One Boy's Shadow

ONE BOY’S

SHADOW

Ross A. McCoubrey

iUniverse, Inc.

Bloomington

One Boy’s Shadow

Copyright © 2012 Ross A. McCoubrey

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

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Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

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ISBN: 978-1-4759-0356-0 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4759-0357-7 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4759-0358-4 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2012904939

iUniverse rev. date: 4/5/2012

Artist Name: Danik Tomyn

www.daniktomyn.com

Contents

Acknowledgments

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Acknowledgments

It is with great appreciation that I would like to extend my heart-felt thanks to my parents, David and Margaret McCoubrey, and my sister, Katharine, for their un-ending support, love, and encouragement.

I am also fortunate enough to have some truly amazing friends: Rick and Daphne Debouver, John Dulong, Brandon Illsley, Jonathan Richie MacNeil, Odessa Taylor, Karen and Philip Townsend, and Michelle and Ryan White, who are always there for me with a kind word and a coffee when I need them most. Thanks to you all.

I would be remiss in failing to thank the teachers who believed in me even when I didn’t believe in myself: Mr. Don Aker, Mr. Dave Stewart, Mr. David Ritchie, and Mr. Bill Hines. Thanks for reading all those essays, poems, short stories, and book reports. You have no idea how much your feedback meant to me.

I would like to offer special thanks to Cody White, for modeling for the book’s cover, and to Danik Tomyn, a gifted artist and true friend, who designed and drew the original artwork for the cover of this novel. I can never thank you enough. Here’s hoping this is just the first of our collaborations.

For Lukas

You are forever in my heart.

Where Claribel low-lieth

The breezes pause and die,

Letting the rose-leaves fall.

But the solemn oak-tree sigheth,

Thick-leaved, ambrosial,

With an ancient melody

Of an inward agony,

Where Claribel low-lieth.

—Alfred Lord Tennyson,

Claribel: A Melody

Prologue

I was fifteen when it happened—the life-changing event people talk about that helps define who you are. I didn’t believe anything like that existed before then. But there were a lot of things I didn’t believe in before that summer.

My name is Caleb Lincoln Mackenzie. I’m not good at describing myself, but I’ll try to give you an idea of what I look like. Here are the facts: I’m about five feet six inches tall and 135 pounds. I’ve got green eyes, light brown hair (that looks blond in the sunlight), and a small scar on my right eyebrow from where a skipping rope slapped me when I was six. I’m a bit farsighted, so when reading things close up, I sometimes wear glasses. I’ve got an earring in my left ear (almost always a small black hoop), I’m kind of pale, and I’ve got size-nine feet.

I hope that gives you a rough idea of what to picture. If you’d prefer to picture some Hollywood heartthrob in my place, by all means do so—I promise not to be offended. Just remember, I’m a real person like you and what you’re going to read really happened to me. I’m going to do my best to not leave anything out. It wouldn’t be fair to you—or to the truth.

Chapter One

Two days after my fifteenth birthday (April 3, 2010, in case you were wondering, which makes me an Aries, if you’re interested in my Zodiac sign), my parents sat me down at the kitchen table, along with my older brother, Blake, for a family meeting. Rain splashed against the panes of the small window above the sink on that dark Monday night. The old harvest-gold General Electric refrigerator made an annoying whirring sound as it attempted to keep the vanilla ice cream in the freezer hard. My dad wrapped his large-knuckled hands around his favourite blue pottery mug, with the slightest chip out of the handle. The steam from his cup of Red Rose was making ringlets in the air until they dissipated. My mother fussed with a shell-shaped plate she had put out with various kinds of store-bought cookies on it. Everyone was silent for what seemed an eternity. Dad took a sip of his tea and then, without taking his eyes from the table, said, Boys, we’re moving.

