Page 35

CALEB

Then . . .

“Caleb, can you work the evening session?” Mr. Caster caught him on break in the concession area. “Brandon called in sick again. I’m going to have to let him go.”

“Yeah, sure.”

Mr. Caster patted his shoulder. “One day maybe you’ll run this place.”

Caleb doubted it. College couldn’t come soon enough for him. Last night, Cassidy had announced she was not going to college and, in fact, was dropping out of high school.

“Not finish your senior year? Not graduate?” Mom looked like a cartoon character whose eyes and teeth bugged out of its head.

“You heard me.” Cassidy slammed out of house. Never came back.

Caleb hid in his room, blasting Dave Matthews Band, wishing he’d stayed with guitar lessons, but football was more fun.

As the lights of the rink came up, indicating the end of the early evening session, Caleb wolfed down the last of his sandwich and drained a bottle of whole milk.

I n the boot room, he organized and disinfected the used skates, checking the wheels and trucks for safety.

He volunteered for the ticket booth at the start of the next session, half hoping to see Emery. Since the night her father sent him home, he’d not seen or heard from her. He’d texted and called, but no response. Until tonight.

Emery:

Meet me at the palm tree stand?

Caleb:

Working until 10.

Emery:

See you then.

Caleb:

You okay? Where you been? Come by the rink.

Emery:

Can’t. Stuff going on.

Caleb:

Like?

But she never answered.

The late session crowd was light. Thursdays usually were, so Caleb eased around the rink as floor guard, ignoring the flirtations of the girls stumbling past him. What did Emery mean about stuff going on? Was it her parents? Mr. Quinn seemed serious when he asked for a family-only dinner.

A little after nine, he looked up to see Dad by the boot room, waving him over. He looked drawn and sad, like he’d not slept in weeks. As Caleb skated over, Mom walked in, looking even more ragged than Dad.

“Do you know where your sister could possibly be?”

“ Nope. I’m not covering for her, if that’s your next question.”

“Aren’t you?” Mom said in a whisper.

“No, why would I?”

“Because she’s your sister.”

“Got news for you, Mom, the girl living in our house is not my sister.” A kid stumbled next to him, and Caleb reached out to help him up. “Look, she’s announced her plans to quit school, so let her go. Good riddance.”

“Caleb Ransom.” Mom snatched his arm. “We have to talk to her. This is serious. We can’t just let her go.

Wander off to God knows where, get into God knows what kind of trouble?

All kinds of horrible things are happening to young women these days.

” Mom sobbed into her hand. “If anything happens to her . . .”

“Caleb,” Dad said, patting him on the shoulder, “if you see her, tell her we just want to talk.” His phone rang from his pocket. “Ransom,” he answered. “Chief Kelly, yes, thanks for calling.”

Mom waved good-bye and blew him a kiss as she followed Dad out of the Starlight.

So now they’ve involved the police. Cass had been gone a day and a half. Caleb guessed that’d be enough to worry a parent.

In the sound booth, he hopped on the internet and checked her Facebook wall.

But she’d not posted anything since prom.

Which he found interesting. He snooped her best friend Allison’s account.

She had plenty of pictures from the summer—Allison smiling at the camera, tucked between her friends, having a blast. In the background of one picture was the Driftwood Door, a Shalimar dive for airmen and local fishermen.

Caleb scoured the images for a glimpse of Cassidy, but she wasn’t in any of them. Weird. Very weird.

Next, he called Jumbo, asked if his sister had spotted Cass in the wild. No luck there.

Back on the floor, Caleb tried to imagine where his sister m ight hide out. As crazy as she was right now, he knew her. She was a bit of a chicken at heart. Hated being alone. Didn’t like the dark. She might run, but no farther than Fort Walton to the west or Panama City to the east.

Thirty minutes before the end of the session, Caleb asked Mr. Caster if he could leave early. “There’s only a dozen skaters left,” he said. “I need to run an errand for my parents.”

“Go on, I’ll close up. Thanks for staying.”

Out in his truck, he considered his plan. Mostly that he didn’t have one. His gut told him if Allison had been frequenting the Driftwood Door, so had Cassidy.

In the fifteen-minute drive, he rehearsed some sort of “You got to stop this, Cass” speech in case he found her. If not, he’d deliver it to Allison if she was there. Neither one was old enough to be out drinking. Did they have fake IDs?

His phone chimed from the passenger seat with a couple of texts. At the next traffic light, he reached for his phone. He had one from Shift about upcoming football two-a-days and one from Emery.

Emery:

Could you come early, please? I need you.

Caleb:

Em, you’re scaring me. What’s wrong?

Emery:

Everything.

