Mayday (12 page)

We spent the next three hours doing pickups. Officer Dewey threw, or helped, fifteen homeless into the back of the truck, and took them to Mary Kay's shelter.

Number sixteen didn't go so smoothly.

Number sixteen was Will.

Dewey pulled beneath the Washington Bridge, and there he was, leaning back against the concrete and surrounded by shattered glass.

He wasn't alone.

A lump buried beneath a blanket rested on his lap. Another someone.

Squinting in the light, he waved Dewey off as he approached. I had to hear and cracked the window.

“You can't sleep out here, son. I have two beds left, and one has your name on it.”

“No, sir. I won't come with you. But take him.” He nodded down at the shape. “His feet are really bad off.”

Will and Dewey helped the old man into the truck. “Listen,” Will said, “I'll move on. I'll find someplace. But you got two more down by the river—one a girl about my age, and I don't think she's going to make it. You'll need an ambulance.”

Dewey ran to the riverbank, and I watched Will disappear into the night. It was the last I figured I'd see of him.

When he resurfaced years later, I decided, there was no way some homeless drifter was going to set his paws on my sister. Heck, he might have killed that girl by the river.

But Will had been homeless. The fact would end up being a terrible trap for my sister. Empathy had always been Addy's one imperfection.

• • •

“Dresser,” Will said. “Third drawer down. In a black sock.” He exhaled slowly, his eyes narrowing.

“You can go, Will.” Mr. Loumans placed his hand on Will's back. “I somewhat appreciate your honesty.” He guided Will toward the door through which they'd entered minutes earlier, and then turned to me.

“And you are . . .?”

“Cr— Shane.”

He looked at Reese, who smiled and commenced more lip biting. “This is the applicant I mentioned. He impressed me. My friends consider me a good judge of character. His name is Shane, and, well, you knew that.”

“The Shane.” Mr. Loumans stepped forward and shook my hand. Reese handed him my application. He looked it over. I did, too. It was filled out. Complete. It sure didn't look like a guy's writing.

“The spelling of your last name, O-W-E-N, is that a correct spelling, son?”

“That's right.”

Mr. Loumans pitched the app in the garbage.

“Shane Owen. My new family assistant teacher.”

• • •

I derived great pleasure from crushing Will. Having lived through his frequent phone attempts once before certainly gave me an upper hand. But my victory felt empty, like scoring a C in biology when you alone know you cheated.

Mr. Loumans didn't seem to consider it a victory. We walked in heavy silence to a small cottage shielded from the main house by a row of pines.

“You saw the main residence: that's where Amy and Thomas stay, my family. The boys, too, of course. We have eight of 'em now, and I know the facility was built for ten.” He peeked at me. “You seem to know Will from another life, so you can appreciate our need for help.”

He unlocked the cottage door, stepped in, but did not turn on the light.

“Shane, my wife and I are the religious type. We've been praying for help for some time without success. Then you showed up with knowledge you should not have, could not have. The Good Book speaks of strangers and angels—”

I held up my hand. “It also mentions devils and demons, so I wouldn't jump to conclusions.”

Mr. Loumans flipped on the light and searched my eyes. “I'm a simple man, Shane, and so I will ask directly. Might you be one of them? I have never seen Will respond to a mortal like he responded to you.”

I laughed aloud, my shock turning it to a chuckle, then finally trailing off completely. I stared at Mr. L.

“You think I'm an angel.”

“I think the possibility exists.”

I was dumbfounded. I'd been called many things but never an angel.

“I ran the background check, as I must in these cases. You do not exist. There has not been a Shane Owen near the Twin Cities metro area for nearly five years, and that Shane being a young girl, now deceased.”

I froze. I knew her. I
was
her. My jaw dropped, and I tried to speak. Mr. Loumans face broke into uncontained joy. “I can see my words have hit a mark, and I can't tell you how glad we are that you've come. The boys, as you know, needy one and all. Perhaps the most needy being our own.”

