vomit. But the terrible sense of dread building in his gut was not due to something overtly evil. Quite the opposite. It was the frightful familiarity of the place. It could have been built from the same plans as Shady Elm Academy, the school he'd very much hoped he'd never see again.
A tall, scruffy boy with muscles bulging through a soiled rugby shirt suddenly launched a Frisbee at Link's head from thirteen yards out. Though the Frisbee missed, Link had no trouble catching the boy's intended message: "You're not welcome here."
Link could have protested, stood up for himself, but what was the point? Back in Pensy his defiance had only earned him detentions, ridicule, and black eyes. Why should he expect anything different here? What he needed was anonymity...not friends. After all, it was hard to hate a shadow. Who knew? If he could become one, perhaps shadows would also prove hard to hit. With this in mind, Link kept his eyes focused on the floor as they entered the west wing hallway in search of their locker assignments.
Glancing up, he said, "Thanks for the escort and all, but I can take it from here." Without waiting for a reply, he turned to leave. He had only taken two steps when he heard someone's voice rise above the crowded din of the hallway bustle, "Look, everybody, Ron Weasley is back from Hogwarts!"
Fully aware that the heckler's mockery was directed toward him, Link didn't even turn around. He just continued up the hallway, trying hard to find the scuffed linoleum more interesting than it actually was. He couldn't believe the jokes had begun so soon. The hair color thing he could handle. He only prayed these kids hadn't found out anything about his mother.
In his attempt to make a hasty getaway, Link stumbled briefly over the strap of a girl's bag but managed to catch himself before he fell. Fists clenched tightly into a ball, he hurried down the remainder of the corridor. He kept his head down to avoid eye contact, but he desperately fought the urge to go back to the boy who'd made the joke and tear his head off. But shadows weren't allowed to tear. Shadows were supposed to blend. "I am a shadow," he told himself. "I am a shadow."
Link knew that if only he could keep his temper in check this year, blending shouldn't prove that difficult. After all, he was painfully aware that aside from his unruly red hair there was nothing particularly special about him. He was an average height, possessed an average IQ, and exhibited ? at best ? an average athletic ability. And, unless sarcasm and procrastination counted, he didn't possess any usable superpowers. For the record, he had been bitten by at least three spiders, but none had been radioactive, so it hadn't helped much.
Upon entering room 209, Link noticed that the only seat available was on the front row, not exactly the best place to blend in. The desk also appeared to have been adjusted to accommodate a midget. When he sat down, the front two legs squeaked loudly and his knees touched the underside of the desk. But it wasn't until Link noticed the poster on the wall next to him that he knew for sure how badly this day was going to go. A life-sized poster of Ron Weasley stared back at him, a book in one hand and a wand in the other.
Every time the legs of Link's chair emitted a high pitched squeak, the entire class looked over at him and giggled. A few of them even pointed at the poster while they laughed. For the next fifty minutes, Link struggled in vain to keep his chair from moving. But it didn't matter. Apparently, he even sucked at being a shadow.
3
An Empty Wall
Once home, Link rested his bag on the table and stared off into the distance for a while before he finally walked into the kitchen. As he poured some chilled coconut milk into a tall, blue-rimmed glass and took a sip, he did his best to block out the misery of his first day of school. He swished the milk around his mouth then swallowed. He returned the carton of milk to the fridge and noticed a small battalion of sticky-notes pasted together on the kitchen counter.
Lincoln,
I'm sure you had an amazing day just like me. So far business is booming! I've opened a couple more listings. I need to attend a realtors' meeting at the office. Please pick Ayden up from the neighbor's house. Mrs. Greta volunteered to watch him after daycare, but she has plans later this evening. Please get your camera stuff ready. I need to make a circular for the new homes. Maybe later we could take a spin around the neighborhood and scope out all the new houses that are for sale.
Love, Dad
Back in Pensy, Link's mom and dad had worked together in real estate. His mother had used her artistic talents to create flyers so picturesque she could have sold them as art. Then his dad had used his gregarious salesman voodoo to bewitch the customer into not only buying the house from him but also thanking him for the opportunity to do so.
