The Legacy Of Secrets

By Rebecca Montemurro

When siblings Zanth and Russell Finch inherit a box of old inventions from their late grandfather, they assume the items are useless and shove them into a closet. Homework, athletics, and work at the vineyard consume every minute of high school and the inventions are soon forgotten.

Until a family secret reveals a truth they never expected.

Their grandfather led a double life. Not simply a retired scientist tinkering in his workshop, Sterling Finch belonged to an underground society of scientists who will now stop at nothing to get the inventions back – because they actually work.

The teens soon discover that not everything is as it seems in picturesque Niagara-On-The-Lake. The inventions have them seeing spirits, challenging their fate, and traveling through time.

High school has never been so adventurous as Zanth and Russell, along with their tight circle of trusted friends, continue the legacy of secrets.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rebecca Montemurro
• Release date: Dec 4, 2013
• ISBN: 9781491066041

Rebecca Montemurro

Rebecca Montemurro is the author of the popular young adult contemporary romance TEENAGE DIRTBAG, its companion FLINGING DIRT, MEDIEVAL DIRTBAG and THE LEGACY OF SECRETS series. Rebecca also writes Romantic Suspense under the pen name Stella Kelly. She lives in the Niagara region.

Book preview

The

LEGACY

Of

SECRETS

A Young Adult Fantasy

REBECCA MONTEMURRO

Wordcarver Press

Also by Rebecca Montemurro:

Teenage Dirtbag

Flinging Dirt

Medieval Dirtbag

The Sterling Fellowship

(Book Two In The Legacy Series)

The Legacy of Secrets copyright 2015 Rebecca Montemurro

Smashwords Edition

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced,

distributed, or transmitted by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher.

This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and incidents are the

products of the author’s imagination and are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons or events is entirely coincidental.

For my little dreamers

Prologue

1981

The shiny black Monte Carlo turned off the main road and crept up the long gravel driveway. With their father at the wheel, the two brothers, one twelve and the other fifteen, sat in the backseat transfixed as row after row of grapevine passed rhythmically by in the blink of an eye. Between each row, a long grassy path stretched back into the afternoon glow.

There’s gotta be millions of grapes out there. This is gonna take all day! whined Murray Finch. Small and blond, his young face was a constellation of faun-brown freckles. Slumping, he crossed his arms dramatically and scowled out the window.

You mind your manners. Aunt Dot and Uncle Sterling are giving you a good opportunity here to make some cold cash. Head down, Murray, and get to work. You too, Jimmy, got it? The hard-edged voice of their father rang as he stopped the car in front of the brick bungalow. Never one for easy humor, Dante Finch was all business, even on a lazy weekend such as this.

Yes, Sir, the boys chimed in unison.

The door of the house swung open as the boys eased out of the car, trying to delay the inevitable. Aunt Dot stepped onto the stoop, smiling graciously as she waved in their direction.

Welcome, boys, welcome! she hollered over the hum of the engine, the over-sized car still purring idle.

Dante nodded to Aunt Dot through the windshield and she nodded back. He leaned over and rolled down the passenger window. I’ll be back just after dark. Like I said, mind your manners.

The boys nodded silently, dreading the prospect of manual labour. They watched as he backed the car into a three-point turn and sped away; a cloud of dust momentarily devouring them.

With the greeting of a warm hug, Aunt Dot led the boys around the side of the house, past the water tank, past the sprawling vegetable garden, through the rosebush pergola and into the backyard – a large rectangular patch of grass fenced in by row after row of grapevine. To the right stood a two-story outbuilding with a garage on the bottom and a windowed second story on top. A wooden staircase rose to the second floor, its green paint peeling from years of blistering summer sun.

Where’s Donny? asked Murray, always looking out for his idol of an older cousin.

He already left for University. Uncle Sterling and I moved him to his new apartment last week. It’ll be awfully quiet around here now.

Is Uncle Sterling in his workshop then? asked the older taller boy, Jimmy. He looked up at the second story of the outbuilding, shielding the sun from his eyes. What’s he working on today, something crazy?

