CHAPTER THREE

Saturday

I

She was close. Too close. He could see the flecks of brown in her eyes, the way her lips parted before curling into a smile. She leaned into him, her breasts brushed his chest and he—

“Get up. We’re going to see a skeleton.”

His body trembled, but not from excitement—someone was shaking him. Ethan slapped the offending hand away. “What?”

“Your room smells like gym socks.”

“Go away, Dad.” Ethan pulled the covers over his head. Maybe if he could get back to sleep, the dream could pick up where it left off.

“How can your room smell this bad? We’ve been here less than a week.”

“Go away, Dad.”

“Get up. It’s nine-thirty. We have to be somewhere at ten.”

“I don’t have to be anywhere at ten.”

Jack ripped the covers from Ethan. Cold air hit his body like a pail of ice water. Ethan pulled his knees to his chest, hoping to cover up his boner. Not that his father would (a) notice, (b) care, or (c) say anything if he did notice or care. There were moments he hated his dad beyond all reason, and this was one of them.

“You can be a real asshole, Dad.”

“I thought my mom was an asshole when I was thirteen, too. You’ll get over it.”

Ethan looked at him. Couldn’t he do anything to piss his dad off?

“Plus,” Jack continued, “I could be a whole lot worse if I wanted. Now, get up. We’re going to see a skeleton.”

Ethan rubbed his eyes. “A skeleton?”

Jack walked to the door. “I made breakfast. Hurry up.” He left.

“I don’t think the skeleton will care if we’re late.”

Ethan dropped his hand to the bed and sighed. The dream wasn’t coming back, that was for sure. Did he even want it to? How would he be able to look at Olivia the next time he saw her with that dream in his mind? Maybe it would fade away like most of his dreams did. He rubbed his chest where he had felt her breasts. That had been awfully realistic. And hard to forget.

He picked up the clothes on the floor nearest the bed, dressed, and walked down the stairs. His pace quickened as the smell of bacon hit him.

Ethan stopped at the doorway of the kitchen. His dad was at the stove scrambling eggs in a skillet. Tortillas, cheese, bacon, and tater tots were on the table along with two plates. More shocking than his dad cooking breakfast, which used to be a Saturday morning staple, was the lack of boxes in the kitchen. When Ethan and his dad had returned from the football game the night before, there had been a small path from the back door through the kitchen and every inch of the counter surface had been covered in boxes. Now it was spotless.

“How long have you been up?” Ethan asked. He sat down at the table.

Jack turned the gas off on the stove, grabbed a trivet from a drawer, and brought the skillet full of eggs to the table. “A while.”

The bruise on his dad’s face looked even worse today.

“How do you feel?”

“Better.”

“I looked up concussions online. Insomnia is a side effect.”

“You looked it up?” His dad seemed really happy he’d taken the time.

“Yeah.” Ethan wasn’t really hungry; he rarely was when he first got up. But his dad went to the trouble to make breakfast and he had saved Ethan from unpacking the kitchen. He piled everything on a tortilla, folded it in half, and took a bite. Okay, maybe he was hungry. “We’re going to see a skeleton?” A bit of egg fell out of his mouth. He expected his dad to mention it but he didn’t.

“A kid came up to me last night and said he found a skeleton. Thought we’d check it out. Most likely it’s animal bones.”

“Most likely it’s a waste of time.” He shoved the rest of his burrito in his mouth and made another.

Jack shrugged. “Maybe. But, if it’s a cow skull, we’ll take it and hang it on the wall.”

“Gross…. Do you feel good enough to go out?” Ethan asked. “You probably should rest today.”

“I’m fine,” Jack said.

They ate in silence, his dad staring off into space. Ethan shifted in his chair and spoke the question he’d been working up the courage to ask since his dad got home from the hospital. “Have you talked to Mom?”

His dad stopped chewing. “No. Have you?”

Ethan’s shoulders dropped. “You told me not to call her. I’ve emailed her a couple of times.”

Jack nodded. “So have I.”

“She knows where we are?”

“Yes, Ethan. She knows where we are.”

“Does she know what happened to you?”

“Yes.”

“When is she coming home?”

Jack sighed. “I wish I knew.” He stood and dumped three quarters of his taco in the trash.

Ethan felt a glimmer of hope. It was the longest conversation they had about his mother in months. His dad wanted his mother to come home. Happiness welled within him, giving him the confidence to ask the next question.

“Who was the lady you were talking to last night?”

“What lady?”

“In the parking lot.”

“Oh, she sold us the house.”

“She’s a realtor?”

