Blood and Salt (12 page)

SHINNY

THE GRIMSBYS AND
the Mendozas were playing a game that looked a little like lacrosse but wilder. They were basically running around a giant field and whacking one another with four-foot-long sticks. The girls stood on the sidelines, oohing and aahing every time some poor guy took a hit.

Among the Mendozas, I recognized Tommy from the party last night. His black eye had faded to light purple.

I scanned the crowd and a tingling sensation spread over me the moment my eyes grazed Dane's face.

“What are they playing?” I asked, trying to figure out the strategy.

“Shinny,” Beth said as she and Rhys joined us. “You use the sticks to move the beanbag ball around to score points. They play it on the ice in winter, too.”

“Why aren't any girls playing?”

“It's too rough,” Brennon explained. “The girls play a similar game, with less blood; it's called double ball.”

“I bet they do,” I said as the girls waved at my brother and Brennon.

Rhys stared up at the sky awkwardly. Good to see some things would never change.

The ball came hurtling our way. Instead of ducking like a normal person I reached out and palmed it. It stung, but I forced a pleasant smile.

“What do you think you're doing?” Rhys hissed as I stepped forward.

“I told you. I need to talk to him.” I squared my shoulders as I watched Dane cross the field toward us.

“Okay, but not like this,” Rhys said as he tugged at my elbow, but I wouldn't budge. I couldn't take my eyes off Dane. Sweat and dirt never looked so good.

As Dane got closer, I noticed the dark glint in his eyes. “Are you not getting enough attention or something?”

It felt like I'd just walked right into his fist, punching my own lights out. I was such an idiot. Here I'd hoped he'd go back to being the boy I'd met at the junkyard or, better yet, the boy from my dream last night.

This Dane was acting like a complete prick.

Lauren breezed past me onto the field, standing next to Dane, a smug look about her flawless face. “Where are your
clothes
?”

“What are you talking about?” I glanced down at the peasant dress I'd pulled from my mother's closet. I thought it was a little small, so I wore my black shorts underneath.

She raised an eyebrow. “You're wearing an undergarment.”

“Right,” I murmured, suddenly feeling naked.

“I think it's stylish.” Beth stepped next to me.

“Look,” Lauren snickered. “Batty Beth has two whole friends now.”

“Don't call her that,” Rhys said in a low tone as he glared at Lauren.

I was stunned to hear him speak up like that; usually he only mouthed off to me. Lauren turned her attention on my brother and I stepped in front of her. “What's your problem? Am I missing something here?”

“As if she doesn't know.” Lauren's bright hazel eyes burned into me. “You don't scare me, Ash Larkin.”

“Okaaay?” I laughed uncomfortably. “I wasn't trying to—”

“Ash, don't bother,” Beth whispered. “It's not worth it.”

“It's about your nocturnal activities,” Dane said, a tiny smile curling the corner of his mouth.

Whispers erupted behind me. I turned and felt the enemy flush invade my cheeks. I didn't realize we had an audience for this. It wasn't just kids. People of all ages pressed in around us like they didn't want to miss a single word.

Did Dane know what happened to me last night—that I'd dreamed about kissing him? Did they all know?

Dane rested his shinny stick on his shoulder. “This morning, Lauren woke up with a corn-husk doll lying next to her pillow.”

“And?” I raised my eyebrows.

“It's the mark of death.” Lauren flicked her wrist, and a delicate light blue fan spread out in her hand. “I know you did it,” she said as she fanned herself.

“Please.” I burst out laughing. “I don't know how to make a corn doll. I can't even make a wreath!”

There was a part of me that wondered if I could have done it in my sleep. Anything was possible.

“You girls can work this out later. Now, if you don't mind, we have a game to finish,” Dane said as he turned his back on me to join the other players waiting on the field.

In a burst of frustration, I threw the shinny ball at the back of his head; Lauren caught it. As she handed the ball to Dane, I noticed her arm brush against his chest. I wanted to rip it from her body.

“What do you want?” Dane turned with an exasperated sigh.

“I want to play,” I blurted.