Mr. Loumans walked into the small kitchen. “This is his food in here. He sometimes does homework in the cottage.” He paused and laughed. “Look at me, telling you what transpires. Forgive me.” He gestured around the room. “But I'll have him clean things up.”

Mr. Loumans walked toward the door. “I do not know the privacy policy by which you operate, and I can't help feeling I discovered your nature by fortunate happenstance. So even though your presence here would bolster the faith of my son, I will keep it under wraps, except to Amy, of course.” He winked. “And of course we can overlook the ‘failed' background check.”

“We're still on the angel thing?” I lifted up a finger, but I had no words. It was the dumbest thing I'd ever heard. Well, aside from a soul-mind inhabiting a thirteen-year-old girl and an eighteen-year-old guy, and being sent back in time by the embodiment of Mrs. Butterworth's syrup bottle while the real soul sleeps next to the Lifeless vegetable of its former body.

Next to that, being an angel sounded rather tame.

Mr. Loumans slipped out into night.

I puffed out air and wandered over to the fridge, opened it, and stared. It felt right standing there, looking inside.

Must be a guy thing.

“Nothing.” I moved to the cupboard. Thirty, maybe forty cans of tuna. “Do angels like tuna?” I smirked, and then frowned. “Does Shane like tuna?” I reached for a can and rummaged through the drawers. I found an opener, removed the lid, and winced.

“Okay, that reeks.” I rushed the can out the door and whipped it down the path.

“Dang!”

A kid rounded the corner clutching his head. He reached the steps. “Move over, I need ice.”

I stepped back and he pushed through, flew into the kitchen, then soon plopped onto the La-Z-Boy, a ziplock bag of ice resting on his head.

“I came out to say hello.” He grimaced. “I didn't know you had a tuna vendetta.”

I eased down on the coach across from him. “Sorry 'bout that. Stuff is out to get me.”

He switched hands on the ice pack. “I'll get it out of here. It's mine. I'm Thomas, by the way. I'd shake your hand but—”

“Mr. Loumans's son. Good to meet you. He said you came out here on occasion.”

“He's being generous. I live out here. It's a zoo in there.” He winced and set down the ice pack. “How's it look?”

“Beside the blood spattered across the forehead?”

“Yeah,” he chuckled. “Other than that.”

“Don't suppose your mother will disown you.”

The feelings, they were mine: Crow's. But the words. They came out different. Something male controlled the meter of my words, the tempo of my tongue. I could think girl. But I could only speak guy.

“I don't know what you told Dad out here, but he was sure excited when he got back to the house.” Thomas shook his head. “He grabbed Mom and went into the back room, and she screamed. A good scream, you know? Then she
whooshed
me out to say hello.”

“And I tuna'd you in the forehead.”

He was quiet.

Do guys chat? Do they just sit? This one couldn't handle it.

“So what's my job?” I asked. “What exactly do I do?”

Thomas touched his bluish bump and exhaled. “You'll go to school with the guys. Central High. We all go there. You'll have a cubicle in the guidance office. The idea is that you'll be a liaison between the school and the guys and my dad—and the police.”

“So . . .I babysit grown boys and squeal on everyone.”

“Yeah, that's pretty much it.”

“And get paid in tuna fish.”

“No.” Thomas set down the ice. “The pay and the job, they're not so bad. The guys are crazy.” He quieted.

“And Will. He's the worst of them, right?”

Thomas shrugged. “You know, a guy lives on the streets for a few years, I guess a reputation follows him, but . . .” He shook his head. “I've lived with him now for a time, and he's not what you think. The guy's room is filled with books, books with titles I can't pronounce. Outside, with the others, yeah, he can be a pain, but alone he's actually pretty quiet.”

I frowned. “A pretty quiet thief, and least judging from the phone incident.”

“Maybe. Except Dad had three hundred dollars in a clip beneath his phone. Will didn't touch that. What kind of thief takes a phone and leaves three hundred in cash?”

I didn't have an answer.

“Whatever he is,” Thomas said, “the girls, they follow him everywhere.”