“No, it was her house. She owns the bookstore downtown. We need to get going. Help me clean up.”

Within five minutes, the kitchen was clean and they were on the road. Within ten, they parked in front of a run-down, white wooden house just across the river and outside the city limits. The metal mailbox was dented and without a flag or door. Two canvas lawn chairs, one green and one blue, both faded, sat on the porch. Empty beer bottles sat forgotten in the cup holders. Cigarette butts were strewn around the chairs like confetti. Through the open screen door, Ethan heard SpongeBob and Patrick try to explain imagination to Squidward. Ethan stood at the bottom of the concrete steps, his hands shoved deep in the pockets of his cargo shorts, while his dad knocked on the door. He wanted to take out his phone and snap pictures of this house, but he didn’t want the people who lived there to catch him.

The woman who came to the door was younger than Ethan expected. She had black circles under her eyes, her hair was a tangled mess, and her soft rolls of fat strained against her too-small clothes. She didn’t seem to recognize Jack until her gaze traveled to the badge that hung on a chain around his neck.

The fog slowly cleared from her eyes. “You came.” She turned her head slightly to the side, trying not to look over her shoulder. “I didn’t think you would.”

“Obviously,” Ethan said under his breath.

“I didn’t get your name last night,” Jack said.

“Edie. Edie Wood.”

A young boy pushed through the space between Edie and the door. “Want me to show you the skeleton?”

Jack nodded. “I sure do.”

“Come on.” He bounded down the stairs and stopped at the sight of Ethan. “Who are you?”

“Ethan.”

“I’m Billy. Come on.”

The boy took off around the house. Ethan looked at his father, who shrugged. They followed.

“Do I need to come?” Edie Wood asked.

“I don’t think it’s necessary,” Jack said.

Visibly relieved, she went inside.

Billy crawled through the barbed wire fence behind the house and waited patiently for Jack and Ethan. As soon as Jack was through, Billy took off. The three followed a cow path through the pasture. Billy turned left at the tree line and walked on. Ethan pulled out his phone and took pictures.

“Is this your land?” Jack said.

“No,” Billy replied.

“You’re allowed to play back here?” Ethan asked. He snapped a picture of the boy leading them down the cow path, the sky and land enormous, dwarfing him. Cool.

“As long as I don’t bother the cows.”

“What cows?”

Billy pointed downriver. A herd of cows stood on the bank, chewing their cud and watching them. A large gray bull with a hump on his back and long ears snorted and walked in their direction. “Watch out for that one. He’ll charge you.” Billy ducked into a small opening in the brush on the bank of the river, leaving Ethan and Jack staring at the bull, which had become too interested in them.

Ethan snapped a picture just before Jack pushed him into the gap. Billy was waiting on the bank of the swollen river by a downed tree. “Cross here.” He hopped up on the tree and walked his way across.

The other side of the river was densely wooded. Underbrush, briars, and felled trees made progress difficult. Billy kept pushing through, winding in and around the undergrowth, finding small trails Ethan would have never noticed and flipping tree branches and briars back into Ethan’s face on a regular basis. Ethan’s legs were going to be a map of scratches and punctures. His dad had been smart enough to wear jeans and hiking boots. Ethan thought traipsing through the woods was kinda fun—he was getting some good pictures and it would be a good story to tell Troy—but knew his dad was getting angrier and angrier by the minute. Jack was not the outdoorsy type. The boots were more for show than actual hiking.

Finally, they burst through the underbrush to an open area. A large tree, much like the one that spanned the river, had fallen and had taken much of the surrounding vegetation with it. The trunk was at least five feet tall and the root system sticking out of the ground at the far end of the clearing was easily twice as high. Billy stood by the roots of the tree, reminding Ethan of the picture of a man dwarfed by a redwood tree he had seen in one of his textbooks. He snapped a picture.

Billy pointed. “I told you so.”

Ethan and Jack walked down the length of the tree trunk. Ethan ran his free hand along the long burnt gash on the side of the tree as his dad outpaced him to the end. When Jack reached the proud boy, his jaw, which had been set in a hard, angry line, slackened into an astonished gape. Ethan walked around the two of them and stopped. Partially buried in the loamy soil, the vacant eye of a human skull stared up at them.

II

Ethan stared at the water stain on his ceiling. He didn’t think it was possible to be more bored than he was. Stillwater sucked. There was nothing to do and no one to do it with. His dad would be at the skeleton crime scene all day today and probably tomorrow. Troy wasn’t answering his texts, and he wasn’t about to text Olivia. The dream from the morning was too fresh.