A lengthy conversation ensued. There were no dramatic screaming fits or cries of I’m not going! No one stormed from the table in an angry refusal to have any part of the move. There were no complaints from any of us. Everything was very clear. My father, Frey (in his early forties but looking older from years of hard, physical work and long hours), had taken a transfer from his job at the shipping warehouse. Instead of working on the floor of a warehouse, he’d be in an office. His pay would be a bit better but his hours likely longer. The major incentive was that it kept him from having to be on his feet all day. Dad had hurt his left knee about five years back when he put our old brown Taurus in the ditch on an icy road (having been called in to work the late shift because some newly hired guy didn’t show up for work). There were nights when his knee caused him so much pain, all he could do was sit up in the living room for the entire night and attempt to soothe it with ice packs or heat. The doctors had told him they could do different surgeries on the knee, but there were no guarantees that any of them would be successful and he would be laid up for six months while he healed. The idea of not working for six months was not an option to my father. Dad was the kind of guy who always liked to be busy. So, weighing his options, he got up every morning and went to work. Most days he found the pain bearable, but even if it wasn’t a particularly good day, he never complained. Knowing what he did every day to provide for us and still come home with a smile on his face, how could any of us even think to argue about his new job and our having to move? Blake and I congratulated Dad on the news, and we all remained seated at the table for some time, discussing what was going to happen.

Dad was to start his new job on the following Monday, which only gave us a week to figure out a plethora of details. We would have to put our modest storey-and-a-half house on the market and find a new home in or near the place where Dad would be working, a small town called Stapeton. It was about a two-hour drive from where we were living on the outskirts of Halifax, Nova Scotia, and didn’t have much to offer in the way of excitement, according to my father. Stapeton did, he pointed out, offer us all a fresh start in a scenic little area where it was still actually dark enough at night to see the stars. It sounded good to me. I felt ready for a change.

When everyone had gone to bed, I walked down the hallway to my brother’s room and tapped on the door. I heard him mumble that I could come in. I opened the door and strolled over to sit on the end of his bed.

So, pretty big news, huh?

Yep.

Whattaya think? Really?

He sat up in his bed and leaned on his right arm. Even late at night, with bed head and dark stubble, anyone could see how attractive my brother was. He was nearly six feet tall, with dark hair and broad shoulders. He was active in volleyball and soccer, and he swam a lot too, all of which were good things because he could cook up a storm and eat like a horse. He weighed about one-eighty and was well-toned. He was into sports like I was into cars—or anything with an engine for that matter—so he got six-pack abs and I got grease-stained hands.

Well, I’m glad Dad won’t be doing the manual labour anymore, so any complaints I might have about moving are pretty petty in comparison to his health. I mean, it kinda sucks that I won’t get to graduate with all my friends next year, but that’s about all that I’ll miss about this place. How about you? You doing okay?

I took a moment to respond to Blake’s question. Yeah, I’m doing all right. Guess I’m actually kinda lookin’ forward to moving. Be cool to have a new house—maybe make some friends. But I’m a little nervous, too. I mean, it’s not like I love it here or anything, but it’s familiar.

True. Blake paused for a moment, contemplating. Change is always a little nerve-racking at first, but you’ll be fine. We’re both gonna make new friends, and besides, even if we don’t, I was on the computer earlier and I looked up Stapeton—turns out there’s a lake really close by, so no matter what, you and I can go fishing and canoeing and stuff. Sound good? Blake tried to show enthusiasm as he spoke.

Yeah, that’d rock. I loved doing outdoor things with Blake. When he got his driver’s licence, he borrowed Dad’s half-ton (an Oxford white, 1995 Ford F-150 XLT) and picked me up from school, taking me for a surprise fishing trip. Dad had wanted to go too, but couldn’t, due to work. And, selfishly, I was glad it was just Blake and me. Don’t get me wrong—my father and I get along pretty well and everything, but it was easier with Blake. I could talk to Blake about anything, and I never felt stupid or embarrassed. There were lots of times growing up I’d wake my brother at night or find a chance to talk to him privately when I’d ask him all the pressing questions on my mind. Everything from: Blake, is Santa Claus real? to: Blake, how come my dick is hard every morning?

Anything else on your mind, Caleb?

Hmm? I had to snap back to reality, having let my mind wander.

Anything else you wanna talk about?

Oh … umm … nah, I guess not. Not tonight anyway. I’m pretty tired, to tell you the truth. I just wanted to find out what you were thinking about everything.

We’re gonna be fine. Count on it.

