Secrets, Lies and Dragonflies

Chapter 43

I head inside to prepare Spencer's after school snack in the kitchen and pass by the massive dry erase wall calendar. Aunt Amy posts everything on it: scheduled teacher meetings, café food delivery dates, you name it, it's on here. Today's therapy appointment is scratched out. First one I've missed since I started seeing Counselor Cassie.

The windows are open, allowing me to eavesdrop without much effort. I peek through the curtain, curious why this unexpected visitor is still lingering. He can't really believe he did this to me. He must know I've falsely accused him. Maybe that's his plan. Break me down. Kill me with kindness. Get me to confess I've lied about his involvement. That must be it.

Dropping the sopping wet tree limb in front of Spencer, the St. Bernard eagerly waits for it to be pitched again. Twenty feet is about the most my brother's little frame is capable of throwing the branch. Every few times, Tag would sling it a good distance away giving Zach a chance to erupt in a full sprint. "So you guys have lived here a while, huh?" Tag asks Spencer, slipping off his hoodie. A thin white t-shirt beneath clings to his well-defined arms and chest. He tugs at the sleeves and the base to unwrinkled the material.

"No, not here. We just moved to Aunt Amy's. We used to live in Elliott. But I was born in Florida. I don't really remember, but I think I probably liked it a lot." Spencer replies.

"Well, what a coincidence." Tag spins toward Spencer and in direct eyeshot of my spying operation. I practically dive into the pantry to avoid being caught, narrowly missing a shelf that would have done a number on all my mending parts. "My little sister and I moved up here from Florida, too. Just a few weeks ago, though. My dad got a job at the state park down the road."

"Really? I bet Florida's way better than here."

"Maybe. Maybe not. It's all about what you make of it, my friend," Tag says.

"I guess." Spencer mutters.

"Take it from me. My dad moves every couple of years, so we've never stayed in the same spot too long. Trust me, no place is any better or worse than another. You just kind of have to make the most out of where you are. Except you can't surf in the mountains. That, I admit, does kind of stink."

"You surf?" I can imagine the whites of Spencer's eyes taking over his face, as if a celebrity just walked in.

"My dad taught me when we lived in Florida," Tag replies. "He's a big time surfer. Definitely the way to go if you live on the coast."

"I wish I could learn," Spencer says. I sneak back into position and watch him tussle Zach's head.

"We're actually heading to the Outer Banks in the next few weeks. My first time there. I'll let you know how it goes." Tag tosses the branch extra far. And I blush. I can't help notice the way his bicep contracts when he picks up the heavy stick. "Who knows, maybe you and your folks might want to come along with us sometime?"

"I don't have any folks. But I can ask Aunt Amy, though," Spencer says. Then his head drops. "Never mind. She's probably gonna say no. She has to work all the time on the weekends."

"Oh, yeah. I can see how that can be a real downer." My cheeks brighten to another shade when Tag crosses his arms over his chest. He inspects Spencer. "How old are you, anyway?"

"Ten," my little brother says, his confidence a bit shaky.

"Ten? Oh, no worries, man. I thought you were older." As Tag talks, Spencer stands taller. "Yeah, you have plenty of time. I didn't learn how to surf till I was twelve. Maybe in the meantime, I can give you a few tips? Skateboarding is similar."

That about does it. Spencer will never come off that skateboard now.

Aunt Amy's red van pulls into the gravel driveway. "Hey. Guess that's my cue, Spencer. I better get going now." Tag calls Zack over and puts on a leash. "Hello Ms. Goldsmith," he says, tipping his head.