He thought of texting Mitra, the only other friend he’d made since Thursday, but she was a girl and a Muslim. Her father probably kept a close eye on her texts. Was that being racist? Maybe Mitra’s family wasn’t religious or strict. How devout could they be living among all these rednecks? She was, as far as Ethan could tell, the only Muslim in the whole school. That had to suck. So, he texted her. They could be outsiders together.

Bored 2 death. Wuts thar 2 do in this town?

He tossed his phone on the bed and went to his computer. No reply from his mom. Why did he even expect one?

His phone beeped.

Nothing. That’s why I’m in Tyler with my mom. Need anything from Dillards? Makeup? Perfume?

Ethan smiled. Mitra was the only person he knew who used almost perfect grammar in texts. It was dorky. And … cute.

Perfume samples wud be nice.

Okay. :)Where is your dad?

Crime scene. Thinking of taking pics of town. Where shld I go?

Downtown, German church, the Bottom.

The bottom?

It’s the poor part of town.

Would I get mugged?

Doubt it.

Pass. wuts the german church?

Down the street from you. Overgrown road on the left. On a bluff. Great view. Gotta go. Be careful, E.

Sure, Mom.

She sent an emoji with the tongue sticking out. She was much chattier while texting than in person. Whenever he talked to her, she always seemed on the verge of blushing. Ethan knew it had nothing to do with him and everything to do with Troy. Of course, Troy was too clueless to see Mitra liked him. Ethan wasn’t about to clue him in.

Ethan replaced his camera battery with the fully charged spare, got his longboard, and headed downtown, figuring he would end at the German church. If he had his directions right, he would get a sunset picture from up there. He texted his dad about what he was doing and received a return text thanking him for the update and the same warning to be careful.

At the end of River Road, he turned left. There was no sidewalk, so he picked his board up and walked on the beaten path next to the road. He crossed the rusty iron bridge that spanned the river and took the first street on the left.

An alley ran next to the river behind what looked like a warehouse. Ethan took several pictures, adjusted his settings until he got the exposure he wanted, and started shooting. Even though downtown was empty and depressing, Stillwater made a great subject. He skated around the dead-end square, taking as many pictures of empty lots as buildings. What had his dad been thinking, taking this job? He took a few shots of City Hall and wondered where his dad’s office was.

At the end of the main street, on the edge of the square, were the only two buildings that could be called cool. One was all white columns and marble. Ethan would have known it was a bank even without STILLWATER NATIONAL BANK chiseled over the door. Less cool than impressive. Ethan took pictures of it because he felt the building expected him to.

The building across the street was the really cool one. It was a two-story red stone building with tall windows along the front and sides. The front door was set in the corner facing the square. Tiny white octagonal tiles were set before the door, with ROBICHAUX written in bright blue tiles in the middle. A small balcony with a shiny wrought-iron railing ran along the second floor. Sheer curtains fluttered from the open French doors on the upper tier, whipping around two bright orange iron chairs and a small table. Planter boxes overflowing with flowers and vines hung from the railing. It was serene; the most welcoming subject he’d found so far. Ethan lifted his camera and started shooting.

He was surprised when a woman wandered out, sipping something out of a mug and reading a book. She sat without taking her eyes off her book, placing her cup on the table and kicking her feet on the railing in front of her. Ethan took ten or twenty shots before he realized who she was.

He looked up from his viewfinder. It was the woman his dad talked to at the game. Twice. Ethan hadn’t told his dad that he saw him both times. His dad acted like she was barely an acquaintance. And how could she be anything else? This was their fourth day in town.

Ethan’s eye went back to the viewfinder and zoomed in. She was reading The Lord of the Rings. Dork. She wasn’t very far into it. Ethan wondered how she could read it at all. He moved his camera to her face. She wore black-rimmed reading glasses, like a hipster. God, adults looked so stupid when they tried to act young. Ethan guessed she was pretty, for a mom. She couldn’t hold a candle to his mom, though.

The woman wrinkled her nose, closed the book, and tossed it on the table. Maybe she wasn’t a dork. She picked up her coffee, took her glasses off, and placed them on the book. She stared off into space and sipped her drink. One side of her mouth curled into a wicked smile. Suddenly, Ethan liked her. He snapped a few pictures.

