan muttered. “You’re leaving next week.”

  Greg about leveled him. Whatever animosity Dylan and Sasha Green felt toward Carrie and Greg, now wasn’t the time to express it. Greg sidestepped, placing himself between Dylan and the Ashworth sisters.

  “Maybe you should head over to the fire to warm up that cold heart of yours,” Greg said softly.

  Dylan had the audacity to look shocked, but he wisely moved a safe distance away.

  Carrie’s hand went to her mouth. “The drive with Oliver. Tucker wanted to go with us, but I didn’t think we’d have room. What if he and Zach went to Shelton? What if…” Her breathing sped up. “What if…”

  Greg put a hand on her shoulder. “Terrell already checked the path into town. They didn’t go that way. Even if they did, Zach and Tucker are smart. They’ll hide until it’s safe to come back.”

  “Not if the patrolmen have dogs,” Amber whimpered.

  Braden pulled Amber into his arms. “They won’t,” he said, stroking her dark hair. Then he shot Greg a look to ask if that was true.

  Greg shrugged.

  Carrie noticed the interchange and stared at them without blinking. Without breathing.

  “We need Oliver,” she whispered. “He has a car. He can help us look for them. He’ll have a map of the area. We need Oliver.”

  While Greg might not like it, he knew she was right. Oliver seemed to solve everything these days. Plus, if patrolmen had found the two boys, Oliver would have a record of it in the station. Not that he could get them back. This wasn’t just some flour and chickens this time.

  Carrie looked up at Greg with her sad blue eyes.

  “I’ll head into town and find Oliver,” Greg said before she could ask. With his citizenship, he was the only one who could go. “But he’s only in Shelton a couple times a week, maybe less with this new promotion. If he’s not there, I’ll have to wait for him to show up—which I can, but…maybe we should search a bit longer.”

  “Where?” Amber cried. “We’ve looked everywhere!”

  “Except…” Carrie turned to Greg suddenly. “When you and I walked to Ferris, your mom fell, and they sent Zach to find us. He knew the area enough to know exactly where we’d be.”

  Greg nodded slowly. “I don’t know if we’ve checked that path yet. At least, not that far.”

  Without waiting, Carrie took off, sprinting past him for the front door.

  “Wait!” he said, running after her.

  She flew out of his grandparents’ house and down the wet sidewalk. Even though the rain had stopped, the air still had a bite to it, chilling Greg in his already-wet clothes. He hadn’t been dry since noon, leaving him in a constant state of chills. Then again, neither had the boys. He sped up. Carrie still outpaced him, darting down Woodland Drive and taking a sharp left next to his new house.

  “Zach!” she called.

  They ran across fields as wet grasses slapped their clothes. Both of them panted heavily, and after several minutes, they couldn’t hold the pace. They slowed to a half-jog.

  “Zach!” Carrie continued to shout.

  Greg thought about shushing her. Oliver’s territory covered most of northern Shelton, but things at the station had been in upheaval since the arrest of Jamansky and Nielsen. Who knew what area Oliver had now, or what would happen if those two trigger-happy recruits heard her calling? But he couldn’t bring himself to stop her.

  “Maybe Zach’s bad ankle gave out,” Greg suggested breathlessly. “He wouldn’t have been able to walk home.”

  “They might just be waiting for someone to find them.”

  “Wait, hold up,” Greg said, grabbing her arm.

  The path to the Ferris Clan narrowed up ahead, leaving one small deer trail through the center of a patch of pines. In the height of spring, the small trail overflowed with fresh grass and weeds. All of it hung with raindrops. Completely undisturbed.

  “They didn’t come this way, Carrie,” Greg said. “There woulda been a fresh trail. Nobody’s been through here, not since the storm.” He turned full circle to double-check. His and Carrie’s trails were obvious, but they were the only ones. “I don’t think the boys came this way, Carrie. I’m sorry.”

  Her expression went blank. She stared at the sodden ground and yet saw nothing as her eyes filled.

  “Zach…” she breathed.

  Greg had never seen Carrie cry. Not really. Not even with all the Jeff madness. He wasn’t about to start now. He pulled her in for a hug, encircling her cold, damp body. She kept her arms close to herself, allowing him to envelope her. Even though both of them were freezing, the embrace warmed him.

  “My parents trusted me,” she whispered against him. “They trusted me to take care of Zach and Amber, and I’ve failed them. I’ve failed everyone.”

  He lifted her chin. “Hey, you’re doin’ better than any parents could hope. But you can’t give up. Zach’s gonna be just fine.”

  With a blink, a few tears slid down her freckles. “How do you know?”

  He thought about her little tomato plant. “‘Cause he’s an Ashworth. They’re fighters, remember?”

  Sniffing, she managed a smile. “Yeah.”

  Her nose and cheeks were red, and a few tears clung to her delicate lashes. Wisely, he resisted the urge to wipe them away—something too intimate for their friendship. Instead, he pulled her tight against his chest again. She had a petite frame, and he’d forgotten how well she fit in his arms. Carrie Ashworth was dangerous, even as a friend. Maybe especially as a friend, because he kept letting down his guard around her. Each time he held her, it was harder to let go. She stayed cuddled against him, too cold and worried to realize the utter lack of space between them.

