Runes

Runes - By Ednah Walters



1. THE MAILBOX

“So unfair. My parents decided to limit my computer time again,” Cora griped and rolled her eyes into the webcam. “But as usual, my best friend Raine has my back, so here I am with the next Hottie of the Week. Before I can give you his stats, I need a break, so I’ll be back in a few.” She pressed pause on the webcam, swiveled the chair around, and faced me. “Thank you. I’m starving.”

I threw her a bag of potato chips, which she snatched in mid-air. Keeping the door between us, I dangled a can of soda her way.

“Come on. I’m not going to ambush you,” Cora protested.

“Liar. Just remember, I’ll unfriend you on every social network if you do it again, Cora Jemison,” I threatened.

Cora pouted. “You’re never going let me forget that, are you? One lapse in judgment, Raine. One, and I’m labeled a liar for the rest of my life.”

“Just until we finish high school. Lucky for you, we’ve got less than two years to go.” Melodramatic was Cora’s middle name, which made her the perfect video blogger. I, on the other hand, hated seeing my face on video hosting websites, something she tended to forget when she got excited. “So, when will you be done? We have swimming, and I need to get online, too.”

“Ten minutes, but I’m skipping today. Keith and I are going to watch our guys crush the Cougars. Go-oh, Trojans.” She pumped her fist in the air. “Come with us, Raine. Please… please? You can help me choose my next victim for the vlog.”

“I can’t. I have an AP English report to write.”

“Another one? That’s, like, what? One every week? I knew sour-faced Quibble would be tough when he e-mailed you guys a summer reading list.” She shuddered. “You should have dropped his class when you had chance.”

“Why? I enjoy it.” Cora made a face, and I knew what she was thinking. I needed a life outside of books. She said it often enough, as though swimming and playing an oboe in the band didn’t count. I’d rather read than cheer cocky, idolized football players any day. Performing in the pep band during home games was enough contribution to the school spirit as far as I was concerned.

“Fine, stay at home with your boring books, but keep your phone with you,” she ordered. “I’ll update you during the game.” She snatched the drink from my hand, opened it, and took a swig. “Thanks.” She swiveled and rolled the chair back to my computer desk and turned on the webcam. “Okay, Hottie of the Week is in my Biology class. He’s five-eleven, masculine without being buff. Don’t ask how I know. A girl is allowed to keep some secrets, right?” She giggled and twirled a lock of blonde hair. “He’s a member of the lacrosse team and has wavy Chex Mix hair, which is longer than I usually like on a guy, but he rocks it. Don’t you just love that term? Chex Mix. Better than dirty blond, right? I stole that from Raine.”

I closed the door and shook my head. Poor guy. By Wednesday, every girl in school would be speculating about his identity and his relationship with Cora, not to mention leaving snarky comments on her video blog. She thrived on being naughty, but one day she would cross the line and piss someone off.

Cora and I had been tight since junior high when I found her crying in the girls’ locker room after P.E. She’d had such a hard time adjusting to public school after being homeschooled. Seeing her now, you’d never guess it. She was crazy popular, even though she didn’t hang out with the in-crowd.

Downstairs, I got comfortable on the couch with my copy of Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck, tucked a pencil for scribbling notes behind my ear, and popped open my favorite spicy baked chips. Good thing Mr. Q had included the book on our summer reading list and I already read it once.

The ding of the doorbell resounded in the house before I finished my assignment. I grinned. Must be Eirik, my unofficial boyfriend. I jumped up, raced to the door, and yanked it open.

“About time you got he…”

I took a step back, my pulse leaping. In one sweeping glance, I took in the stranger’s shaggy black hair, piercing Pacific-blue eyes under arched eyebrows, black leather jacket, and hip-hugging jeans. Either fate had conjured the poster boy of all my fantasies and deposited him on my doorstep or I was dreaming.

I closed my eyes tight and then opened them again.