Aunt Dot noted the sarcastic twist in the teenage boy’s words but overlooked it. Well, something he’s been working on for a while. Trying to work out the kinks I think. You boys will get to see him when you finish up. Come on this way and I’ll get you some gloves and bushel baskets. You can pull the wagon along so you won’t have to bend over to pick up the full bushels. It’ll save your backs.

Gee, thanks, muttered Jimmy, sneering defiantly.

I’ll pay you generously for each full bushel and of course you can take a break at any time. I have fresh muffins for a snack and plenty of water or juice. Just come in the back door and help yourselves. I’ll see you at dusk. Happy picking!

Aunt Dot turned and headed for the door. The boys could just make out the sound of clanging pots in the kitchen as they found a place at the closest grapevine and began to pick.

This sucks.

Come on, Jimmy, it's money in our pockets. Now we can buy tickets for the concert. Mom says she’ll drive us.

Jimmy sighed. I’d rather buy cigarettes and hang at the arcade. I never liked that band anyway.

Three hours and thirty feet down the fourth row, the sun began to set and the boys began to lose interest in their task. Sweat trickled down their backs and temples as their fingers pulsed with a burning ache from the monotonous picking.

As Jimmy reached out to grab a bunch of grapes, a streak of turquoise light caught his eye in the distance. Thinking his mind was playing tricks on him, he carried on. And then it happened again.

Did you see that? he asked, still looking toward the source of the light.

What? Murray caught the puzzled expression on Jimmy’s face.

Flashes of coloured light. Check it out. He pointed toward the second-story workshop window in the distance. They waited motionless until they saw it.

Hey, where are you going?

Shut up, butt-face, I’m sneaking over to see, Jimmy snapped.

With the stealth of a seasoned peeping tom, the lanky boy snuck over the uneven earth. He hoisted up an old ladder and leaned it against the back of the workshop. Easing his way up each rung, he hesitated as he reached the top, not wanting to be seen. Slowly bringing his forehead and eyes above the sill, he spotted his uncle’s back. With arms raised and a circular wooden hoop above his head, Uncle Sterling appeared to be talking; yet he was the only person in the room. Jimmy heard muffled mumblings as his uncle brought the hoop down over his head, his torso, his legs…and then he vanished in a flash of turquoise light.

Ahhh! The ladder came down with a crash leaving Jimmy sprawled and winded on the soft soil.

Jimmy! Jimmy, are you okay? Murray panted as he finally reached his brother and grabbed his arm to help him up.

Let go and get out of the way, I’ve got ro get in there! Watch it! Jimmy bellowed, jumping to his sneakered feet and running for the front of the workshop with a slight limp. Taking the green stairs two at a time, he finally reached the landing. He clutched and pulled at the workshop door frantically, but it wouldn’t budge.

I think it’s locked, Murray stated the obvious. Whatcha want in there anyways?

Denied, Jimmy turned and stumbled down the stairs and sprinted for the house in a panic. Aunt Dot, Aunt Dot, come quick! He caught sight of her through the screen. Uncle Sterling disappeared!

Wait a minute, slow down now, slow down. Aunt Dot dried her hands on a white dishtowel. Tell me what you saw. She opened the screen door calmly, a little too calmly for Jimmy's liking.

Follow me and I’ll show you, he instructed over his shoulder as he dashed toward the green staircase.

Murray ignorantly stood at a distance watching his brother race around for reasons unknown. Jimmy was halfway up the stairs again when the workshop door flew open and out sauntered Uncle Sterling, wiping his brow with a strong tan forearm. Shocked, Jimmy froze on the step and stared, his grape-stained hands gripping the green railing. I saw you...vanish. I saw it, I-I-I...

What are you going on about, Jimmy? Uncle Sterling paused and then inadvertently looked over at Aunt Dot who was standing on the grass looking up at him, her hands on her hips and lips pressed in annoyance. Sounds like you’ve got a bit of heatstroke, son. Dot, get the boy some water, will you?

Right away. Aunt Dot trudged back into the house as Uncle Sterling slowly descended the stairs, not once taking his eyes off a very confused Jimmy. And now, my boy, perhaps you would like to explain why you were spying on me in the first place?

