Forever Read Free

Jack had died. I’d heard the stories about them, especially once alcohol was passed around the adults. “As in ‘Mushroom Marshall’? As in the Marshall that boffed Mom before you did?”
    â€œHe’s Mr. Landy to you,” my father said, but he was already on his way out of the room and didn’t sound very distressed. He added, “Don’t be rude to your mother.”
    Mom turned and followed my father back into the living room. I heard them talking, and at one point, my mother actually laughed.
    On a Tuesday. It was Tuesday, and she was laughing.
    â€œWhy is he coming here?” I asked suspiciously, following them from the living room into the kitchen. I eyed the counter. Half of the counter was covered with chips and vegetables, and the other half was clipboards, folders, and jotted-on legal pads.
    â€œYou haven’t changed your shirt yet,” Mom said.
    â€œI’m going out,” I replied. I hadn’t decided that until just now. All of Dad’s friends thought they were extremely funny and they wereextremely not, so my decision had been made. “What is Marshall coming for?”
    â€œMr. Landy,” my father corrected. “We’re just talking about some legal things and catching up.”
    â€œA case?” I drifted toward the paper-covered side of the counter as something caught my eye. Sure enough, the word I thought I’d seen — wolves — was everywhere. I felt an uncomfortable prickle as I scanned it. Last year, before I knew Grace, this feeling would’ve been the sweet sting of revenge, seeing the wolves about to get payback for killing Jack. Now, amazingly, all I had was nerves. “This is about the wolves being protected in Minnesota.”
    â€œMaybe not for long,” my father said. “Landy has a few ideas. Might be able to get the whole pack eliminated.”
    This was why he was so happy? Because he and Landy and Mom were going to get cozy and devise a plan to kill the wolves? I couldn’t believe he thought that was going to make Jack’s death any better.
    Grace was in those woods, right now. He didn’t know it, but he was talking about killing her.
    â€œFantastico,” I said. “I’m out of here.”
    â€œWhere are you going?” Mom asked.
    â€œMadison’s.”
    Mom stopped midway through ripping open a bag of chips. They had enough food to feed the entire U.S. Congress. “Are you really going to Madison’s, or are you just saying you’re going to Madison’s because you know I’ll be too busy to check?”
    â€œFine,” I said. “I’m going to Kenny’s and I don’t know who I’m going to get to come with me. Happy?”
    â€œDelighted,” Mom said. I noticed, suddenly, that she was wearing the shoes that I’d bought her. It made me feel weird for some reason. Mom and Dad smiling and her wearing new shoes and me wondering if they were going to blow my friend away with a large caliber rifle.
    I snatched my bag and went outside to my SUV. I sat in the stuffy interior, not turning the key or moving, just holding my phone in my hands and wondering what to do. I knew what I should do; I just didn’t know if I wanted to do it. Six Tuesdays since I’d talked to him. Maybe Sam would pick up the phone. I could talk to Sam.
    No, I had to talk to Sam. Because Congressman Marshall Landy and my dad might actually figure something out in their little potato-chip-fueled war council. I didn’t have a choice.
    I bit my lip and dialed the number for Beck’s house.
    â€œDa.”
    The voice on the other end of the phone was endlessly familiar, and the whisper of nerves in my stomach turned into howls.
    Not Sam.
    My own voice sounded unintentionally frosty. “Cole, it’s me.”
    â€œOh,” he said, and hung up.

• GRACE •
    My growling stomach kept track of time for me, so it seemed like a