Page 25 of Left-Hand Larceny
Are we close? We text every day. I visit. I have her dog, but I still live an ocean away. Honestly, giving my artsy little sister a chance to paint my helmet was the least I could do to make her feel like she’s a part of my life here in Quarry Creek.
I should have said something in response. Now there’s an awkward lull, both of us shifting our weight and avoiding eye contact as the sounds of people laughing and the crunch of footsteps in the grass fill in the gaps.
What was I supposed to do? Smile? Check. Answer direct questions? With words? Ask questions? Right.
I scratch at the back of my neck, my skin hot from the fall sun. “I, uh… h-heard you d-do… um… a-art stuff t-too?”
Quinn’s brows lift, visibly surprised, then she grins.
“Guilty. I teach at the elementary school which doesn’t leave a ton of time for my own projects, but yeah. I used to paint a lot. Haven’t picked up a brush for fun in ages, though. How’d you hear that?”
I hesitate, embarrassed. “Y-you did those charity p-prints f-for the youth l-league last year, right? The s-silent auction? I…um…bought one. F-for my sister.”
Her face lights up as she claps her hands together. “No way! You did?”
I nod. “She, um… she l-loves the one w-with the… the a…a…arc…arc… the w-winter fox? The s-snowy one.”
“That was my favorite too,” Quinn says, her smile turning soft. “Tell her thanks for me. If she’s interested, I’m always willing to talk tricks of the trade.”
Kat would love that.
“I will.”
Another pause stretches between us, but this time it isn’t heavy. I scan the orchard, watching kids dart between the trees, hearing the engine of the tractor and wagon somewhere in the distance shuttling eager patrons to the apple trees. A few feet from us, Maddie uses both of her hands to shove Spags back a step. He laughs.
This is nothing like I’d thought it would be. It’s… not comfortable, but it’s not much different that team events. Tolerable.The whole situation is tolerable.
It would be better if Sadie—
“So, be honest. How’s the party treating you?” Quinn leans her hip on the table beside me.
I glance over at her as she raises one eyebrow to her hairline. Her curls remind me of Kat.
“B-better than I thought,” I can admit. “I w-was w-worried about a p-p-piñata.”
She laughs, and it’s loud. Genuine. A few heads turn, including Sadie’s. Her grin makes my chest squeeze tight and I look away, trying to pull air back into my flattened lungs. I think she might be proud of me.
“Give it a few more minutes. Erik and Vic are probably setting one up as we speak.” She leans in like we’re co-conspirators in a Hollywood bank heist. “Technically, she’s Vic’s sister-in-law, not ours, but twins, you know? We adopted her too.”
I don’t have to force my next smile. The tension in my chest loosening a fraction. Sisters I can understand. A few feet away from us, Spags balances an apple on the top of his head as Vic hands Maddie what looks like a rock and mimes a throwing motion while pointing at the younger man.
I don’t spend a ton of time with the rookie, mostly because he’s never still. He’s always talking, always engaged in shenanigans, always being social. He might have been a better case study. I could have asked him for help, but I know my limits. I will never be that sociable and trying would be physically painful. Even so, I’m grateful to him. Spags certainly knows how to command attention. It means I can stay here on the periphery, engage when I’m ready. Instead of being the oddity everyone stares at.
“What in the William Tell…” Quinn shakes her head and rubs a hand against her eyes. “Do I even want to know what they’re doing?”
“P-probably n-not.” It’s my turn to lean in like a true co-conspirator. “P-plausible d-d-deny-”
“Deniability. Right.” Quinn grins, nudging me with her elbow and I force myself to smile back. “I’m really glad you came out today, you know.”
That surprises me. I look down, fiddling with a loose thread on my jeans. It’s not that I think I’m a pariah, but I am realistic. I don’t particularly enjoy small talk or social interactions, so even when I take part, I end up contributing very little to the plot. And yet, despite not knowing what to say to the woman sitting next tome, she hasn’t acted like talking to me is a burden or a chore for her.
“I a-almost didn’t. C-come.”
“I know.” Quinn’s voice drops. I didn’t realize that I wanted her to understand, and I can’t explain why I think she might actually get it. “Sadie… worries about you. Not to be weird or anything, she just wants you to be part of the crew. You know? I’ve been there too.”
That doesn’t seem right. Not the part about Sadie worrying, I know she does. It’s why she’s a good person. Why she agreed to help me. Why she keeps looking this direction and giving me an encouraging thumbs up.
The surprising part is Quinn feeling like an outsider, too. I frown.
