Page 54 of Head Over Heels

“Whatever. You get the gist.”

“I get the gist. When should we go?”

“Whenever you can get away.”

He hesitates, surveys the store, then says, “How about as soon as you finish your research here?”

Chapter 28

Chase

Just being in Big Win depresses me. It’s so huge and impersonal, like an outdoor storewarehouse.The lighting is bad, so the whole place gives an impression ofgrayeven though there are plenty of bright-colored jackets and sleeping bags and other items.

Liv doesn’t seem affected. She strolls through the store, Katie’s hand in hers, fingering items, looking around with curiosity on her face, as if she’s absorbing it all, making sense out of it. And her calm, her lack of despair, makes me feel better right away. We haven’t lost this battle yet. We’ve gotta have at least a few things under our hats that Big Win can’t lay claim to.

But another half hour of scoping out Big Win disabuses me of that notion. Big Win stocks literally everything we have at Mike’s, and a bunch more—and their prices are lower.Shop at Mike’s! Find less, pay more!is hardly the slogan that’s going to win the day.

I don’t say that out loud, though. I follow Liv around, trying to see things the way she’s seeing them.

“Ask some questions,” she whispers, as we approach fishing. “I don’t know enough about fishing to know what to ask, but you do.”

There’s a guy—maybe college age?—biting his fingernails, leaning against a column, and when we approach he pushes himself off the column and comes toward us. “Can I help you?” he asks.

“Um, I…”

God, I suck at this.

I suddenly remember the Boy Scout dad up at Baker Lake. “Um, my line breaks almost every time I get a bite.”

“Yeah?” he says. “Uh, I don’t know. Um, maybe a thicker line would help?”

It might. But it might not, if the drag’s too tight. I wait for him to say that, but he just leads me to where all the lines are displayed. “Here you go,” he says.

Katie begins counting the spools. It’s kind of amazing how easily she can amuse herself.

“I don’t know what kind of line I’m using now,” I say.

I wouldn’t be caught dead in real life being this much of a noob, but Liv shoots me a gratifying glance of approval, so I keep it up.

“What’s a good one that’s thick enough not to break but still good for trolling?”

“Uh…”

Now he’s casting his eyes in all directions and looking a little desperate. He grabs something off the display. “This,” he says.

I take it out of his hand. It’s braid. Ineversuggest braid for trolling. It’s fine for bottom fishing, but the fish won’t bite on braid when you’re trolling.

If anything, I feel more depressed. If Mike’s goes under because of these guys, there won’t be anyone left in the area to givegoodfishing advice.

But Liv is smiling. She snatches the line out of my hand and says, brightly, “Thanks!”

As we leave that aisle, I murmur, “It’s the wrong kind.”

“I figured,” she says. “He looked like he was grasping at straws.”

“He was.” I sigh, heavily.

“Let’s see if it’s any better in camping.”

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