Surfacing - Book One in the Swans Landing Series

Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

“We stayed out too long,” Sailor said.

“Why?” I squinted to see ahead in the darkness, at the small fire and group of people that she eyed as we drew closer. They sat just outside Moody’s Variety Store, the orange flames casting shadows on their faces. The light melody of guitars and fiddles drifted toward us. “What’s going on?” I asked.

“Nothing,” Dylan said, though his body had clearly tensed at my side. “A few people like to play music at the Variety Store on Friday nights this time of year. Keep walking and don’t talk to them.”

We had spent the afternoon after school hunting seashells along the area by the lighthouse. Dylan carried a heavy bucket full of shells, sand dollars, and dried seahorses, thanks to the recent storms. He said that the first couple of days after a storm were always the best times to gather shells because the water churned up more pieces from the bottom.

But night had fallen before we’d realized it and our walk back home was cold and dark in the little light from the tiny sliver of moon in the sky.

I recognized a few faces when we got close to the group seated in ratty folding chairs around the small fire. Jim, the old man that ran the store, blew into a harmonica cupped in his weathered hands. Across the fire from him stood some kids from school, including Elizabeth, Jackie, and Josh.

I couldn’t tear my gaze from Josh’s face. He stared back at me as we approached, hugging his guitar to his stomach, fingers paused over the strings.

“There she is, Daddy,” Elizabeth said to a wide man seated nearby. She cast a disgusted look in my direction. “The new girl I told you about.”

The crowd fell silent, their stares watching our movements down the road toward them. Sailor crossed her arms over her chest as if shielding herself from them and huddled closer to Dylan’s side. He walked tall, his shoulders back, but I detected a twinge of nervousness in his jaw.

Something wasn’t right here. The group at the fire no longer and talked and laughed easily as they had before we’d gotten so close.

Elizabeth’s father stood from his chair, facing me over the fire. The shadows of the flames made him look fearsome in the dark night.

“So you’re Westray’s daughter,” he growled, eying me up and down.

My gaze drifted toward Josh, who stood rigid, with Elizabeth cuddling up to his side. She sneered at me as she leaned into him, resting her cheek against his shoulder. My hands rolled into fists, my nails digging into my palms.

Mr. Connors pointed a thick finger at me. “Tell your daddy to leave my crab pots alone,” he said. “Or next time, I won’t be so forgiving.”

“Let the kids pass, Harry,” the old man named Jim said over his harmonica. “They ain’t done nothing to you.”

Mr. Connors turned on him, his face contorted in a vicious snarl. “Ain’t done nothing? Tell that to my children, who wonder why their daddy ain’t bringing home as much money as he used to. Tell that to Isaac Wood, who had to close down his oyster operation because those people drove him out of business.”

Jim looked unconcerned as he polished his harmonica on the edge of his shirt. “If you’d learn to be a better fisherman, you might catch something. Now sit down and let them pass.”

Mr. Connors huffed at the old man, but he sat, scratching his thick brown beard and staring hard at the three of us.

“Get on home,” Jim growled, shooting us a dark scowl and nodding into the distance. “It ain’t the new moon yet. Give us this one night in peace to play our kind of music.”

The three of us edged forward, Dylan’s hand on my arm guiding my way while Sailor remained huddled close to his other side. He was our beacon through the ocean of tension surrounding us.

I willed myself not to look at Josh, who had remained quiet throughout the whole exchange. But just as we passed, Elizabeth spoke up.

“Freaks,” she muttered. The boy that had slammed me into the wall the week before stood on Josh’s other side, cracking his knuckles as he sneered at us.

I should have kept walking, but I stopped, pulling myself from Dylan’s grasp and stepping toward Elizabeth.

“What did you say?” I demanded.

She looked back at me with a cool expression and lifted her chin. “I said, freaks,” she repeated. “That’s what the three of you are. Disgusting mutants. Something that shouldn’t even exist.”

My fists itched to pummel her face in. My right arm raised, drawing back, but Dylan grabbed my elbow and pulled me back to the safety of his side.

“They’re not worth it,” he muttered in my ear. “Keep walking and let it go.”

“See what a psycho she is?” Elizabeth asked, her voice loud enough to ensure that everyone heard. “Those people are a danger to society. They shouldn’t be allowed to walk around here like they own the place.”

I lunged toward her, but Dylan tightened his grip, holding me back. “Let. It. Go,” he growled.

My gaze slid to Josh. He met my eyes for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he looked at Dylan behind me, scowling, and he bent his head over his guitar as Dylan led me away.