Rules for Moving (ARC)

by Nancy Star

  “Never mind. Not my business.”

  “No, I get it. You’re a mama bear. We both are. Two

  mama bears. I don’t really know much about Nathan. I

  know he got divorced. I gather it was messy. The main

  thing I know? He’s always been kind to Griff. Which

  is not nothing. My opinion? You want to know who a

  person really is, watch how they treat someone who’s dif-

  ferent.” She took a sip of her now lukewarm tea. “Pond

  looks so placid. Rec Center looks so welcoming. You’d

  never know it’s pressure cooker in there.”

  “How so?”

  “The expectation is up here.” She raised her hand to

  show a high bar. “The kids are supposed to be having the

  time of their lives. Summer friendships. Summer romances.

  They’re supposed to fall in love there and marry each other in there and have kids and then their kids are supposed to do the same. If you didn’t know, you’d think it was one big party. Swimming and bonfires on the beach. Underneath

  that, it’s all hurry up or fall behind. Griffin has the pond in his DNA. Third-generation ponder. And last. He was

  never going to make it with that crowd. Even when he

  was a little kid, I knew. Too quiet. More interesting, I

  told myself. Sweet, for a while. Never friendly. A loner.”

  Henry, Lane thought and then stopped. No. She was

  the loner. Henry was like his Dad. The mayor of their

  building, until his silence shut that down.

  “We moved here year-round when Griff turned thir-

  teen. That’s when he started saying no to things. No

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  baseball. No homework. No showers. Kids at home were

  cruel.”

  “Was it better here?” Lane heard the eagerness in her

  question. She wanted the answer to be yes. She wanted

  Henry, who had started making friends at the Rec, to

  become mayor again.

  “How old is Henry?” Aggie asked.

  “Six.”

  She nodded. “It’s different story when they’re little.

  No one was scared of Griff when he was a little boy. But

  now? He’s twenty-four years old and people are terrified

  of him. It took me a while to take that in. I mean, he’s

  my son. Who wants to think that about their son? I got

  an inkling when people started asking me—down at

  the newspaper tubes—if everything was okay. A casual

  question, right? I’d say fine and go on my way. Peggy

  Mellman was the one who finally came out and asked

  me if Griff was dangerous. Told me everyone was wor-

  ried. That got my attention. Everyone was worried. I said, Tell everyone not to worry. It’s my life that’s the nightmare.

  Tactical error, saying that.”

  “Why?”

  “My nightmare is Griff’s future. What’s going to

  happen when I’m gone? But Peggy heard something dif-

  ferent. Next thing I know there’s a rumor racing around

  the pond that I’m terrified of my son. That’s when I got

  the offer. Ten families—out of eighteen—tried to buy me

  out. Nathan was not one of them. He called me when he

  heard. Asked if there was anything he could do. No mat-

  ter what anyone says about him, I’ll never forget that. I

  told the rest of them to go to hell. Did you meet Griffin?”

  “No. Henry didn’t meet him either. He saw him

  through the window of the Rec and he got…”

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  “Scared.” Aggie nodded. “Don’t feel bad. Griffin

  works out with weights in his room. That was my bad

  idea. At the time, I thought it was a brainstorm. Gave him something to do. Now I get it. When Griff walks he’s

  silent. His gaze is straight ahead. His arms hang down like deadweight.” She let out a long sigh. “Griffin thinks if he doesn’t make eye contact, if he moves as little as possible when he walks, no one will notice him. I get that too.”

  She shook her head. “People here should know better.

  They’ve known him since he was a speck.” She took a

  final sip. “I told him to stop cleaning the Rec. I’m afraid it won’t end well.”

  “Why does he clean the Rec?”

  “Another brilliant bad idea. Started when he was four-

  teen, the summer after Nathan and Ruth left. Everyone

  was so busy being mad at Nathan and Ruth, they didn’t

  notice. Nathan and Ruth were like the glue. When they

  split up, things fell apart. Wren and Simon split too, but they got back together. But there was that one summer

  when they were all gone. All the ringleaders gone. And

  everyone stopped going to the Rec. End of an era, people

  said. It was almost apocalyptic. The summer of storms.

  Trees came down. Branches broke through the Rec’s

  windows. Animals started coming in. I watched it hap-

  pen from right here. First the birds moved in, then barn

  owls nested. Stretch, next door, he was the one who told

  me a deer got stuck inside. Me and deer go back a long

  time. Griffin came with me to help me get her out. It

  was after we got the deer out that Griffin started going

  every day. To make sure no other animals were stuck.

  While he was there, he’d clean up. The next summer,

  after Wren and Simon patched things up and came back,

  things returned to how they were, except that Griffin was

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  now the cleaning the Rec. I was paying him. To give him

  something to do. I told him to get a job but no one would

  hire to him to scoop ice cream or be a camp counselor.

  They wanted him to stop cleaning the Rec. They still

  do. But nobody has the nerve to ask so…” She suddenly

  seemed self-conscious. “Sorry. It’s been so long—years,

  maybe—since anyone’s come by.”