He was still there, the only thing missing was a bow or a note with my name pinned to his forehead. Irrationally, I wondered how it would feel to run my fingers through his hair. It was luxurious and so long it brushed the collar of his jacket. His lips moved, and I realized he was speaking.

“What?” I asked. The single word came out in two syllables, and I cringed. Lame, Raine.

“I asked if you’d seen Eirik Seville,” the stranger said impatiently in a deep, commanding voice as though he was used to giving orders, “and you shook your head. Does that mean you didn’t understand what I said, don’t know him, or don’t know where he is?”

“I, uh, the third one.” Could I be any lamer? Worse, warmth crept up my face. “I mean, I don’t know where he is,” I said in a squeaky voice.

“He said he would be at the house of...” he pulled out a piece of paper from the back of his biker glove, the fingerless kind, and read, “Raine Cooper.”

“That’s me. Lorraine Cooper, but everyone calls me Raine. You know, rain with a silent E,” I said even though he didn’t ask for an explanation. I tended to blabber when nervous. “Yeah, well, Eirik’s not here.”

“When do you expect him? Or should I ask when does he usually get here, Raine with an E?” the guy asked.

I bristled, not liking his mocking tone or the way he spoke slowly as though I was a dimwit. “He doesn’t always come here after school, you know. You could try his house or text him.”

Mr. Hot-but-arrogant shrugged. “If I wanted to use modern technology I would, but I’d rather not. Could you do me a favor?”

Use modern technology? Which cave did he crawl from? He spoke with a trace of an accent that had a familiar lilt. British or Aussie? I could never tell the difference.

He sighed. “You’re shaking your head again. Did my question confuse you? Am I talking too fast, too slow, or is it me? I’ve been told my presence tends to, uh, throw people off.”

I crossed my arms, lifted my chin, and stared down my nose at him. I was usually the calm one among my friends, the peacemaker, but this guy was seriously pushing my buttons with his arrogance. “No.”

His eyebrows rose and met the lock of hair falling over his forehead. “No to what?”

“No, you didn’t confuse me. And no, I won’t do you a favor.”

He rolled his eyes, plucked wraparound sunglasses from the breast pocket of his jacket, and slipped them on before turning to leave.

Yeah, good riddance. To copy Cora’s favorite saying, ‘he just lost hotness points’.

He paused as though he’d changed his mind and faced me, the corners of his mouth lifting in a slow smile. “Okay, Raine with an E, what do I have to do to make you play nice?”

Whoa, what a smile. I was still staring at his lips when what he’d said registered. I peered at him, hating that I had to look up at him. At five-seven, I was above average for a girl, but he was taller. Six-two or three I’d guess. Worse, my face stared back at me from the surface of his dark sunglasses, making me feel like I was talking to myself.

“Stop being rude and condescending for starters,” I said.

He chuckled, the sound rich and throaty. Sexy. A delicious shiver ran up my spine. “I thought I was being extremely polite.”

I snorted. “Right.”

“Do I need to apologize?”

“Not if you don’t mean it.”

“Then I won’t.”

I debated whether to step back and slam the door on his face, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. One, it was rude. Two, I wanted to know why he was looking for Eirik. “Okay, shoot. What’s the favor?”

“Tell your boyfriend that he and I need to talk. Today. In the next hour if possible.”

That annoying, commanding tone got to me again. I mock saluted him. “Yes, sir.”

He chuckled, then did something strange. He reached out and touched my nose. “Cute. Nice meeting you, Raine with an E.”

Cute? Ew. I reached up to swat his hand, but he was already turning away. I followed him, not realizing what I was doing until I reached the driveway. Where was he going? He wore biker’s gloves, but there was no motorcycle parked at the curb. He turned left, moving past our mailbox.

“What’s your name?” I called out.

He turned, lowered his sunglasses, and studied me suspiciously. “Why do you want to know?”

“I don’t,” I said with as much distain as I could muster, “but Eirik will need a name to go with the message.”

