I’d let you know what seems to going on at school since you disappeared at lunch.”
I rang up his candy bar and shoved the money in the till. “Oh?”
“Apparently someone let it slip that you’re from a Chicago suburb,” he said as he crunched on his candy.
“So?” I said with lifted brow. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“So everyone thinks you’re one of those second homers that pollute our fair town in the summer. They all think you fell in love with the town and decided to move here permanently.”
My brows slammed together as I settled on the rusty stool behind the counter. “So what? I mean, it’s not true but so what if it was?”
“Rena, Rena, Rena,” Damon said, amusement lighting his eyes. “You are so uneducated when it comes to the workings of this town.”
“So educate me already and drop the drama act,” I said, slightly perturbed. Why did it matter where I came from? I kept to myself and left everyone alone.
“You’ve obviously never been here during the summer,” he said. “When the second homers invade our little town and you can hardly move. They pack our beaches and restaurants and drive like maniacs. It’s total chaos.”
“Yeah,” I said, seeing his point, but having one of my own. “They also frequent your shops and stores and help the economy of this town.”
He shrugged. “Yeah, probably so, but folks around here sort of resent the second homers. Perhaps it’s jealousy or just annoyance but either way, it’s a fact of life.”
“No one’s given Aunt Franki a hard time,” I said, wondering if that were true. I’d never really taken the time to talk to her about her life.
“She’s a special case. Franki took care of Mathilda when she was ill and her own family didn’t bother with her. Everyone around here loved Mathilda.” He grinned. “Franki inherited the house and decided to settle here. She’s made a point of getting to know her neighbors and even helps out the ones who need it.”
“Okay,” I conceded. “So what about this Sabrina that you date?”
He scowled. “I don’t share the same philosophy as a lot of folks do. Not everyone here hates the second homers – but there are quite a few that do. And they raise their kids to hate them. Hence, the trouble you’re having at school.”
I digested his theories and sipped a soda. “So, you don’t think Gina stuck the syrup in my locker, either, do you?”
“Not really,” Damon admitted. “I think it was one of those second homer haters.”
“Wonderful,” I groaned. “So, now I have a whole slew of enemies and I don’t even know who they are.”
Damon grinned as he leaned over the counter and tossed his waded up wrapper at the wastebasket. “Don’t worry about it – it’ll die down. Reg is already spreading a counter rumor – the truth.”
My eyes grew as panic nibbled at my heart. “What truth?”
Damon’s brows dipped. “That you came here to live with your aunt – not that you’re a second homer.”
“Oh,” I said, relieved. “Okay. But I don’t really care.”
“Didn’t figure you did,” Damon grinned as he slapped the counter. “I’m outta here. See you tomorrow.”
I waved absently as I pushed off the stool to straighten the shelves and mull over this new information. When I really thought about it, it seemed like some strange sort of discrimination. But I wouldn’t dwell – I ju st didn’t really want to care what people thought of me.
I puttered around the little store, dusting shelves and restocking the dairy cooler , keeping my mind blank. I didn’t want to think about anything because no matter what thought struck my head, it always drifted to somewhere that I didn’t want to go.
Right around 8:30, the little bell tinkled above the door and an excited shiver shot up my spine. I knew it was Fin and his friend, Isaiah. And I was right.
I scooted behind the
I rang up his candy bar and shoved the money in the till. “Oh?”
“Apparently someone let it slip that you’re from a Chicago suburb,” he said as he crunched on his candy.
“So?” I said with lifted brow. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“So everyone thinks you’re one of those second homers that pollute our fair town in the summer. They all think you fell in love with the town and decided to move here permanently.”
My brows slammed together as I settled on the rusty stool behind the counter. “So what? I mean, it’s not true but so what if it was?”
“Rena, Rena, Rena,” Damon said, amusement lighting his eyes. “You are so uneducated when it comes to the workings of this town.”
“So educate me already and drop the drama act,” I said, slightly perturbed. Why did it matter where I came from? I kept to myself and left everyone alone.
“You’ve obviously never been here during the summer,” he said. “When the second homers invade our little town and you can hardly move. They pack our beaches and restaurants and drive like maniacs. It’s total chaos.”
“Yeah,” I said, seeing his point, but having one of my own. “They also frequent your shops and stores and help the economy of this town.”
He shrugged. “Yeah, probably so, but folks around here sort of resent the second homers. Perhaps it’s jealousy or just annoyance but either way, it’s a fact of life.”
“No one’s given Aunt Franki a hard time,” I said, wondering if that were true. I’d never really taken the time to talk to her about her life.
“She’s a special case. Franki took care of Mathilda when she was ill and her own family didn’t bother with her. Everyone around here loved Mathilda.” He grinned. “Franki inherited the house and decided to settle here. She’s made a point of getting to know her neighbors and even helps out the ones who need it.”
“Okay,” I conceded. “So what about this Sabrina that you date?”
He scowled. “I don’t share the same philosophy as a lot of folks do. Not everyone here hates the second homers – but there are quite a few that do. And they raise their kids to hate them. Hence, the trouble you’re having at school.”
I digested his theories and sipped a soda. “So, you don’t think Gina stuck the syrup in my locker, either, do you?”
“Not really,” Damon admitted. “I think it was one of those second homer haters.”
“Wonderful,” I groaned. “So, now I have a whole slew of enemies and I don’t even know who they are.”
Damon grinned as he leaned over the counter and tossed his waded up wrapper at the wastebasket. “Don’t worry about it – it’ll die down. Reg is already spreading a counter rumor – the truth.”
My eyes grew as panic nibbled at my heart. “What truth?”
Damon’s brows dipped. “That you came here to live with your aunt – not that you’re a second homer.”
“Oh,” I said, relieved. “Okay. But I don’t really care.”
“Didn’t figure you did,” Damon grinned as he slapped the counter. “I’m outta here. See you tomorrow.”
I waved absently as I pushed off the stool to straighten the shelves and mull over this new information. When I really thought about it, it seemed like some strange sort of discrimination. But I wouldn’t dwell – I ju st didn’t really want to care what people thought of me.
I puttered around the little store, dusting shelves and restocking the dairy cooler , keeping my mind blank. I didn’t want to think about anything because no matter what thought struck my head, it always drifted to somewhere that I didn’t want to go.
Right around 8:30, the little bell tinkled above the door and an excited shiver shot up my spine. I knew it was Fin and his friend, Isaiah. And I was right.
I scooted behind the
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