“Man, I was always bullied when I was younger.” Nate turns to look at me, his eyes flicking down to my tattooed muscles stretching the sleeves of my uniform shirt. “Guy like you? You were probably the bully, not the other way around, huh?”
“Guess again,” I grunt as I scan the doors closest to the playground.
Nate reaches over to pat me on the back, but I’m so pumped up with adrenaline right now, I have to restrain myself from punching him back. I have to balance out that adrenaline with the calming mantras my therapist taught me.
These are nine-year-old kids. Fourth grade. I’m going to have to choose my words wisely.
“Here they come,” Nate observes as a gaggle of kids rushes out the doors with teachers behind them reminding them to walk in an orderly fashion. Yeah, right. Well, at least some things about kids haven’t changed since I was young, even if I had no clue whatsoever in their conversation about Minecraft and Roblox the other day in my truck. Whatever those things are.
“Let’s roll,” I tell my partner as I swing open the ambulance door. This rig is a smaller type, more of a truck than a van. I’m surprised none of the kids notice the big red, white, and blue emergency vehicle sitting outside the fence.
“Oh, by the way, if I get in trouble for this,” Nate says as we head toward the playground, “I’m blaming it all on you.”
I roll my eyes. “Yeah, pile it on, bro.”
His nearly black eyebrow lifts in question, and he starts to ask what I mean when some kids near the fence turn in our direction and start gawking at us. “Who are you?” a girl with two blond braids shouts.
“I’m Mr. Kelly, and this is Mr. Minelli,” I announce as a few more kids gather around to witness the unfolding scene. “Which one of you bozos is Alex Barnes?”
Max comes flying out the door of the school, running as fast as his legs will carry him to the fence.
“Hey, Cheetah!” I exclaim, remembering his animal nickname from the rugby social the other day.
“Hey, Shark!” he shouts back. “You came!”
“Where’s this Alex kid?” I ask again.
The sea of kids parts, and a tall, gangly kid with spiky blue hair and a big diamond earring sparkling in his earlobe makes his way toward the fence. “I’m Alex,” he growls, like he’s trying to make his voice deeper than it actually is.
“What’s going on over here?” One of the teachers finally notices us and scurries our way, looking rather distraught. “What are you doing here? Did someone call 9-1-1?”
“In a manner of speaking, ma’am.” I dip my chin in greeting to the teacher, a petite woman with tan skin and her thick black hair piled in a bun on top of her head. A name badge hangs from a colorful lanyard around her neck, and with my eagle vision, I can see her name is Mrs. Alvarez.
I continue, “I was notified by one of your students that a threat of physical violence was made.”
Mrs. Alvarez gasps, her palm covering her heart. “What? From whom?”
A short, wiry male teacher with a ruddy complexion, wearing a loosened tie around his neck and a matching ID badge, joins her and ushers the crowd of kids away, giving us both a perturbed look. I want to shout, “Well, we’re doing your job, dude,” but, of course, I don’t.
“Sorry, let me start over.” I manage a smile, and when I glance over at Nate, he gives me a nod of support. “I’m Shannon Kelly, and this is Nathan Minelli. We’re with the EMS, obviously. Max and I know each other from Beach Buddies.”
“Oh, yeah, we know who you are,” the teacher fills us in. “You’re all Max talks about.”
All the sudden I hear, “Ow!” and when my eyes dart over to the tree line, I see Alex has dragged Max away from the teacher while we weren’t paying attention and has him in a chokehold.
“What the? Stop it!” I shout in their general direction, blocked from running over there by the fence.
Mrs. Alvarez starts to scurry toward them, but she’s slow on her high heels. I make a split-second decision, and next thing I know, I’m climbing the fence like a monkey. Or a frog. Or, I don’t know, something that can climb (not a shark, of course).
“Get your hands off him!” I shout again as soon as my boots hit the ground hard. Nate drops right beside me, and we both go flying toward the trees.
I grab Alex’s hand and wrest him away from my buddy. “What the…” I remind myself at the last minute to censor the f-word, which is amazing considering the amount of rage that’s flowing through me at the moment, “…are you doing?”