“My name won’t mean anything to him. Just tell him the message is from your new neighbor.”

My stomach hollowed out as though I’d jumped off a plane without a parachute. He couldn’t possibly be my next-door neighbor. A week ago, the For Sale sign had disappeared, but I hadn’t seen any moving truck to indicate someone was moving in.

Please, let his home be farther down the street. Several houses around my neighborhood had been up for sale the last year. Using a trip to our mailbox as an excuse, I continued to watch him. Nice walk. Too bad it was overshadowed by his arrogance. He passed the low-lying white fence separating our yard from our next-door neighbor’s then cut across the lawn and headed for the front door.

Crap.

He stepped on the patio, turned, and looked at me, a mocking smile on his sculptured lips. I averted my eyes and pretended to sift the bills in my hand. As soon as he disappeared inside, I pulled my cell phone from my pocket and furiously texted Eirik.

“Who was that?” Cora asked from on top of the stairs when I entered the house.

I bumped the door closed with my foot and dropped the mail on the foyer table. “Our new neighbor.”

She hurried down the stairs. “Eirik’s old house or down the street neighbor?”

“Eirik’s old house.”

“Oh, I hate you. How come hot guys don’t move next door to my house?”

“That’s because you live on a farm in the middle of nowhere,” I retorted.

“Yeah, whatever.” She ran across the living room to the kitchen window and peered outside like an overstimulated terrier. “Where is he? Where did he go?”

I grinned. Trust Cora to provide me with comic relief. I collected my books, the empty bag of chips and soda can I had left on the coffee table, and followed her. “I told you, Eirik’s place.”

“Ooh, if he takes Eirik’s old bedroom, he’d be able to see right inside yours and you his.”

“And that’s interesting because…?”

“We want to see him shirtless.”

“Hey, don’t include me in your craziness.”

She made a face and mouthed the words I’d just said. “Oh, live a little, Raine. Seriously, sometimes I wonder how we can be so tight. You move slower than a slug when it comes to guys.”

“And you go at warp speed.”

Her jaw dropped. “Are you calling me a—”

“Male connoisseur… aficionado… nothing tacky.” We laughed. Cora fell in love fast and often, and got bored just as easily. I was only interested in one guy: Eirik. He and I had been neighbors until last year when they moved up the hill to one of the mansions at the end of Orchard Road. I never worried about him seeing inside my bedroom. The thought of the new guy that close to me was, I don’t know, unsettling. I dumped the soda can and bag in the garbage and started toward the stairs.

“It would be like old times,” Cora continued, moving away from the window, “except with him instead of boring Eirik.”

“Eirik’s not boring.”

“Is to. So what’s Mr. Hotness’ name? What did he want? Is he throwing a meet-the-new-neighbor party? First dibs on your plus-one.” She looked at me expectantly.

I laughed. “No one throws that kind of a party around here. I don’t know his name, and he was looking for Eirik.”

“Pretty Boy knows him? He just lost hotness points,” Cora mumbled.

“I heard that.” I waited for her to catch up before I continued upstairs. “I don’t get it. You and Eirik used to get along so well. Now all you do is snipe at each other every time you’re in the same room. What happened?”

“He talks down to me, like I’m stupid or something.”

“He does not.”

“Does to. Today I asked him to help me with a math problem, and he looked at me like I was a slug masquerading as a human being. Then he smirked and told me to ask Keith. He can be so...” She growled, her eyes narrowing. “I wanted to smack him. I should have smacked him.”

Cora was smart, but she tended to act helpless around guys, which drove Eirik nuts. Deciding not to comment, I pushed open my bedroom door, and my eyes went to the window facing our neighbor’s. The wide window seat with its comfortable cushions was my favorite relaxing spot in the room. Outside, I preferred the wicker chairs on my side of the balcony. I was going to have to deal with my new neighbor whether I liked it or not.

