But I was sweaty.
I was dirty.
I was eleven and had spent all afternoon hunting for nasty, gag-inducing worms so my brother and I could have something for dinner. Meanwhile, this kid—who probably wasn’t loaded but definitely had enough money to use spare change as decorations in his shoes—had just shown up with a full bucket.
It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right. And I was done. Utterly. Completely. All patience gone.
Unfortunately, Camden Cole was only getting started.
“You weren’t here first,” he stated.
I took a giant step toward him. “Yes, I was! I’ve been here for hours.”
Abandoning his coffee can, he stood up, his smile finally morphing into a scowl. “Oh yeah? Well, Mr. Leonard hired me at noon!”
“Liar! The sign wasn’t even there at noon.”
With another step, he closed the distance between us. “I know because I ripped it down. He must have put it back up when I had to go home for lunch. I was late, which royally ticked off my grandpa, so he made me go back to church for seven hundred hours, and now I’m here, answering a million questions and listening to some girl I don’t even know call my clothes stupid and yell at me. So shut up. Okay? I get enough of that shit from my family.” He stared at me for a long second, a shadow passing over his dazzling eyes, but I didn’t let it snuff my fire. This kid did not want to go toe-to-toe with me in a who-has-the-crappiest-parents competition. He would lose every time.
“Blah, blah, blah. You still didn’t tell me where you got that many dang worms!”
“Who cares!” he roared into my face. “You know what?” Turning on a toe, he snatched his bucket off the ground. “Here. Take the damn worms. I don’t care anymore.” Tipping his can by the end, he dumped half of them at my feet. He pinned me with an icy, blue glare that only minutes earlier had been heart-stopping. Now, it was downright murderous.
“I don’t want your stupid worms.” I kinda-sorta lied. I did want them. I just didn’t want him to give them to me.
“Well, you got ’em. Now, leave me alone. Tomorrow, I’ll take the other side of the creek.”
Was that where he’d gotten them from? Was there a mound of earthworms ripe for the picking over there? No way I was going to be the dummy who let him have them all.
“I want the other side,” I snapped.
“Fine!” he exclaimed.
Crap. He’d agreed to that way too easily. If his goldmine was over there, he would have at least argued. “No, wait. I want this side.”
“Whatever!” Shaking his head, he stomped away.
Double crap! Was this some kind of reverse psychology? Thea had told me all about it. It was how she’d gotten Ramsey to agree to wear the friendship bracelet she’d made him. Was I falling victim to Camden’s mind games?
“Never mind, I do want the other side!” I yelled at his retreating back.
He kept on trucking, calling over his shoulder, “Sure. See if I care!”
It was a hike from the creek to Mr. Leonard’s house, but it was mostly flat, so I could see him the whole way. I smiled when he tripped. Then I groaned when he managed to stay on his feet. Only after he’d disappeared around the side of the house did I look down at the pile of worms at my feet.
There had to have been at least ten dollars’ worth wiggling around. That would have been enough to feed me and Ramsey like kings. I could pick up burgers on the way home. Maybe even splurge on Cokes and fries. Heck, if I ordered off the dollar menu, I could afford to get some for Thea too. God knew she fed us enough to be owed a burger or fifty.
But as good as all of that sounded, it wouldn’t be my money.
I was a lot of things: Broken. Sad. Angry. Confused.
But a thief wasn’t one of them. Sure, he’d given me those worms, so it wasn’t like I’d stolen them or anything. No matter how much it sucked, they were his.
There was no way I was showing up the next day owing Camden Cole anything.
Sighing, I grabbed my bucket, laid it on its side, and used a stick to scrape up the pile. I couldn’t keep them, but there was no point in letting all his hard work go to waste. I’d cash them in and give him the money tomorrow—assuming he showed at all.
The rest of the afternoon was quiet. I found a few more worms in the dirt and then hit the jackpot around an old tree stump. I assumed it was somewhere similar to where Camden had gotten lucky earlier in the day.