Chapter One

The Present

Hurry up, Zanth! We’re going to be late. Not the best way to start the year. Though tardiness was such a familiar trait in his sister, the lanky bleach-blond boy was hardly surprised.

Be there in a sec, Russ. I’m looking for my boots, a soft female voice rang from the second floor.

Your brown ones are down here by the door. Russell Finch grew impatient.

No, my flat boots, not the ones with the heels.

What does it matter? He mumbled something about the ridiculousness of fashion before yelling back, I’m gone.

Okay, okay, I’m coming! The tall auburn haired girl glided gracefully down the staircase in her socks, threw her backpack on the bottom step and slipped on the stylish boots.

Russell, do you have your key? Margo, their mother, shouted from the kitchen. Dad and I have a tennis game later so you two are on your own for dinner.

Russ is in the car already, Mom, but I’ve got mine. Should I place my bets on you or Dad to win tonight?

Definitely me. Margo leaned against the kitchen doorframe and admired her daughter’s sense of style. Have a super first day of school, honey. And hey, enjoy being a senior!

Thanks. Zanth hoisted her backpack onto her shoulder as her stomach fluttered with nerves and excitement. She kissed Margo’s cheek on the way out.

Wow, it’s already getting chilly in the mornings, eh? Zanth said while buckling her seatbelt.

Russell cautiously backed his vintage black Mustang down the driveway as Zanth turned off the air conditioning.

We sure don’t need that on. Brrr... Zanth shuddered and rubbed her arms. Niagara was notoriously humid in the summer months, but the hazy comfort of the heat seemed to dissipate by the first Monday after the summer holiday. It was as if Mother Nature flipped a seasonal switch. Are we picking anyone up today?

Russell knew perfectly well who the ‘anyone’ was. Ever transparent, Zanth wore her heart and thoughts on her sleeve. Always had. Just Harrison. His motorcycle’s in the shop and Lincoln’s got a ride already.

Allison and Marta both have rides too, Zanth said as she looked out her window. Marta is hyper about her Prefecting duties this year. She thinks it’s the best opportunity to enforce her opinions on the ninth-grade population. She wanted to be at school extra early to see who the latest victims are.

She’s such a fashionable dictator, Russell quipped, his handsome grin stretching wide. She’s a piece of work.

Easy, Russ, be nice. She certainly has her eye on you. I wonder what kind of valiant attempts she’ll try this year to get your attention. It’s pure entertainment. Zanth giggled.

Where was she again? Spain or something?

Eight weeks with her cousins in France. Not a bad way to spend a summer.

Spoiled rotten if you ask me. Russell gripped the wheel and fidgeted in the driver’s seat. She’s never worked a day in her life. She wouldn’t last five minutes in the vineyard.

Hey, you’re starting to sound like Grandpa Sterling! Besides, she would never risk breaking a nail.

Turning onto the main street, Russell slowed down as they passed the shops and historic houses. Their quaint hometown of Niagara-On-The-Lake displayed its rich history. There had been battles fought here, a territory tug-of-war against the Americans and the British Loyalists; now the Canadians. The British had won in the end, but the view of the United States on the other side of the rushing Niagara River was a constant reminder of their proximity. The Americans were now friendly neighbours.

Wooden colonial houses, rickety yet polished and immaculately groomed, rubbed elbows with modern mansions. This was a tourist town – an entirely different beast in the summer months. The frenzy of visitors from far away countries stretched into late autumn, leaving the locals scrambling for normalcy. Many tourists come to enjoy the magnificent wonder of Niagara Falls and stay for the wine and fruit festivals that Niagara is known for. This is Ontario’s wine country at its finest, and Russell and Zanth were privy to the trade secrets. They had grown up steeped in the winemaking culture.

Once past the Shaw Festival Theatre, Russell threw the old Mustang into a higher gear and floored it, racing down the tree-lined boulevard in the opposite direction of the swiftly flowing river. Their speed slowed considerably when a yellow bus pulled out in front just past First Line.

After five minutes of following closely behind the bus packed with small children, some making faces at the siblings through the back window, they pulled into a long driveway that stretched down the middle of a gigantic vineyard.