Cora removed the cute little jacket she’d worn over her tank top, threw it on my bed, and walked to the window. She and I were about the same height, except she was skinnier and had bigger boobs. Throw in her blonde hair and gray eyes and you had every teenage boy’s fantasy. I was rounder with brown hair and hazel eyes, nothing to brag about, but I wasn’t at the shallow end of the beauty pool either.

“How does he know Eirik? Do you think he’s going to go to our school?” Cora asked.

“I don’t know anything about him, Cora.”

She threw me an annoyed look. “Only you can talk to a hot guy and forget to ask important questions. I would have gotten everything from him, including whether he has a girlfriend or not.”

She wasn’t bragging. Cora was amazingly good at gathering information, and she could be relentless when it came to guys, which is great for a vlogger. Sometimes it was funny, but other times annoying. Like now. I couldn’t tell her I’d been too busy making a fool of myself to say much to my blue-eyed neighbor.

“Are you done with my laptop?” I asked, settling on the bed. “I have to check a few things after I finish my report.”

Cora glanced at her watch. “Keith will be here in ten minutes, so I just need a few minutes to respond to comments; then it’s all yours.” She glanced outside then at me then back outside again. “It’s such a beautiful day. Let’s sit outside on the balcony.”

Oh, she thought she was clever. The weather was perfect, but I refused to be a groupie to that rude guy. “No, I’m fine in here.”

Cora pouted. “Pwease… pwetty pwease?”

I shook my head. “I want to focus on my work. You want to talk to my new neighbor, walk to his house and knock on the door.”

A thoughtful expression settled on her pretty face. “I might just do that.”

“Good. Just remember, you have a boyfriend,” I reminded her.

She grinned. “Yeah, but I’m a mere mortal with a weakness for guys built like gods. I could feature him on my vlog.”

I hope not. He looked like the type who could tear Cora apart if she dared. “You don’t even know if he’ll be going to our school.”

“I would if you’d bothered to ask him.” Cora sighed dramatically and settled on the window seat with my laptop. Occasionally, she stared outside. I was tempted to ask her if my new neighbor was outside, which bugged me. I shouldn’t be interested in any guy period. I had Eirik—or I would if he could get his act together and ask me out. I hoped his feelings for me were just as strong as mine were for him. As for Cora, her restlessness made it impossible for me to focus. I was happy when Keith picked her up.

Less than an hour later, I grabbed by swim bag and raced outside. I had ten minutes to get my butt to Total Fitness Club for swim practice. I’d swum varsity since my freshman year, but high school swim season didn’t start until next week. Off season, I swam with the Dolphins. Luckily, Matt ‘Doc’ Fletcher, my high school coach, also coached the Dolphins. Kayville might be a small town in northwestern Oregon, but we had three high schools and three swim clubs, and the rivalry was fierce. Most Dolphins went to my high school, too.

I threw my bag in the front passenger seat of my Sentra, ran around the hood, and saw the right front tire. I had a leak? It looked low. Could I take a chance and drive it? Maybe if I drove carefully and slow? Coach Fletcher was anal about tardiness. Worse, my attendance this past summer had suffered because of Dad.

My throat closed and tears rushed to my eyes. Not knowing whether my father was alive or dead was the hardest part of my nightmare. I still remembered the last conversation we’d had before he boarded the plane in Honolulu, the horror at the news about the plane crashing into the Pacific Ocean, the frustration as bodies were recovered and none matched Dad’s. I was losing hope, while Mom still believed he was alive. How could he be after three months?

Our neighbors no longer asked us if we’d heard any news, but I’d overheard Mrs. Rutledge and Mrs. Ross from across the street gossip about Mom, calling her delusional. Prune-faced hags. I hated that we lived on the same cul-de-sac.

I kicked at the tire as though the simple act would ease my frustration, then pulled out my cell phone and checked for text messages. There was none from Eirik, which meant I couldn’t ask him for a ride. I hope he’s at practice in case I need help with my car. I texted him before calling Mom.

