Crossing the line

Chapter Three

September 1986

Wyatt Conner loved red hair. He liked the way it shone in the early-morning sun, like the brightest, newest kind of penny. He liked freckles too. He found himself wanting to spend a day trying to count all of them sprinkled over one pert, slightly upturned nose.

Wyatt pressed his face to the window, stretching the seat belt.

“Stop it.” Wyatt’s sister Jules punched his arm. “You’re making it pinch me.”

Wyatt stayed where he was. “Good.”

“Daddy!” Her voice was shrill enough to make Wyatt wince. “He’s making the belt pinch me.”

“Boy, sit up straight.” His father reached around Jules and lightly smacked the back of Wyatt’s head for good measure. Then he turned back to his police radio and pushed the button on the mic. “Sorry, the twins are fighting again. Go on.”

The police radio crackled with the voice of Deputy Henry Caraway, properly distracting their father. Wyatt sent a scowl at his sister, but she just gave him a smug smile before she worked on straightening her headband and then ran her fingers through her long blonde hair.

“I hate you,” Wyatt told her matter-of-factly.

Unfazed, Jules stuck her tongue out at him.

“Dang it, lemme call ya back once the school opens up.” His father hung the microphone back on the police radio mounted on the dash. Then he turned to glare at Jules. “Ladies aren’t supposed to be letting their tongues hang out like that. What would your mama think if she just happened to be looking down from heaven? On the first day of school, don’t think she ain’t watching.”

Jules glanced up at their father with big blue eyes that shone with false innocence. “I didn’t.”

“Juliet Emma Conner. I saw you with the eyes God gave me.”

“I had something on my teeth. I’m just trying to look good for the first day of school.”

Their father frowned, his dark eyebrows scrunching together in disbelief. “You’re saying you weren’t just starting something with your brother?”

Jules blinked, still maintaining a look of perfect righteousness. “I give ya my word, Daddy.”

Wyatt snorted in disbelief. If his father fell for that, he’d put himself up for adoption.

“Well, seeing how Conners know better than to lie.” Their father leaned down, looking at Jules critically. “Lemme see your teeth. Can’t be showing up a mess for your new teacher.”

Jules beamed, showing off a sparking smile that smelled like mint toothpaste.

Wyatt thought he might lose his breakfast.

“Pretty as a penny,” their father announced as he leaned down and kissed the top of Jules’s head. “You look just like your mama in that color blue.”

Jules preened and smoothed out her new dress that she’d been anticipating wearing for the past three weeks. “Thank you.”

Wyatt rolled his eyes and looked back out the window. He stared at the kids sitting on the benches outside the building waiting for the doors to open. Most of them were the bused kids who got free breakfast. Their clothes weren’t pressed and new like Wyatt and Jules were wearing.

Speaking of pretty pennies.

He studied Tabitha McMillen, who was sitting next to that big oaf Clay Powers. She had a book in her hands, and her head was bowed as she read intently. Her long hair hung shiny and loose past her shoulders. Unlike Jules, who always wore something in her hair, Tabitha never had any fancy headbands or bows. It was just that bright, glimmering red that actually sparkled in the sunshine.

“Daddy, he’s making the belt pinch me again.”

Wyatt huffed and turned to his father. “Can’t we just go and sit with the bused kids?”

“Naw, ain’t fitting to just dump you off on the first day of school. I was gonna walk ya to class.”

“We’re in third grade now,” Wyatt said it with authority, because third grade felt like an accomplishment. It seemed so much older than second, and he was as excited to be going back to school as Jules, though maybe not the same reasons. “We’re okay.”

“We are okay,” Jules agreed very diplomatically. “We know how to get to Miss Hatly’s class, and we got all our things.”

“I guess.” He shrugged, making it obvious he was anxious to get to work. “Your grandpa has been working a long night shift. I know he’s beat.”

Wyatt opened the door, desperate to get out of the police jeep and put some distance between him and Jules. If they sat him next to her for another school year, he’d lose his mind. Why’d everyone think he wanted to spend every waking moment with his sister?

Jules pinched him when he tried to jump out. “The belt, dummy.”

“Dang it.” Wyatt struggled to get the belt undone. When he did, it snapped back, hitting Jules in the hip. “Sorry.”

Jules huffed. “No, you ain’t.”

Wyatt jumped free of his father’s reach and announced, “You’re right, I ain’t.”

“Wyatt!”

He took off, pretending not to hear the reprimand. His father had to go straight to work, and after a long shift, he’d be so darn tired he’d forget he was mad by dinner. Wyatt was free for the rest of the day. Grandpa Charlie wasn’t nearly so inclined toward Jules’s charms, and he was the one who picked them up after school.

Wyatt was finally back in school, instead of stuck spending his spare time hanging around the sheriff’s office with only Jules for company—life was good.

