Storms and Scarabs

by H. R. Hobbs

  What people are saying about the Breaking the Rules Series—See Me, Hear Me, and Watch Me—also written by H.R. Hobbs.

  “It is not only a great book for young adults, but for all people who at some stage of their life did not want to be seen.”

  —Kim Anisi, 5-Star Review for Reader’s Favourite

  “As I write this there’s another national case of school bullying in the news. This issue is not going away, but books like See Me can help youth who suffer to understand that they are not alone, and that speaking up, though difficult, is often the first step towards a solution.”

  —Shelley Leedahl, Sask Book Reviewer

  “A moving look into the lives of two young teens who try to find their way through the struggles in their lives.”

  —Carol Marit, Grade 4 Teacher

  “See Me is a sensitive and authentic portrayal of middle school that will leave you yearning for the next installment.”

  —Karen Henderson, Elementary School Librarian

  “Such a wonderful story of perseverance and doing what is just in order to create a better world for victims of bullying.”

  —Sue Twemlow, Teacher

  “Follow Hannah as she finds her voice, learns about true friendship, loyalty, and the power of truth. H.R. Hobbs brings a realism to her storytelling that everyone is going to want to experience.”

  —Carla Hildebrandt, Educational Psychologist

  “I am sure readers will sympathize with and feel the pain and injustice the characters are experiencing. I hope they will also discover their own humanity when they lift their visors and see all the uniquely beautiful butterflies we all are.

  —Karen Kloibhofer

  The Breaking the Rules Series by H.R. Hobbs

  Copyright 2019 H.R. Hobbs

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the published, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  ISBN: 978-0-9953448-6-0

  ISBN: 978-0-9953448-5-8 (ebook)

  Dedicated to Garrett D. and Kale F. in honour of their wonderful friendship

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  The hinges of the bus door squealed open. Mitch knew he only needed to take two steps to enter, but his feet refused to move. The bus driver, who could barely see over the steering wheel, stared at him expectantly, his hand resting on the door lever.

  “Mitch,” his sister, Alyssa, hissed in his ear. “Don’t just stand there. Get on the bus.”

  She shoved him in the back, and he stepped forward.

  “Morning,” the bus driver said as he reached the top of the steps.

  “Morning,” Mitch mumbled to the floor.

  Not looking up, he threw his backpack in the first empty seat, landing on top of it. Alyssa barreled past him. He glared at her retreating back before he slid over and stared at his reflection in the glass of the bus window, ignoring the bright green shoots of wheat poking through the ground in a field beside the road.

  His mom was right—he looked miserable. Which wasn’t a surprise to Mitch. He felt miserable. He’d felt that way ever since they moved to Fairview. What was surprising was that his mom even noticed. She was so busy unpacking and helping Dad on the farm, he wasn’t sure she knew he existed anymore

  The farm. He hated that word. It was because of the farm that Mitch found himself riding the bus to school every day, instead of shooting hoops in the driveway before school with his best friend, Matt. He and Matt had been neighbours his whole life. They’d done everything together. Now he sat by himself, wondering how terrible it would be trying to make new friends at a new school.

  New—that was another word he hated. For the last two weeks everything had been new: new town, new house, new school, new friends. He’d never had to make new friends, and he sure didn’t want to make any now. Mitch’s favourite word was old: he wanted his old town, old house, old school, old friends. He wondered what Matt was doing this morning. Probably wasn’t even up yet. And here Mitch was, sitting on a bus minutes after the sun came up.

  It just wasn’t fair.

  A sandwich landed in his lap, jolting him out of his self-pity. Before he could turn to see where it had come from, a hand came over the back of the seat, followed by a head of messy blond curls, and snatched it up, at the same time yelling in his ear, “You’re such a jerk, Eric!”

  As Mitch peered over the back of the seat to see who the hand and voice belonged to, a voice mimicked from farther back, “You’re such a jerk, Brock!”

  “Takes one to know one,” the boy behind him replied, then gave Mitch a smile that took up most of his face.

  Mitch twisted around to look at the back of the bus. Mitch knew that the older kids sat at the back and concluded the two boys staring at him had to be in Grade 10 at least. Mitch was sure he saw the shadow of a mustache on one of them.

  “What are you looking at, runt?” one of them asked as Mitch continued to stare. Not wanting to become their newest target, Mitch slowly slunk down in his seat.

  “Don’t worry,” the voice came from behind him again. “It’s just my brother. He thinks he’s a big shot because he can finally sit at the back. He won’t think it’s so funny when I tell Mom tonight.”

  Mitch didn’t answer. It was bad enough that he had to start at a new school in the middle of the year. He really didn’t need to be on the radar of high school kids.

  “I’m Brock,” came the voice again. “You probably figured that out already because of my jerk brother.” He hollered that last part over his shoulder.