“Hey, sweetie.” She sounded preoccupied.

“I have swimming, but I think my front tire has a leak and—”

“I can’t leave work right now to drop you off. I’m dealing with a mini-crisis, too. Skip swimming, and we’ll take care of your car when I get home. Call Coach Fletcher and explain.”

“That’s okay. I can still drive it. It’s a slow leak and should hold until—”

“No, Raine. If you must go, hitch a ride with Eirik or Cora. I don’t want you driving with a leaking tire.”

“Cora’s gone to the football game, and Eirik is not returning my calls. I can’t miss practice, Mom. Coach has a big announcement to make, and today’s the last class before tryouts for varsity.” I’d be mortified if he knew why I’d been flaky the last several months. I still hoped no one at school knew about my father, except Cora and Eirik. “You know how he secretly uses summer club swim attendance to choose co-captains. I don’t want to be the first co-captain to be dropped after one year.”

Mom humphed, which warned me she was about to switch to Mother Bear mode. “I don’t care how he chooses captains. You’ve earned it. I’ll call him and—” There was a cracking sound in the background.

“What was that?”

“Jared dropped a mirror.” There was mumbling in the background, then silence.

“Mom?”

More mumbled words reached me before, “I’m here. About the coach—”

“Don’t call him. I’ll take care of it.”

“Are you sure?” She sounded frazzled.

“Yes.”

“Okay. I’ll try to be home early. Six-ish.”

That meant seven or eight. My parents owned Mirage, a framing and mirror store on Main Street. With Dad gone, Mom was pulling double duty and often stayed behind to clean up and get the shop ready for the next business day. I rarely saw her anymore.

I texted Coach Fletcher, in case I didn’t make it on time, then slipped behind the wheel. The tire pressure should hold. Please, let it hold.

I backed out of the driveway and reached out to shift gears when my new neighbor left his garage, pushing a Harley. Shirtless. I swallowed, drooled. His shoulders were broad and well-defined. His stomach ripped.

He glanced my way, and I quickly averted my eyes and stepped on the gas pedal. My car shot backwards instead of forward and slammed into something, jerking me forward. Panicking, I hit the brakes and looked behind me.

“Oh, crap.” Of all the mailboxes on our cul-de-sac, I just had to hit the Petersons’.

Cursing, I shifted gears, moved forward until I got off the curb, switched off the engine, and jumped out of the car. Everyone had their mailboxes imbedded in concrete, but not the Petersons. They had to go overboard and use a fancy, custom-made miniature version of their house. Now the post leaned sideways like the Tower of Pisa, with red paint from my car all over the white pole. Their mailbox was totaled, the mail scattered on the ground.

Someone called out something, but I was busy imagining Mr. Peterson’s reaction when he saw his mailbox. He was a big conspiracy theorist. The government and people were always out to get him. He’d believe I deliberately knocked down his stupid mailbox.

“That looks bad,” Blue Eyes said from behind me, startling me.

“You think?”

He chuckled. “From that snarky comment, you must be okay.”

“Peachy.”

I picked up the mail. He moved closer as he helped, bringing with him a masculine scent hard to describe. It bugged the crap out of me that I liked it. Worse, the heat from his body seemed to leap through the air and wrap around me in ways I couldn’t describe.

My mouth went dry. The instinct to put space between us came from nowhere, but I ignored it. Only cowards ran when faced with something they didn’t understand, and my parents didn’t raise one. Still, a delicious shiver shot up my spine, and a weird feeling settled in my stomach.

I waited until I was in control of my emotions before turning to face him. I tried not to stare at his masculine arms and chest. I really did, but all that tanned skin was so inviting and begging to be ogled. I’d seen countless shirtless guys before. Half the swim team spent time in tight shorts that left very little to the imagination, but their bodies were nothing like his. He must be seriously into working out. No one could be this ripped without hitting the gym daily.