He made a beeline toward the bused kids, taking a moment to run a hand through his hair. He approached the benches, throwing out his chest like his father did at the station. He wasn’t real sure why, but he was pretty sure it was supposed to make people respect you.

This was a new year. He was in third grade. It was time to be bold.

He grinned at Tabitha. “Hey.”

She didn’t seem to notice him, and Wyatt got the distinct impression it was Clay Powers’s cough under his breath that sounded distinctly like piglet that had her glancing up from her book. When she did, her brown eyes grew wide in shock.

“Yes?”

Wyatt was fighting down the urge to punch Clay, so his voice was tense as he tilted his head to the bench. “Y’all don’t mind if I sit there, do ya?”

“Oh.” Tabitha looked at the bench between her and Clay, where her worn-out backpack rested. “’Suppose not.”

Clay brushed away his bangs that were so long they covered his eyes, and then gave her a look of horror. “No way.”

Wyatt arched a challenging eyebrow at Clay. “It speaks. Next it’ll get a haircut. Your hair’s as long as my sister’s, Powers.”

“Fuck you, piglet,” Clay said in slow, concise words. “Seat’s taken.”

Wyatt took a threatening step toward him.

“Here,” Tabitha said quickly as she grabbed her bag and threw it on the ground and then scooted up next to Clay, making room at the end of the bench. “Room right there.”

It wasn’t ideal, but it would work. He sat next to Tabitha, flashing her a smile. “So what’d you do for summer?”

Tabitha looked over at him uncertainly. “Nothing.”

“That’s cool.” Wyatt nodded, doing his level best to pretend Clay Powers didn’t exist, and he wasn’t seeing Tabitha practically crawling on top of him to keep her distance. “Well, I got my purple belt last month. The folks at the rec center say they ain’t never seen a guy as young as me get it. I reckon I’ll have my black belt before sixth grade.” He glanced back at her, looking for recognition on something he considered a big accomplishment. Tabitha just stared at him blankly, making Wyatt feel like he was speaking Japanese. “In karate,” he clarified. “Like Bruce Lee. I’ll be as good as him.”

“Oh.” Tabitha gave him a half smile of encouragement. “Great.”

Wyatt grinned, thinking he was doing an excellent job of impressing her. He was just about to tell her about peewee football season starting up when a shadow was cast over his good morning.

“You forgot your bag.” Jules made a point to drop his bag, causing his lunch box to make a reverberating clash when it hit the ground. “And it ain’t like you’re the only one to move up. I got my purple belt this summer too.”

“Yeah, after I got it,” Wyatt reminded her. “I was first.”

Jules huffed, looking unimpressed. “By an hour. Big deal.”

“Jules!” A group of girls squealed from other end of the bench. They jumped up, waving for her because everyone seemed to want to be Jules’s friend. “Come sit with us.”

“Hey, y’all.” Jules waved back, smiling enthusiastically as she left Wyatt without a backward glance.

Wyatt scratched at the back of his neck as Jules walked off. “I’m pretty sure our sensei goes easy on her ’cause she’s a girl.”

Wyatt turned back when he didn’t get a response, finding that Tabitha was reading again and Clay was casting him long, angry glares, making it obvious he was very unwelcome. Wyatt grabbed his backpack to cover the silence. His lunch box had opened when Jules dropped it, and he made quiet work of putting everything back in. He liked lunch. It was his favorite part of the school day.

He glanced up when he sensed Tabitha looking at him. He followed her line of sight, seeing that she was eyeing the cookies in his hand. Thinking quick, he offered them to her. “You want ’em?”

“Really?” Tabitha’s eyes widened. She turned to Clay, and the two of them had a strange sort of silent exchange, because his eyes were wide too. Then she turned back to Wyatt. “Ain’t ya gonna miss ’em?”

Wyatt shrugged. “Naw.”

“But I ain’t got anything to trade, and—”

Wyatt frowned when Clay cut her off by kicking her foot. He was just about to say something when Tabitha snatched the small stack of cookies wrapped in cellophane out of his hand.

“Thank you.” She held them close to her chest, sort of reminding Wyatt of the way Jules used to hold her baby dolls when she was younger.

Weird.

“Wyatt!”

He turned to see Greg and Doug Hart walk up with identical smiles of excitement and matching new haircuts. The only way someone could tell them apart was Greg always wore blue, whereas Doug had to own at least thirty green shirts. Wyatt thought their mother did that on purpose, but he didn’t ask or make fun like the other kids. He was hypersensitive to twin things and felt sort of fortunate there was another set in their grade, even if they were always in the other class. Wyatt supposed one set of twins per classroom was enough.

“Hey.” He jumped up off the bench and stepped between the brothers, bumping his shoulders into both of them out of habit since they were on the same football team. “Did y’all start busing?”

