Done. That moment no longer existed for anyone except her and Amber.
It took nearly an hour to carefully scan the other camera feeds, but absolutely nothing popped up aside from a possum that waddled past with a few babies on its back. Lily allowed herself a faint smile as she made a note of the timestamp to show to Everett.
Her son had morphed from a cuddly little boy to an awkward, slightly standoffish tween, but she could still suck him in with cute animal content, and she’d mercilessly use any tactic to keep him close.
They were close, weren’t they? Despite everything?
Lily slumped back in her chair and rubbed a hand over her eyes. On good days she thought she was doing okay, raising a fatherless son the best she could. On bad days when one or both of them were in a foul mood, and she felt like she was failing him . . . Well, on bad days she turned on music and cried quietly in her bedroom while he played video games online.
There was no reason for this to be a bad day. She’d throw some frozen cookie dough in the oven as a warm welcome after his nearly mile-long walk from the bus stop, and she wouldn’t even be resentful if he forgot to compliment her baking.
And once she handed off her special delivery, she’d lie low, stop taking risks, and everything would get back to normal.
CHAPTER 2
“Is it true you live in a storage unit?”
Everett stiffened at the girl’s voice behind him, raised high to be heard over the rumble of the school bus as it pulled away and abandoned them on the desolate corner.
He felt his shoulders climb toward his ears with tension, but he didn’t turn around. He’d gotten through all of elementary school and most of his first year of middle school without being bullied, but this was it. After all those years of warnings and role-play at school, it was about to happen in real life.
When he took two steps away, he heard the rasp of her footsteps follow. “Hey! You’re Everett, right?”
Pausing, he turned his head slightly toward her, limbs tight and poised to react. “Yeah.”
“Do you really live in a storage unit?”
“Jesus,” he muttered before resuming his walk. Her footsteps shuffled behind him.
“Hey,” she said, “I’m not trying to be rude. I’m sorry. That came out wrong. I mean, it’s sad if you do live in a storage place, but I hope that’s not true. I just can’t figure out . . .” Her words trailed off, and though he kept walking, she quickly overtook him. “You live out there, right? And there aren’t any houses!”
Everett glanced at her past the corner of his eye. Josephine Woodbridge. A Black girl about his size, with a pretty, round face. She wore purple clothes a lot.
They’d never been in the same elementary classroom, but he thought she’d moved to Herriman about two years earlier. She usually got off the bus with a girl named Bea, but Bea didn’t ride the bus during soccer season, and he hadn’t seen her in a while. Both girls lived in the tiny strip of houses that ran along the highway a few feet from the bus stop. Everett was the only kid who lived in the business park way down the road.
The perfect poof of Josephine’s natural hair bobbed with every step. She watched him intently, seemingly paying no attention to the road. “Where’s Bea?” he asked.
“She moved.”
Bea had seemed a little snooty to him, so he wasn’t exactly sorry, but that explained how he’d suddenly drawn Josephine’s attention.
“Her dad got a job in Missouri. State government or something. She’s so mad.”
“I bet.”
“I have Mr. Rose’s class right after you,” she said, changing the subject.
“Yeah.”
“That last quiz was ridiculous.”
“Yeah,” he answered.
“I can’t keep walking this way or I’ll get home late, and my mom will lose her mind.”
He stopped without even deciding to, and she immediately took the opportunity to move into his path and offer a big smile. “So you don’t live in a storage unit? I only asked because when I see you walking home, it makes me worry, and I hate worrying. Like, hate it.”
“I don’t live in a storage unit,” he snapped.
“Okay, good.”
Her face was so chubby and sweet, and her tiny white earrings were enamel bits of popcorn, and that must mean she was okay, right? He had plenty of friends to hang out with at school, but no one ever thought to come out here to the edge of town all the way past the landfill to hang out with him. Except Mikey. And Mikey had turned into a stupid gamer this year.
He eyed Josephine again, concerned about her motivation, but equally tired of being bored to death. “There’s an apartment behind the office of the storage facility. Two bedrooms. A kitchen. A patio. It’s normal, all right? It’s not a frickin’ storage unit.”
“Seriously? That’s so cool. You live in a hidden apartment!”
Everett shrugged. It wasn’t cool, actually. It was a crappy apartment like any other crappy apartment but without other kids to hang around. And no pool or park either. He felt suddenly self-conscious again. “I’ve gotta go,” he said.
“Sure. Anyway, I’m Josephine.” She held out her hand like they were breaking up a meeting or something. After frowning for a moment, Everett reached out and shook it.
“See you tomorrow,” she said as she let him go.
If she was a bully, she was playing a very long game.
“Wait,” she shouted when he was twenty feet away. “Give me your number!”
Everett shook his head at the sight of the phone she held up. Another thing to be embarrassed about. “I don’t have a phone yet.”
“That sucks! Tell your mom you’re afraid of kidnappers. That’s what finally worked for me!”
A laugh popped from his mouth. “Not bad. I’ll try it.” This time when he turned back toward his walk, Everett was smiling. Maybe Josephine was all right.
He picked up his pace, eager to get home and get through his history homework so he’d have free time before dinner while his mom was still working.
He’d discovered a new locker to check out.
As hobbies went, he’d found an exciting one, though he knew it was wrong. That was probably what made it exciting, of course, but Everett had promised himself he’d use up all his illicit thrills on this and not experimenting with pot or alcohol or something.
At first it had started out as a good deed. Or not quite a good deed, since he got an allowance for it. But he had volunteered to help out his mom around the storage facility for a couple of hours every week. He helped sweep or pick up litter. He changed the garbage bags from the common areas and broke down boxes for recycling. And he checked the locks on the storage doors.
The first time he’d found an unlocked door, he’d simply locked it and moved on, but lying in bed that night, he’d regretted it. He’d watched that Storage Wars show. He’d seen the weird characters who rented space in this town. There could be anything right there, a few yards away from his bed. Gold coins, ancient documents, wild photographs. Anything.
Not that he was a thief. He didn’t take things . . . or nothing that valuable, anyway.
His arms prickled at the idea that he might have inherited something bad from his father. Did criminals pass on badness through their genes?
But truly Everett was only curious. In fact he could even convince himself he was helping people, because when they left locks open, thieves could take their stuff. He locked up their valuables. He protected them. Mostly.