I guess Harvey’s lampposts arrived. He ordered them months ago and it looks like he didn’t waste much time installing them. Russell admired the new landscaping. The elegant posts stood tall at twenty-foot intervals down the long driveway leading up to the massive estate overlooking a sprawling vineyard.

Harrison’s dad is loaded. He must feel so proud that the winery’s finally gaining recognition. It’s an amazing accomplishment. Although, it’s a little much, don’t you think? Zanth asked, secretly in awe every time she came over.

No, I think if Gran and Grandpa had envisioned this kind of success and worked at it, they could have had the same thing. Different people want different things. And trust me, Harvey wants the good life. Harrison and his brothers are so lucky!

Russell slowed the car down to a stop. They sat in silence while waiting for Harrison. Watching the morning dew bead on the hood of the car, Zanth was struck by the eerie quiet of Harrison's family vineyard, so isolated and grand in what seemed like the middle of nowhere. The closest neighbor was another mansion way across the outstretching vines.

Is Harvey a workaholic? she asked, turning slightly to look at Russell. I mean, he’s always away for wine conventions or travelling. Harrison kind of runs around free. Doesn’t it bother him?

"Doesn’t what bother him?"

You know, Zanth asked cautiously, not having a mom and having a jet-setting dad.

I dunno. Why don’t you ask him? Russell said, catching sight of a bobbing head above the vines in the side mirror. The rising sun hovered at the escarpment like a golden backdrop behind the approaching figure.

Zanth noticed Russell’s gaze and turned, seeing a muscular boy with shaggy black hair emerge from the rows. He opened the back door and fluidly slipped in, placing his backpack down on the seat before slumping back. He pulled his sweatshirt hood up as if shielding himself from the early hour. Morning, he grunted.

Hey, Harrison. Zanth glanced back quickly and then looked straight ahead. She could feel his eyes burrowing into the back of her.

Morning, Buddy, where’d you come from? Russell inquired as he pulled the car around the large circular fountain and back down the long driveway toward the main road.

"I was up at the winery this morning, very early I might add. Harvey’s away and my brothers stayed up at the university last night 'cause it’s frosh week. I think they’re in a coma right about now. I had to open the main doors for our newest cashier, Sheena. She seems really nice if you know what I mean."

Zanth rolled her eyes.

I thought I was going to miss you guys. Harrison sat forward a little; his handsome face half hidden by the hood. I saw you drive up so I cut through the vineyard to save time. Thanks again for the ride, Russ. He reached forward and patted Russell on the shoulder.

No problem. Lincoln’s meeting us at school.

Hey, Zanth, Harrison leaned forward a little more, his face practically resting on her left shoulder. Sorry for what I said yesterday.

You are? Zanth gaped.

Yeah. I know your boyfriend is a good guy and everything. He’s just stupid. I can live with that.

Zanth sneered, annoyed that she’d fallen for his vacant apology. Swiftly pivoting, she stared him down, their faces as close as can be, but Harrison didn’t budge. If that’s your idea of an apology, you have a lot to learn. She turned back around and fumed, staring out at the road. Harrison grinned slightly and slumped back in his seat. The immediate silence in the car was deafening.

Okay then, off we go. Russell suddenly felt like the parent of two stubborn toddlers.

Pulling into the school parking lot, it looked as if most of the school had already arrived. As Russell's Mustang crept down the aisles in search of a spot, Zanth noticed how luxury cars mixed with pick-up trucks and old rusty beaters. She knew exactly who was here by the vehicles they drove. The lovely thing about Niagara Park High School was the interesting combo of kids from farms, old money, and new winery money. The school population was an eclectic mix of adolescents living in a symbiotic co-existence. As was customary at the beginning of each year, everyone jockeyed for their rightful place. Kind of like the parking situation. Within the stratosphere of high school, Russell and Zanth fell between the cracks. Although they had lived in Niagara-on-the-Lake their entire lives, their family was anything but old money and their grandparent’s winery was small compared to most. Because of this flexibility, they were friends with practically everyone.

