Page 54

I nod.

She mirrors my nod, only hers is weighted with doctorly vindication. “Do you have any questions about what we talked about?”

I shake my head. She scribbles a prescription and hands it to me with a pamphlet.

I take it like it might infect me with a disease.

“Will there be anything else today?”

“No.” I hurry to take this escape and rush to the door. Mom chit-chats before taking her leave.

I’m already waiting outside the clinic beside the car when she exits, the prescription and pamphlet hidden behind my folded arms.

“All right.” Mom unlocks the car with a beep. “To the pharmacy we go.”

Will this day ever end?

23

UNLIKELY RESCUE

JULY 2008 – 16 YEARS OLD

“What are you going to do for your seventeenth birthday?” Shyanne flips a cooler open to look inside, like it might be different than the three others she’s flipped open.

“I don’t know.” I look to Andy where she sits on a display table, swinging her legs. “Pedicures, again?”

“You’re turning seventeen!” Shyanne cries. “We have to do something else. Something fun.”

“But what?”

“I don’t know.” She lets the lid of the cooler fall closed before lifting a thermos from the shelf. “This thing is huge. Who needs this much coffee?”

Neither me nor Andy answer her.

Holt is gone for two weeks at a hockey camp in Vancouver. His coach signed him up last year because he thinks he’s going to go big, and he said scouts sometimes watch these camps. Apparently, it’s prestigious. I should hope it is, because I heard Herman Wilder complain about the cost of it to Dad as they shared beers on the front porch after the hard task of mowing their lawns. Not to mention, Rubble Ridge is too small of a town to bother keeping ice in the summer. For that, you’ve gotta travel to the bigger cities.

Since Holt has his sights set on playing for the Vancouver Vikings, hockey camp in Vancouver just makes sense.

Before moving to Rubble Ridge, I’d had no idea how much hockey there was in the summer. It’s a thing. Who’d have thought?

The bell on the door chimes as it opens, and I see Dad rushing in. He’s carrying the big thermos Shyanne just looked at, and I bite back a laugh as her eyes widen.

“Sorry I’m late, girls.” Dad moves behind the counter to dump his arm full of belongings. “Thanks for staying, but I’ve got the fort now.”

“No problem, Mr. Foster.” Andy slides off the table. “We don’t mind hanging out here.”

“Totally.” Shyanne places the hot dog stick back on its rack. She’s like a toddler in a store. She has to touch everything.

I grab my bag from behind the counter, sliding it onto my shoulder. Before the girls arrived to pick me up, I’d been reading the latest vampire romance book. I’m addicted.

“Oh, Faye,” Dad calls, looking a little flushed. “I set up the tent in the back yard for you girls and your mom bought all the snacks.”

“Thanks Dad.” I smile, because now I know he was late because he was setting up the tent for me.

Micha cracks another Smirnoff Ice and hands it to me before he slings his arm around Andy’s shoulders. Fire crackles and pops and a group cheers from somewhere farther away. Shyanne folds her arms and glares toward the noise.

She’s wearing her bitch face. The one I now know is a mask for her pain.