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“A call?”
“A concerned teacher from his old school. The portrait she painted was not flattering. She thought he was dangerous. There was a girl he was accused of hurting. Charges dropped apparently. Rumor had it that his parents paid her off.”
“Rumor,” I said, feeling an unreasonable rise of defensiveness, though I’d said the very thing to Steph earlier. “Since when do you listen to rumors?”
“Since never. I did some digging.”
“And?”
“Let’s say we’re watching him.”
Before I could ask what that meant, the doorbell rang, and I let my dad walk past me to open the front door. The police cruiser was parked in our driveway and if this made Evan uncomfortable it didn’t show. He introduced himself, shook my father’s hand.
After a split second of hesitation, my father stepped aside to let him in.
“Madeline was nice enough to offer to catch me up on chemistry since I’m starting the year late.”
My dad was still holding the dish towel, but there was still something cop-like and tough about his stance, his tone. “What brings your family to Little Valley?”
“It’s just my mom and me. My dad stayed in the city.”
Not an answer. Both my father and I picked up on it. “Big change.”
“My mom needed to get away from the urban grind. Maybe I did too. My dad will join on the weekends when he can.”
My father nodded. Gone was the arrogance Evan displayed at school. He was good at that, a shapeshifter, changing himself to mold to any situation. I knew right away that my dad didn’t like him. And it annoyed me because it seemed unfair to judge someone based on rumors.
I didn’t love the look on my dad’s face, and I wondered if he was going to ask Evan to leave. My cheeks started to burn in anticipatory embarrassment.
“You guys stay in the kitchen, okay?” he said instead.
“Of course,” said Evan. “Thank you for having me, sir.”
In the kitchen, I got Evan a soda and I heard my dad turn on the news in the living room—where he would stay the whole time Evan was over, even though his after dinner routine usually included disappearing into the basement office he kept.
“What’s it like being the daughter of a cop?” Evan asked when I sat down next to him. I had copied over my notes into a fresh composition pad.
I shrugged. I had never not been the Sheriff’s daughter. “Um, it’s okay.”
“Strict?”
“I guess.”
“I don’t think he likes me.”
I laugh a little at this. “He doesn’t like anyone. He’s a cop.”
“Is this for me?” he asked as I slid the mottled notebook over to him.
“It’s everything, starting from the first day, including the lab results. You haven’t missed much.”
“I like chemistry,” he said, flipping through the pages of the notebook. “It’s magic, the way elements mingle and make something else.”
He was different than I thought he’d be. Most boys were stiff and awkward, uncomfortable in their skin. They said stupid things, made fun. Even Badger veered between teasing and silence most of the time. But Evan was relaxed, focused on me. His words sounded like poetry.
“Magic,” I repeated. “I like that.”
“So, is that how it started?” asks Harley now.