He almost dropped his camera when she turned her head and looked right at him. She looked as alarmed as he felt. She squinted at him, then her face cleared into relief and … nervousness? She stood, leaned on the railing, and waved. He turned to see if she was waving at someone else. When he realized she wasn’t, he almost bolted. He was caught, though. Better face the music and apologize. Dad would be pissed Ethan was taking pictures of people without asking. He said it was like eavesdropping or being a peeping tom. But some of Ethan’s best shots were of people when they didn’t know he was shooting. When people posed, he didn’t feel like he saw the real person.

“Hi,” she called.

“Hi.”

Ethan looked around, searching for a means of escape. Nothing.

“You must be Ethan.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Strangers knowing who he was would never not be weird. He crossed the street and stood almost directly under her balcony.

“You look like your dad.”

Ethan shrugged. People always said that and he never knew how to respond. Thanks? Yuck? Dude, he’s like, old?

“I’m Ellie Martin.”

“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Martin.”

“Call me Ellie. I’m nobody’s mom.” She nodded to his camera. “Taking pictures?”

“Yeah. Do you mind?”

“No. As long as you delete the ugly ones. You didn’t catch me picking my nose, did you?”

“No.”

“Have you ever caught someone doing that?”

“Not yet.”

There was a long, awkward silence. Ethan didn’t know what to say to his dad most of the time—how could he be expected to talk to a stranger, and a woman?

“You caught me taking a break. I better get back.” She pointed over her shoulder with her thumb. “Be careful.”

“Okay.” Did everyone think he was some kind of daredevil?

“Happy shooting.”

She grimaced when she said it, but thankfully didn’t apologize for it. Instead, she bolted inside, stumbling over one of the chairs.

Adults are so weird, Ethan thought as he waited for the light to turn at the corner of Main and Broadway. The salty, greasy aroma of french fries and hamburgers coming from the Dairy Queen across the street made Ethan’s stomach growl. He had only three dollars in his string bag, maybe enough for some fries, but a drink would be stretching it. He crossed the street and went into the gas station on the other corner instead. A fat man in overalls stood behind the counter. A couple of old men sat in the booths in the front window. Ethan stared at the ground and walked to the candy aisle. He put his longboard down, fished his money out of his string bag, and put his camera inside. He would need both hands to hold his drink and eat his candy bar. He brought a cookies and cream Hershey bar and the biggest fountain drink he could afford to the counter. The clerk eyed him suspiciously. Ethan gave him a brief smile and kept his eyes on his purchases.

“Three oh six.”

Ethan put the three dollars on the counter.

“Got six cents?” the clerk asked.

“No, sir.”

Surely the guy would spot him six cents. The 7-Eleven in Emerson used to do it all the time for him and his friends. They always put money in the community thing when they could because they always ended up needing it.

Without a word, the man scraped six cents out of a small bowl next to the register and dropped it into the cash drawer.

“Thank you,” Ethan mumbled.

He put the candy bar in his pocket and left with the drink and longboard in his hands. He sat at the far end of the gas station, ate his candy bar in three bites, drank half of his Dr Pepper, and pulled his camera back out. Within minutes, he was back on the streets, taking pictures.

He saw the entire town in less than an hour, including the Bottom. It was by far the most interesting area, more run-down than the rest of town for sure, but that’s why it was interesting. He never felt unsafe, either, though he did generate some interest from the residents. Ethan wondered why the roads in that area were so full of potholes, some of them almost dirt tracks, when in the other areas the roads were smooth and well cared for. But, besides the Bottom, the rest of the town was kind of boring. The yards were all brown from the hot summer. Flowers had long since died. Leaves on the trees were a dark, exhausted green. The streets were mostly deserted, though he got a sick shot of a car up on blocks. Ethan was riding down a narrow street near the high school when a cop car pulled up behind him and beeped its siren. Ethan moved over into a yard and waited for the car to go by. He was surprised when it stopped next to him.

A large cop got out of the car. He looked up and down the street and adjusted his holster before swaggering over to Ethan. Ethan’s palms started to sweat, though he knew he hadn’t done anything wrong.

“Son, what’s your name?”

“Ethan.”

“What you are doing?”

“Riding my longboard.”

“Where.”

“On the street.”

“You need to keep it to the sidewalks.”

Ethan looked up and down the streets. “Where are they?”

“Where are what?”

“The sidewalks? I haven’t seen one.”

“Are you being smart?”

“No, sir. I believe technically I’m being ignorant. I really don’t know where the sidewalks are.”

The cop scowled. Ethan smiled then laughed. This was a prank—this dude had to know who he was. Probably his dad sent him to scare Ethan. Anyway, like Ellie said, he looked just like his dad. Could this guy really not see it?

“What’s so funny?”

“You’re pranking me, aren’t you?”

