Shifting (Swans Landing) by Shana Norris Read Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Shana Norris
Tags: Romance, Fantasy, Family, Paranormal, Young Adult, teen, love, mythology, north carolina, Myth, finfolk, memaid
see it, Westray,” Mr. Connors called, his voice deep and growling. “Why don’t you put it out of its misery and sink it in the sound? It’d make a better artificial reef than fishing boat.”
The men who worked for Mr. Connors laughed at this. Lake didn’t respond as he hefted the plastic bin over the side of the boat toward me. It was heavy, but I managed not to drop it as I set it down on the dock.
Mr. Connors’s ears turned red as he took in the sight of all those crabs in our catch. He gritted his teeth, his fists clenched. Like everyone else in Swans Landing, Mr. Connors’s business had been hit by the decline of the sea life in the area.
“You’d better hope none of those came from my pots, Westray,” Mr. Connors growled.
“I don’t steal, Connors,” Lake told him, brushing his still wet hair out of his face.
Mr. Connors made a grunting noise. “Your kind has always gotten their way by stealing from the good people of the lands they take over. I’m watching you, and the moment I have proof you’re stealing from my pots, I will have the sheriff knocking on your door faster than green grass through a goose.”
Lake picked up one end of the bin and I picked up the other. Between us, we carried the heavy load up the dock to the parking lot where Lake’s Jeep waited. I was eager to get away from Mr. Connors. He’d always made me nervous, but now my skin felt itchy, like maybe he would be able to see the trace of Elizabeth’s touch on me. I breathed a sigh of relief when I heard Mr. Connors rev his engine behind us and then pull away from the marina.
“I hope he catches something today,” I said as we loaded the bin into the back of the Jeep. While I was at school, Lake would go around to restaurants on the island to try to sell as much of the catch as he could, then the ones left he’d send to a buyer he had on the mainland. “Or else he’ll really think you stole from his pots.”
“Harry Connors is always looking for something to blame me for. He always has, for as long as I’ve known him.”
“Why?” I asked. “What does he have against you?”
Lake exhaled, blowing hair out of his face. “He thinks I stole something from him, long ago. I didn’t, but it’s easier for him to blame me than to admit his own faults.”
“What does he think you stole?” I asked.
Lake closed the back door of his Jeep. “Shouldn’t you be getting to school?”
The sun was getting high in the sky. I dreaded another day stuck inside Swans Landing School instead of out on the water.
I sighed. “I guess so. I’ll see you this afternoon.”
* * *
“Mr. Waverly!”
I stopped in the hall and turned to find Mr. Richter, the school guidance counselor, making his way toward me among the students streaming out the front doors. The last bell had rung and I was full of jittery nerves. All I could think about was going to Pirate’s Cove to see if Elizabeth would be there again.
“Yes, sir?” I asked when he approached. Mr. Richter was pretty young compared to most of the teachers and staff at Swans Landing School, but old enough that he was not exactly as “cool” as he thought he was.
“I was hoping I could speak with you for a few minutes,” Mr. Richter said, giving me a pat on the shoulder. “Would you mind joining me in my office?”
I wanted to run, to break free of this gray building and breathe the salt air. I had been cooped up inside for too long, and the end of the day was always draining until I could smell the ocean again.
But I nodded and followed Mr. Richter back to his office.
I sat down in the squeaky blue chair as Mr. Richter settled himself down behind his desk. He leaned back in his seat, his hands folded behind his head. “So, Dylan,” he began, “I wanted to talk to you about your college decisions.”
I raised my eyebrows. “What about them?”
“Well,” Mr. Richter said slowly, “have you made any yet?”
Mr. Richter had spoken with all of
The men who worked for Mr. Connors laughed at this. Lake didn’t respond as he hefted the plastic bin over the side of the boat toward me. It was heavy, but I managed not to drop it as I set it down on the dock.
Mr. Connors’s ears turned red as he took in the sight of all those crabs in our catch. He gritted his teeth, his fists clenched. Like everyone else in Swans Landing, Mr. Connors’s business had been hit by the decline of the sea life in the area.
“You’d better hope none of those came from my pots, Westray,” Mr. Connors growled.
“I don’t steal, Connors,” Lake told him, brushing his still wet hair out of his face.
Mr. Connors made a grunting noise. “Your kind has always gotten their way by stealing from the good people of the lands they take over. I’m watching you, and the moment I have proof you’re stealing from my pots, I will have the sheriff knocking on your door faster than green grass through a goose.”
Lake picked up one end of the bin and I picked up the other. Between us, we carried the heavy load up the dock to the parking lot where Lake’s Jeep waited. I was eager to get away from Mr. Connors. He’d always made me nervous, but now my skin felt itchy, like maybe he would be able to see the trace of Elizabeth’s touch on me. I breathed a sigh of relief when I heard Mr. Connors rev his engine behind us and then pull away from the marina.
“I hope he catches something today,” I said as we loaded the bin into the back of the Jeep. While I was at school, Lake would go around to restaurants on the island to try to sell as much of the catch as he could, then the ones left he’d send to a buyer he had on the mainland. “Or else he’ll really think you stole from his pots.”
“Harry Connors is always looking for something to blame me for. He always has, for as long as I’ve known him.”
“Why?” I asked. “What does he have against you?”
Lake exhaled, blowing hair out of his face. “He thinks I stole something from him, long ago. I didn’t, but it’s easier for him to blame me than to admit his own faults.”
“What does he think you stole?” I asked.
Lake closed the back door of his Jeep. “Shouldn’t you be getting to school?”
The sun was getting high in the sky. I dreaded another day stuck inside Swans Landing School instead of out on the water.
I sighed. “I guess so. I’ll see you this afternoon.”
* * *
“Mr. Waverly!”
I stopped in the hall and turned to find Mr. Richter, the school guidance counselor, making his way toward me among the students streaming out the front doors. The last bell had rung and I was full of jittery nerves. All I could think about was going to Pirate’s Cove to see if Elizabeth would be there again.
“Yes, sir?” I asked when he approached. Mr. Richter was pretty young compared to most of the teachers and staff at Swans Landing School, but old enough that he was not exactly as “cool” as he thought he was.
“I was hoping I could speak with you for a few minutes,” Mr. Richter said, giving me a pat on the shoulder. “Would you mind joining me in my office?”
I wanted to run, to break free of this gray building and breathe the salt air. I had been cooped up inside for too long, and the end of the day was always draining until I could smell the ocean again.
But I nodded and followed Mr. Richter back to his office.
I sat down in the squeaky blue chair as Mr. Richter settled himself down behind his desk. He leaned back in his seat, his hands folded behind his head. “So, Dylan,” he began, “I wanted to talk to you about your college decisions.”
I raised my eyebrows. “What about them?”
“Well,” Mr. Richter said slowly, “have you made any yet?”
Mr. Richter had spoken with all of