  But he noticed.

  In another second, he’d forget about Zach completely and cross a boundary he’d vowed not to cross. So he forced his arms to go slack and stepped away from her. Then he shoved his hands in his pockets and surveyed the area.

  His body shivered without her.

  Focus, he told himself.

  Zach.

  “Where next?” he asked.

  Carrie looked distressed. Depressed. Defeate
d. Another hug was definitely warranted.

  Focus!

  “We still haven’t heard from Richard,” she said. “Let’s head back and see if he had any luck on the north side.”

  “Alrighty.”

  Greg grabbed Carrie’s hand and started back the way they’d come, through the thick, wet grass. “My stomach’s growling, and if mine is, you can bet the boys’ are. I’d bet we see them before too long.” If not, he’d seriously panic, because one thing he knew was that the stomach controlled a man, whether that man was thirteen or fifty-five. “Empty bellies make for lousy adventures. Just ask my mom. I was a bear comin’ north. The boys will be back for dinner. I’d bet my last shoe on it.”

  When she didn’t respond, he glanced sideways. Carrie looked tense, but in a different way. He nearly asked why, but then he noticed her gaze flicker down to his hand. Which held hers. No, not held. Gripped. Like his life depended on it. Like he’d just hugged her.

  He dropped her hand, reaming himself out. She didn’t meet his gaze, knowing he’d grabbed it on accident. In his defense, it had only felt natural to hold Carrie’s hand. Quite frankly, he wanted it back. She probably did, too, but she wasn’t the type to force her wishes on anybody—least of all him.

  For once, he wished she wasn’t so selfless.

  Suddenly, none of it mattered. Oliver. The clan. The future. Life was too short and too hard.

  Greg slipped his hand back into Carrie’s and started off again, only this time sliding his fingers into hers, leaving no doubt about his intentions. Her hand was so soft. He stroked her thumb with his. A delicate smile touched her soft lips, and she squeezed his hand in response. His stomach flopped at the simple gesture, but in a matter of minutes, her hand went from cold to warm. Somehow that justified it in his mind.

  Unfortunately, it didn’t last long. They were nearly to his new house when she sprinted forward, breaking free of his grasp.

  “Zach!” she cried.

  Greg trotted after her and saw Zach coming down Woodland Drive, limping his usual limp, with Richard O’Brien behind.

  “Look who I found,” Richard called.

  Carrie engulfed Zach in a hug that almost knocked his scrawny body over. “Where have you been? We’ve been worried sick!”

  Zach pushed her off him. “Stop it. Geez!” He brushed down his red t-shirt. “I don’t know why everyone’s freaking out. We were just trying out our slingshots.”

  “Since lunch?” Carrie said. “You’ve been gone half the day.”

  “So?”

  So? A retort like that would have got Greg a swift backhand growing up. The kid was gutsy, but Greg stayed quiet.

  “Zach!” Amber yelled, running down the street with Braden following. She descended on her little brother, smothering him like Carrie had. And just like before, Zach shoved her away.

  “Quit it! Get off me!”

  Carrie folded her arms. “You told me you were going to Tucker’s after school. Ron Marino said you never showed up. Everyone thought something horrible had happened to both of you.”

  “Yeah,” Amber added darkly. “I froze my butt off looking for you. You have to do my chores for a month. No, a year!”

  Zach rolled his eyes. “Whatever. It’s no big deal.”

  “No big deal?” Carrie flushed with anger. “You’re not supposed to leave the neighborhood. Ever.”

  “Why not? We’re leaving Monday?”

  Amber shook her head. “You’re such an idiot. That’s totally different than—Ow!” she cried as Zach punched her arm.

  Greg grabbed Zach and yanked him back before he could inflict any more damage.

  “Enough, you guys,” Carrie said. “Amber, let me handle this. And Zach, that drive with Oliver is in the safety of a car with a patrolman escorting us. What you and Tucker did was so dangerous, it makes me sick. Patrolmen could be searching anywhere, anytime.”

  “They could have arrested you, buddy,” Braden added.

  “Arrested?” Amber said. “They could have killed him!”

  “We. Were. Fine!” Zach yelled back.

  As the three siblings went at it, Greg glanced toward his grandparents’ yard. While Zach was surrounded by his sisters, Greg, Braden, and Richard, the rest of the clan huddled around Tucker. All thirty of them. Like lines had been drawn in the sand. Carrie and Greg’s side was looking pitifully small.

  Squinting, he noticed something peculiar about Tucker’s clothing. He turned back to Zach and saw the same thing.

  “Where’d you say y’all were exploring?” Greg said.

  Zach stopped mid-yell. “Um. The woods.”

  “Then why aren’t you and Tucker wet?”

  Carrie’s eyes widened on Zach’s shirt. Other than dampness around his shoes, the rest of him was completely dry.