Yeah. I’m sure you’re right. I got up from the bed and smiled. Night, Blake.

Night, bud. Get a good sleep.

I closed the door behind me and headed to the washroom before going back to my own room and to bed.

I looked over the walls of my small room. I’d be taking down my posters soon, carefully rolling up Sidney Crosby, the black Mustang GT, and Bullitt (the best car-chase scene ever filmed is in that movie, in case you haven’t seen it), and packing them in cardboard tubes so they wouldn’t get crushed on the way to the new house. I began to wonder what the new house would look like and where it was going to be. I got all keyed up thinking about it, and I couldn’t wait for the weekend to arrive.

Mom had told us that we were going to look through the real estate papers on the weekend and work on finding a place. Everything felt so sudden and rushed, but that was what made it exciting. Our family normally plotted everything out so carefully. My parents were methodical and meticulous when it came to any significant event or purchase; for them to do something so hurriedly and unexpectedly was a surprise. I think we were all feeling a positive rush of adrenaline. I noticed my parents’ light was still on when I went downstairs to the kitchen for something to drink at two o’clock. I could hear the mumbled sound of voices from beyond their door. I pulled out a chair at the round kitchen table and sat down with my glass of Graves apple juice. The sodium-vapour streetlamp spilled some luminance into the room and showed me the water still gently tapping against the window as the rain continued to fall. I finished my juice and went back upstairs to bed. It took me awhile, but eventually I fell asleep that night.

On Sunday afternoon, my father left for Stapeton. He had to start work the next morning and wanted to be sure to get a decent rest beforehand. He’d call when he arrived at his motel to let us know how the town looked and if he had seen anything of interest along the way. After he had gone, I sat down in the living room with my mother and went through some real estate papers with her. My mother, Karen (who stood five feet four inches in height and weighed about the same as me, though, naturally, she carried it differently), kept running a hand through her shoulder-length dirty-blonde hair, which had just a bit of natural curl to it. She’d sigh every time she put aside another paper or saw the price of a house she liked that was out of our league. Whenever we’d find something we liked, whether feasible or not, we’d read aloud the description. Unfortunately, most were well out of our price range, but it was fun to imagine all the same: like winning the lottery or being the last person on earth—the things you could do. The places we could afford never sounded very appealing, so we needed some fun intermixed with our reality. We were still going through the pages when Blake came home from a friend’s house.

Hi, sweetie. Have a nice time at Mark’s? Mom asked as Blake hung his brown leather jacket up on the coat hook inside the door.

Yeah, I guess. It’s kinda weird knowing you won’t be going back, though. Everyone was kinda awkward once I dropped the news. What have you two been up to? Blake grabbed a Coke from the fridge and came across the hall into the living room with us. He cracked the can open and sat down on the faux-suede brown recliner.

We’ve just been checking out the different places for sale in Stapeton and the surrounding communities. Your dad said that anything within a ten-minute drive to work is best. We don’t want to live farther than that if we can avoid it, she explained.

Want me to go online and see what I can find? he offered.

Maybe we can try that later on. Right now we’re kinda swamped as it is, Mom explained as she picked up a pile of papers to emphasize her point. But thanks for the offer.

Finding anything good?

Mom and I both sighed. Well, this is the pile of possibilities, I said, pointing to a thin stack of three sheets to my left. And this is a pile of the ones we like. I pointed to a much thicker stack on my right.

Blake laughed. It can’t be that bad. Let’s see the possibilities pile.

I handed him the sheets, and he quietly looked them over. I watched his facial expressions as he flipped through the pages. He scrunched his nose at the first one, stuck his tongue out at the second, and rubbed his forehead at the third. Okay, are there any of the other pile I can look at? I’m not too keen on any of these. That was Blake’s polite way of saying he hated the short list and wanted desperately to find something better.

Here I was thinking this was going to be fun. Mom chuckled in her anxious way.

No worries, Mom. We’ll find something great. I bet Dad will call and tell us about something he saw on his drive out today, or maybe we’ll still find one in this pile, I suggested hopefully.

That pile isn’t any good to us; it’s all places too far from the town, Mom said to Blake as he picked up some papers from the centre of the long, rectangular coffee table.