Russell finally found a spot in the last paved row and squeezed in. Most of the seniors drove because the school was in the middle of nowhere. If you didn’t have a car, or access to one, you were stranded. As a senior, taking the yellow bus simply wasn’t an option unless you enjoyed being mortified beyond comprehension.

Here we go again, Zanth whispered under her breath while getting out. She enjoyed school, but enjoyed the summer holidays more.

Hey, guys, I thought you’d never get here!

Looking up as he shut the door, Russell spotted a smiling boy with short loose dreadlocks weaving toward them through the maze of cars.

Morning, Lincoln.

The boy joined them as they walked slowly toward their beloved school. The field to the right was vibrant green and ready for a new year of sport and the forest and train-tracks in the distance framed the expanse of the wooden bleachers. A hazy mist hovered over the field, the sun not quite hot enough to burn it away entirely.

Arriving back after the summer felt like déjà vu, this being the boys fourth year and Zanth’s third.

I can’t believe this is it, our last year here. Better make it count, Russell waxed nostalgic.

Now that you’re on Student Council, we’re counting on you to be our inside guy, Russ, Lincoln advised. And I want all the special perks that come from being associated with you.

Count on it.

Yeah, and what kind of perks can a Sports Rep offer? An extra jockstrap for gym class or something? Maybe an extra loud cheer from the bleachers? Harrison ribbed Russell. Lincoln and Harrison laughed their way across the parking lot as they compared menial perks at Russell’s expense.

Heading up the concrete staircase, the teens fanned out once they reached the flat patio at the side entrance to the school. Zanth spotted two stylish girls sitting together amongst the masses grabbing their last minutes of morning sunshine and freedom before the school year began at the bell.

Hey, ladies, another year begins, eh? Zanth said as she approached.

Finchy, where’ve you been? We’ve been waiting here almost half an hour! Marta demanded. Her naturally blond hair blew in the morning breeze framing her face and giving her a deceptively angelic glow. I like your boots by the way.

Hello to you too, Marta. Have you scoped out the ninth-graders yet? Zanth asked with some disapproval.

Zanth, you should’ve seen it. Marta leaned in for intimacy yet failed to whisper. They were dropped off by their parents and one little guy was actually walked up the stairs and into the school by his mom. Too classic!

As the two seated girls giggled in their triumphant cattiness, Zanth discretely turned away and rolled her eyes for the second time today.

We have our work cut out for us finding suitable contenders for sorority this year. But I guess they’re like putty in our hands. We’ll mold em’, right? Emma, the petite wavy-haired blond said as she elbowed Marta.

You two are brutal! Emma, don’t you remember what it was like for us back then? How scared we were? Zanth pleaded.

Payback. I was treated like garbage by the seniors because I was so small, Marta snapped. Besides, I’m a Prefect and the little dorks have to listen to me, it’s in their best interest. My experience will only help them because I’ve been there, done that. I think they’ll view me as a mentor, she said with all seriousness, her expression smug and confident. Her beauty seemed to fade just a little with each nasty sentence.

I guess. But how is it payback when the seniors that harassed you aren’t even involved? Zanth questioned and then dropped it because Marta shot her a look. Have you seen Allison yet?

She’s in the cafeteria.

I have to talk to her. See you in class. Zanth walked up the steps and through the side door spotting Russell, Harrison, and Lincoln down the hall. She walked over to join them, thinking what mean people her ‘friends’ had become. Their new senior status had given them a sense of superior power. They were old money girls and had been spoiled their entire lives. Power plus money plus a false sense of entitlement made for an attitude Zanth couldn’t identify with at all.

Russell smiled a knowing smile. She sounds out for blood. I caught the part about how her ‘experience will only help them’ as we passed you. Why do you hang out with her again?

Because I'm into self-punishment?

Hmm, guess so. I’ll see you at lunch.

On a mission to find Allison, Zanth waded through some new confused looking students and climbed the stairs to the cafeteria. She spotted Allison sitting with two very large, very muscular boys in football jerseys at the far table.

Finchy! The pretty girl called out, her voice echoing in the large empty room. She tossed back her long brown hair and waved.

