Page 4 of Catcher's Lock

“I’m used to it.” My shoulders shift uncomfortably, and I take the tool, focusing on the next screw along my edge. “He doesn’t beat us or anything. He just yells and sleeps a lot.”

“You should come over and meet my dad. He does all the electrical for the tent, and I bet he’d teach you some stuff, if you wanted.”

The awkward tension melts from my body as I peek at his face.

“That’d be awesome. I bet there’s all kinds of cool stuff to build for a circus show.”

When all the screws are tightened, we lie side by side on the sun-warmed metal, and his elbow presses casually against mine. He tells me about his parents’ plan for their new traveling show, which they’re gonna call Big River Big Top, and I tell him about the best places to swim in the summer and how there’s a bike trail to the logging road across the street that runs all the way down to the beach.

I don’t tell him I think he’s beautiful.

Or that the way his blue eyes crinkle at the corners as he squints up at the afternoon clouds makes me want to press my fingers into the hollow of his throat.

Boys don’t tell each other those kinds of things when they’re thirteen, even here in Northern California.

Maybe when we get to high school.

The slamming of the screen door jolts me out of my vague daydreams, and I lurch upright, but it’s only Jeremy, standing on the steps in a pair of loose dinosaur pajamas. Beside me, Gem props himself up on his elbows.

“Dad’s awake,” my brother says, eyeing the two of us. “Who’s that?”

“This is Gem.” I slide to the ground and start packing the drill back in its hard case with the charger and the extra battery. “His family moved in next door.”

“Do you live in a trailer too?”

“Yeah, but it’s a lot smaller than yours,” Gem says, scanning the roof for loose screws and scooping any he finds into the box. “We do have a big-ass circus tent, though. You ever been to a circus?”

Jeremy shakes his head, eyes wide.

“It’s pretty cool. We’re gonna do a camp for little kids this summer, if you wanna check it out.”

“I’m not a little kid,” Jeremy protests. “I’m seven and a half.”

“My sister turns seven next month. Maybe you can be friends like me and Josha.” He gifts me another luminescent smile that turns conspiratorial as he hands me the box with the remaining screws. “Fair warning—she’s not smart enough to fix your bike if you wreck it, though. I bet she wouldn’t even know what size wrench to use.”

An unfamiliar sense of pride fills my chest, adding to the glow of the whole afternoon. I get okay grades, and my big sister Hannah sometimes tells me I’m the smartest one in the family, but mostly after my dad chews me out for doing something he thinks is stupid, so I’m not sure it counts when she says it. Gem is looking at me with actual admiration, and I might stop breathing from the impact.

“I don’t have a bike. Will you make me a tuna sandwich, Josha?”

“Sure, bud. Go get the celery and the mayo out of the fridge, and I’ll be right there. Don’t touch the knife, though. And see if Dad wants one too.”

“I guess I should get going,” Gem says after Jeremy shuts the door behind him. He’s still sitting on the chicken coop, armswrapped around his knees, studying me with a curiosity that has me scrubbing a hand through my hair and blushingagain. “Can I come back tomorrow and help you wire that door?”

“Do you want to go see a movie tonight?” I blurt, the weight of his attention making me brave. “Guardians of the Galaxy 2is at the Fort Bragg theater, and my sister’s boyfriend said he’d take us in his car.”

“Is that the one with the talking raccoon and the green chick?”

“Rocket and Gamora. Yeah.”

“I never saw the first one. Is it good?”

“Only the best Marvel movie ever made.”

“Oh yeah?” His grin is a challenge, and something inside me unfurls in delight.

“Yeah.”

“Let me text my mom.” He digs an iPhone out of his pocket and starts typing while I pack up the last of the tools.