“My face is up here, Freckles.”

My eyes flew to his, and heat flooded my cheeks. I rushed into speech to cover my embarrassment. “I, uh, I was just leaving to go to swim practice and… and...”

“I distracted you. Sorry about that.”

He didn’t sound sorry. “You didn’t.”

He cocked his eyebrows. “Didn’t what?”

“Distract me,” I snapped and snatched the mail in his hands. “Thanks. I was checking my text messages when I should have been paying attention to where I was going,” I fibbed.

Amusement flared in his eye, his expression saying he recognized my explanation for what it was: a lie. He had incredibly long lashes and beautiful eyes. Sapphire came to mind but…

Grinding my teeth at my weird behavior, I started toward the driver’s seat, going for that space between us before I did something stupid like reach out and touch him or continue gazing into his eyes like a lovesick dimwit.

“Aren’t you going to tell them you hit their mailbox? I mean, it’s against the law to flee a crime scene and all that.”

I glared at him. “I will talk to them when they come home from work. For now, I plan on leaving them a note. Not that it’s any of your business.” I searched inside the glove compartment for a notepad or anything to write on, but found nothing.

“I could explain to them what happened if you’d like,” he offered in a gentle voice. “You know, share the responsibility. After all, I did distract you.”

Seriously, how could someone so beautiful and tempting be so arrogant and annoying? I counted from ten to one then said slowly, “I don’t need your help.”

“Actually, you do.”

“No, I don’t.” I marched to my house, conscious of Blue Eyes watching me. Sure enough, when I looked back, just before I entered the house, his eyes were locked on me, an amused smile on his lips. What was he so happy about? And why couldn’t he just go away?

I pulled a piece of ruled paper from my folder and scribbled an apology with unsteady hands, then went to Dad’s home office for a large manila envelope. Times like this, I missed him more. My eyes welled.

I blinked hard and put everything from the Petersons’ mailbox into the large envelope before taping my note on the outside. I’d have to figure out how to pay for a new mailbox. Mom didn’t like me working at the shop ever since I broke a few mirrors last summer, and jobs were hard to come by because of the bad economy. Something would come to me once I was calmer. Right now, I just wanted to get my butt to the pool and lose myself swimming.

I paused to calm myself before leaving the house.

Blue Eyes was studying the damaged mailbox like an insurance adjuster. Why couldn’t he go bother someone else? Or at least put on a shirt?

“Excuse me.” I skirted around him and propped the manila envelope against the crooked pole.

“I can fix this before they come home,” he said.

I eyed him suspiciously. “Really? How?”

A weird expression crossed his face, but his eyes were watchful as though he couldn’t wait to see my reaction. “Magic.”

“Magic?” My hands fisted. I was in trouble, and he was messing around. “You know what? Stay away from me, Blue Eyes. Don’t talk to me or even acknowledge we know each other when our paths cross again. ”

“Blue Eyes?” he asked, eyebrows cocked.

“That’s me playing nice.”

He laughed. “Look, Freckles—”

“Don’t call me that.” I hated that nickname. It was a reminder of the hated spots on the bridge of my nose and the teasing I’d endured in elementary school. I slid behind the wheel, started the car, and took off. I was careful not to drive too fast even though I wanted to floor the gas pedal.

I could see Blue Eyes watching me as he grew smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror, until I left our cul-de-sac and turned right. My day had just gone down the toilet.

***

I was twenty minutes late for practice and still pissed off at myself for overreacting to my nosey new neighbor. So he had a hot body and an attitude? Big whoop. He was the least of my problems. I had my family to worry about, my position as co-captain to defend, and a guy I was crazy about to convince I’d make a great girlfriend.

“Did you fix your flat?” Coach Fletcher asked when I walked to the pool deck.

“I’ll take it to DC Tires after practice.” I slid in the pool and joined the thirty members of the Gold Team. Silver and Bronze swam at five.