  “Their loss.”

  Aggie smiled. “I know it’s hard to have a son who’s

  different. People tease them and gang up on them. It’s

  the natural order. Peck or be pecked. But it’s a different story when the boy becomes a man. Griffin is the same as

  he always was, to me. I still see the little boy. But other people? They see a scary man. You like to swim?”

  “Yes.”

  “Here’s a tip. If you go in the pond between the hours

  of nine and ten every day you’ll practically be alone. That’s when Griffin swims. Same time, rain or shine. Even when

  the bacteria level is high, he swims. I can’t stop him. And he never gets sick. He’s got the constitution of an ox. He swims right through the fall. Wears a wet suit when it’s

  cold. That was another mistake I made—I guess I’ve made

  a lot—getting him a wet suit. He looks even scarier in

  that. Either way, in the wet suit or not, no one goes in

  that pond when Griff swims. That’s why camp starts at

  nine thirty and the kids don’t swim till ten.”

  “Because of Griffin?”

  Aggie nodded. “He does a good job at the Rec. He

  works like his life depends on it. Washes the floor and

  the ceiling. Gets on his knees and pulls out every weed

  between every paving stone on the path. Got rid of all the poison ivy in the old outhouse one summer even though

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  I told him no one uses it anymore.” She rai
sed her chin,

  defiant. “I’m proud of him.”

  “He’s lucky to have you.”

  “Mom?”

  And there he was. Despite Griffin’s large size, he’d

  approached like a cat, without a sound. Against her will,

  Lane felt herself draw back. He was as Aggie described

  him. Big, with wide shoulders and muscular arms that

  hung straight down. Large hands curled into tight fists.

  Thick neck. Square chin. Dark hair hanging half over

  his eyes. Eyes pointed straight ahead.

  “Mom? I think I have a tick. Do I have a tick? I hope

  I don’t.” His voice was deep but his words were those of a child. “What do I do if I have a tick?” He closed his eyes and stuck out his arm. “Can you look? Can you tell me?

  Is it a tick? I don’t want a tick. Do I have one?”

  Aggie got up and it was all business as she held on to

  his arm and examined every bit of him, narrating as she

  looked. “That’s just a mole. That’s a scrape from yesterday.

  That’s a scar from when you fell out of the tire tree when you were little.” The way she moved and spoke suggested

  this wasn’t the first time he’d asked her to check. “Is this what you’re worried about? I want you to look at it. This

  is a mosquito bite. It itches, right? That’s because it’s a mosquito bite, not a tick. You’re good.”

  “Phew.” Griffin pulled down his sleeves. Only then

  did he seem to notice Lane.

  Lane stood and introduced herself.

  “Griff,” Aggie said. “You know what to do.”

  His eyes stayed straight ahead but he extended his arm

  and shook the proffered hand.

  “Pleasure to meet you,” Lane said.

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  “Griff? What do you say?”

  Eyes on the ground now. “Thank you.” His voice

  was deep but his words were the same ones Henry used

  when he felt self-conscious.

  Used to use, she corrected herself. Back in the days

  when he spoke. Was Henry going to turn into Griffin?

  Was Aggie once like Lane? She stood up. “I have to go

  home. It’s so nice to meet you both but I’ve got work to—”

  “It’s okay,” Aggie said. “No need to make excuses.”

  “It’s not an excuse. I do have work to do. But I’d

  love you to come over sometime for tea. With Griffin.

  Griffin, I’d love you to meet my son, Henry. You’d like

  each other. Do you like to draw?”

  Griffin stared at his feet and nodded.

  “Great. Henry does too. If you come over sometime,

  you can draw together.”

  Aggie smiled. “You’re very kind.” She looked over at

  Griffin, who was scratching his arm so hard it was leaving marks. “Come on, Griff.” She put her hand on the small

  of his back. “Let’s go inside and put some Benadryl on

  that bite.” She turned and winked at Lane. Then she led

  her man-boy into the house.

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  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  At morning drop-off, Lane read the sign outside the Rec.

  It wished everyone a happy bastille day and said the

  weather would be two umbrellas and a lightning bolt in

  the morning, a smiling sun in the afternoon. In bubble

  letters at the bottom it announced the good news: hooray,

  we can swim! Lane smiled back at the smiley face. Today

  she would finally get into the pond to do laps.

  She walked briskly back to the house. When she got

  there, it was empty. Her mother had already been picked

  up; today was her day to volunteer at the memory center.

  With the house to herself, she brought her laptop outside

  and sat at the small table on the top deck. The gray pond

  was a perfect match to the steel-colored sky. The damp

  breeze held a mix of pine and honeysuckle. A murder of

  crows swooped and settled on a nearby cluster of droop-

  ing beetlebung branches and then, a moment later, they

  all flew off. Lane opened an email from Summer; the

  subject was Podcast News!