Caleb:

Had to run an errand. Meet you at the stand of palms ASAP.

The light turned green, and he hit the gas, the Driftwood Door on his mind, but his heart pounded with the words, Turn around. Go see her. She needs you.

H e was only two minutes from the bar. He could see the lights of the sign. Two minutes there, five minutes to talk to Cassidy, and fifteen minutes home, calling Mom and Dad on the way to let them know she was alive and well—if he found her—then off to see Emery.

In the parking lot, he squeezed his little S-10 between two monster trucks and headed inside. At the door, an oversized tattooed bouncer grabbed him by the collar.

“ID.”

“I need to see if my sister is here.” Caleb held up his license to the man’s flashlight.

“Who’s your sister?”

“Cassidy Ransom. Blond. Blue eyes. Probably wearing too few clothes.”

The man grinned. “Cassidy is your sister? She’s hot. And spunky.”

“Dude, she’s my sister.”

“What do you want with her?”

“Dude, she’s my sister.”

Bouncer stared at him a second, then pointed inside. “You’ve got five minutes, then I’m tossing you out.”

Perfect. He found Cassidy dressed in a black tank and cut-off jean shorts, with an apron around her middle, carrying a tray of beer to a table of flyboys. She worked here?

As she set down their longnecks, she flirted with each one, leaning into the tallest of them until he went for kiss. Then she backed away, flirt-laughing.

When she headed to the bar, Caleb stepped into her view. Startled, she dropped her tray and hissed, “What are you doing here?”

“I think the question is, what are you doing here? You’re not old enough to serve drinks.”

“Will you be quiet?” She jerked on his arm, and the bartender c ame to see if everything was all right. “Dante, this is ... my cousin. Fred.”

Dante gave Caleb the once-over, grunted, and walked off.

“Fred? Your cousin?”

“You’re embarrassing me.” Something in the bar caught her attention. Caleb turned to see a couple of West End football coaches sauntering in—Sanchez and Martindale.

“Figures West End coaches would hang out at a dive like this,” Caleb scoffed. “Spill drinks on them. They’re the enemy.”

“They’re not my enemy, and they’re good tippers.”

“Even though they know you’re a Nickle High girl?”

“Oh grow up. They’re men, not boys. By the way, everyone knows it was a bunch of Nickle Eagles who trashed the Panthers’ field.”

Caleb caught her arm. “Don’t say a word.”

“Why shouldn’t I? Were you there? Oh my gosh, you were. Ha! Wait until I—”

“Cass, come on.”

“Fine. I’ll keep your secret if you keep mine. Don’t tell Mom and Dad I’m here.”

“Why shouldn’t I?”

She turned back to the bar. “Dante, let me take five.” Cassidy leaned toward another curvy server with a sleeve of tattoos.

“Posey? I’ll be right back. Save the coaches’ table for me.

” She shoved Caleb through the kitchen’s double doors, then out the back, down a rickety ramp, and across the road to the marina.

“Who told you I was here? Allison? She’s such a—”

“I figured it out on my own. Mom and Dad are worried. They called the police. I just wanted to know you’re all right.”

“Well?” She held her arms out to her side, standing stiff as a board in the amber streetlight.

“What do you think? I’m fine. More than fine.

And could you please tell Mom and Dad to stop asking people about me?

Allison said they’ve stopped by her house three times, and Dad called Dave twice.

” Dave was Shift’s older brother. Cassidy went to prom with him.

“You don’t get it, do you? They’re worried about you. What is going on with you?”

“Tell them I’m fine, but don’t tell them where I am.

Say I texted you or something. And you keep your mouth shut about this place and I’ll keep mine shut about the Panther field.

” They were locked in a Ransom steely stare until Cassidy broke it with a softening exhale.

“Look, I know it’s been weird, and I honestly don’t mean to pop off like I do, but, Caleb, I have my reasons for what I’m doing.

I’m ready to be on my own. I don’t need high school.

I don’t need curfew. Can’t I just discover the world—my world—on my own?

I’ll be eighteen in four months, a bona fide adult. ”

“I don’t think one birthday makes you a bona fide adult.” He wanted to hug her, tell her he loved her, to come home and be her old self. He wanted her to finish school, then decide her life.

She folded her arms and stared toward the water. “Please, don’t tell them I work here, Caleb. If they find out, they’ll get this whole place in trouble. I can’t do that to them. I have a fake ID.” She made a face. “Which Dante helped me get.”

“They couldn’t find a qualified person over twenty-one to work here?”

“They wanted to hire me, okay? I work hard. I’m good at my job.”

“The West End coaches know you’re not old enough to be here.”

“Only Sanchez, and he’s keeping my secret.”