Mind if I look at them anyway? he asked.

Feel free, Mom replied, getting up from the sofa. I’m getting a coffee. You boys want one?

Nah, I’m good, thanks, Blake answered, holding up his can of Coke.

No thanks, I said.

Mom went out to the kitchen and returned with her coffee to see Blake scrutinizing one of the data sheets. I could tell he liked what he was reading. Mom sat back down on the sofa, the cushion covered with newspapers separating where she and I sat.

Find something? I asked my brother.

Listen to this: Well-maintained two-storey farmhouse on fifty acres of land. Three bedrooms, two and a half bathrooms, partially finished basement, screened-in porch, and large outbuilding. Situated near a stream at the end of a gravel road.

That sounds awesome, I said, trying not to get too excited.

Yeah, and very expensive, Mom added. How much do they want for it?

One forty nine, nine.

That can’t be right. It must be two forty nine, nine, Mom stated. She put down her coffee and looked over at Blake, a faint hope in her eyes.

See for yourself, he offered, handing her the page.

Mom studied it for a moment before saying, Must be something wrong with it. There’s no picture. I bet it’s dilapidated or at least needs a great deal of work. She peered closely at the write-up.

That doesn’t necessarily mean it’s bad, Mom, Blake said. And it sure as hell sounds better than the others we can afford.

Oh wait, there’s the real problem. Mom placed the page on the table in a disappointed grumble. This place is a good fifteen-minute drive from Stapeton. It’s out in the boonies. That’d be one long bus ride to school every day. Not to mention the winter. Think of it—the end of a dirt road, we’d be forever and a day to get plowed out.

Well, couldn’t Dad get a plow attachment for the truck? He could plow us out himself. Or I could do it, and when Caleb gets his licence next year, so could he. This place sounds too good to give up on just because it’s a little less convenient.

Sensing Blake’s uncommon desire for something (Blake’s a pretty laid-back, easygoing guy when he’s not playing a sport), Mom picked the paper back up again. It does sound nice. She paused, imagining the possibilities. Tell you what: when your father calls, I’ll ask him to take a drive out and look at the place. If it looks at all decent, we’ll go and have a proper viewing of it. We’re not going to rush into anything, though. And besides, even if it is great, it’ll be up to your father whether we consider it or not. He’s the one who has to drive back and forth to work every day. If he thinks it will be too much extra, then that’s that. So don’t get your hopes up, okay? I don’t want either of you to be disappointed.

The page with the farmhouse was put on the top of the possibilities list, and we continued going through the remaining papers. I don’t think our hearts were in it after that, though. We all had our minds on the house by the stream, the peaceful country home with land and trees and lots of privacy. I don’t know how I knew we would be getting that house for sure, but I did all the same. I think we all did, almost as if it were calling us to it. It just felt meant to be. I knew we were all thinking the same thing, as no one spoke of the house all through dinner. We didn’t talk about anything at all to do with the move until the phone rang as we were clearing the table. Dad had reached Stapeton safely and was telling Mom all about the town. Mom had a smile on her face the entire time. That was a good sign. Blake and I awaited the moment when she told Dad about the house. It took about five minutes before the conversation got to that point. Shortly afterward, Mom hung up the receiver and sat down at the kitchen table with us.

So, what did he say? Blake asked immediately.

Well, he’s there safely, and the motel seems half decent. There’s a coffee shop just down the street, so he grabbed a sandwich for his supper and he was going to go for a walk to see what else was around. He sounded tired but happy.

What about the house? I wanted to know.

He said he’d go take a look tomorrow after work. He didn’t sound very enthused about the distance from the town, so I think we’d better really start to look more seriously at the other houses. Mom’s voice was somewhat dejected. She tried her best to force a smile, but we all knew how predictable Dad was. Convenience was much more important to him than any aesthetic quality. He’d go look at the house to humour my mother (well, all of us), but he’d find something about it that he didn’t like and that would be enough to cross it off the list. Blake and Mom seemed to abandon hope at that moment. For some reason, I believed that, for once in my father’s life, he’d do the impractical thing. I was certainly hoping, anyway.