We had eight lanes, but two were reserved for club members, which meant we shared lanes, taking turns pushing off the wall and looping each other. I didn’t see Eirik. He rarely skipped practice, so that was weird.

Following Coach Fletcher’s instructions, I finished my freestyle warm up laps while the others worked on their backstroke. I attacked the water like it was my enemy, although I wasn’t sure who I was ticked off at, me or my new neighbor. When I started studying the male swimmers and comparing their bodies to Blue Eyes, I knew I was definitely my own enemy.

“Since all of you swim for the Trojans, don’t forget we have Ultimate Frisbee tomorrow afternoon at Longmont Park. We’ll meet in the north field at four o’clock,” Coach Fletcher said at the end of practice. “I sent your parents e-mails last week, so no excuses. This is supposed to be for the team, but we’ll meet some of the new swimmers and discuss a few things. Tryouts start on the seventeenth, which is sooner than we usually start. Why, you may ask?” He grinned and paused for effect. “We’ll be hosting Jesuit High and Lake Oswego on the twenty-ninth at Walkersville’s swimming pool.”

Everyone started talking at once. Others high-fived each other. The two schools produced the best swimmers every year and often won at state championships. We’d never hosted them before.

“In the meantime,” Coach Fletcher continued, “I’ll need volunteers to work with some of the new swimmers. Any takers?”

No one raised a hand. Coach Fletcher crossed his beefy arms and studied us with piercing black eyes. He was a short, stubby man with a receding hairline, who preferred to shave all of his hair, but took extreme care with his beard and moustache. “Come on, guys. I need volunteers.”

I looked around and saw Eel’s hand shoot up. ‘Eel’ was Jessica Davenport, our senior co-captain and our swim team bad girl. Sighing, I raised mine. A few more shot up.

“Good. You’ll each work with a student the last thirty minutes of practice every day. If they need extra coaching and you want more time, let me know and I’ll okay the use of the pool after hours.”

“I have pep band practice every other Friday and won’t make it to practice,” I reminded Coach Fletcher after everyone left.

“We’ll have someone sub for you. Where’s Cora?”

“She wasn’t feeling well when I saw her after school,” I fibbed. Coach Fletcher’s expression said he didn’t believe me. I wasn’t surprised. I sucked at lying.

“Tell her to text me.”

“Sure. Did Eirik text you?”

“Yes. He explained his situation.”

I frowned. “His situation?”

Coach ignored my question and looked at his watch. “If you plan to take your car to the shop, you’d better get going.”

It was six fifteen, and DC Tires closed at seven. I didn’t bother to shower, just changed and raced to my car. The air pressure held up again, thank goodness. At the shop, while they fixed the leak, I checked my text messages and responded to Cora’s, which were funny. The game was close and could go either way, but she sounded like we’d already won. Cora had a way with words.

There were no texts or missed calls from Eirik, which was beginning to worry me. He never missed practice, and he usually answered my messages and calls. Did his absence have anything to do with the ‘situation’ Coach Fletcher had mentioned?

It was seven when I left the shop for home. I looked at my rearview mirror, convinced I’d heard the sound of a motorcycle start, but there were only cars behind me.

I entered my cul-de-sac, and the first thing I noticed was the Petersons’ mailbox. The wooden post no longer leaned sideways, and the tiny house looked normal as though I hadn’t hit it. Weird.

As soon as I parked, I hurried to the mailbox and studied it. There were no dents. No new nails hammered in. Nothing out of place. I touched the surface to see if it had been repainted. It was dry as the day Mr. Peterson had unveiled it. I pushed at it to see if it would lean sideways, but the vertical pole anchoring it to the ground was firm.

Where had my new neighbor found a replacement? The Petersons bragged about ordering the miniature mailbox house from some fancy homeowner’s website, so there was no way Blue Eyes had bought it locally. Had he used magic? Yeah. Right. There was no such thing as magic.