The Boy in the Woods (2014 Wattys Winner, Wattpad Version)

Chapter 18 - It's Not For Me To Say

"Why me?" Marty spat, immediately suspicious. There was a flicker in Dwyer's blue eyes, but his face remained impassive.

"Your brother was a hard worker," he began, and Marty snorted, unwilling to believe it. He'd never heard an adult say anything good about either one of his brothers. Both of them were worthless. "And I'm willing to give you a shot if you're interested," Dwyer finished, ignoring Marty's reaction.

Marty didn't trust him. There had to be another reason why he was offering him a job, but as he looked in the old man's intense blue eyes, there was something about them that reminded him of the way Jess looked at him, a genuineness. A few of his teachers had started to look at him that way too. But could he really take a chance when he didn't know him? And then he realized it didn't matter if he trusted him or not.

"I ain't got a bike," he muttered.

The disappointment on Dwyer's face confirmed that without a bike, there was no job, and Marty turned away. Walking down the sidewalk, he shoved his hands in the pockets of his cloth coat, suddenly feeling terrible. If it hadn't been a trick, that job would've solved a lot of problems. But why should he be surprised it didn't pan out. His luck had always been shitty.

"Marty, wait!" Why wouldn't Dwyer leave him alone, he wondered angrily, and lowered his head further as he kept walking. "I think I have a solution!"

He walked a few more feet and then stopped. Don't do it, a voice inside him said. Keep going. Instead, he slowly turned around. The uncertainty on Dwyer's face let him know he should have listened to his instincts.

"I don't know," Dwyer said more to himself. "Maybe it'll work. Come with me," he said more loudly, and turned, heading back to the drug store without waiting to see if Marty was following.

Marty watched him, feeling angry with himself. What was he doing just standing there like an idiot? Now was the time to move on and knock on some more doors before any more of the day was wasted. But curiosity was nagging at him. What was his supposed stupid solution? Dwyer walked past the drug store entrance and disappeared down an alley. Marty took a few deep breaths as he looked around, fighting with himself. Then he dropped his head and headed for the alley.

By time he reached the back of the drug store, Dwyer was in front of an old wooden garage pushing open the large wooden door. It creaked as it rolled across its track, revealing cardboard boxes, old furniture, and Christmas displays stacked haphazardly and nearly reaching the ceiling. Then Dwyer walked in, poking around as he disappeared into the mess.

This is stupid, Marty thought as he heard Dwyer rummaging around. He should just leave.

"Here it is!" Dwyer called out from the back of the garage, and then the top of his head became visible as he wove his way through the junk. When he came into view, he was pushing an ancient bike.

"Well? What do you think?" he asked, pressing on the kickstand with his foot. Marty scowled at the bike. It was covered in so much dust, the black frame appeared grey, and the tires were completely flat, the rubber cracked in places.

"I don't think so," Marty said firmly, shaking his head.

"It needs some work, of course, but once it's been fixed up you could use it." Dwyer clearly wasn't getting it.

"I ain't taking your bike," he stated firmly. He'd never taken hand outs, and he wasn't about to start now. Dwyer's eyes held his for a long moment.

"It's not my bike," he said finally. "It was my son's."

"Won't he get mad when he finds out you gave it to me?" Marty sneered. Dwyer opened his mouth to say something, and then closed it.