The next day seemed to drag on forever. Classes were painfully slow, and the hands of the clock didn’t appear to move at all. Finally the bell rang signalling the end of the last period, and everybody thundered into the halls, heading for lockers or buses or girlfriends or boyfriends. I simply headed for the door.

I had gotten used to the kilometre-and-a-half walk home after school by myself. It could be lonely at times, but other days it was a welcome relief from the constant noise that I had been subjected to at school. Blake and I walked together most mornings, which had given us many chances to talk over the years, but coming home I was alone because he was involved in so many school activities. I went to all his games and meets, but on that day, it was just a practice for the track team.

As I walked home that Monday afternoon, I wondered if I would make any friends at my new school. Maybe I’d have to take the bus. Maybe Blake wouldn’t get on the teams there. Maybe he’d be the star player. Maybe. Maybe. Maybe. There were so many maybes to think about, it made my head hurt. For the first time I began to get nervous about moving. I thought about the chance that maybe I wouldn’t get along well at the new school and I’d have to deal with all sorts of bullying and garbage like that. At least at the school I was going to, I simply went unnoticed. I wasn’t different enough to be picked on for just standing out, and I wasn’t similar enough to just blend in with a group. I was, have been, and always will be, just me. I don’t know how to be anything else. I like what I like, and I don’t like what I don’t like. The only people I wanted to please were my family members. That’s all there was to it. I never understood what made other people my own age tick. Hell, I barely even knew myself or what made me tick. If nothing else, moving away would be a learning experience. And from everything I’ve ever read about it, as an Aries, I’m supposed to have a tendency to like change in my home that stems from a desire to progress in life. Who am I to argue with fate?

I spent the next three days waiting and worrying. Dad had called each night but hadn’t mentioned anything about the house. We all read that as a sign that we should drop the idea and face reality. We sat around the kitchen table eating the tuna casserole that Blake had made. Mom was dragging her fork back and forth over a rotini noodle, which prompted Blake to ask, Isn’t it okay?

Hmm? Oh, yes. It’s fine, hon. I was just thinking. Sorry. Mom smiled at him and put her fork down. It’s a lovely casserole. Thank you for making it. She took a sip of her water. I’m just getting a little overwhelmed by everything. I think I’m going to call your father and tell him I’m going to Stapeton tomorrow. We talked about it the other night, and he said he’d like it if we could go around together to look at houses and things like that. Do you boys think you can manage okay for a day or two?

Yeah, you don’t need to worry about us, I said.

Couldn’t we go with you? I mean, there’s hardly any point to going to school here anyway. Once people know you’re going, they almost look pissed that you’re still around. I had one guy say to me today, ‘What are you still doing here?’ Blake chuckled to himself. Guess we’re overstaying our welcome.

Mom rolled her eyes. Well, normally I would say yes, but I really would like some time alone with your dad to discuss things.

Is everything okay? I asked. I always tended to read too much into everything.

Oh yes, everything’s fine. We just need to crunch some numbers, and we don’t want to talk about finances in front of you guys. My parents did that all the time—well, actually, they fought about money all the time—and I swore I’d never do that in front of my kids. Not that your father and I fight, she added quickly on the end.

Well, is there anything we can do to help while you’re gone? Blake wanted to know.

Just look out for each other and keep the place tidy. You guys always do those things anyway.

It was true; Blake and I were both inclined toward neatness. We also knew that with the house going on the market, we had to make sure everything was presentable for viewings. We promised Mom that we’d be sure to take care of everything.

You guys are going to love the house! were the first words we heard from Mom the next evening. She was calling from the motel room while Dad was still at work. She talked so excitedly that I had to ask her to slow down. She was loud enough that Blake could hear every word from where he was sitting in the living room. He got up and grabbed an extension to listen in more clearly. Turned out Mom had even more good news. When she had gotten to the room, she found a note that Dad had left for her that informed her that he had made arrangements to view the house the following morning. Mom hadn’t been able to resist the urge to go and have a look beforehand, though, and was telling us all about it.