“Naw, our mom’s working here this year.” Greg sounded miserable. “So we got to come in early now.”

“Teacher’s aid,” Doug added, looking equally unhappy.

Wyatt grimaced.

“She said she’d talk to your dad ’bout giving you rides to practice.” Greg shrugged. “She’s gonna talk to Tommy’s mom too.”

Wyatt gave them a wide smile. Mrs. Hart was one of the better carpoolers. She had this great idea that kids needed to eat before sports. She always brought them snacks or took them out for burgers before practice.

“Cool.”

“Now we don’t got to worry over your grandpa arresting us for making too much noise.”

Wyatt shoved Greg playfully, thrilled when he fell, but then Doug hit Wyatt from behind, making him lose his balance. Wyatt’s knee cracked hard against the cement, but he ignored the stab of pain and glanced back at Tabitha to see if she’d seen him fall. She was back to reading her book, but she still cradled the cookies, as if afraid to put them down.

“Y’all settle down over there,” Mrs. Govely called from her spot by the door as they waited for the door to open. “Don’t think I don’t see you three. Wyatt Conner, you know better! What would your granddad think?”

Wyatt and Greg got to their feet and headed back to the benches with Doug. There weren’t enough seats for the three of them, so Wyatt stood against the wall with the Hart twins. He made sure to retaliate and shove Doug the second Mrs. Govely turned her head, and he couldn’t care less that Tabitha missed him do it. He didn’t need the attention right then, not when he’d learned something very important this morning about the girl he’d been fascinated with since kindergarten.

Tabitha McMillen liked cookies…a lot.

Chapter Four

Tabitha waited for three hours after her first day of third grade, making sure her brother was gone before she slipped quietly into the kitchen. She opened the fridge, but her shoulders slumped when she found it nearly empty. Brett had eaten the last of the pizza from the weekend when their uncle Ned had gotten paid and was feeling charitable.

The pizza was a long shot, and Tabitha hadn’t had much hope Brett saved her a piece. She didn’t waste time being disappointed. She grabbed a carton of milk and opened it, sniffing it hesitantly. She jerked back from the scent and took it to the sink that was stacked with dishes. She found a small spot in the corner to dump it out, then put the carton on top of the garbage can that was full.

She went back on her search. There was a block of cheese. The edges were hard and cracked, but if she cut those pieces off, it should be good. There wasn’t anything green on it. That was it for the fridge, so she went to the cabinet next, searching for something and coming up with some boxed pasta mixes. One she needed meat for; the other she needed milk and butter.

She studied them intently, her young mind working to decide what she could use to make it better. She went back to the fridge and grabbed a bottle of ketchup; then she worked on quickly putting everything into her book bag.

She glanced at her mom as she walked to the front door. She was sitting on the couch, drinking something straight out of the bottle with one hand, and holding a cigarette in the other as she watched a late-afternoon game show.

“I’m leaving, Mama.”

“Don’t be out all night. Ain’t school starting next week?”

Tabitha paused with her hand on the doorknob. She opened her mouth, wondering if she should mention it had already started, but then she decided against it. When her mom’s words were that slurred, it was a sure bet she wasn’t going to remember anything Tabitha told her anyway.

She just slipped out the door with a final good-bye and then glanced down the driveway nervously. She was hoping Brett’s bike was gone, but instead he worked on it in the corner of the yard, trying to fix a rusted chain that had slipped off the track.

Brett lifted his head from his work on the bike and narrowed his eyes at her. “Whatcha hiding in the bag, runt?”

“Nothing,” Tabitha said a little too quickly. “I’m going to Clay’s.”

She was hoping that’d deter him. Clay might be two years younger than him, but he was a big eight-year-old. Even the sixth graders were sort of nervous around him, like they knew something about Clay Powers that Tabitha didn’t.

“Why do ya hang round that trash? Makes us look bad.”

Tabitha shrugged as she walked down the steps, willing herself invisible to her older brother as she did it.

“Not so fast.”

Tabitha heard the warning in his voice, and she took off running on instinct. She was halfway down the yard before he tackled her. It knocked all the air out of her lungs, and a wild panic seized her when she realized she couldn’t breathe. Tears sprang to her eyes, and a silent scream lodged in her chest while she fought for air.

Brett pulled her backpack off her shoulders and undid the zipper while Tabitha flailed under him. “What the fuck are ya gonna do with Hamburger Helper, runt? You know ya got to cook it, right?”

Tabitha answered him by letting out a scream she couldn’t keep in when she finally got enough air to make sound. Tears were streaming down her face. She felt like she was dying. Brett knocked her down all the time, but this scared her.

She couldn’t breathe.

