Free Harkham's Case (Harkam's #1) by Chanse Lowell Page A

hoping this was an ordinary way to start one. She said it was hot, but hot could be pleasant.
    “The weather here sucks Schweddy Balls, or at least for half the year, but it doesn’t matter. As soon as I graduate in nine months, I’m outta here.” She smiled like a memory took her away someplace better.
    “Where do you want to go?” And can I come with you?
    “Probably L.A. or a suburb nearby. I like the water. I love swimming in the ocean. I’ve only done it a few times, gone swimming in the river once when I visited my dad and he took me fishing. I loved it. I want to be somewhere that isn’t blazing sunshine every damned day. I need some rain once in a while. It’s unnatural how we have to artificially water everything here. Blue’s my favorite color—the color of water. But it annoys the shit out of me that we waste so much of it to make plants that aren’t native grow here. It’s forced and fake.” She huffed.
    His eyes twitched. Blue was her favorite? Blue was on him—in his eyes. Had she noticed? “I have to mow the lawn at our house, and the green in our yard isn’t fake. We don’t use Astroturf. Maybe you could come sit on the lawn with me when you need some real green and some real blue?” His voice shook, but he hoped she didn’t notice.
    She smiled and turned her head. “How is it watered? With sprinklers?”
    “With irrigation. It smells sometimes, and there are fish I like to try to catch in that water when Dad’s not looking. We even had ducks in our yard once in that water.” He sat a little taller.
    “Irrigation is better for plants because it has trace minerals in it.”
    He smiled. She wasn’t mocking him. They were honestly enjoying speaking to each other, and it didn’t involve any of his oddities. “It rains here—”
    Right as he was about to impress her with his local knowledge of how much rain Phoenix got, they were interrupted.
    “Oh, God, you’re talking to chubster here about the weather? Are you serious? And I thought she couldn’t get any more pathetic than eating a salad every day as if that was going to magically transform her into somebody attractive,” a very thin, dark-haired girl said with a nasally voice.
    “We are discussing things we both enjoy. And weather and plants happen to be on our list. And why would you call her chubster?” Adam asked.
    Mari flinched on the final word of his sentence.
    The dark-haired girl rolled her eyes.
    “Adam, this is Tara. She’s Kendra’s cousin.” Mari leaned away from the girl a little bit.
    Now Adam flinched. Kendra? Oh yuck. She was not fun, even if he talked to her about weather and grass.
    “You, my friend,” Tara said to Adam directly, “are invited this Friday to join Kendra and me after school for some pizza and beer before the football game. You’re also going to discuss the Homecoming Dance next week. We both want you to take us, so you’ll have to choose.” Tara batted her lashes, and her sparkling blue eyes reminded him of blueberries.
    “Your eyes look like fruit, and when I squish fruit, the insides are never nice. Plus, you’re too childish to drink alcohol.” He scooted closer to Mari. Tara’s look changed from friendly to scary in a flash. This was more than the normal looks girls gave him. It looked like she wanted to hurt him—take away anything that was commonplace about him.
    “Sorry, Tara, but he’s lactose intolerant and thinks beer tastes like piss. He’s coming with me to get some Mediterranean food after school Friday. His sister and brother are joining us,” Mari said, her eyes harder.
    Adam huddled up against Mari, and though his breathing was easier, he couldn’t fully relax with that Tara person looming over him like that.
    “I’m sorry if I stepped on some toes, fruit-of-the-loon boy. Can I shake hands to apologize?” Tara smiled, but her eyes remained untouched. They still spoke of danger, mist and smoke. Probably rotten fruit, too. Is that why she called him