When we got off the phone, Blake and I discussed Mom’s enthusiasm. Both of us knew that Dad’s one weakness was Mom when she had her heart set on something. We agreed that it was a foregone conclusion that the house would be ours, barring that it didn’t need a tremendous amount of repairs. We both figured with our luck, the entire thing would need to be renovated, winterized, have all its pipes replaced, you name it. Still, we held out hope.

At quarter past three the next afternoon, both of us began to worry. We hadn’t heard from Mom or Dad that day, and we thought they must be looking at other houses as the one we all liked wasn’t going to work out. We had expected a call to let us know one way or the other. So you can imagine our surprise when we heard Mom’s 2005 black Ford Focus SES ZX4 come up the driveway. We went to the back door and watched her run up to the house.

Hey, Mom. We weren’t expecting to see you back tonight, Blake stated, giving her a hug at the doorway.

She was grinning from ear to ear as she gave Blake a peck on the cheek. She turned to hug me, saying, Hi, sweetheart, as she kissed my cheek, too. She sounded a bit out of breath but appeared really happy. She closed the door and said, Okay—no time to talk. Go and pack some things for overnight.

Blake and I both smiled. What’s going on? I needed to know.

The house is just awesome. You guys are gonna love it. The rooms are big and airy. The lot is gorgeous. And the peacefulness of it all. Ohhh, it’s heavenly.

What does Dad think? Blake asked Mom as she poured herself a cold drink of water from the Brita filter in the fridge.

He didn’t say too much at first, just got that little smirk on his face. We all knew that smirk well. It meant, no matter if it wasn’t the most practical thing in the world to do, he just kind of wanted it all the same. He didn’t get that look very often. We agreed that if we both really liked it, we’d get you boys out to have a look before making an offer. We want everyone to be happy. It’s a big step and the place will definitely require more upkeep than a house in town would, but we both thought it would be well worth it.

What about Dad’s commute to work? I asked.

He said he didn’t mind the extra drive if he got to come home to a place that nice. He also said he’d look to get some sort of plow or plow attachment for the truck, which would likely mean some early mornings for you guys come winter.

Blake snickered. Only for one year in my case. After that, it’s all Caleb’s job.

Hey, I won’t mind. If it means getting to drive, I’m in.

Mom looked at us both standing around the kitchen. Well, come on now, go throw some things together. She clapped her hands to speed us up. I told your dad we’d be there by seven. We’re going out for dinner, and tomorrow morning we’ll go see the house.

I don’t recall ever packing so fast in my entire life. I threw in the first things that I saw in my chest of drawers. I grabbed my toothbrush and bolted down the stairs for the kitchen. Mom walked over to me and gave me another hug. I think this is going to be the best thing to ever happen to this family, she said softly.

Will you be happy there?

Oh, I think I’ll be very happy there. There’s a library in town I can volunteer at, and hopefully I can pick up a part-time job at one of the stores. I really want to get to know the community and take part in it. But that’s only after we all get settled. Perhaps by the start of summer vacation. Mom let out a deep sigh. Summer in the country on a dirt road. Just think of it. She looked genuinely pleased with the thought of her country home. On the way to Stapeton, we pulled every detail from her that we could.

Stapeton didn’t have much to choose from for restaurants, so we went to a pizza place called Sam’s. Dad sounded a bit tired, it having been a long week at work, but was otherwise in good spirits. As the meal progressed, the talk became solely about the house. Dad was never one to go on and on about anything, regardless of how much he liked it, so it was sort of like pulling teeth to get any kind of reaction from him beyond his basic statement, It seems about right.

Blake and I shared a room back at the Kelly Street Motel, two doors down from our parents. It was one of those side-of-the-road, drive-up-to-your-door motels that seem to only exist in small towns and movies. The rooms had been recently painted taupe, with large framed prints of sailing ships over the beds. There was relatively new burgundy carpeting in the main room, and the fixtures were all decent, modern, and functioning. It was basic, but it was clean and smoke-free—it could have been a lot worse. There was nothing at all on television, so Blake and I played some hands of crazy eights before calling it a night.

When I came out of the bathroom after brushing my teeth, Blake was standing by his bed (the one closer to the door) stretching in his bright yellow Joe Boxers. My brother looked so strong and healthy. He had defined pecs where I had flat skin with nipples on either side. I wish I had a better build, I said as he turned to face me.