“Stop it!” He shoved her face into the dirt. “You keep wailing like that, and that stupid Mrs. Harris at the trailer park will call the sheriff again.”

Tabitha struggled to keep her crying silent. She fell limp under him as little choked sobs burst out of her. She wasn’t doing a very good job of keeping it in.

“Fine.” He threw the bag on the ground. “Go eat your crunchy pasta. Brat.”

Tabitha could breathe a little easier once Brett got off, but even after he left, she lay on the ground trying to relearn the smooth, easy rhythm of breathing. It came back faster than she anticipated, and she stopped crying. She scrambled to her feet, grabbed her backpack, and didn’t even bother brushing off the dirt on her face and clothes.

She ran down the driveway without looking back. She could have cut through the back to get to the trailer park faster, but that would mean she’d have to walk past Brett. No way was that happening, so she walked along the road, watching for cars and working on cleaning herself up.

Both her knees were bleeding, and when she wiped at her forehead to get the dirt off her face, she found it sticky with blood too. The tears made everything so much worse. She needed a shower, but she didn’t want to go back for one. Maybe she’d just sleep at Clay’s and go home in the morning to get ready before the bus came.

Tabitha hefted her bag up on her shoulder once she got to the trailer park. Everything in her was tense and waiting to be attacked. What if Brett followed her? What if Vaughn was hanging around? As bad as her brother was, his best friend was twenty times worse.

The coast was clear, and Tabitha breathed a huge sigh of relief as she bounced up the steps to Clay’s trailer and knocked on the metal door. She was so happy to have avoided Vaughn or any more trouble, she temporarily forgot her injuries, but Clay noticed the second he opened the door.

“What the heck happened to you?” His dark eyes were wide in concern. “Brett?”

“Yup,” Tabitha confirmed as she walked past Clay. “Hi, Mrs. Powers.”

“Ya know she can’t hear you.”

Tabitha let her gaze dart to the couch, where Clay’s mother was sprawled out and sleeping. She tried not to look at all the needles and pill bottles on the table. She could hear the bitterness in Clay’s voice, and she turned around to see his glare of contempt at his mother.

“I hate food stamp days,” he grumbled. “First thing she does is sell ’em and buy all this shit.”

“Yeah.” Tabitha sighed, because her mother did it too, started selling the food stamps to someone at a discount and used the money to buy the booze she really liked. Even if they bought different stuff, the end result was same. “I hate ’em too, but at least we got cookies.”

Clay turned to her, and a small bit of hope shone in his eyes as a smile tugged at his lips. “True.”

“Can I use your bathroom?”

“Sure.”

Clay followed her in there, and he didn’t offer anything over the state of her clothes. He just handed her a towel while she worked at trying to get all the dirt and blood off. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen her beaten up because of Brett.

“Maybe you ought to have the piglet kick his ass for you?”

Tabitha was working on dabbing one of her sore knees and looked up at Clay expectantly. “Huh?”

“Brett,” Clay clarified as he gave her another gap-toothed grin. “Have the piglet beat him up since he’s such an awesome ninja.”

Tabitha giggled and went back to dabbing her knees. “Wyatt Conner ain’t that bad. I think it hurts his feelings when you call him piglet.”

“That’s what he is,” Clay said as if that made it perfectly acceptable. “A little pig that’s gonna grow up into a big, mean one just as bad as his granddaddy.”

“Sheriff Conner ain’t mean,” Tabitha argued. “Just nosy.”

Clay rolled his eyes, clearly unconvinced. Then he studied one of her knees that didn’t want to stop bleeding. “Next time I’ll walk with you.”

“S’okay.” Tabitha looked up and smiled. “Can’t be there all the time, and here is so much better to make stuff. No Brett to steal our food.”

“I’d have beaten him up for ya.”

“He’s in fifth grade now,” Tabitha reminded him. “Him and Vaughn would kick your butt for even thinking of trying it.”

“I ain’t scared of Vaughn,” Clay said with a dark, malicious glare. “Or Brett.”

“Yeah, you’re dumb like that.”

Clay laughed at the insult. “So what’d ya bring?”

Tabitha abandoned her work on her knees and turned to her book bag. She pulled out the box of Hamburger Helper and looked at the back again. “I think I can cook it. Just need water.”

“Ain’t ya supposed to use meat with it?”

“I was thinking we could mix ketchup with the sauce powder stuff and put that on top. Sort of like pretend meat.”

“That ain’t nothing like meat.”

Tabitha looked up hesitantly. “I got cheese, but it’s sort of rotten-looking.”

Clay considered her quietly for one long moment and then took the box out of her hands. “You still got the cookies?”

Tabitha grinned. “Yeah, he didn’t find ’em. I had ’em in a side pocket.”

“Then let’s make ketchup pasta,” Clay agreed, “and have cookies for dessert.”