“I tried to use Bully Spray, Shark, just like you told me to!” a breathless Max pushes out. “I stood up to him. Then he came after me!”
“I’m tired of hearing Max go on and on about his stupid rugby player friend!” Alex yells. “Shark this and Shark that, and I told him if he said one more word about you, I was going to choke him to death!”
“You can’t say that!” the teacher shrieks. She looks like she’s hyperventilating, she’s so upset. A few more teachers have ushered all the kids back inside the building, and two more teachers and what looks like it could be the principal are headed in our direction.
This ought to be interesting.
“You okay, Max?” My buddy is still sputtering and coughing, his neck turning red.
He gives me a thumbs up, but Nate gets the teacher’s attention. “Can you open this gate? We’ll want to check Max out, make sure he’s okay.”
Seconds later, police sirens wail down Route 1, growing louder as they turn onto the street the elementary school is on. The sound becomes deafening until two Rehoboth PD cruisers pull in next to our rig. I pray to god they’re not the officers I dealt with two years ago.
Now things are really going to get interesting.
Why can’t I keep myself out of trouble?
To think, all my problems have been caused by going after bullies.
Not that I’m going to stop now.
Hell to the no. I’ll never let the bullies win.
22
Dropping off the paperwork at the bank gives me an immediate sense of accomplishment, but as soon as I climb into the driver’s seat of my Beetle, the soul-crushing state of limbo I feel with regard to Shark descends upon me once more. I try calling him, but it goes to voicemail. He’s not the type to even check his voicemail, so there’s no point in leaving one. All I can do now is hope he shows up at the meeting.
I get to Delmarva Art Connection early, and Drew and Sonnet are breaking up some tables that were used in one of the classrooms. Sonnet looks exhausted. I’ve never seen her look so tired. We’ve never been close, but her husband’s band did the music for Yo Ho Rehoboth, and she teaches with Lindy at the private school, and with Jack, the guy who wrote the music for the show.
“Hey, girl, you okay?” I set my clipboard and purse down on one of the other tables. “Can I get you something? Or maybe take over?”
“I tried to tell her,” Drew interjects as he shakes his head. “There is not a soul alive more stubborn than my wife.”
“Oh, I don’t know, Shark could give her a run for her money.” I let out a humorless chuckle as I walk over to Sonnet, grab her wrist and drag her toward one of the folding chairs. She’s tiny, so it doesn’t take much effort. At least she’s finally showing. When we found out at Meric’s birthday she was expecting and was almost five months along, you couldn’t even tell. Now she’s seven months and has a cute little basketball belly.
“Thanks. I know I’ve been overdoing it lately, but there’s so much to do before the baby comes. She’s—”
Drew immediately cuts in, “Or he…”
“Is measuring big,” she finishes, ignoring Drew. “The doctors think I might actually have her early, but I still have a long way to go. I’m only twenty-eight weeks.”
“Then you should definitely take it easy!” I admonish her.
“I’ve been trying to tell her!” Drew agrees.
Not long after, my planning committee starts to arrive. Jack and Cla
ire are next. Then Meric and Lindy. Walt files in, giving me a sheepish smile. Brynne comes alone; guess Chris has to work tonight. Jason and Hannah are the last to arrive.
I glance around the table at my friends when it dawns on me that two vital people are missing: Shark and Matt. “Anyone know where Shark and Matt are?”
“Well, Shark’s not coming,” Walt pipes up. “For…uh…well, we can talk about it later if you want.” He gives me a knowing look, pursing his lips, then shrugging a little.
That’s right. He’s no longer on the team. Just entertaining that thought, no matter how briefly, makes my heart ache. He loves rugby. It’s probably his favorite thing in life. I could only dream of him ever loving me as much as he does rugby. I don’t know where he and I stand right now, but I’m going to beg him to ask Matt for another chance, and Detective Bledsoe too, if she’s the one behind all of this.
