Everyone Dies Famous in a Small Town by Bonnie-Sue Hitchcock (general ebook reader .TXT) 📗

Louise noticed that Gladys hadn’t packed any pictures of her and Addie, so she’d slipped one into the side pocket of her sister’s bag when she wasn’t looking. Addie was about six and had ice cream all over her face. Louise was fourteen and too old to be wearing a holster and riding a stick horse that was way too small for her. It always made Addie laugh when Louise wore her dress-up clothes, so she did it a lot. It’s also what Louise likes most about the picture—Addie laughing.

The photo booth sits in the back corner of the Duck-In like a time machine, documenting the late-night mischief of a small town’s teenagers through the years. Louise even had the same requisite Carson–McQuillen black-and-white photo strip—of herself and Finn—which made her feel boring and predictable. (Except that Nate had stuck his hand through the curtain and given them bunny ears, because he was also boring and predictable.)

Nate was not just her boyfriend’s twin brother; he was a constant shadow, a monkey on Louise’s back. He taunted her with his presence, his simmering jealousy about her and Finn. She wondered who he thought would be better for his brother, if not her? Cindy Trout, the one they called “the fish”? Or triangle-shaped Claudia Klein, with her big swimming shoulders? Or that new girl, Martha Hollister? She seemed to be on a mission to date every boy in Pigeon Creek before the year ended. Why didn’t Nate just date one of them himself? Louise didn’t know, because she rarely spoke to him, and yet she knew his moods like she knew Addie’s.

She knew his twisted downward grimace or the hundred-mile stare with the same hazel-green eyes that Finn had, except Nate’s were moodier. Louise would beg Finn to do something that was just the two of them, without Nate, but the only time that ever happened was if they were making out in the closet in the room the two boys shared. It was uncomfortable and sweaty—she had been jabbed more than once by a stray hanger—not at all romantic, the way Izzy and Gladys had described their jaunts at this particular rodeo.

But Finn had promised her that tonight it would just be the two of them. And I fell asleep on this night of all nights, she thinks, dribbling dog treats along the fence next door to the Carsons’ for the Doberman that lives there. (Thank you, Gladys, for the heads-up.)

It’s as dark as the inside of a freezer. And almost as cold. She thinks about Addie warning her about wildfire. It’s funny, but also not funny. Everything is a little off. Her lateness, Addie’s plea for her not to go, no Doberman coming out to get her dog treats.

And then something grabs her and she screams.

A hand covers her mouth and she’s pulled off the trail into the woods.

“Shhhhh. You’ll wake the whole world.”

Goddammit, Nate.

“I’m trying to help you. Stop it, Louise.”

But she twists madly, trying to get out of his grasp. He’s twice her size, in height and weight. She bites the hand that’s covering her mouth.

“Shit, Louise! What the fuck?”

Her mouth is free now, but he’s still holding her in a tight bear hug.

“I’ll scream again if you don’t let me go.”

“If you do, that’s it, goddammit. I’m done with you.”

“Well, that’s an incentive.”

But what does being “done with her” mean? And it’s very odd that he was waiting in the woods.

“What the hell is going on?” she asks.

“Let’s go to the Duck-In and I’ll tell you everything.”

“Finn is waiting for me.”

“I promise you, Finn is not waiting. He sent me here to meet you.”

“You’ve really gone too far this time, Nate. I’m going inside.”

“He’s got another girl in there, Louise. And if you go inside, you’re going to humiliate yourself.”

She stares at him. It’s so dark, he could easily just be one of the black spruce trees leaning up against her, his long arms branches clutching her shoulders through her thin jacket. She looks up at the fingernail moon smirking at her in the black sky….She was meeting Finn for something else; he’d agreed to meet her….What was it? Addie, telling her there was a fire—had she known something too? But how?

“So did Finn give you something for me?”

“Come on, let’s go to the Duck-In.”

Louise doesn’t remember moving her feet, but somehow she is sitting across from Nate at the Duck-In. As she starts to thaw out, everything hurts, but especially her pride. Not that anyone else is in the café to notice. It’s so bright inside she feels exposed all the way down to her core, like the empty skeleton hanging in her biology class—a bony cage with nothing inside except her heart. It must be visible, trying to pump blood to the rest of her body, as if the ventricle were a sponge being wrung out. Maybe it won’t spring back into shape, the way it’s supposed to, and she will die across from Nate Carson, in a crappy diner booth, with syrup sticking to her ass.

Nate orders two coffees with cream, and extra sugar for Louise, as if they do this all the time.

If he’s gloating that Finn had someone else in his room, she doesn’t get why he brought her here to do it. His long legs bump the table as he shifts around in the booth, jostling their coffees, spilling cream everywhere.

“I can’t do it anymore,” he says.

“Okayyyy…”

She thaws her fingers over the steam rolling off her coffee cup.

“Don’t you want to know what ‘it’ is?”

Not really, she thinks. “He invited me over tonight. Why would he do that if someone else was going to be there?”

“He didn’t actually invite you over, Louise.”

She looks up into his face, surprised to see that it doesn’t hold one ounce of smugness. He pulls off his red knitted cap, running long, slender fingers through short hair.

It’s a drastic change from the Grizzly Adams look he’s always had. When was the last time Louise even looked at