Quinn McQuarrie was in primary five while I was in P4. Our school was wee. We knew each other because our mums liked each other. His younger sister Cammie was in P2 and sometimes I walked her to school when Quinn wanted to run off in front with his friends.
He used to be louder, the boy his friends all looked up to. He still kind of was. But I thought he was quieter. Ever since his dad left. Everyone talked about it last year. Mr. McQuarrie left his family behind. I heard Mum telling Dad that Mrs. McQuarrie hadn’t heard from him since. Dad had called him a bad word. Dad would never have left us if it was up to him.
That hot ugly feeling was happening again.
Quinn looked at me. “Ms. Crookshaw is an auld cow.”
I nodded. Because she was.
“You okay?”
I nodded.
“Come with me.” He jerked his head toward the street and then ran down the steps to where his bike leaned against the garden fence.
I glanced back at the house, thinking I should tell Mum if I was going somewhere.
But then … would she notice?
That heat shot through me again, and I hurried after Quinn. He was already on the bike but not on the saddle. He’d left that for me. “On the back.”
I climbed on, holding on to him as he rode down the street. I held my legs straight out on either side so my feet didn’t hit the ground.
“Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.”
We rode down the street and onto the main road that led farther into the island. Then Quinn cut off down a narrow track I knew led to a cove. Just as my legs started to get tired, Quinnslowed the bike as we bumped down hill. The beach here was tiny, so only islanders really knew about it. We got off the bike and Quinn dumped it before grabbing my arm. He led me down the steep grassy dune, helping me when I skidded in the shiny black shoes Mrs. McQuarrie helped pick out for today. Finally, we reached the flat of the white sand beach.
The water here was pretty. Turquoise bleeding into blue as it hit the small shore. The cove was hugged on either side by the tall cliffs of the island coastline.
I looked to Quinn.
He looked back. He had really blue eyes. “I came here when my dad left.”
“Sorry,” I mumbled, feeling strange for him.
“I know it’s different. My dad left because he wanted to.” Quinn kicked angrily at a large pebble, and it bounced into the water. “But I know what it’s like to … you know … not to have my dad.”
Tears burned my eyes.
“Don’t listen to Ms. Crookshaw. Cry as much as you want.” He shrugged.
I stared at my feet, embarrassed as the tears fell down my cheeks.
“I was angry my dad left. And, like, I know your dad didn’t mean to leave … but I was thinking maybe you’re angry too.”
My head jerked up with surprise.
I was mad.
But I felt really bad about being mad.
The right side of Quinn’s mouth lifted. He shrugged again. “It’s okay if you’re mad. Even if Dad didn’t mean to leave me, I’d still be mad.”
I nodded as my face crumpled.
But I didn’t want to disappear or hide for once.