Walt jumps a little, then reaches into his pocket to pull out his phone. “Just got a text from Matt. He says to turn on channel five?”
Drew stands up and walks to the front of the room, aiming a remote control at a flat-screen television mounted on the wall. He changes the channel and turns up the volume until we can hear the words coming out of the lovely anchorwoman’s mouth:
“Tonight, we have an interesting story coming out of one of our area elementary schools. It’s good to know there are still people who will stand up for the little guy. Here with the story is our own Sam Jenkins. Sam?” The camera cuts from the studio to a building—it’s a school, and in front is the playground and a fence. The playground and parking lot are empty, but the reporter is standing right in front of a big yellow slide.
“Thank you, Tamara. I’m standing here at Rehoboth Elementary, where earlier today there was a showdown between a kid and his bully. The kids’ names are being withheld for privacy reasons, but we can say that the youngster being bullied called in some extra special help. Here’s our interview with local hero, Shannon Kelly.”
My jaw drops as Shark, in his EMT uniform, comes onto the screen. The reporter points a microphone toward his face and asks, “Mr. Kelly, how did you know your young friend was in trouble?”
Shark’s eyes are pinned on the reporter as he answers, “I received a text at approximately noon. I was informed there was a threat of physical violence to my friend, and he asked for my help. My partner, Nate Minelli,” he glances over to another EMT uniform-clad man, this one with buzzed hair, dark olive skin, and no visible tattoos, “agreed to come over here and check it out.”
“What happened when you arrived?” the reporter continued the interview.
“A crowd gathered near the fence where Nate and I were standing. We asked for the bully to come forward, and then there was a commotion. Some teachers led the kids away, and in the fray, the bully dragged the victim away before the teachers and we realized it. Nate and I jumped the fence, pulled the bully off, and then checked the patient out here in our rig.” He points to the ambulance behind them. “He’s probably going to have a little bruising, but is otherwise fine.”
“Is there anything else you’d like to tell kids watching our program right now?” the reporter asks.
Shark still doesn’t look at the camera, but with his focus on the reporter, he answers, “Being a bully means you have some unresolved conflict of your own. You tear down other people because you’re torn up inside. You should really get some help and talk to a loved one or a professional to work out your issues and not take out your anger and frustration on other people. And if you’re being bullied—speak up! Tell a parent, a teacher, or another trusted adult. Bullies should never be tolerated.”
The feed goes back to the live shot of the reporter standing in front of the empty elementary school. “Thank you, Mr. Kelly, for granting us that exclusive interview. Mr. Kelly knew the victim through the Beach Buddies mentorship program. We have their director, Matt Cameron, here to tell us more about this special program that matches up local kids with so-called big brothers and big sisters. Mr. Cameron, thanks for being here.”
“Thanks for having me, Sam. Beach Buddies is an after-school and summer program designed to give kids an extra boost in, really, all facets of life. Children who have a role model or mentor in addition to their parents or other relatives score higher on measures of self-esteem, confidence, and social skills. We’ve been working in the community for almost five years now, and we’re always on the lookout for both kids and adults who want to be part of our program.”
“How can people get involved with Beach Buddies?” the reporter asks.
Matt takes a breath and looks right at the camera. “The best way would be to come out to what we hope is our first annual carnival next weekend—not in two days, but the weekend after this coming up one. We’ve paired up with the Rehoboth Riptide men’s rugby club to provide a fun and family-friendly atmosphere for community kids. And there you’ll be able to sign up to be a mentor, i.e. Big Buddy, and if you have kids under the age of eighteen, you can sign them up to be a Little Buddy. Our carnival planning team is really excited about the event, and as a matter of fact, I’m missing our last planning meeting right now to speak with you—”
As soon as he says that, Lindy reaches down and squeezes my hand. I have a tear in my eye, I’m so proud of Shark and so excited that we just got a huge plug for the carnival.
“Thanks so much, Matt. We’ll be linking some information about the carnival on our website too. Where’s it going to be held, Matt?”
“The American Legion on Route 24,” he answers. “Hope to see you there!”
