stack.
Samâs stomach was growling and he set about following the crowd around the table, piling his plate with rice and naan and curried vegetables. He couldnât find a place to sit, so he leaned against the wall and started shoveling food into his mouth. Once he had cleaned the plate and pacified his stomach, Sam took a breath and looked around. His brother was across the room wedged into a corner talking intently to a dark-haired girl. Every once in a while he reached out and touched her: her shoulder, her cheek, or her hair. She smiled when he did that and bit her bottom lip, as if Michaelâs hand on her arm was worth the wait.
Sam was about to make his way over to them but something in the way they leaned toward each other stopped him. They didnât look like they wanted company. Sam returned to the food, devouring another full plate, and then went in search of a beer, then, beer in hand, went out and sat on the front stoop and studied Michaelâs bike chained to the fence. He wondered where Carrie was, if this was her place.
Heâd been out there only a few minutes when he heard footsteps. âHey, Sam, there you are.â Michael came up behind him and tapped him on the shoulder. âWhere did you go?â
He shrugged. âNowhere. I couldnât find you so I came out here.â
âChill, dude. Are you mad? I thought youâd just hang, have a beer, eat some good food.â
âIâm not mad. I just donât know anyone, you know?â Sam said, feeling like the high school kid that he was. He had just been a little bit afraid that someone was going to ask him what he was doing eating their food and drinking their beer.
âEverythingâs cool.â Michael shrugged. âItâs weird only if you make it weird.â He stared at him until Sam nodded back. âYou ready to go?â
Sam stood, tucked his empty bottle behind a planter on the stoop, and followed Michael down the path. âYou taking your bike?â
âHuh?â
âYour bike?â Sam pointed to the fence.
âThatâs not mine,â Michael lied.
âSeriously, dude? Thatâs your bike. You came home with a tire last night and this bike, your bike, is missing a tire.â
âOkay, detective, itâs my bike.â Michaelâs voice was flat. âCome on.â He shoved his hands into his front pockets and leaned forward as he walked, as if he were trudging through snow. In that moment Sam saw what else Michael and his mother shared. Each of them had a life that was entirely separate from the one they lived day to day with Hunt and Sam. Sam knew only the side ofMichael that Michael wanted him to see, while their dad and Sam put everything out there.
âSo who is she?â Michael stopped walking and looked over his shoulder at Sam. âThat girl back there?â As soon as Sam said the words he flinched.
Michael shrugged. âVera is my lab partner. We studied really late last night, and I left my bike at her house because there is something wrong with the gearshift and I didnât feel like dealing with it.â He raised an eyebrow at Sam but offered nothing else.
âIt looks like sheâs into you.â
Michael shrugged and started walking again. âPossibly, but . . .â He shrugged again, as if Veraâs liking him wasnât important. âSheâs just like that. Flirty. Vera likes everybody and nobody. I told her I would stop by tonight for some food, thatâs all.â Michael smirked, as if explaining things to Sam about the opposite sex was funny. âSo, you talk to anyone?â
âHuh?â
âGirls? Back there? You talk to anyone? Whatâs your type?â
Frantically Sam searched his brain for his type, something to offer up to Michael. But the only type Sam could come up with was Suzie. And he didnât want to bring her name into this; he didnât want Michael to connect the