You look fine, Caleb. Don’t be one of those assholes who’s obsessed with body image.

I’m not; I’d just like to feel better about myself, that’s all. Not for anyone else, just me. I don’t wanna be all ripped or anything, just, I dunno … I wasn’t really sure what I meant. Whenever I get that way, I trail off. I put my toothbrush back in my bag and climbed into my bed. The sheets were crisp and smelled faintly of fabric softener.

Blake crawled under his own covers. Well, maybe you’ll get involved with something that will help you put on some muscle. Sports are good for that, but so are things like canoeing, splitting wood, and shovelling snow. They can all help you bulk up a bit. Just be careful not to overdo it, cuz, like I said, you’re fine the way you are. Lottsa people are attracted to skinnier guys anyway, Blake added.

I guess.

I’m sure Blake could tell by the tone of my response that I wasn’t convinced. He threw a pillow at me and turned out the light. It surprised me and I laughed.

Jerk, I said, whipping it back.

The pillow smacked his head. Oomph. See? You’re plenty strong.

I was still chuckling as I said, Night, Blake.

Night, bud.

I awoke to the sounds of the shower running. Blake was already up and getting ready for the day. I glanced at the digital clock radio on the nightstand between the two beds. The large red numbers informed me it was ten minutes after seven. I yawned and rubbed my eyes, clicking on the radio. I squinted out the thin rays of sunlight that pierced through the space between the heavy curtains. The radio station was crackly so I tried to tune it in, but then gave up and shut the thing off. I swung my legs over the side of the bed and stood up. I stretched and scratched myself before going over to the window and pulling back the drapes enough so I could see out. The sky was a beautiful pale blue, and there wasn’t a cloud in sight. I looked both up and down the street. From my vantage point, there wasn’t a soul to be seen. All was silent, but peacefully so. The faintest hint of green was starting to show on the hardwood trees, and I hoped that there would be no more snow.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a young boy biking along the street, his silver BMX kicking up water from the puddles and spraying a thin line up his back as he pedalled away from me. There was a fair amount of moisture on the ground, and I knew the lawns everywhere would be muddy and soft. I didn’t much care for the weather of spring, always raining and never really warm, but it meant that eventually summer would arrive and all would be dry and firm and ready for fun. Autumn, I must say, despite the fact that it leads to winter, is truly my favourite season of all. The world becomes so much more colourful and subdued. People actually notice nature and take time to appreciate it. I visualized long walks down wooded trails.

The shower stopped running, and my mind snapped back to reality. I was still standing by the window in my grey boxer briefs, holding back the curtain. The bathroom door creaked open and Blake stepped out, a white towel wrapped around his waist, his wet hair dripping over his chest and back.

Hey, Caleb. Sorry if I woke you.

No worries, you didn’t. I let the curtain fall back into place as I made my way toward the bathroom.

You were pretty out of it. I was afraid I was going to wake you when I slipped out.

You went out?

Yeah. Went for a run.

You shoulda woken me up. I woulda gone with you.

I thought about it, but it looked as though you could really use the rest.

I must have been visibly disappointed because Blake quickly added, Next time, though, I promise. He ruffled my hair and grinned. Say, I forgot to pack my hair gel. Can I swipe some of yours?

Yeah, sure. It’s in my bag. Help yourself.

Thanks.

I went to have my first pee of the day, and as always, it seemed to go on and on. I had that odd, but not unpleasant, piss-shiver halfway through. When I came out of the bathroom, Blake headed back in, leaving the door open as he played with his hair.

Think you’ll meet someone special today or something? I teased as he fussed with his hair (which was so short that it really wouldn’t look a lot different if he didn’t try to style it at all).

You never know, do you? He smirked.

I laughed. I gotta admit, I’m kinda surprised at how well you’re taking this whole thing. I don’t know that I would be as willing to go if I had your life.

Whattaya mean? He finished playing with his hair and looked at me.

Well, I mean, you’re popular, and you’ve got lots of friends. You’ve almost always got someone you’re dating, and now, for graduation year, you’re gonna be with nothing but strangers.