A mean little bird told me you were in here, Zanth called back as one of the boys rose from his seat and met her half way. Reaching out, he grabbed Zanth and smashed her into his well-built chest, wrapping his arms around her waist and squeezing the air from her lungs in the process.

Hi, he said.

Hi, Jarrod.

I was wondering when you’d get here. The muscular boy leaned her back, his hands grasping her shoulders possessively. Why didn’t you let me drive you this morning? He pulled her into the embrace again.

Zanth peeled her cheek from the number on the front of his jersey and looked up. I told you last night that Russ was driving today, remember? Besides, I knew you had early morning practice. You stink by the way.

Jarrod wilted at her comment. What? I do? Oh, sorry, I’m going to take a shower before my first class starts. I have first spare. He became self-conscious and released her, though he didn’t want to. Zanth looked up and smiled to put him at ease. She had to be so careful with him. It was such a contradiction considering his size.

Well, let’s get this over with, droned Allison, rising from the table and gathering her pristine new notebook and binder. The bell’s going to ring any second.

Saying goodbye to the boys, Zanth and Allison made their way past the trophy case, which held pictures of Jarrod and the team as last year’s city champions. Clutching their notebooks to their chests, the girls reluctantly walked down the long hallway leading to the first floor classrooms. They passed other students who were fumbling with their new locks in frustration, having already forgotten the combinations.

So, did Marta fill you in on her summer in France yet? Allison asked, knowing Zanth would dread the subject as much as she did.

No. I turned my cell off last night because I was expecting the barrage of bragging. Did she corner you?

Yes, unfortunately. It sounds like she had an adventurous time shopping, shopping, and shopping. I asked if she’d gone to the Louvre. Said she considered it but decided it would take too long. Can you imagine being in Paris and passing up that opportunity? I just don’t get it. I avoided her this morning and hid in the cafeteria, but she found me of course. She has an Allison radar.

Yeah, I guess we’re all like her homing pigeons or something.

Finding their class, the girls entered and slid into two vacant seats. The bell rang and the year officially began with low fanfare. It was like they’d never left.

Chapter Two

The cafeteria hummed with the energy of a first day as students rehashed their summer adventures. A couple of ninth-grade boys sat precariously at the end of the senior table, occasionally looking down the length of it in awe and clearly out of place. Jarrod wedged in beside Zanth much to her relief since it separated her from Marta and the hijacked girls she was replaying her French summer escapades to.

She hasn’t come up for air yet. No wonder she’s so skinny. How can you eat when you’re talking so much? Harrison joked to Zanth who furrowed her brow in disapproval. She was still sore about his feeble apology in the car.

What? he asked innocently.

Turning to Jarrod, Zanth sweetly asked why he was sitting with her instead of his football team at the next table.

I thought since we’re going out now, I’d sit with you. Is that okay? he asked self-consciously.

Yes, Jarrod, it’s more than okay. She batted her eyelashes in as feminine a way as possible – a difficult task for Zanth since, despite her obvious beauty and love of all things fashion, she was an athletic tomboy through and through.

Something in your eye? barked Harrison as he leaned over to get a better look at Zanth’s face. He wore a big boyish grin. Oh, I see. This is your method. Those eyelashes are your bait for fishing Blockheads. He snorted as Zanth pursed her lips. Those sitting around soon took notice.

Huh? grunted Jarrod, unaware of the underlying tension.

Nothing, Jarrod. Harrison is just babbling again.

Harrison’s smirk indicated he’d proven his point. Jarrod simply couldn’t keep up. Innuendos were no match for Zanth’s thick boyfriend.

Insulted, Zanth turned herself toward Jarrod, shielding her larger-than-life boyfriend from Harrison’s harsh words. She would have to be his protector and the act nagged her to her core.

After lunch, the students poured out into the mid-afternoon sun to sit on the patio at the side of the school. Zanth immediately confronted Harrison who was sitting with Russell and Lincoln on the edge of a brick wall, their legs dangling. Looking up, she met his gaze with a steadfast glare he couldn’t ignore; her bright blue eyes turning steely in anger. He felt like a cornered kitten about to be reprimanded by the mother cat.