He looked at me, incredulously. “
You
want to play shinny?”

“Sure. Why not? You and Lauren against me and my brother.”

“What?” Rhys's eyes went wide.

Dane grinned. “First team to score three goals wins,” he said before he made his way up the field.

I motioned for Rhys to join me.

“No, no, no.” He waved me off as he backed away.

“Come on.” I pulled him forward. “It'll be fun.”

“I don't play sports. Remember?”

God, how could I forget? My mom made him join my soccer team in first grade. Got his first bloody nose and started puking all over the place, setting off a chain reaction of epic proportions. Took them a week to clean up all the regurgitated Cheerios and orange slices from the field.

“Look, nobody here knows about that,” I said. “Clean slate. You don't even have to do anything remotely athletic—just keep Lauren occupied while I talk to Dane.” I pushed him toward her.

As I jogged ahead to catch up to Dane, a bunch of Grimsbys passed, looking like they'd just been in a brawl. “Good luck,” a tall, gangly boy I recognized from the party last night grunted as he shook bits of matted grass and dirt from his hair.

“They're going to get slaughtered out there,” his friend said as he wiped the blood from his ear on his sleeve.

What did I get us into?
I looked down the field to see Rhys trying to talk to Lauren, and Lauren pointedly ignoring him. He was going to kill me for this.

I found Dane at the goal line, making sure the markers were in place—iron poles with loops at the top to hold the lanterns.

“Are these the same things they use to mark the perimeter of the corn at night?” I gave one of them a good shake, and accidentally pulled it out.

“Do you mind telling me what this is all about?” he asked as he took the iron stand away from me.

His change in tone took me by surprise. Maybe all of that was just an act back there. “I need you to take me into the corn.”

“Why?”

I wanted to tell him about Marie, but I didn't know if I could trust him with an honest answer. “I just do.”

“First”—he stabbed the pole back into the ground with such force, it made me flinch—“you need to tell me how you walked into the corn by yourself last night.” His eyes settled on me—they were so full of light and life—I still couldn't tell exactly what color they were.

“I . . . I don't know. It must be a conduit thing. I don't have any control when the memories come over me.”

“Dane?” Lauren hollered from midfield. Rhys stood next to her awkwardly, like he didn't know what to do with his limbs.

Dane and I joined them.

“Angus here will officiate,” Tommy announced as he pulled some poor kid off the sidelines. “He's a Hanratty—pretty neutral. Right, Angus?”

Tommy pounded his hand down on Angus's shoulder and I could see his Adam's apple bob up and down.

“Are we all in agreement?” Tommy asked.

“Agreed,” Lauren and Dane answered in unison.

Rhys and I just nodded.

Dane started to take his shirt off. My voice rose about six
octaves. “No need . . . there's . . . we . . . I know . . . we don't need to . . .”

Rhys saved me. “We don't need to do shirts and skins—I doubt we'll get one another confused. Unless of course, you just want to show us your abs.”

“Fine.” A smile eased across Dane's lips. “But aren't you forgetting something?” His eyes flickered to my waist and all I could think of was his thumb dragging across the top of my hip bone. A flash of heat rushed to my cheeks.
Get a hold of yourself, Ash.

“You might need a stick,” Dane said.

“Right.” I nodded like one of those idiot bobbleheads.

As Dane led me to an old metal washtub at the end of the field full of shinny sticks, he leaned in. “I'll make a wager. You win, I'll take you.”

“And if we lose?” I glanced up at him.

“You're on your own,” he said as he strode away.

I picked through the pile of sticks, looking for one with a decent grip. Each one had a natural Y shape at one end to balance the ball. I found a solid piece of oak. “Rhys,” I called out as I tossed it to him. He didn't even bother trying to catch it. It dropped to the ground with a hollow
thunk.

“I can't believe I'm doing this for you.” He bent over to pick it up like an old man.

“All you have to do is stay on Lauren. I'll take care of the rest.” I studied her as she tied her long skirt into a knot above her knees. “I bet she runs like a three-year-old.”

“No, Ash,
I
run like a three-year-old.”