  Zach’s freckled face dropped with guilt. “We just wanted to find a good place to shoot the slingshots. When the rain started, we hid under a tree until it stopped. Then we ran home.”

  “A tree?” Greg said. “My mom and I spent eight months hidin’ under trees. I wish we’d stayed that dry. You wanna try again?”

  Zach’s expression hardened. “It was a big tree.”

  There was more to the kid’s story than he was letting on. He and Tucker had found shelter, real shelter, outside of the neighborhood.

  “I found them on the other side of Bramman Highway,” Richard said.

  Carrie’s mouth dropped. “Zach! What were you thinking, going that far? You’re never leaving the neighborhood again.”

  “Whatever. I’m going inside.”

  Zach turned and started across his front yard.

  “I mean it,” Carrie said, following. “You’re grounded. You’re not leaving the house except to do chores. Not even Monday with Oliver.”

  Zach whirled. “What? You can’t do that!”

  She folded her arms, looking more parent than ever. “I just did. You’re grounded for the rest of your life.”

  Zach shot her a look that, if he’d been a few years older, would have caused the hair on the back of Greg’s neck to stand on end. “I hate you.”

  Carrie jerked back like he’d slapped her.

  Stepping forward, Greg put a strong hand on Zach’s shoulder. “Hey, Carrie, can I talk to Zach for a sec?”

  She hugged herself. “Be my guest. When you’re done, send him inside because he’s not leaving the house for a long, long time.”

  eight

  GREG LED ZACH AROUND the side of the Ashworth’s house toward the pond. They weaved through the backyard that had once been beautiful and now looked wild with spring growth. Greg’s clothes were cold and heavy. It was the kind of cold that wouldn’t go away until he found a warm fireplace—something his new house didn’t have. Maybe he’d venture inside after he talked to Zach to see if Carrie had started a fire.

  A flock of Canadian Geese floated lazily on the gray surface of Logan Pond, not quite ready to venture out after the storm. Greg stopped just short of the cattails on the shoreline.

  “Have a seat,” he said.

  Zach looked down at the muddy grass. “It’s wet.”

  “So am I,” Greg said with a pointed look. “Have a seat.”

  Zach plopped down with a grunt. “You’re just going lecture me. I thought you were cooler than that, but whatever. I shoulda known you’d be on Carrie’s side.”

  “I’m not on anybody’s side.” And to prove it, Greg sat next to him, shivering as the cold grass seeped through his jeans. What he would have given for a hot tub.

  “Where’s your slingshot?” Greg asked. “I wanna see what it can do.”

  Zach rolled his eyes but pulled it from his pocket. “We didn’t know everybody was looking for us. I didn’t even think they knew we were gone.”

  Greg said nothing as he studied the homemade slingshot, a pathetic contraption of two sticks and black rubber scraps. The two sticks formed a rough ‘Y’ bound together with twine that was frayed and ready to snap.

  �
��How does it work?”

  “It doesn’t.” Zach snatched it back and cocked his arm, ready to chuck it into the pond.

  “Whoa,” Greg said, grabbing it. “It’s not that bad. You just need tubing, maybe some better lashing here around the middle. Mine has two scopes sticking out the top that help me aim. I can help you lash some on if you want.”

  “I won’t hold my breath.”

  Zach dropped his slingshot on the grass like he couldn’t be bothered to ever pick it up again.

  Greg sighed.

  “So…” he said after a minute, “where’d you and Tucker go? The real story this time.”

  “I already told you.”

  It was a challenge Greg knew he’d lose, so he let it slide. The two of them watched the tranquil geese before Zach picked up a rock and hurled it across the surface of the pond, startling the geese to high heaven. The geese cackled away.

  “I’m so sick of Carrie,” Zach said. “All she does is boss me around. Amber, too. They treat me like a little kid. I hate being stuck here all the time. I hate the stupid rules. Everyone says it’s dangerous out there, but it’s not. It’s fun.”

  Zach chucked another rock, only this time he threw it parallel to the surface. It skipped four or five times before dropping away, reminding Greg of the time Carrie had killed him at skipping rocks. Zach had a lot of Carrie in him—at least when it came to looks. Same wavy hair: a mix of blonde, red, and brunette, depending on the light. Same fair skin tone and freckles. But in personality, Zach was all Amber. Hot-blooded. Emotional. Greg wondered which of their parents had been fair skinned or which had Amber’s darker features. Who had been the stubborn hothead and who was the peacemaker like Carrie.

  Greg himself was pure Trenton stock, but part of him worried that he had some of his dad in him. The side that made it easy to leave, to walk away and forget everything. The side that nearly sent Greg packing after Jenna’s death if Carrie hadn’t intervened.

  “You know, when I was five,” Greg started. Zach groaned exaggeratedly, but Greg pressed on. “My dad left. He just up and walked out. My mom had to take two jobs to make ends meet, which meant my little sister and I were alone most the time. I had to become the man of the house. I didn’t wanna be. That’s just how the chips fell.” He ran his hand over the wet grass. “A man of the house treats the women of the house with respect. Do you think you treated Carrie respectfully just now?”