Page 3 of The (Maybe) Murderer Who Knocked Me Up

I glance below said cinder blocks as casually as possible. Peeking out from underneath the rusted frame of the car is a familiar tattooed, muscular arm. That arm is very large because it belongs to Slade, who is rumored to be half grizzly bear shifter and half mountain lion shifter. I don’t know if that’s actually true. It’s just a rumor. There are lots of rumors about Slade. Some people say he went to jail in the middle of our junior year. He was gone for months, and when he returned, he had tattoos and much bigger arms.

I don’t think that’s any reason to assume he was in jail. He probably went to stay with a family member or something. People are far too quick to judge.

Slade rolls out from underneath the car and sits up. He’s wearing a pair of ratty jeans and a black T-shirt. He nods to me, the way cool people do instead of saying hello. I nod back, but I think I do it wrong, because he smiles. It’s not a friendly, wide smile; it’s a subtle, close-lipped smile that hints he’s trying not to laugh.

“Hey, Slade,” Link says loudly, drawing Slade’s attention away from me.

Slade’s gaze flicks to Link. “Hey.”

Link rests his hand on the front bumper of the old car. “Another beat-up car has found its way to your driveway. Imagine that.”

Silver rolls his eyes. “Leave him alone, Link.”

“What? Isn’t it interesting that all these cars show up in Slade’s driveway?” Link asks.

“It’s none of our business. Let’s go.” Silver starts walking down the crumbly sidewalk.

I’ve overheard our moms talking about the cars Slade fixes. They’re worried the cars are stolen, but I don’t think Slade would get involved with something like that.

Sometimes my moms are also too quick to judge.

“Slade’s probably just helping a friend with car trouble,” I say.

Link lets out a breathy laugh. “Sure, Quin.”

That’s what they call me. Quin is short for Sequin. A lot of raccoon shifters shorten their names like that. Our parents name us after shiny things, which other people think is a little weird, so it’s easier to go by part of our name. Tin’s real name is Tinsel and Link’s real name is Cufflink.

Coin follows Link and Silver down the sidewalk, chiming in about how Link is being a dick, and Tin trails behind, walking slowly enough that I could catch up if I wanted to. But I don’t.

I step a little closer to Slade instead. He wipes his oily hands with a dirty rag and tosses it on the ground next to one of the cinderblocks.

“I’m sorry about that,” I say.

He lets out a gust of breath that’s almost a laugh. “It’s all good.” He leans against the car, but even hunched over like that, he’s taller than Link. He must be six foot three or four. He’s bigger than Link too, with a muscular chest to match his arms. I know he’s the same age as me, but he looks at least twenty-five.

I don’t usually like feeling small. But I like it when I’m standing next to Slade. It’s different with him. Instead of feeling silly and short, I feel overwhelmed by his size.

“It’s my birthday,” I say, even though he probably doesn’t care. We’re not really friends. I like to wait for him to leave his house before walking toward the bus stop each morning in the hope that we’ll get to walk together, and sometimes I bakesomething for his foster mom because he often answers the door when I drop it off, but he’s never shown any interest in me.

“How old are you?” Slade asks.

“Eighteen. I’m legal now.” I do this goofy little grin for some reason, and then I want to die of embarrassment. What is wrong with me?

“Legal to vote?” he teases.

“No. Legal to… you know.”Oh my God. I should stop talking now.

“Is that something you want me to know?” His eyes twinkle with amusement. Is he flirting with me? That can’t be right. He’s probably making fun of me. I can’t tell the difference.

Oh my God,oh my God,oh my God.

Link clears his throat loudly from further down the block. Why does he have to be like this in front of Slade? I don’t normally mind his antics, but this is too much.

“Sorry,” I say. “My brothers are annoying sometimes.”

Slade looks over at Link and the others. “You should go catch up.”

“But don’t you need to get to the bus too?” I ask. Internally, I cringe. I probably sound whiny and desperate.

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