Chapter Five

“I need lots of cookies.” Wyatt jumped on the counter, then kicked his feet back against the cabinet as he watched his grandpa pack his and Jules’s lunches for the next day. “Like twice as much as yesterday.”

Grandpa Charlie sent him a sideways look as he worked on putting peanut butter on bread. “Boy, what aren’t ya telling me?”

“Nothing.” Wyatt shrugged. “I like cookies.”

“Someone stealing your cookies? I know it ain’t always easy being a Conner. I’m an old sheriff, but I remember. You getting picked on?”

Wyatt gave him a look. “I got a purple belt, Grandpa.”

“He gave his cookies to Tabitha McMillen,” Jules announced as she sat at the table in her nightgown, reading something, probably for extra credit even though school just started because she was annoying like that. “Sara told Marcy at recess that she saw him hand over the whole stack.”

Wyatt really wished he were one of those guys like Clay Powers who had no problem cussing and flipping people off, because he’d surely like to say something colorful to his sister.

“Ah.” Grandpa Charlie sent him another sly look. This time a smile tugged at his lips. “You sweet on that little McMillen girl?”

“No,” Wyatt said quickly. “She just looked really happy to get the dang cookies.”

“Mmm-hmm,” Grandpa hummed in disbelief.

“I ain’t lying.” Wyatt threw his hand down defensively. “You’d think a couple of crumbly cookies were the greatest thing in the world with the way she was holding on to ’em. It was like Jules with a new doll.”

“I don’t play with dolls anymore.”

“She’s the liar.” Wyatt pointed at his sister accusingly, because they both knew she still played with them. “She told dad she was trying to get gunk off her teeth when he caught her sticking her tongue out at me, and he believed it.”

Grandpa Charlie laughed, which annoyed Wyatt. Jules got away with everything, but if he slouched, it was a smack on the head and a reminder that Conners don’t do things like that. It was like the world expected him to be perfect.

He hopped off the counter and was two steps from storming out of the room, when Grandpa Charlie’s big hand wrapped around Wyatt’s wrist, stopping him in his tracks.

“I didn’t call ya a liar.”

“Yeah, you did. You don’t believe me about the cookies. You’re always saying I’m supposed to look out for people smaller than me, and when I do, you—”

“I’ll pack the cookies. Two sets, one for you and one for your girlfriend.”

Wyatt growled, and Grandpa Charlie laughed again.

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

In a lightning-fast move, Wyatt twisted his arm, forcing his wrist against his grandpa’s thumb, using a common self-defense technique to break his hold. He dashed out of the kitchen. He was almost to the stairs when he got caught a second time. This time his grandpa wrapped both arms around his waist and hauled Wyatt off his feet while he fought tooth and nail.

But his grandpa was still laughing, which made Wyatt laugh. He let his guard down enough that he ended up tossed over his grandpa’s shoulder while he wheezed from laughing so hard.

“Boy, you keep taking life so serious, you’re gonna end up as grouchy as your daddy.”

Not to be left out of the game, Jules came barreling in from kitchen. “Don’t pick on my daddy!”

Even upside down Wyatt could see Jules’s hair flying behind her as she launched herself at their grandfather. She wrapped both her arms around his legs and threw her shoulder into an impressive tackle.

Grandpa Charlie went down like a ton of bricks, but Wyatt knew he was faking it, because neither Wyatt nor Jules ended up hurt. He pushed Wyatt off him and grabbed for Jules, who let out a squeal and tried to escape.

“You don’t like me picking on your daddy, huh?” He wrapped an arm around her middle, hauling Jules to her feet. “What’re you gonna do ’bout it?”

Jules curled herself into a ball, making herself at least twice as heavy, but she was nothing under Grandpa Charlie’s strength. He tossed her over his shoulder the same as he’d done with Wyatt, while she kicked and made those same high-pitched screeches of hilarity that could only come from a girl.

“Did you really tell your daddy you were trying to get gunk off your teeth?”

“Yes,” Jules confessed in a peal of giggles. “But it was the truth.”

“Girl, you might as well be a lawyer instead of a cop, ’cause I ain’t heard someone spin a tale like you can. What bullshit. You got your daddy totally hosed.”

“Dad, come on. Don’t be teaching ’em to swear.”

“Ah, hell, Freddy, a little swearing don’t hurt no one. You got to lighten up.”

“He’s a grouch,” Wyatt added bravely, looking boldly at his father when he stepped off the bottom step freshly showered and dressed casually in jeans and a T-shirt. “Everyone knows it.”

His father narrowed his eyes. “Who you calling a grouch, boy?”

Wyatt tried to mimic his icy stare, but he cracked and started laughing. “I’m calling you one.”