Why do you hate him so much? He’s such a nice person and you’re so mean to him. You’re behaving like a jerk! Zanth hollered, her hand firmly resting on her hip to accentuate her point.

I’m sorry, Zanth, but I can’t tolerate stupidity. Harrison looked down at her, his green eyes piercing through her. The guy has absolutely no sense of humor and he’s way too concerned with sports. Someone should tell him there’s more to life.


Well, his dad does own a sports bar, Russell chimed in, always the neutral voice of reason Mr. Switzerland.

You play sports. What are you, a hypocrite?

Harrison’s tone changed and he became almost defensive. You dumb yourself down for him so much, he half screamed, not caring any more who heard him. It drives me crazy!

"I do not dumb myself down for anyone. I don’t! Zanth was trying to convince herself of this now, thinking back to the times she actually had ‘dumbed down’ for Jarrod’s benefit. Just keep your comments to yourself, got it Van Henkle!" She stormed back to her friends on the bench. She would rather face half an hour of Marta’s bragging than one more second with Harrison.

Zanth, don’t be that way... Russell’s voice called after her, but she didn’t look back.

It looks like you’re in the doghouse again, man. She called you by your last name. That can’t be good, Lincoln cautioned. Why can’t you lay off Jarrod? Just pretend he doesn’t exist.

It’s too easy to stir things up and she lets me do it. It’s classic. She practically came over here looking to start a fight. How can anyone take Blockhead seriously? How does she? I’ve known him since elementary and he’s been the same since then...dense. Harrison was still looking over in Zanth’s direction, watching her fume from a safe distance.

Whatever, Lincoln added. It’s your demise if you push her. Zanth has a temper, remember?

The next half hour seemed to cool the situation down a bit, though Zanth still refused to acknowledge the boys who were engrossed in a discussion about Harrison’s motorcycle and why it was in the shop getting fixed. She sat and half listened to Marta discuss herself.

"...And then we went to Le Moulin de la Vierge, this amazing bakery, and I just couldn’t get enough of the parresseuse and pain de champagne..."

Heading back into the school at the bell, Russell broke away from the other boys and straight to his locker. Dodging small groups of students standing around and recapping their summer adventures, he thought about how slowly this first day was creeping on. Chemistry class couldn’t come fast enough. Chemistry...his favorite subject for more than one reason.

Harrison soon joined him and they walked to English class together. As they rounded the corner, they spotted Lincoln leaning against his locker with his back to them, engrossed in a conversation with a girl. The minute Russell realized who she was he froze. The long black hair, jagged bangs and glasses, there was no mistaking her identity. She clutched a book and looked totally engaged in her discussion with Lincoln. Harrison noticed.

Look, bro, you’ve gotta start acting normal around Kaitlin Dale sometime. She’s going to think you’re crazy if you keep up this behavior. Harrison sounded like a coach giving a pep talk. Russ, stay calm. At least try, okay? Breathe.

Harrison left him standing there and walked over to Lincoln just as Kaitlin was about to leave for class.

...And good luck with your schedule change, Kaitlin. See ya.

Kaitlin smiled at Harrison and walked away in Russell’s direction. He was still standing where Harrison had left him, staring at her with a confused expression as she approached. Suddenly all words failed him, but she saved him from disintegrating by speaking first.

Hi. A shy smile crossed her sun-kissed face, her pink lipstick contrasting dramatically with her blacker than black hair.

Hi, Kaitlin, Russell stammered as she passed and walked around the corner. He’d made contact. That was a start. It had been a long summer with frequent trips to the Olde Angel Inn pub where she worked just to get a ‘dose of Kaitlin’, but now that school had started he would see her every day. Things were looking up.

Russell ventured forward, finally finding his legs in working order, and joined his friends.

How can a guy as popular as you be such a failure at getting the girl? I can’t understand you, Lincoln said, fascinated yet perplexed by Russell’s behavior around Kaitlin. You never have trouble talking to girls you aren’t interested in. You could date any girl in the school, but Kaitlin’s your weakness. It’s insane!

She’s like his Achilles heel or something, Harrison offered as the boys walked down the hall.

His kryptonite, Lincoln said, which