Page 22 of To Believe In You
Shane had called and left a message. Since she’d gotten a new number, Dad must’ve shared her contact information with him, but why? Was he involved in the sale of the land in Maine?
Shane and Dad ought to have known better than to send Shane to talk her into anything. On the other hand, he might have called for another purpose. Wondering about his reasons would distract her to the point of uselessness. She excused herself to find a quiet corner to listen to the message.
6
The gymnasium door push-bar clanked as Lina exited. The window-lined hall greeted her with cooler air. She stepped from the main thoroughfare, leaned against the wall, and unlocked her phone. As she typed her voicemail passcode, a boy’s taunting voice sounded down the hall to her right. To her other side, another family left into the night.
Why wasn’t the message playing yet? Was it too loud in the school? She pressed the phone against her ear.
“Lina, it’s Shane.”
Her eardrum stung—more from surprise than the volume—and she jolted. He might’ve paused at the start of his message for dramatic effect, but he may also have been at a loss for words. Remorseful.
A girl could dream.
“I know you’ve got every reason to hate me.” His low tone conveyed some of the sincerity she’d hoped to hear, but he spoke too quickly for her to read extra meaning into the words. “But would you consider calling me back?”
For what purpose? So he could apologize? So he could con her into selling The Captain’s Vista?
A shriek diverted her attention toward the area where, a moment ago, she’d heard a boy.
But it wasn’t just one. Three boys circled Bailey down the hall, their body language reminiscent of dogs barking at a trespasser. They alternated between clapping at her and trying to stomp on her tail.
How dare they.Lina disconnected the call, jammed her phone into her pocket, and made a beeline for the group. “Hey!”
Deaf to her call, the biggest of the boys, possibly a middle schooler, sneered at Bailey. “My dad caught one in a trap.”
A trap? The taunting and clapping fit into a terrible explanation. The boys were mimicking mouse traps.
Bailey had her eyes jammed shut, tears rolling down her red cheeks.
“Stop!” Lina’s most commanding tone didn’t earn a glance from Bailey’s tormentors.
The ringleader lunged, and for one awful moment, he seemed poised to slam into the little girl. Instead, he pinned her tail underfoot. Bailey lurched in her attempt to scamper off as the costume held. Then the tail popped loose, and the boys launched into a fresh round of jeers.
Lina reached for Bailey, but the terrorized girl fled from her touch, probably mistaking her for a bully.
“The brain guts were everywhere!” the boy shouted as Bailey escaped the circle.
“Bailey, wait.” Lina bumped past the bullies, her desire to lend comfort more urgent than her searing anger toward the boys. She’d heard kids could be awful, but the continued insults—
“Scram!”
At the man’s voice, the boys fell silent.
Lina reached Bailey and wrapped an arm around the girl’s shoulders. She was so little. So cute and fragile. How could anyone have seen her as a target?
“I mean it. Git!” A stomp accentuated the last word.
“Come on.” The panicked tone varied so greatly from the jeers that Lina couldn’t tell by the sound whether the comment came from the ringleader or one of the others. Pounding footfalls signaled the group’s retreat.
Bailey shuddered and clutched Lina’s hand. Lina checked to make sure the girl’s pants hadn’t torn when the tail had ripped away. Thankfully not.
She smoothed her hair and straightened her headband. “Are you all right, sweetheart?”
Bailey shook her head, more tears spilling, and Lina pulled her into a hug. As the child clung to her, Lina looked to their rescuer.
Intense blue eyes met hers. The broad shoulders and tattooed arms that had caused her so much trouble during the play had come in handy after all.