He saw his father move, and he turned to run, but he wasn’t fast enough. His father actually dived for Wyatt, like the former linebacker he was. When his father caught his ankle, Wyatt hit the floor with a thump, but he was laughing so hard he didn’t feel it.

Then Wyatt found himself completely upside down, being held by his ankles while all the blood rushed to his head and his flannel nightshirt completely covered his eyes.

“What was that you were saying?” his father asked, now laughing as hard as the rest of them.

“Freddy, that boy just ate. He’s gonna end up puking on your shoes.”

Wyatt’s shoulders shook with mirth, but he managed to choke out, “T-that ain’t a l-lie.”

“Do it!” Jules said encouragingly from somewhere.

“Pass, ’cause y’all know I’m the one who is gonna be cleaning it. Grandpa doesn’t do puke.”

His father put him back on the ground, and Wyatt lay on his back, laughing for a long time. Then he rolled back and sprang to his feet in a move he thought was extremely impressive if he did say so himself.

“Boy, you are the biggest show-off I ever did see,” his father confirmed. “I surely don’t know where you got all that ego from, ’cause it ain’t from me, and your mama was humble as can be.”

“That’d be me,” Grandpa Charlie said proudly. “I was all cock and balls when I was a kid and a lot longer after that if we’re being honest.”

“Christ, Dad. Sometimes I just give up.” Their father patted Wyatt on the shoulder. “Time for bed. You got school tomorrow.”

“Ah, man.”

“Come on.” His father leaned down, letting Wyatt hop on his back. Which he did without hesitation. He stood with Wyatt on his back and walked toward the stairs. “We got to let Grandpa get ready for work anyway.”

“I ain’t finished with their lunches,” Grandpa Charlie said, and Wyatt turned to see him carrying Jules on his back up the stairs behind them.

“I got it.” His father stopped on the top step and waited for Grandpa and Jules to make it up behind them. Then he leaned in and kissed Jules’s cheek. “Night, princess.”

Jules beamed. “Night, Daddy.”

“I heard you defending me. You know how to take down the bad guys. That’s my girl.” Wyatt could see their father’s smile even from behind; that’s how big it was. “I love you, baby.”

“Night, Grandpa,” Wyatt said as he rolled his eyes behind his father’s back at the two of them, knowing he’d get the joke. Jules really did have their dad hosed. “See you after school tomorrow.”

“Yeah, you go have sweet dreams ’bout that McMillen girl.”

“Tabitha,” Jules offered helpfully.

His father craned his neck, a frown marring his forehead. “What’s this?”

“Nothing.” Wyatt gave his grandpa a look of pleading.

“Don’t sound like nothing.”

“I got a town to sheriff,” Grandpa Charlie complained, properly distracting him. “Now are you gonna help me put these twins in bed or what?”

“I guess.”

Wyatt did the usual “brushing his teeth and getting ready for bed” routine. He had his own bathroom, thank God, so it didn’t take him long to get it all done and hop into bed. His dad was still in his room, picking up his discarded football uniform and then tucking it under his arm to be washed.

“You got karate after football tomorrow. Where’s your gi?”

“Hanging up.” Wyatt yawned and stretched out under the covers. “I washed it myself.”

His father paused in picking up and turned to look at him in concern. “You did?”

“Jules helped me.”

“She did?” This didn’t seem to offer any comfort.

“We wanted to make sure our new belts were clean.”

He turned to go to the closet and groaned out loud. “Ah, heck, Wy. You dyed it purple. Is Jules’s purple too?”

Wyatt shrugged, not sure what the right answer was. Jules’s gi might have been a little purplish, but he wasn’t going to be the one to break the news now that he found out it was an issue.

“What the hell. Ain’t worth crying over.” His father pulled it out of the closet and tucked it under his arm with the football uniform. “I guess that’s what bleach is for.”

“I thought you weren’t supposed to swear,” Wyatt mused, hoping to take the heat off himself. “You’re always saying—”

“With Grandpa Charlie around, I reckon I already lost that battle.” He grinned and leaned down to kiss Wyatt on the head. “Have nice dreams.”

Wyatt yawned again. “You too.”

“Love you.” He ruffled Wyatt’s hair.

Wyatt rolled over in bed and tucked his hand under the pillow. “Love you too.”

Chapter Six

Late November 1986

Tabitha didn’t care what Clay said; Wyatt Conner was a nice kid.

He gave them cookies every single school day clear into the start of winter. Well, he gave Tabitha cookies, and she shared them with Clay, but it didn’t make much of a difference. The fact was even on the nights when they couldn’t find anything to hold them over until breakfast at school the next morning, they still had cookies, and she’d been diligent at hiding them from Brett.

“We won our last game.”

Tabitha turned and gave Wyatt an encouraging smile. “Congratulations.”