I mean, not that I thought about Camden or anything. That would have been stupid. He was probably never going to speak to me again. Which was fine. I didn’t need friends. I had Ramsey and Thea—by default, but whatever. There was also a girl who occasionally wore mismatched shoes and always stared at me on the bus. I didn’t know her name, but we were practically BFFs.
Okay, so I could have used a few friends, but it was something I could worry about later. For the summer, I just needed a job, a paycheck, and not to lose my mind.
Nothing more. Nothing less.
“Camden Cole, get your ass back in here!” my grandpa shouted as I took off out the door.
The screen door slammed behind me, and even with as mad as I was, I flinched. I’d pay for that later.
Dear God, I’d only been there three days and my head was already about to explode.
Camden, sit up straight.
Camden, real men look you in the eye when you talk to them.
Camden, don’t forget to wash behind your ears.
I swear my grandma acted like I used my ears as a second set of feet. How my mom had survived her youth without throwing herself off the barn roof, I would never understand. The only thing that boggled my mind more was why my parents had thought it was a good idea for me to spend the summer with these people.
Oh, right. The fight.
The fight I hadn’t started. The fight I’d had no interest in having when my Neanderthal cousins had come to our house for a weekend. Coincidentally, the very same fight I’d lost.
Yet, I was the one who’d gotten sent to my grandparents' house for the summer in what had to have been the family equivalent of boot camp. Yeah. Made perfect sense.
“Camden!” Grandpa roared again.
I didn’t let it slow me. He was going to be mad no matter what I did. At least this way I could get some space to clear my head before listening to an hour-long lecture on what a screw-up I was.
When I’d finally made it through the grass, the toe of my sneaker caught on the pavement. The height of my athleticism was my ability to sometimes remain upright. If I’d really thought about it, that was possibly my biggest problem of all. My dad, a six-foot-four, two-hundred-and-fifty-pound former college athlete who had worked at the papermill since he was old enough to sign the back of a paycheck, was not the type of M-A-N who had a kid who tripped. It didn’t matter if the sidewalk was broken, cracked, and a total safety hazard. I was Camden Donald Cole’s son; I should have been born with hair on my chest and a football in my hands.
Instead, I liked books, science, and taking apart old electronics just to see how they worked. That last one would have been great if I liked putting them back together. Fixing shit, as he called it, would have been a worthy hobby for his son. But the tedious process of finding parts and making repairs wasn’t nearly as interesting to me. I did it sometimes though because I could sell whatever clock, radio, or DVD player I’d been working on to make enough to buy more books, supplies for my science experiments, or more junk to pry apart.
Mom used to help me sneak stuff into our garage when Dad wasn’t looking. She wasn’t all too thrilled about having a scrawny klutz for a son, either, but she was much more tolerant than my dad, so we got along okay.
Grandpa continued to yell from the porch, but I kept going. The destination didn’t matter as much as getting the heck out of there, but when a brightly lit sign from the grocery store appeared at the end of the road, it felt like a beacon guiding me home.
Grandma had made liver and onions for dinner. It wa
s exactly as disgusting as it sounded, but I’d managed to hide the majority of it under my rice and green beans. With my worm money burning a hole in my pocket, I headed inside for a Coke and a candy bar. My parents would have shit a living, breathing turkey if they knew I was eating junk while I was gone. But, hey, that knowledge would only make the Snickers that much sweeter.
I was still perusing the drink cooler, debating between Coca-Cola Classic and Dr. Pepper, when I heard her voice. It was quiet and shy, not at all that of the rude girl from the creek.
“Oh, um… I thought it was going to be three ninety,” she said.
Leaning to the side, I peeked around the cooler. Long, brown hair, tie-dyed tank top, and muddy white canvas shoes.
Nora Stewart in the flesh.
And wasn’t that just fan-freaking-tastic.
Groaning, I sulked back behind the cooler with hopes that she wouldn’t notice me. She was already checking out, so with some luck, I could avoid her completely.