  “Great news about our Roxie Podcast, ” Summer said. “We finally figured out the format. It will be the two of us in conversation discussing the letter of the day! Awesome right? You’ll speak as Roxie and I’ll speak as me!!! Our working title is, Ask Roxie and Friends!!! I’m the Friends! Awesome right? We’re so excited.

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  We think this is the perfect solution for keeping Roxie relevant across all age margins!!! So awesome! ” Summer ended with a series of emojis. Two women holding hands, a smiling

  juice box, a purple circle, a ringed planet, a diving mask.

  Lane started to decipher it: a team of happy juice box drinkers trying to circle the universe were saying let’s dive in? —and then decided her time was better spent concentrating on

  the words. First all the wes and ours; then the abundance of awesomes; finally age margins.

  That was a Bert phrase. Bert was the architect of this

  news, Summer the messenger.

  Lane found the number Sam gave her for his Guild-

  Europe phone. As usual, every time she tried it she got

  a fast busy signal and then the line went dead. She sent

  an email to his most recent address saying, Please cal . I need your help. A moment after she sent it, a new message popped into her in-box. Her face brightened and

  then went dark. It wasn’t an answer from Sam. It was

  Summer again.

  Hi again! Slight change of plans! Roxie Classics are not getting the clicks we’d hoped so we’re going to

  have to switch direction. But no worries! The new

  direction is just the old direction. Attached are ten

  preapproved Roxies. Please answer and return at

  your earliest convenience. (You’re going to love

  them. They’re awesome. Some of them are totally—

  Lane squinted at the emoji. Was it a banana? What

  did that mean? Some of them are totally bananas?

  Things are super exciting around here! the email

  continued. Can’t wait for you to get back! Awesome

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  change is in the works! Summer signed off with an emoji

  of a smiling cat.

  Lane considered deleting the email and attachment and

  pretending it never arrived. Things like that happened.

  Emails went awry. But if she pretended she never got it,

  Summer would just send it again, with more smiley faces

  added to her sign-off. So she opened Summer’s folder and

  read through nine of the most boring Roxie letters she’d

  ever seen—letters no Roxie in her right mind would

  answer. The last one was a letter about aliens.

  She reread Summer’s email. Awesome change is in the

  works? What did that mean?

  There weren’t many people she could call to find out

  what was happening at the Guild. Ask Roxie was an island. A one-woman island. She had no colleagues and

  before Summer was thrust upon her, no staff. She had her

  experts—social workers, lawyers and shrinks—but they

  would be no help for this. She had her readers, but they

  couldn’t tell her anything either. Jem had moved away. She couldn’t call her basset hound–eyed seatmate because she

  still didn’t know his name. There was only one other choice.

  “Color me surprised,” Hugo said when he picked up
/>   the phone.

  Lane got right to the point. “Summer told me awe-

  some change is in the air. What’s happening?”

  “Ugh,” Hugo said. “It’s a nightmare. But I’m so glad

  you called.” He lowered his voice. “Bert’s after you. He

  wants you out. Alyssa told me.”

  “Who?”

  “Alyssa. You helped her when she first started here.

  She loves you. You convinced her to go to the All Aboard

  party and she went and—you don’t remember?”

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  “Right. The party. Yes.”

  “Alyssa is very good friends with Summer now,

  which is how she found out that Bert is trying to take

  down Sam and everyone on Sam’s team. Which includes

  you.” He paused to let her take in the news. “I’ve been

  wanting to call you and tell you what I heard but I

  didn’t think you’d want to hear it, being that it’s just a rumor and all. Do you?” She didn’t, but said she did.

  He whispered the rest. “The rumor is Bert told Summer

  to steal a letter from the advice columnist at the Times to pass along to you. Not the current columnist. From

  the archives.”

  “What? Why?”

  “It’s a purge. Like I said, he’s trying to get rid of all

  Sam’s people. The rumor is this is exactly what he did to

  Roxie One. I don’t know if that’s true but— Hold on.”

  Hugo shouted out a friendly hello. “Of course, Bert, I’ll

  be right there.” There was a moment of silence and then

  he got back on the phone. “Be careful, Lane. Don’t trust

  Bert. And don’t trust Summer.”

  “Where’s Sam?” she asked him. “He’s not answering

  my emails. The number he gave me for his Guild-Europe

  phone isn’t working.”

  “He’s not in Europe. He’s in Asia. Guild-Europe is now

  Guild-Asia. I think it’s going to end up Guild-Global. I

  don’t think he has any idea what’s going on here. Ugh.

  Hold on.” Again, a change in tone. “Sure. Be there in a

  sec.” He whispered to Lane: “Got to go. Watch your step.”

   h h

   h  h

  Lane stared at her laptop, as if she could get Sam to answer her email through force of will. Instead an alert floated

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  across the top of her screen. Another update from Summer.

  The subject this time: Roxie Alert! Second batch of most

  awesome letters ever!!!

  Okay. There was no way for her to know for sure if