“You could come to one next week if you wanted. It’s a home game. Just over at Garnet Park. They have a guy who sells hotdogs and sodas. It’s pretty fun. Jules goes, and lots of other girls go too. We even have cheerleaders.”

“I don’t have a ride.” Tabitha gave him an apologetic smile. “And my bike’s broke.”

“Oh.” Wyatt looked crestfallen for about two seconds before he turned to her and said, “My grandpa could pick ya up.”

Clay snorted, but Tabitha did a better job at hiding how ridiculous that suggestion was. “I don’t think my mama would like that.”

“We don’t ride with cops, piglet,” Clay clarified in case Wyatt missed the point.

Wyatt frowned and for once didn’t have a response.

“I’m sorry,” Tabitha whispered softly, hoping Clay didn’t hear her as she admitted, “I wish I could go. Sounds like fun.”

“It is fun.” Wyatt perked up a little. “Tommy’s a good quarterback, but ya know a quarterback’s only as good as the defense backing him up. That’s what the coach says, and I’m a darn good linebacker, just like my dad.”

“I don’t know what a linebacker does,” Tabitha admitted with a wince.

“Oh yeah, lemme tell you. See, a linebacker—”

Clay cut him off with a long groan. “Even cookies ain’t gonna be worth this. He’ll never stop yammering.”

“I like his yammering,” Tabitha said defensively before she turned back to Wyatt. “Are the linebackers the ones who throw the ball?”

“No, that’s the quarterback. Linebackers are the fellas that protect the quarterbacks. That’s what I am—a protector. No one touches Tommy if I’m on the field.”

Tabitha smiled. “Like a hero.”

“Or a cop.” Wyatt shrugged and returned her smile, his cheeks suspiciously pink, but it was cold out. “But a hero too—I guess.”

“That’s neat.” Tabitha hugged herself tighter. The wind was blowing, and her sweater wasn’t keeping out the cold like it did a month ago. She found Wyatt’s talking a nice distraction. “You can tell me more if ya want to.”

Wyatt frowned. “Where’s your coat?”

Tabitha winced. Her coat was so old it was ripped in a lot of places. It was way too small, and she hated wearing it. “It’s old. The other girls’ll make fun of me for it.”

“Then ya tell ’em to fuck off,” Clay offered helpfully. “If it keeps ya warm, who gives a shit?”

Tabitha did, but she tried not to admit it out loud. Sometimes those thoughts just slipped out. Her mama would go insane if she found out Tabitha admitted to Wyatt Conner that her jacket was too old.

“Jules ain’t making fun of you, is she?”

Tabitha lifted her head to see Wyatt’s look of concern. “No, your sister’s fine. Ain’t nothing wrong with her.”

“How come you don’t talk to her? All the other girls do.”

Wyatt’s sister Jules was too pretty. Too good at sports. Too perfect in every single way. She made Tabitha feel very uncomfortable, but she had never been mean to her.

“I could have my dad buy you a new coat,” Wyatt offered before Tabitha had to answer. “He buys them for Jules all the time.”

“Please don’t tell your dad what I said.” Tabitha’s heart dropped. The surge of fear made her forget about being cold. “Not your granddaddy neither. If they think I ain’t got a coat, they’ll send the state out.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

Tabitha knew Wyatt had no idea why that would be a terrible thing for her family, and just begged, “Promise me.”

“Okay,” Wyatt said, sounding a little unsure about the commitment. “I promise.”

Tabitha wasn’t sure why she did it, but she leaned forward and kissed Wyatt’s cheek quickly. “Thank you.”

She looked around, hoping no one saw. The doors had opened, and everyone was heading in. Tabitha let out a sigh of relief, knowing no one had seen but Clay, who had a disgusted look on his face. He pulled her over to him, his hand tight around her arm.

“Have you lost your dang mind?” he murmured into her ear. “You just kissed the piglet.”

“He gives us cookies,” Tabitha said in a defensive whisper.

“I don’t like you, Powers,” Wyatt suddenly growled, reminding them both he was still there. “You ain’t the boss of her.”

Clay responded by flipping Wyatt off and then standing up to walk to the doors. Tabitha sat next to Wyatt quietly for a few seconds, feeling embarrassed and awkward. Then she hopped up and followed after Clay.

The thing about Clay Powers was, he had a reason to be mean. Tabitha understood it even if none of the other kids did. He didn’t have uncles who would buy pizza sometimes like Tabitha did. Her mom had a lot of sober moments. If it lasted long enough, she’d clean the house when she started to get paranoid about the state coming over. Sometimes she bought food and stocked the pantry.

Clay didn’t have that. His mother never got paranoid about the state. She just didn’t care anymore. One night, when Sheriff Conner showed up at the trailer park, Clay flushed all her drugs down the toilet and woke her up and managed to make things look almost normal before the sheriff knocked on their door.