  “Shut up, pipsqueak!”

  “Anyway,” he continued. “What grade are you in?”

  Mitch shifted uncomfortably. “Six.”

  Suddenly, Brock materialized in the seat beside him. Mitch dragged his backpack onto his lap to give Brock more room, then continued to stare out the window.

  “Awesome! Me too! Where did you move from?”

  What’s with this guy and his million questions? Okay, not millions, Mitch amended. But two questions are two more than I want to answer.

  Not turning around, he said, “What makes you think I just moved here?”

  “This is Fairview. In small towns, everyone knows everything about everybody.”

  Perfect! The whole school is going to know I’m the new kid.

  “Durham,” he told the window.

  “Wow! I’ve only been there a couple of times. My sister’s a barrel racer. She competed in the rodeo there last summer. Do you go? I hate the rodeo, so I begged my parents to take me to the Museum of Natural History. It was so cool! They had a display about Ancient Egypt. Have you seen it?” Before Mitch could
answer, he went on, “Did you know it took seventy days to complete the mummification process? My brother rides steers. So every weekend during the summer we’re at some rodeo or another.”

  What’s a steer? Mitch wanted to ask. But he didn’t. He didn’t want Brock to think he was interested—even though, secretly, he was. And he knew all he wanted to know about Ancient Egypt. They’d studied it for months at his old school.

  “My parents make me do mutton busting . . .”

  What the heck is mutton busting? What is he talking about now? This time Mitch was going to ask, but Brock was still talking.

  “. . . hoping I’ll like it and be like my brother and sister. I do it, but I hate it. I’d rather be at the museum.”

  Mitch tuned Brock out, mostly because he didn’t know what he was talking about. He was afraid to ask if it meant another long-winded explanation. Besides, he was determined to hate everything about Fairview, and that included Brock. He didn’t need a friend. He had friends in Durham. Just another reason why he wanted to go back.

  “Let me tell you everything you need to know about Fairview School. Mrs. Patterson is our teacher.”

  Mitch interrupted finally. “How do you know I’m in your class?”

  “There’s only one Grade Six class. Where else would you be?”

  He turned back to the window. Only one class? I guess that’s something else I need to learn about small towns.

  “She’s usually pretty nice, if you stay on her good side, which means doing your work and not talking in class. You know, the usual teacher stuff.”

  Mitch watched the landscape pass by. It didn’t seem to bother Brock that he didn’t answer. Maybe if he ignored him long enough, he’d get the hint and go back to his seat.

  “Now, you need to watch out for Emily. She is the bossiest girl in class. She sticks her big, fat nose in everyone’s business.”

  Mitch tucked that piece of information away. He had an older sister. He knew all about bossy girls.

  “So, how come you’re starting school in the middle of the year?”

  Mitch sighed to himself. Obviously, Brock didn’t care if Mitch ignored him or not. Maybe he’d go away if he told him why they’d moved to Fairview.

  “Pops left the farm to my dad when he died. It’s always been my dad’s dream to come to the farm, so instead of selling it we moved here to take it over.”

  “Pops? I don’t know anyone around here named Pops.”

  “My grandpa.”

  Brock frowned. “George Howell was your grandpa?”

  “You knew my grandpa?”

  “Nah, but in a small town everyone knows everything about—”

  “—everybody,” Mitch finished. “I get it.”

  “The town’s been wondering for months now who would take over the Howell farm.”

  “Now they know.”

  “My dad says the Howells are crazier than loons,” Brock said matter-of-factly.

  Mitch turned his full attention on Brock, his tone indignant. “Why would he say that?”

  Brock shrugged, unfazed. “Don’t know. That’s just what he says every time we go past their farm.” He frowned. “I guess it’s your farm now.”

  Mitch looked out the window again. Great! It wasn’t bad enough that they had to move to this tiny town, but on top of that everyone thought his family was crazy. Could this day get any worse? Another reason to hate Fairview and everything new. He was never going to forgive his parents for dragging him here.

  “Let’s see what else you need to know.” Brock paused before launching into another long-winded monologue.

  Mitch closed his eyes and imagined his street back in Durham. How he wished he could go back in time. Matt wasn’t the only thing he missed. He missed pick-up games of shinny after school and Saturday baseball games in the park behind his house. Those would never happen again. Their farm was fifteen miles from Fairview and their closest neighbours lived a mile away. It might as well be a million miles away.

  “Do you want to?”

  Brock’s question jolted Mitch out of his daydream.

  “Huh?”

  “Come to my place after school?”

  Brock’s invitation came as a surprise. Hadn’t Brock noticed he’d been ignoring him for most of their conversation? And what was the point? He’d have to talk to his mom before accepting. It also meant that he’d need a ride to Brock’s farm, which was probably impossible because both of his parents were “too busy” to do anything that didn’t have to do with the farm.