I shifted forward. “They do, huh? Do you know an Adele Raine?”

Thomas rolled his eyes. “She's a hard one to miss. Two grades down. Real smart. Real cute. I see Will and her together sometimes. They're an odd couple.”

More confirmation that the tiny snowball had fallen off the mountain and was even now growing, gathering strength. It would become an avalanche and crush Crow if it could not be stopped.

• • •

It wasn't as if I could see it coming.

The whole Addy/Will thing had taken me by surprise. There certainly was no precedent. In the years following Jude's Mayday attack, Addy busied herself with volunteerism and extracurriculars.

Well, all except for the dating variety.

She had no interest in the multitude of young men who threw themselves at her, and those who did earn a second look were quickly scared off by me.

I didn't mind. Her noninvolvement with everything male made my job easier. Until she returned from the kennel.

“I volunteered at the dog shelter yesterday.” Addy grabbed my arm and held me up at the bus stop. The bus rumbled away, and after a few good-byes the others dispersed.

“Yeah. I know. Bet you're good with them.”

She shrugged. “There's been a guy there lately, helping out with walking those dogs. His name's Will.”

“Okay. There's nothing unusual about that.” I shifted. “Is there?”

Addy smiled, and I rolled my eyes.

“Tell me about him.”

“I don't know much. I don't know where he lives or much of anything, really. He doesn't say anything about himself. We just talk about those dogs and walk and . . . I don't know, Crow. There's something stray about him.”

“Maybe you should put him down.”

Addy laughed. “Crow. It's not bad stray. It's good stray. He doesn't ask for anything. He doesn't expect anything. Will just comes and goes.”

I frowned. “And you're just talking about dogs.”

Addy threw her arm around my shoulder. “Yeah. So far.”

• • •

“Hello?” said Thomas.

I shook my head. “Sorry, what were you saying?”

“I asked how you knew Adele. She's younger than you.”

I thought how much to show, how much to hold. “Her sister, Crow. I knew her pretty well, and so Adele was always there, you know?”

Thomas looked at me hard. “What do you mean, you ‘knew her'?”

I pushed my hand through my hair and stammered. “You know how it is. Over now.”

His jaw dropped. “That's it. All hope is officially gone.”

“I'm not tracking here. Hope of what?”

“Nothing.” He fisted his armrest. “It's stupid. I was stupid for even thinking . . . forget it.”

I hinted a grin, and Thomas whipped the ice at me, missing badly.

“Shut up. Fine. I was hoping you could help me a little. Crow's tough. You start out on her wrong side, and she'll chew you up. But an older guy like you? Maybe, I thought, if you and I hung out a little at school, she'd notice me, and that might lead to an introduction and—”

“You like her.” I couldn't wipe the grin of my face.

“Don't laugh at me, Shane. I've been pissed at myself too long.”

I stared at Thomas. Yeah, he'd been there. I remembered him, like a shadow, floating through school in my wake. He showed up in the strangest places but never said a word, and I never learned his name. If I had lived to see my reunion, we would have shown up in different rental cars, pretended we had shared moments, and passed each other by.

It was harder to judge now, but he wasn't a bad-lookin' kid.

“You should say something. Ask her what she thinks about Voltaire. That'll get her going.” I paused. “She's not all that tough.”

“Easy for you to say. What's really crazy is, I don't even know what I'd do with someone like her. Where do you take her? I'm not looking for anything, you know? When I'm around her, I can't even think.”

Oh, man. She would have liked you so much.

Thomas stood up, delicately touched his forehead, and walked toward the door. “If you don't mind my asking, what happened between you two?”

My head thudded back against the wall. “We were together for a while. Then, suddenly, what we had became lifeless.”

He thought for a while, and then nodded. “Well, thanks for the tuna.” Thomas, like his father, disappeared into the night.

THE THOUGHTS OF C. RAINE

Maybe one day I can have a reunion with myself.

