Page 52 of Pack Rivals: Part Two
When I’ve thrown everything away in the right trash cans, I find a trash bag and set off across the beach, determined to scour the sand for every last piece of trash that doesn’t belong there.
* * *
“Woah,”Courtney cries, as she opens the front door and walks straight into a tower of trash bags. “What happened here?”
“I cleaned the beach,” I call from the couch.
“You what?” she says, trying to squeeze past the tower.
“I cleaned the beach,” I say, flicking through the job ads in the city paper for the fifth time that day.
“This all came from the beach? God, that’s gross.”
“I know. I’m going to do some more tomorrow.”
“Whatever makes you happy, Bea,” she says, kissing my cheek and placing a chicken pie on my lap.
I eye it suspiciously.
“It was on the doorstep.”
“How is he doing this?”
Courtney peers up at the ceiling. “Drones?”
“I’d hear them.”
She shrugs, then snatches it from my lap and walks towards the cooker.
* * *
The next dayI’m back out on the beach after my run, with another trash bag. The sun is strikingly hot today, but I found a neon-pink sun visor of my aunt’s in one of the closets and a pair of her oversized sunglasses. They’re doing a good job of cutting out the dazzle, even if they do clash with the marigold gloves I’m wearing.
I bend down to scoop a bottle cap from the sand, and as I do a shadow falls over me. I freeze until the scent of earth finds my nose.
Silver.
“What are you doing here?” I ask him, throwing the cap into my bag and remaining hunched over, pretending to brush the sand looking for more pieces of trash.
“Came to check up on you.”
“I told your packmate to stay away.”
Silver being Silver he ignores this. “I know you’re angry with us–” he holds up his hand when I peer up at him with a glare, “–and you have every right to be, Bea. But that doesn’t mean I haven’t been worrying myself sick about you. Why are you out here on the beach alone?”
I swipe the knife from my pocket and wave it in his face. “I’m fine.”
“You didn’t notice I was here until I was right on top of you. You were too engrossed in whatever you were doing.” His forehead crinkles in puzzlement as his gaze flicks from my visor to my gloves. In the past, I’d have cringed so hard to be caught looking like I do today. But I find, actually, I don’t give a damn. I’m not trying to impress this man. Not anymore. “Whatareyou doing?” he asks.
“Clearing up all the rubbish from the beach.”
He peers along the vast expanse of sand. “That’ll take you a lifetime, sweetheart.”
“I have nothing better to do.”
I move past him and he marches by my side.
“Can I talk to you please, Bea?”