“You gotta account for tax, honey. It’s four seventeen,” the clerk replied.
“Dang it.” She sighed. “I always forget about tax. I, um, well… I only have four dollars.”
My eyebrows shot up. That was impossible. She should have turned a crazy profit for the day. I’d dumped almost ten bucks in worms at her feet before I’d stormed off.
Which, by the way, was not my smartest financial move. But, fine, I wasn’t great under pressure. She was bratty—albeit cute—and had gotten me all flustered asking questions and I hadn’t known what else to do. I’d regretted it pretty much immediately, but I’d been too proud to go back. Especially after I’d almost busted my butt on an old stump in the ground.
Curiosity killed the cat, and I once again leaned around the corner.
“Can I put something back?” She crinkled her freckled nose as she took inventory of her purchases: a loaf of bread, the tiniest pack of ham I’d ever seen, a bag of chips, and pack of watermelon gum.
I twisted my lips. My parents were strict about making me pay for anything extra that I wanted, but I’d never had to buy my own dinner.
The cashier offered her a sad smile. “If you put the gum back, you’ll have enough for the rest.”
Nora shook her head. “No, that’s a surprise for my brother.” She grabbed the chips and handed them to the clerk. “I don’t need those. Do I have enough money now?”
“Yep. That’ll work.”
Her shoulders sagged and a sharp knife of guilt stabbed me in the stomach. I had more than enough money in my pocket to cover the bag of chips—all of her groceries for that matter. However, after the way she’d yelled at me, I didn’t figure she liked me all that much.
Still, I could have helped.
But I was twelve, and she was a girl, who was probably just going to shout at me again, and if she didn’t holler at me, offering to pay for her groceries would probably embarrass her. And if it embarrassed her, it was sure as heck going to embarrass me.
So, like a fool, I stood there and did nothing.
I watched the cashier bag her groceries and pass her the change.
She thanked the lady and tucked the money into her pocket. Then she took her bag and headed for the door.
“Hey!” the gray-haired man in line behind her called out, bending over to pick something up. “You dropped this.” He extended a hand toward her and there it was: a perfectly folded ten-dollar bill.
My eyes narrowed as confusion rocked through me. If she’d had a ten in her pocket, why’d she say she only had four dollars?
The older man shifted gears into lecture mode. “You need to be more careful with your money, kid. You can’t let it fall out of your pocket like that. A different kind of person might not have given it back.”
She stared at him for a beat, sporting the fakest smile I’d ever seen. “Right.”
What she said next changed the entire course of my life.
I didn’t know it then, but with three words, the universe kicked the first domino that would ultimately form the sprawling path of my future. A path I would struggle to travel. One that would collapse under the weight of my regrets and eventually knock me to my knees, but I’d never stop getting up and forging ahead because it would forever be the only path that led me back to her.
But in that moment, they were just three infuriating words.
“Freaking Camden Cole,” she muttered, taking the money from the man. “Thanks.”
Freaking Camden Cole? What had I done? I’d given her that money. Which she obviously needed. And now I was Freaking Camden Cole? How was that fair?
“You want those chips now?” the clerk asked, but Nora just shook her head and shoved the money into her pocket so roughly that I’d have sworn she was mad at it.
Suddenly, I was furious at it too. I was dealing with enough crap that summer from my family without some girl who didn’t know me at all dishing it out too.
Even under her breath.
In the middle of a grocery store filled with more strangers.
In a town where nobody knew me.
All of which were minor formalities to my mounting anger.
As she left the store, I abandoned my candy bar and followed her. She could yell at me all she wanted, but I’d done nothing wrong. If she wanted to be pissed off about the money, I’d gladly take it off her hands. No sweat off my back.
Nora was a girl on a mission though and moved fast as she stomped away carrying a bag in each hand. She beat me to the parking lot, and I tried to play it cool as I passed a few locals on their way inside, smiling and waving so as not to look like a creepy stalker as I chased after her.
