Page 91 of Skalterra By Nightmare
The storage room smelled like old cardboard and dust, and I shoved bread loaves and cereal boxes out of the way to scoop chip bags indiscriminately into my arms.
The air-conditioned air of Gams’s workshop blew out from under her door to chill my ankles as I stomped past, hopefully loud enough for her to hear in her basement.
I dropped the chips to the floor before kneeling down and shoving them into their respective spaces on the shelf. I probably should have checked which brands and flavors actually needed restocking before grabbing random bags, but I was too annoyed to go back and trade out my picks.
“That was definitely him right?” a hushed voice asked one aisle over.
“For sure. He looks just like the kid in the picture.”
“Let me see it again.” Paper rustled in the silence that followed, and then, “Okay, they’re absolutely related. Look at the noses!”
I tip-toed out from the chip aisle. The faint reflection of two girls huddled together was difficult to make out in the giant back windows, but I could tell their backs would be to me when I came around the corner. They were still holding their ice-cream cones, but were crouched so the tops of their heads weren’t visible over the aisle shelves. In-between them, they held a familiar, crumpled flyer.
“I dare you ask him if he did it,” one of them giggled.
“I don’t know, he was nice. And cute. Maybe he didn’t kill his cousin.”
“The cute ones usually end up homicidal. His parents are dead too, remember?”
“Maybe it was the missing kid’s dad. He works at a shop down the street. Let’s go there next—”
“Actually, I think you’re leaving.”
The girls jumped so hard at the sound of my voice that the one with beachy blonde curls dropped her ice-cream. Her dark-haired friend fixed a defiant scowl across her angular face.
“We’re not done shopping,” she said.
“You paid for your ice-cream. Now get out.”
The girl looked ready to argue, but then Liam came around the corner, wiping his hands off on his apron.
“Wren? Is everything okay?”
The two girls spun to face him, and the blonde crumpled the Riley poster in her hands.
“Come on.” The dark-haired girl grabbed her friend’s bicep and dragged her towards the door, causing her to drop the crumbled flyer. She paused to look back at me at the end of the aisle, smirked, and let her ice-cream fall to the floor.
“Hey—” Liam started, but I cut him off.
“Let them leave.”
He stayed silent as the bell over the door signaled the girls’ exit. Liam’s gaze dropped to the discarded flyer, and he bent down to pick it up. He smoothed out the wrinkles and gave his cousin’s picture a careful frown.
“What were they saying?” he asked quietly.
“Nothing.”
“Wren.” He raised pleading brown eyes to meet mine. “Come on.”
I sighed, glanced at Gams’s closed door, and then squared my shoulders.
“They think you murdered Riley. That or maybe your uncle did it. You should probably call the bagel shop and warn him. They were talking about going there next.”
I expected anger, but instead he shrugged and shoved the flyer into the back pocket of his jeans.
“At least word is getting out. We’ll find him faster this way.” He forced a smile. “You take care of the register. I’ll clean up the ice-cream.”
I wanted to say more, but he was already headed to the supply closet. I didn’t understand how he could be so calm in the face of it all. Losing his parents, losing his cousin, being blamed for their apparent deaths—but he carried on, shrugging it off and mopping ice-cream.