They’ll only be strangers until I get to know them, and I plan to get to know people over the summer as much as I can—and during the last two months of this school year. We gotta make the most of our time here. He stretched his arms high over his head. And about being popular, I don’t give a rat’s ass. I just want to be liked by people who like me for me. The friends I have now, well, most of them haven’t turned out to be very loyal. Only people I’m really gonna miss are Randy, Simon, and Lucy.

You must be almost glad you don’t have a serious girlfriend right now.

Sorta. It sure makes it easier to move without having to deal with a breakup or an attempt at a long-distance relationship—especially since I bet there are a lot of really nice, hot girls here too. And you know what always happens in the movies when a new boy moves to town—all the girls swoon over him. Blake grinned and flexed his biceps in a mock display of narcissism.

I chuckled. God, you’re such a schmuck.

He laughed.

I continued talking with Blake as he got ready. When he was finished with the washroom, I took a shower and got dressed. I headed down to my parents’ room, where Blake had already gone. The four of us got in the car and journeyed into town for breakfast.

We pulled into the parking lot of a small restaurant just past the post office. The place was called the Black Cherry Barn, and true to its name, it looked like a barn painted with black cherry paint (complete with a white outlined long-stemmed cherry on the side wall, looking like a crime scene in a police photograph). We went in the side door and headed directly over to the booths at the far side of the eating area. I slid in next to the wall, and Blake sat next to me, across from our parents.

This seems like a decent place, my mother said in her cheery first-thing-in-the-morning-I-wish-I-were-still-in-bed-but-I-am-too-excited-to-sleep voice.

The food here is really good. I had three meals here last week, Dad told us.

A waitress approached our booth and slid paper placemats with historical facts on them in front of us, along with four sets of utensils, each set wrapped in a napkin. She seemed a bit surprised to see unfamiliar faces and caught me watching her expression closely. She laughed and said, Don’t mind me, I’m just not used to seeing faces I don’t recognize—’specially so early on a Sunday morning. Usually we get the before-church crowd or the hangover crowd at this hour of the day.

We all smiled somewhat awkwardly.

You folks visiting the area?

No, actually we’re moving here. I just transferred to the warehouse, Dad informed her.

Oh hey, that’s great. My boyfriend works over there. Hell, half the town works there. She chuckled. I couldn’t help but like her instantly. My name’s Doris. It’s nice to meet you folks.

Thanks. Nice to meet you as well, my mother replied. We’re the Mackenzies. I’m Karen, and this is my husband, Frey. These are our sons, Blake and Caleb, Mom said, pointing lightly to each of us as she said our names.

Mmmm, mmm. Doris shook her head from side to side. There are going to be some very happy girls in this town when they see you boys.

I blushed, and Blake laughed.

Can I get you folks anything to drink? Coffee? Tea?

Coffee sounds good, my father answered.

We all agreed, and Doris said, Four coffees, comin’ up. I’ll be right back with them and your menus.

She seems friendly. Dad chuckled.

Doris returned some time later with a tray of mugs and a pot of hot coffee. She handed out the menus and proceeded to pour the steaming beverage into each of our white ironstone mugs.

I’m sorry I kept you people waiting like that. I hope I haven’t held you up from anything. I just can’t help but talk whenever I see somebody I know. And when I see somebody I don’t know, well I’m likely to never shut up till I do know ’em.

It’s no problem at all. We’re actually putting in a little time before we meet up with the realtor anyway, Mom said.

May I ask, what places you folks lookin’ at? I know most of the people who’ve moved in and out of this town and might be able to give you background info. And if you don’t believe that, maybe I’ll admit that I’m just a little bit curious.

Dad replied, Well, to tell you the truth, there aren’t that many places right here in town we really took an interest in, so we’ve mainly focused on things in the surrounding areas.

Doris good-naturedly slapped Dad on the shoulder. I don’t blame you at all. Everything in town is rather plain, and the taxes are higher too. She stood with the pot of coffee in one hand and her other hand on her hip. We were all halfheartedly glancing over our menus. I had decided before I went inside that if they offered apple pancakes that I’d be ordering them. Luckily they were listed next to blueberry and banana as options. I liked blueberries, but