Less than a second later, when she hit the sidewalk and started ranting to herself, a creepy stalker was exactly what I became.
“Freaking Camden Cole, with his pretty blue eyes. I mean who actually has eyes that blue? What are they, night vision goggles or something?”
My brows shot up and my jaw hung open so wide I could have caught flies. She thought my eyes were pretty. My mom had always told me that, but she was required by DNA to think it.
Nora Stewart was not.
And just like that, Freaking Camden Cole didn’t sting as bad.
I dropped back a bit so she didn’t hear my footsteps, but she kept right on ranting loud and clear. In a ridiculous tone that sounded nothing like my voice, she mocked, “Hey, I’m Camden Cole. Have some worms. I have a bazillion.” She groaned and flapped her swinging arms. “I don’t want your worms! I want my own damn worms. And maybe more than four dollars’ worth.” She let out a frustrated growl but just kept marching. “I bet Camden had chips with his dinner. He probably even got dessert. Eating chocolate cake in his stupid shoes and fancy shirt.”
My whole body jerked, and I stopped in the middle of the sidewalk as if I’d hit an invisible brick wall.
Oh, God.
Oh, God.
She thought I was rich. That was the kiss of death.
She didn’t know I’d had to buy those shoes myself. And yes, I knew exactly how ugly they were, and given the opportunity, I would have thrown them in a bonfire. But my dad didn’t bitch at me when I wore them to church and that alone made them worth their weight in gold.
My breath caught when suddenly she cut into the woods. On the sidewalk, I could have pretended to be out for a nightly stroll. She didn’t own the whole town. But if I got caught following her into those woods, it would have been far past the realm of coincidence.
I clenched my teeth as I watched her disappear on that dark, moonlit trail. I should have gone home. I should have left her alone, given up on the worm thing, and spent the rest of my summer trying to become the man my parents and grandparents were so desperate for me to be.
But even knowing all that, my feet didn’t budge.
My heart thundered in my ears, and I stood at a crossroads. She was a complete stranger, yet my draw to her was like the moon pulling in the tides.
Years later, I’d still debate why I�
�d followed her that night. I wasn’t mad anymore and she’d gotten far enough ahead that I couldn’t hear her ramblings—good or bad. But for reasons I’d never be able to explain, my feet slid into her footprints on the dirt path.
She was a good bit ahead of me, but I did my best to keep quiet just in case. The woods weren’t as thick as I'd assumed, and before long, porch lights from houses on the other side of the wood line illuminated our way. I wasn’t tall by any means, but my legs were longer than hers, so I gained ground quickly. More than once, I slipped behind a tree for fear she’d heard me.
Through it all, she just kept walking, her eyes forward and her brown hair swaying across her back.
Stalking aside, it was nice and peaceful on that trail.
That all changed when the sound of a man’s voice boomed through the silence. I froze, my brain struggling to figure out which direction it had come from, but Nora took off at a dead sprint.
I darted after her, and with every step, the shouting grew louder. Slurred cuss words soared through the air like wobbly arrows, escorted by an off-pitch symphony of grunts and grumbles. My feet pounded against the trail, sticks cracking and leaves rustling, but she never looked back.
Nora exited the woods first, her plastic bags looped around her wrists, smacking her legs as she ran across a yard of unkept grass straight toward a small ranch home with paint peeling off the crooked shutters. There was a broken windowpane covered by plywood on the front of the house, and the crack in the front door was visible even from yards away.
For a brief second, the night fell silent, so I ducked behind a tree to watch her while I caught my breath. I found no oxygen because no sooner than Nora reached the door did it swing open, nearly cracking her in the face. A man with messy, brown hair and a beer gut stumbled out, crashing into her. His hands snaked out, but not to catch her. He pushed her hard, sending her small body sailing.
On instinct, I lurched from behind my tree, but a boy, who I assumed was her brother because he looked just like her only a lot bigger, plucked her off the ground and dragged her behind him.
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