  “Probably not.” Seeing the disappointment on Brock’s face, he added, “My parents are really busy. They spend all their time getting ready to seed our first crop. They won’t have time to drive me to your house.”

  “Oh.” Brock thought for a moment. “Tell you what. I’ll talk to my mom. We make a million trips to town for my brother and sister’s sports. Maybe you could come to my place after school and then my mom could drop you off on her way to town.”

  “Sure,” Mitch agreed, hoping it would shut him up.

  “Awesome!”

  The bus pulled up to the curb in front of the school. Students in the front half pulled on their backpacks and elbowed their way off the bus. Mitch stepped onto the sidewalk into a crowd of students entering the school. The smell of diesel fuel made his nervous stomach roll.

  “Out of the way, runt.” Eric glared at him from the bus steps.

  “Ignore him.” Brock bumped Mitch’s shoulder. “Come on, I’ll show you where we go in.”

  Mitch stood for a moment as students streamed around him and into the school entrance. He considered turning and walking in the other direction. But at that moment Brock turned and waved for him to hurry up. He dragged his feet, hoping to postpone the inevitable as long as possible.

  Mitch followed Brock into the school and down the hallway to their classroom. Around him students greeted each other with fist bumps and smiles. A couple of them greeted Brock. Suddenly, Mitch ran into the back of Brock, who was stopped in the middle of the hallway.

  “That’s Emily.” Brock jerked his chin in the direction of the girl in front of them.

  Hearing her name, she turned on them.

  “What did you say?” She glared at Brock, hands on hips.

  “Nothing.” Brock stepped back—and landed right on Mitch’s foot.

  “Ouch!”

  Brock looked at him apologetically. “Sorry!”

  “I heard you say my name,” Emily insisted, not moving.

  He reached around and shoved Mitch in front of him. “I was pointing out the kids in class to Mitch.”

  Mitch stumbled forward, nearly bumping into Emily. “Hi?”

  “Hey,” Emily didn’t even look at him, just continued to glare at Brock before turning on her heel and entering the classroom.

  “See what I mean?” Brock whispered in his ear. “She’s over the top.”

  Mitch nodded, took a deep breath, and crossed the threshold into the classroom. Choosing a desk as far away from Emily as he could, he plopped down and waited, knowing what would happen next, with a sense of doom.

  He wasn’t surprised when Mrs. Patterson called him to the front of the class just moments after the bell rang. This was what teachers did to torture every new student. Add this to the list of things he hated. He stood beside her and rattled off his name and where he was from in an indifferent voice. He hoped everyone got the message about how unhappy he was to be here.

  He wished his parents were here so they could hear it too.

  Chapter 2

  Mitch threw his backpack on the floor of the porch. He knew his mom would give him heck for doing it, but he didn’t care. When she didn’t holler at him from the kitchen, he went to find her. The kitchen was empty. He saw a note on the table.

  Down at the barn helping Dad.

  Of course she was. That was what she was always doing, either helping Dad or unpacking the stacks of box
es that lined the walls in each room of their new home. She probably wouldn’t even notice his backpack sitting there.

  Realizing he was all alone in the house, a defiant grin spread across his face. He grabbed the peanut butter and bread to make himself a sandwich.

  Alyssa had stayed after school for track practice. This was new. She’d never gone out for track in Durham. She’d stopped at his locker at the end of the day to tell him she wouldn’t be on the bus and then skipped off with a bunch of girls to the gym. Mitch didn’t understand how she’d had zero friends in Durham, but in Fairview she was immediately part of the group. His stomach tightened at the thought. The tables were turned from their life in Durham.

  Leaving the peanut butter and bread on the table, he went up to his room. Like the rest of the house, all the boxes marked mitch were still sitting in a pile, at the end of his bed. He refused to unpack a single one. His mom had made up his bed yesterday, but now it was a pile of messed-up blankets from his horrible night’s sleep. His dresser and bookshelf were empty, and the walls were bare. It reminded Mitch of a prison cell, minus the bars on the windows.

  He flopped on his bed and searched under his pillow for his tablet. Eating his sandwich, he played Fortnite until he ran out of lives.

  His sandwich done, he considered going down to the barn. Pops had kept cows and a few chickens for as long as he could remember. Mitch had loved going down to feed them when he visited. One of his favourite memories of the farm was sitting in the tractor while Pops fed huge round bales to the cows in the pasture. Perched on Pops’s lap, he even got to steer every once in a while. He smiled, remembering the stories Pops told about when he was a boy on the farm. Chasing gophers, roping calves, hauling bales. It had all sounded like fun to Mitch.

  But now that he was stuck here? He had no interest in it at all.

  Rolling onto his back, he stared at the ceiling of his room. A wave of homesickness washed into his belly. He let it settle there, taking comfort in his misery.