“No. We’ve had complaints from residents about a strange boy taking pictures all over town. Others have called in about a skateboarder. Say you’ve been prowling. Making trouble.”

Ethan felt his face burn. He wasn’t strange and he hadn’t done anything wrong or hurt anybody. He had been minding his own business and didn’t deserve this cop harassing him or strangers telling stories about him. “I’m not making trouble; I’m just taking pictures of vacant lots and junky cars. I didn’t know I needed permission. Who would I contact for that? The mayor of Shitwater?”

“Son, you better watch your mouth.”

“I’m not your son. My name is Ethan McBride.” Ethan put his board on the ground and skated off.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“Away from you.”

The cop grabbed his arm and jerked him off the board. Ethan dropped his drink. Ice exploded all over the pavement and started melting immediately. Ethan looked around, hoping there was someone near to help him. The street, like all the others, was deserted. Anyway, he assumed no one would help the strange skateboarder. The man’s eyes were a cold blue. His name badge said FREEMAN. Ethan wasn’t about to give this oaf the satisfaction of knowing his arm was going numb.

“Where did you get that drink?”

“The gas station.”

“Where’s the candy bar?”

“I ate … how did you know I got a candy bar?”

“Abe called, said you stole it. Where is it?”

“I didn’t steal it.”

“That’s what he says.”

“He’s lying.”

“Why would he do that?”

“How would I know?”

Freeman released his arm. “I’ll let you go this time, but if I hear you stealing again—”

“I didn’t steal that candy bar. I paid for it.”

“With your history, who’s going to believe you?”

Ethan froze. How would this guy know his history? Did his dad tell him? No way. No freaking way his dad would tell this guy. If not his dad, though, who? Principal Courcey? The shoplifting incident was in his school file since it happened on a field trip. On the “permanent record” parents always threatened kids with. Maybe the principal was spreading it around town. Ethan knew he had been right to hate that woman.

“Now, pick your skateboard up and walk home. I won’t tell your dad about this, but if I hear about you causing trouble again, I won’t be as nice.”

The edges of Ethan’s vision were turning red. He struggled to hold his tongue. Through gritted teeth, he managed to say, “Yes, sir.”

Ethan walked away as quickly as possible without running.

Ten minutes later, he was back on River Road. He made sure there wasn’t a cop around, put his longboard on the ground, and skated the short distance home. The walk calmed him. He couldn’t decide whether he should tell his dad and, if so, what he should say. His dad probably wouldn’t believe him. That necklace was going to follow Ethan the rest of his life.

Ethan got a Dr Pepper from the fridge and went to the front porch. He sat on the swing and scanned through the pictures he’d taken that day. Mrs. Martin—Ellie—was kind of pretty, in an average, sporty sort of way. She had nice eyes. Friendly. He wondered about the big secret that had made her smile. Ethan raced through the shots, making it look like a movie. He’d had his camera set to continuous and didn’t realize he had taken so many. He laughed at her grimace. Apparently, she didn’t like The Lord of the Rings. If he had to choose which one captured her real self, he would say the photo of the wicked smile, for sure.

A police cruiser drove down the street. Ethan thought it might be his dad, but the car drove on by. Freeman was at the wheel.

“Jackwagon,” Ethan muttered.

The car turned left a little ways down the road. Ethan assumed it was turning around since River Road was a dead end. What was it with Stillwater and dead end roads? Summed up the whole town as far as Ethan was concerned. Instead, the car disappeared.

Five minutes went by and Freeman didn’t return. A red Jeep rolled down the street and turned at the same spot. Ethan draped his camera over his shoulder, descended the porch stairs, and followed.

Ethan stayed close to the trees and listened intently as he climbed the steep grass track, which barely passed for a road. He wanted to be able to jump into the trees in case Freeman drove back down. When Ethan saw the steeple, he knew this was the German church Mitra had mentioned. He cut into the trees and crept closer. Freeman’s cruiser and the Jeep were parked next to each other in front of the church. Ethan made sure his camera’s time stamp was on and started taking pictures; he wanted to get proof of that asshole goofing off on the job.

Neither Freeman nor the other guy were in their cars. Maybe they were in the church. Ethan didn’t want to risk leaving his hiding spot to find out. He sat down behind a tree, started the timer on his phone, and waited. Fifteen minutes later, Freeman and the guy came back to their cars, got in each, and drove off. Ethan turned off his timer, waited for the sound of their cars to fade away, and walked to the church.

Might as well get some shots while I’m here.

He’d worry about Freeman later.