I picked up another stick and whipped it through the air, pleased by the wicked sound it made. Dane took notice. Obviously, he'd never seen me play lacrosse or he would've thought twice about the wager.

“Let's kick some ass,” I said to Rhys as we took the field with Dane and Lauren.

The whole community had left the other games and gathered for the spectacle. There were ladies twirling old-fashioned parasols to shield themselves from the sun and boys with hand-me-down trousers being held up by suspenders. Beth alternated between biting her nails and cheering. I spotted Brennon at the back of the crowd, talking quietly to Spencer, who never took his eyes off us. It put me on edge.

Dane and I faced off. The ref threw the ball high into the air; I waited for Dane to snag it, then knocked it away from him and ran it down the field. It was harder than lacrosse—harder to balance the flimsy beanbag on the end of the stick. But I got the feel for it quickly, and muscle memory kicked in.

I glanced back to see Dane standing on the field, looking oddly amused, while Lauren came gunning for me. For a second, I thought I'd grossly underestimated her, but thankfully, I was faster. I slammed the ball between the two markers at the end of the field and the crowd broke into startled cheers.

I turned to Dane, ready to bask in the glow of his newfound respect, but he was chatting up some girl on the sidelines. I wanted to knock that smile off his face.

We met up midfield for another face-off—me against Lauren this time. I won the ball, racing it down the field as Lauren slammed her stick onto mine, trying to get me to drop it. Frustrated that she couldn't shake me, she hurtled her stick between my feet. I fell hard, skidding on my knees.

The ref opened his mouth to call a foul, but closed it when Tommy clasped his hand on his shoulder.

“You're finished,” Lauren spat as she swooped up the ball, passing it to Dane.

My knee was a bloodied mess. I ripped a strip of cloth from the hem of my so-called dress and tied it around my knee.

The community exploded as Dane scored a goal. One to one.

I tried to play it off, but I
needed
Dane to take me into the corn. Marie was trying to tell me something . . .
show
me something. I had to win this.

“Are you hurt?” Rhys panted, purposefully not looking down.

“Just a scratch,” I said as I got to my feet.

“Are you sure you know what you're doing?”

“No.” I laughed.

If nothing else, it felt good to let out some aggression. There were so many emotions rattling around inside of me that were begging for release.

Lauren and I faced off again. Angus threw the ball into the air and dove away from the hot zone. I'd just taken the ball when I felt Lauren's stick come down hard on my shoulder,
which made a sickening pop. The pain made me scream—my arm had come out of the socket. But I couldn't give in. I gritted my teeth and managed to keep control of the ball with my one good arm. Halfway down the field, I felt Dane on my heels. Rhys advanced to my right; I used all of my strength to hurl the ball in his direction. I missed the mark, but my shoulder popped back into place.

I slowed to catch my breath, thinking Dane would scoop up the ball and rush it to the other end of the field, but he flew right past it. Lauren waited for Rhys at the end zone, Dane coming up fast behind him. They were lining him up and he didn't even have the ball.

“Watch it!” I called out to Rhys. He was giving me a thumbs-up when they body-checked him from both sides. As he collapsed to the ground, I looked to Angus to do something, but he just stared down at the grass.

The crowd seemed to take in a collective gasp, everyone except for Beth, who jumped up and down, clapping her hands manically like she was trying to save a dying pixie. “Get up, Rhys! You can do it.”

Lauren scooped up the ball and took a leisurely jog down the field for yet another goal.

By the time I got to Rhys, he was dazed, but on his feet. His bottom lip was split wide open. I started having flashbacks of the infamous soccer game/puke festival of 2004. I ripped the makeshift bandage off my knee and held it to his lip.

“What are you doing? What's wrong?” Rhys asked.

“It's nothing really. Just a tiny cut. Can I get some water over here?” I called out, hoping he could hold off on vomiting for a couple of seconds.

Tommy grinned as he came onto the field carrying a jug of water. “Ready to call it quits?”

I snatched the jug from Tommy and pulled the rag away to find Rhys's lip had already surged shut. “What the hell,” I said under my breath.