His mama didn’t go to jail, but when the guy who was staying with them found out Clay flushed all their drugs away, he beat Clay so bad he had to miss a full week of school. So all things considered, Tabitha thought Clay was pretty darn nice. He wasn’t cruel like Brett or his friend Vaughn, who’d beat her every day for the cookies Wyatt had been giving her if they found out about it. Mean was the wrong word for Clay; he was just shy in a growly sort of way.

Clay’s last report card said he had socialization issues.

He asked Tabitha what that meant, since she was the only one who read the darn thing for him. She wasn’t real sure, but she thought it meant Clay had a hard time making friends.

To which Clay had mused, “I guess you don’t count.”

And Tabitha had laughed. “Probably not.”

It was really too bad Clay hated Wyatt so much, because Tabitha was starting to think she had socialization issues too, and she found herself considering the idea of trying to be Wyatt’s friend. She sort of liked the way he talked all the time and filled in the empty space left by her shyness.

Plus, he did neat things like karate.

He was like a safer Jules Conner, who was easily the most popular girl in the class. Around Wyatt she didn’t feel ugly in her old clothes, with her red hair and freckles and all the things that made her a runt. Jules Conner was so tall she stood at the back of the class with the boys when they took their class picture. Tabitha was always in the front row holding the sign.

“Tabitha, did you hear me?”

Tabitha turned from looking out the window, snapping her attention to the front of the class. “I’m sorry, ma’am.”

“Do you know whose birthdays we celebrate on Presidents’ Day?”

“George Washington?” she guessed.

Mrs. Hatly arched an eyebrow. “And?”

“Thomas Jefferson?”

“No.” Mrs. Hatly pointed to the open book in front of Tabitha. “If you were reading your social studies, you would’ve known it was Abraham Lincoln.”

The class laughed. Tabitha’s cheeks burned, and she sank down lower in her seat as she focused her attention back on the book.

“I didn’t know it either.”

Tabitha turned around, seeing Wyatt lean against his desk to make her hear him from two seats over and one back. She smiled.

“Mr. Conner, do you have something you’d like to add?”

He shook his head, looking undisturbed by the attention. “Not really.”

The teacher might have said more if the door to the classroom hadn’t opened. The principal came in, with her eyes bloodshot and watery. Everyone in the classroom just looked at her as she walked over to Mrs. Hatly and said something under her breath the rest of them couldn’t hear.

Mrs. Hatly cupped a hand to her mouth. “Oh no!”

She didn’t say more. The principal nudged her and then cleared her throat. “Wyatt and Jules. Gather your belongings for the day. Your father is here to take you home.”

“Why?” Wyatt’s voice cut across the silent room, and Tabitha turned around to see his gaze darting from Jules to the teachers standing at the front of the room looking horror struck. “What happened?”

“Grab your things, Wyatt,” she said a little more firmly, but the command lacked authority, as if she really wanted to hug Wyatt instead of reprimand him.

Wyatt and Jules collected their school bags and books. Tabitha saw that Jules was already crying, and she ran out the door first, leaving it wide open for the entire class to see. She stopped when her father stepped away from the wall, and there must have been something in the look on his face, in the slump of his shoulders as he stood there in his tan deputy’s uniform.

Jules let out an ear-piercing scream that Tabitha knew right then would haunt her for the rest of her life, especially when Tabitha turned around and saw the look on Wyatt’s face. He wasn’t crying. He wasn’t screaming, but it was as if Jules was verbalizing what he didn’t know how to express.

In that moment, Wyatt and Jules Conners’s perfect life tarnished in her eyes. How could they know without words what had happened unless there was an undercurrent of fear already? Maybe being in the sheriff’s family wasn’t as easy as Tabitha and Clay thought it was.

“Where is he?” Jules’s wail echoed in the halls. “Where’s my grandpa? I want my grandpa!”

“Come on, baby. Where’s Wy?” Big Fred Conner scooped her up, making tall and perfect Jules look small and broken as she wrapped her arms around him and started sobbing onto his shoulder. “We’re gonna go home and do this.”

When Wyatt walked out of the room, his father reached out and grabbed his wrist, pulling him to his side. Then he draped a big arm around Wyatt’s shoulders and turned to walk back down the hallway with his children.

Jules’s cries bounced off the walls until they left the building, but there were no apologies. No explanations.

Death was their companion, looming around the corner like a dark threat they understood more than the rest of them. It took years for Tabitha to figure out that most people get there eventually. They realize that life is fragile, that death is inevitable, but for Jules and Wyatt Conner, it’d been there from the very beginning. There was something so sad and terrible about it. Tabitha realized she’d rather go hungry every night than know by just a look that someone she loved was gone forever, as if expecting it all along.