After his mother died, Link had agreed to help his father as the new photographer. But even though his father swore up and down that Link had inherited his mother's eye for beauty, Link knew he was nowhere near as talented and seriously doubted that he ever would be.
He took another sip of milk then sat the glass down and headed next door to retrieve Ayden from what he could only assume was an evil witch busily baking his brother into a pie. Littered with one insanely coincidental social disaster after another, his day had ended up much worse than even he could have predicted. Why should the fun stop now?
Link rang the doorbell and waited for a trap door to open or for the bell to squirt water. Instead, in a fate far more cruel, the most beautiful girl he had ever seen emerged from behind the door. She had flowing, jet-black hair that cascaded down the edges of her face. Her body was muscular, yet slim, with a hint of a tan. Small circles of blush dappled her adorable, pinched cheeks where, no doubt, the sun had wanted to kiss her every bit as much as Link suddenly did.
He tried to speak, but an avalanche of hormones tangled Link's words into nonsense. For a fleeting yet wonderful three seconds, he wondered if he'd judged this town too quickly. Could this moment be the turning point of his life? Had the universe finally forgiven him?
"Weasley? What are you doing here?" the girl sneered.
"M...m...my brother...here," Link managed to stammer. "Ayden."
Mrs. Greta, a smartly dressed woman with closely cropped hair and kind, inviting eyes mercifully interrupted his ramblings and held a plate of cookies toward him. "I see you've met Kaylee. Sweetie, be a dear and check my cobbler. It should be ready, and you know how your father hates it when it's too crisp around the edges."
Kaylee rolled her eyes and said, "Whatever." Then she departed with a dramatic flourish of impatience.
Mrs. Greta shook her head. "Teenage daughters. Can't live with them. Can't afford to send them to boarding school. So, I presume you are the young Mr. Hartkins. Your father, Joseph, has told me all about you. Most of it good, too," she said with a playful wink. "I do hope you find Peaceful Meadows a better fit than your last town. There are some wonderful people here. Though I admit, you may need to look closely to find them. So how about it?"
"Excuse me?"
"The cookies, dear." She held out the plate. "I was bringing these to your precious little brother, but I can scrounge up a couple of extras if you're hungry."
Link was in no mood to run into Kaylee again. He tried to decline as politely as possible.
As if reading his mind, Mrs. Greta said, "How about I wrap a couple up for the road? But make sure you eat them soon. They're much tastier warm."
Link nodded eagerly.
"Splendid. I'll only be a second." She pointed down the hall. "Your brother is right through those doors." Before Link had a chance to thank her, she had disappeared into the kitchen.
He found Ayden kneeling next to a small, wooden play table. Like always, Ayden was so engrossed in his land of make believe that he didn't even notice Link arrive. He lowered the boom of a silver crane. Then he carefully retrieved a magnetic load from one of the tiny cargo trains and switched it to a small pile he had built next to the track.
Link was surprised at how extensive the train's setup was. It was odd. He hadn't seen any boys running around, and he doubted these toys had ever been
Kaylee's. Did the Gretas have any other children? If so, where were they? "You ready to go, Bug?"
Without even looking up, Ayden said, "Come wook. Vince Vinty! And Jimmy Frontmode!" His brother's words harbored such a joyful enthusiasm that Link found it difficult not to smile. It always amazed him how Ayden could mispronounce common words such as milk and yet manage to recall each train, car, or action figure by their full name.
"Okay, Bug. Why don't you introduce me to some of your new friends really fast? Then we can help Mrs. Greta pick up all these toys. We need to make dinner before Dad gets home."
"I stay." Ayden said. There was an edge of defiance in his voice this time.
Link knew from experience that if he forced his brother to leave now, it would be a big mistake. Desperate to avoid one of Ayden's tantrums in front of their new neighbors, Link said, "Tell you what. How about we go home and eat. Then, after dinner, we can both watch a movie downstairs in my cave. Just you and me. How's that sound?"
Ayden's face burst into a smile. Few things could pull Ayden's attention away from toy trains, but watching a movie with Link had always been one of them. "You watch too?" he asked hopefully.
"Of course, buddy. But first we need to clean up. Who knows? Maybe Mrs. Greta will even let us come back and play sometime soon."
Ayden began
The Broken Page 3