Page 1 of Lost and Found

Callum

“One day!” the boy whispered. Callum MacGreggor stared at the enormous house, the windows shimmering as the lights from inside sparkled onto the snow as someone inside prepared to start their day. Pristine snow, he noticed. It wasn’t the tire-blackened mess that he trudged through every day in the city. Apparently, the rich even got prettier snow.

Callum remembered pristine snow. He remembered the highlands and the soft heather that dotted the craggy hills of Scotland. He remembered his parents, gone now, and the way his mother had tucked him into a warm bed at night. And he remembered her sweet, understanding smile when he’d argued that he was too big to be tucked in.

He’d give just about anything to have his mother tuck him in now. Ifrinn, he’d give just about anything for a blanket!

Bowing his head, Callum forced himself to keep going, ignoring the hunger burning ache in his empty stomach. It didn’t matter if he was hungry. There wasn’t any food to eat. Maybe he’d find some food tonight, he thought as he lifted his feet higher, trying to make it over the top of the snow instead of dragging his feet and shins through the snow. It was slightly less frigid that way.

Thirty minutes later, Callum reached the store and stood outside, shivering in the wind. There hadn’t been wind when he’d started out on this journey. He stuffed his hands deeper into the pockets of his pants and pressed his back against the building. Only ten more minutes and then the store would open. Maybe…if he looked really smart and dependable, the old man would give him a job. If nothing else, maybe the man would let him into the store so he could warm up a bit.

Callum closed his eyes, remembering the bed he used to sleep in. The Scottish Highlands seemed like a long-ago memory. They’d moved from Scottland to the United States after…well, he didn’t like to think about the bastard who had swindled his father! It only angered him more. But the burning need for revenge tightened his resolve. Some day, he’d get his home back.

The move from Scottland to the United States had been a bad idea, Callum thought. They’d moved because his father had gotten a job. But going from a castle to a small, two bedroom apartment had been hard on all three of them.

It seemed like such a long time ago, but in reality, it had been only three, maybe four months ago when he’d lived with his parents in a that tiny space. Perhaps “apartment” was giving the closet-like space too much credit. It had been little more than a hovel, but he’d had a lumpy mattress and his mother had prided herself on sending Callum off to school with a full belly. The breakfasts had mostly contained unsweetened oatmeal, but at least it had been something.

Now she was gone, both killed in that horrific car accident, and…Callum squeezed his eyes shut. Remembering hurt too much.

“Whatcha doing?” a harsh voice called out.

Callum quickly straightened up, brushing the snow off of his thin jacket and trying to smooth his hair down at the same time. The stupid cowlick never gave his hair a break. The front tuft on his forehead always looked ridiculous, no matter how many times he pressed it down onto his skull. It still flipped up, making him look silly.

“Good morning, Mr. McCormick,” Callum called out, wishing he could put his freezing hands back into his threadbare pockets. Straightening up to his full height in the hopes that he would look more dependable and hard-working, he addressed the shop owner with respect. “I heard that you were looking for someone to help out around the store. I came early, hoping to be the first person in line to interview!” He paused, wondering what he could say to convince the man to give him a chance. Suppressing his Scottish brogue carefully, he continued, “I’m a hard worker and I don’t complain. I can be here anytime you need help and I’ll go away when you don’t. I don’t steal. Ever. And I’ll always obey orders.”

The elderly man glared up at Callum, pressing his thin lips together. Callum was tall for his age. Freakishly tall. At only fifteen years old, he was already over six feet tall. He hoped he didn’t grow any taller because…he already stood out in crowds.

Callum stared down at the man, curling his shoulders in an effort to appear smaller and less threatening. Unfortunately, in this position, he could too clearly see the doubt in the man’s eyes despite the early hour of the morning and the relative darkness. The store owner had a reputation around the neighborhood of being kind, but stern. Would he take a chance on Callum? Would he risk hiring what most people would call a street rat?

“How old are you?” the man barked.

“I’m sixteen,” he lied. He wasn’t, of course, but what was one year in the grand scheme of things?

“You don’t look sixteen,” the man grumbled, jingling the keys in his hand as he mentally debated the wisdom of hiring someone like Callum. But Callum didn’t relent. His desperation was strong enough that he would dispense with his Scottish pride and beg, if that would help. There weren’t many jobs around town right now. When he’d heard that the shop owner was looking for someone to clean and stock shelves, Callum had hurried to arrive bright and early. He had no idea what time it was, but since it was still dark outside, it was morning. He knew that much, at least.

“Where’s your coat?” the man demanded now, then moved over to the steel door and shoved one of the keys into the lock. The door opened to the sound of metal scraping against metal, the noise frighteningly loud in the sharp morning air.

“I’m fine. Not cold at all,” Callum lied again, trying to hide his shivering.

“Get inside,” the man ordered, stepping back so that Callum could go inside the shop first. “Go stand over by the radiator until your bones have thawed.”

Callum didn’t hesitate at the promise of warmth. He hurried inside and rushed over to the radiator, but kept his hands in his pockets, afraid of letting the man know how cold he really was. He turned again, his eyes bright as he tried to think of something that would convince the man to hire him. “I’m a very hard worker, sir. And I don’t complain.” Had he already said that? “No job is too hard. I’m strong and I can lift things. I can be here early to help out and stay as long as you need.”

“What time do you go to school?” the man asked, taking off his coat and adjusting the thermostat. Callum had no idea what the shop owner was doing until he felt a burst of warm air push through the grates. It felt strange, almost painful when the heat rushed over his snow-wet clothes.

Callum tried to remember what time school started, but it had been months since he’d actually attended school.

“Eight o’clock,” he replied, silently praying that his answer was correct.

The man grumbled, nodding his head as he took an apron off of a hook, replacing it with his coat. “Let’s see how today goes. If you’re as good of a worker as you say you are, then maybe this will work out.”

Callum tried to hide the relief, but the man must have seen it on his features because he chuckled. “Don’t get your hopes up, son. Working in a store is a tough business. I sell just about everything here. And it can be a bit chaotic.”

Callum didn’t care. He had a job! A real job that would get him some money! “What do you need me to do first?”

The man stared at Callum, his eyes moving up and down his clothes. “First, you stand there by the heat until your clothes are dry. You’ll catch your death in those wet clothes.”

Callum hadn’t even remembered that his clothes were wet. He was warmer than he’d been in months!

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