Sebastian Bach

WHAT'S UP WITH SPECIAL ED TRANSPORTATION?
You know, those little minivan-sized buses that scream, ‘Screwups inside!” They sure don't build up a kid's confidence.

One of those buggers arrived at Hope Home. We'd been waiting. Mr. Loumans saw to it that all were up nice and early. He thought the curb would be a nice spot to introduce me to the boys.

“First and last name for Mr. Shane.”

“Eddie Jackson”

“Sean Klaeburne, with an
e
.”

“Will.”

Mr. Loumans sighed. “Last name, Will.”

“Johnson.”

“His name is Will Kroft. Next?”

And on they went. Satisfied that we had been properly acquainted, Mr. Loumans then leaned over to me. “Is it appropriate to use some of your unique”—he frowned, and then lightened—“abilities for illustrative purposes?”

“I don't know what you mean. What do you want me to do?”

He cleared his throat. “Now, boys. Listen as Mr. Shane demonstrates what a little attention can do. Shane, will you repeat their names?”

“Eddie Jackson, Sean Klaeburne with an
e . . .”
It wasn't hard. I had gone to school with these idiots for a year. I finished the list, and Mr. Loumans looked to the sky, a heavenly glow on his face. Yes, my memory cemented the deal. I could see it. I was a certified heavenly being, despite my apparent violent nature when it came to cans of tuna fish.

I stepped onto the bus and plunked down in the front seat. I needed to think.

I could keep track of Will at Hope Home, keep him away from Adele, but school was another matter. From a cubicle in the guidance office, how do you keep two students apart?

Thomas huffed up the bus steps, sporting a good shiner.

“Hey, Tommy, where'd you get that beauty?” Eddie pointed. “You do that, Will?”

I whipped around. “I did it.”

The bus went silent and stayed that way throughout the drive to school.
There has to be a way to make Addy see Will for what he is. She won't believe me, not in this body. Of course, she might believe Crow.

Brakes hissed, the door opened, and the kids from Hope Home, so hesitant to enter the bus, pounded down the aisle, ready to wreak havoc on this fine educational institution. They quickly disappeared into the crowd filing toward three sets of double doors.

But not Will. He slithered off the bus, slow and easy, pausing when he reached my seat.

“You don't scare me,” Will said.

“Not yet, huh?”

“Not at all.” He slapped my shoulder and walked away.

“I'll pop in second hour, Will,” I called.

“Sure thing, Mom.”

“Speak to Adele before then, and I'll kill you.”

He glanced over his shoulder and smirked. I grinned back, though inside I felt he had me beat.

• • •

I walked through Central High. It looked the same—no reason it shouldn't, as I was last there a few weeks ago. But the halls felt tighter, the voices sounded louder.

Girls' laughter sure was.

“Hey, Shane!”

I spun and watched Thomas weave awkwardly between the masses.

Yeah, I remembered him pretty well.

I waited, and he huffed up with his plus-size backpack. “We walk through the same halls, but it's like we're pushing through different schools.”

I readjusted his sagging pack across his back. “What d'ya mean?”

“Everyone stares at you. Guys mutter. Girls group together and look. I walk, and nothing.” He quickly spun, that backpack slugging me in the shoulder. “Straight in front of you. Do you see her? It's Crow.”

Crow stood surrounded by five or six disciples. Gigi, Heidi, Kell, all suck-ups, wanting a piece of Crow's throne. At year's end, she had planned to bestow the mantle of bad girl upon one of the deserving juniors, and there were plenty who wanted a crack at the title.

Though I never did pass the baton, Kell was my final choice.

“What do I do?” Both Thomas and I asked in unison.

“You go talk to her.” We said that together, too.

“Listen, Thomas.” I grabbed him by the backpack strap and spun him around. “There are things I can tell you about Crow, things I want to tell you. It will help your cause with her. But believe me, it wouldn't be good for Crow to see
me
right now, so let's walk the other way.”

I risked another glance toward the lockers. Crow stared back. Not looked, stared, with tired eyes but a face wild and beautiful. Those around Crow laughed, but her face didn't crack. She was beyond that: she'd seen too much.

