Page 38 of Knockin' Boats
My lips twitched. “You don’t say.”
I was pretty sure Shua actually saved him fromdrinking,so I filled a shallow dish with water and put it on the floor. Shua dropped to a knee and set the turtle down. He drew under his shell, clearly afraid.
Shua frowned and nudged him.
“Just leave him be,” I said, grabbing the plate with their half sandwich and thrusting it toward them. “Let’s eat, and then when he sees we’re not going to bother him, he’ll drink.”
Shua took the plate and tore into the sandwich, even though it was the same food they’d eaten just last night. “How did you know I was hungry?”
I smiled. “Just a guess.”
“You’re a good guesser,” Shua said, gaze flicking back toward the turtle. “Oh! He’s moving.”
He was slowly peeking around and edging toward the water.
“Turtles aren’t really meant to be pets. They’re not tame like cats or dogs. You should return him to the lakeside when I go to work.”
Shua’s expression fell. “Aw, I was hoping we could go out in the boat.”
“Sorry, I’ve got to get to work soon.”
“You never wanna hang out,” Shua said with a pout. “It’s so boring around here. You get to go places and do stuff, but I don’t have a boat or a car. I’m just stuck while my mom?—”
They stopped short, biting their bottom lip hard and looking as if they were trying not to cry. The first time I’d met Shua, I hadn’t been sure if they were a girl or boy. The second time, I’d realized that was the point. Shua was nonbinary, and that was a tough identity to live in the Ozarks.
That was why I tried to make time to look out for them.
And why my alarms went off now.
“What about your mom? Is she treating you badly?”
Shua blinked hard, eyes trained on the turtle. Finally, they said, “She’s with her new boyfriend. Being gross. I don’t want to hang around home and hear that.”
“Ah. Yeah. That doesn’t sound fun.”
Shua nodded. “It’s not like I care she’s got a boyfriend. Whatever. But she works nights, and I barely see her, and now…”
I got it. The kid was lonely.
They popped up over here not because they needed my food—though undoubtedly they were in that black hole phase of being a teen—but because they needed attention. They loved going out on the lake, and once in a while I’d take them for a ride, but up till now I’d refused to take them wakesurfing because while it was pretty safe, nothing was without risk.
Shua was just a kid. But a kid who needed someone.
And I remembered all too well what that was like in my first days in Swallow Cove after my family had imploded, my friends were miles away, and I was trying to become a new person who fit into this side of the lake.
“I can’t do anything about today,” I said. “But I’ve got some time later this week. We could hang out a while. Maybe go out on the water.”
Shua perked up. “Really? Are you going to wakesurf too?”
I nearly said no. But then I remembered my conversation with my brother. About not making time for any passion in my life.
Maybe there was a way to kill two birds with one stone.
“Tell you what, Shua. We have to get your mom’s okay, but if she says you can go, thenyoucan do the surfing.”
Shua let out an unholy howl and jumped up to fist pump the air. “Yes, yes, yes! I’m going to be such a badass!”
Damn. That kidreallywanted to wakesurf.