The broadcast shifts back to the newsroom where the anchorwoman smiles brightly at the camera. “You heard them! Come out to the Beach Buddies’ carnival at the American Legion on October twelfth from three to seven PM!”
Drew turns off the television. “Holy cow, that was amazing!”
“Did you know that was happening?” Walt asks, directing his question to me.
“No, not at all.” My heart is fluttering, and I’m fighting a tear that’s stinging at my eye. I’m one of those people who cries when I’m sad, but I bawl when I’m happy. And right now, I’m ecstatic. I can’t wait to give Shark a huge hug—whenever I finally do see him again. “But I can’t imagine we’ll get any better press than that!”
I finish up the planning meeting, going over the layout of the carnival as well as everyone’s responsibilities for the last time. After I dismiss everyone, Walt stays behind. “Matt texted me again after the broadcast.”
“Oh, yeah? Is he mad?” My eyes snap to Walt’s as he scoots his chair back under the table, making a horrible screeching noise.
“It’s hard to tell over text, but I think it’s safe to say he has mixed feelings.” Walt shrugs, but then his lips tilt up into a smile. “I can’t believe Shark took the fall for us. I hope that detective is bloody happy now.”
“Yeah, I have no idea what this is going to mean for Shark…but I need to talk to him. We keep missing each other.”
Walt’s expression changes, his brows knitting together and his eyes narrowing slightly. “You’re in love with him, aren’t you?”
As soon as the L word passes his lips, my heart begins to pound against my ribcage. I was so upset last night when I found out Shark had done some things—but I think it was more that he didn’t trust me enough to tell me than that he’d done them in the first place. I still want to understand what happened when he was away all those years in Pennsylvania. And, of course, what happened a couple of years ago when he had to close down his bicycle shop. But most of all, I want him to trust me enough to tell me.
I sigh as I lift my gaze to Walt’s. “I think I might.”
When I pull into my driveway, it’s right beside Shark’s truck. Seeing his truck makes my heart race, same as seeing him on the TV screen an hour ago. I climb out of my car and find him waiting for me on my porch, sitting on one of the steps. The sun is hovering above the trees, and everything has the tranquil glow of twilig
ht around it like an aura. The breeze rustles the leaves in the trees, and some of them are starting to turn already. Fall is definitely in the air now, even though it was eighty-five degrees just yesterday.
“Nothing like neurotic weather, huh?” I say as I sit down beside him.
“Or neurotic parents. And detectives.” He scrubs his face with his palms, sliding them down his skin so hard he leaves white streaks that turn red when he moves his hands back to his sides.
“I’m sorry I didn’t get back in touch with you yesterday. That was only yesterday, right? This has all happened since Saturday…”
“I know…and it’s okay. I’m sorry for the way I treated you the other night when I told you to leave.”
“Why did you quit the team, Shark?”
My question hangs in the air as a breeze kicks up around us. When I glance up at the tree line, it looks like a huge storm cloud with an indigo bottom and a silver top has moved over the waning sunlight. A second later, the distant rumble of thunder echoes in the distance, and that smell before it rains permeates my senses. It smells like a summer rain. I guess fall isn’t actually here—it’s just been overpowered by an impending storm.
“I didn’t want your work or Walt’s to suffer,” he answers as he rises to his feet, then bends down to lift me up to stand next to him.
“But you love rugby…”
“Some things are more important than a game. Like the team itself,” he tells me as lightning cracks the sky apart, sending a sharp violet streak through the clouds. “And like you…” He reaches to stroke his finger down my cheek.
The first drop of rain pelts my skin, surprising me with how cold it is. “C’mon!” I shout, stepping up onto the porch. “It’s going to pour.”
As soon as I unlock the front door, the heavens open up, dumping buckets of rain on my car, his truck, the trees, the grass. There’s a puddle beside my driveway before we can even get all the way inside.
“Shark,” I start to continue my interrogation, but he wraps his arms around me and draws me into his chest, squeezing me to his muscular body.
Shark Bite Page 19