Period 8 - By Chris Crutcher Page 0,54

know her better than her own dad?”

“Doesn’t sound like that would be much of an achievement,” Tak says.

Arney bursts through the door. “Hey, everybody. Sorry I’m late. Student council meeting.”

“Emergency meeting to save the school?” Justin says.

Arney ignores the sarcasm. “Something like that.” He doesn’t make eye contact with Paulie or Hannah. Or Justin, for that matter. To the rest of the room he says, “We set up a plan to gather donations for the Clintons, and to send a card up to Kylie.” He looks directly at Logs. “Man, I missed that one. I thought she was okay after I talked with her the other day.”

Logs only nods.

Hannah leans over to Paulie. “Arney’s so full of shit. You should have heard him talking about her the other night.”

“Don’t tell me,” Paulie says. “Tell him.”

Hannah stares at Paulie a second, then looks over to Arney. “Why would you be involved in sending her a card after all those things you said about her the other night?”

Arney shakes his head, looks at his hands. “I meant to talk to you in private,” he says, “and to you guys, too, Jus. I was way out of line. I think I’m one of those guys who needs to stay clean and sober every minute. I talked to my dad this morning and he’s looking into getting me into a program.”

“Really,” Hannah says. “Which one?”

Arney doesn’t miss a beat. “Daybreak, probably,” he says. “Outpatient.”

Justin leans over to Paulie. “That fucker is slick.”

Hannah smiles. It’s always something you can’t check with Arney, she thinks. Daybreak is confidential. He can say anything he wants. I’ll bet anything he knows at least three kids’ names who go there, and he’ll drop them on us within the week. Swear to God if I didn’t know better I’d think he had something to do with Kylie going off. Mary, too.

Paulie leans toward her. “I wish you’d have let me talk,” he whispers, “about the thing with Mary.” He hesitates. “It wasn’t exactly what it looked like.”

Hannah grits her teeth, then slides down in her seat.

“You’re right,” he says, “It is what it is. But I like the truce. He reaches over, drums his fingers on her knee.

She covers his hand with hers.

“Keep the truce?”

She nods tentatively, glances over at Arney, who is watching, then away.

“It’s good to get back into a pattern,” Logs says to Paulie. Hannah drives toward them, her scull mounted atop her car.

“And good to have her back,” Paulie says. “I’m glad she didn’t make us wait ’til she got her new boat.”

“Be patient, my friend,” Logs says in a low voice as Hannah gets out of the car.

They help Hannah get the scull into the water. “Thanks for coming,” Logs says. He looks out over the water, then at the sun low in the sky. “We don’t have a lot of light, so what say you guide us out a little over halfway, then we’ll hook on and you can pull us back. We’ll all get a quick workout, then come earlier next time and do some real work. We’re getting a little more light every day.”

They launch the boat off the end of the loading dock. Paulie and Logs slide into the water.

On the seat of his Beetle, Paulie’s iPhone vibrates with an incoming text.

Paulie and Logs speed toward the city police station in Logs’s pickup, Paulie staring at the text and Logs breaking nearly every traffic law that won’t get them killed, hoping to get pulled over for speeding, thereby picking up an escort.

When Paulie saw the text just after they shed their wetsuits, he panicked. He praises the gods that Logs was there—Logs, who seems to never panic. Hannah read the message and headed for Mary’s house, leaving the scull on the dock, dialing and re-dialing the number Logs gave her for Mr. Wells’s cell on the way.

“If he answers tell him or his wife to meet us at the station,” Logs had told her. “If he doesn’t and he’s not home, leave a note. Make him understand how urgent it is.”

“I’d have you call 911,” Logs says to Paulie now, “but I don’t know where to send them. Officer Rankin gave me his private cell and said to call any time if something related to Mary came up.” He spits out Rankin’s number from memory. “Don’t know how I can do that,” he says. “I can’t remember to get cat food. If he answers tell him to meet us at the