Crow appeared amused, as if the bizarre had marched into her domain.

She broke out of her circle, the kids parting, and walked straight at me, stopping square in front, a hair too close for my comfort.

I searched for any evidence that Sadie was right. That my first time back changed me for the better. Crow's clothes were the same: black top and black jeans. Crow's cold sensuality, still my desired vibe.

But it clicked. She came toward me. I had never lowered myself to that. Was she hard? Yeah, the years had taken their toll. But my arrogant pride had taken a hit.

A very good development.

“I've not seen you here before,” Crow said.

“I've not been here before.”

She squinted and let her unblinking eyes search mine, and when she spoke, her words were soft, reaching, “But I know you. Or you know me. Or something. Is that right?”

I raised my eyebrows and exhaled slowly, drawn to the gentleness in me. “If so, let's make a new start. I'll go first. My name's Shane.” My hand extended, and she peeked at it, made no move to grasp it.

Her face twitched. “Your last name?”

“My last name is Owen. And you are?”

Crow's legs buckled and she stumbled backward, her fair skin blanching still further. Her head shook in little spasms, and for a second I thought she was having a seizure. She steadied herself, grinned, lifted a finger and waggled it in my face. “Very good. Who have you been speaking to? Basil? No, Mel. Not Addy. She wouldn't mess with that.”

“I just told you my name, Crow. That's all.”

“You know my name. You know just what to say,” she whispered.

Dong.
The obnoxious first bell rang. She buried her finger in my chest, twisted it, and flicked up, nicking my chin. “I'll see you around, Shane Owen.”

“I hope so.”

Kids scurried after her. Except for Thomas.

“Okay, that was weird. That looked like a relationship that, number one, is not over, and number two, never started.”

“You, uh . . .” I winced. “You may have nailed it there, friend. I'll explain more later.” I slapped his shoulder and headed for the guidance office, my body shaking.

Who knew that coming face-to-face with yourself could be so terrifying?

• • •

“Shane Owen? Oh, welcome to Central!” Ms. Crebat, our overly jubilant guidance counselor, led me past the inspirational posters to a small cubicle in the back of the room. “I know it's small, but you're working with only eight kids.” She clapped her hands together. “You know, maybe you could be convinced to help with some of our other needy students as well. When you have time, of course.”

I shrugged. “Yeah, no problem.”

“Oh, how wonderful!” She grabbed both my hands and squeezed. “If there's anything you need.”

“Just these schedules.” I handed her the list. Her eyes glossed over.

“Will Kroft is easy. ISS. In-school suspension.” Ms. Crebat glanced to her left and her right, and then lowered her voice. “It's not right, you know.”

“I don't follow.”

She took another look around the office. “What they do to that young man. That boy of yours was a marked kid when he arrived. Would you believe an officer called the entire staff together on Will's first day? He told us there was no cause for concern, but that violence seemed to accompany our new student. I asked him if he had seen Will being violent. He said no, but the seed was sown.” Ms. Crebat exhaled. “That first morning I sat down and talked with Will for nearly an hour. Charming kid. Likable kid. If it wasn't for that officer, he would have had a chance here. But by afternoon he was ISS. I think some believe he single-handedly accounts for every problem in this school.

“I'll get you the other schedules right away.” She scuttled out of the room, and I eased down into my roller chair.

“Two,” I whispered. “That makes two.” Yesterday, Thomas, and now Ms. Crebat, both of them defending the undefendable. But I'd heard it myself: “Down by the river . . . a girl about my age, and I don't think she's going to make it.” It's hard to believe he was an innocent bystander.

Of course, I also saw Will turn down a warm bed and help an old man into a police truck.

My old life was getting murkier.

I pushed back and rolled toward the wall.

There. I stared into the empty cubicle near the door and remembered Crow's one guidance office visit. The scene of her, of my, greatest embarrassment.

That morning with Basil. Let's stop that while I'm here.