Hunted (book 1)

Chapter 3

On Saturday morning, after I walked home from Mandy's, I sat in my room and binged Netflix. I figured school would stop me from doing that much in the next few weeks, so I decided to make up for soon-to-be-lost time.

On Saturday afternoon, I stayed in my room and binged some more Netflix.

On Saturday evening—you guessed it—more Netflix. You'd think I would run out of stuff to watch but funnily enough, I didn't.

On Sunday, I finally got bored of sitting at home. I decided to go walk around town.

As I was leaving the house, Dad called after me, "Honey, if you go by Myers Street, would you please pick up some fishing equipment from the bait and tackle place? I'll reimburse you when you get home." He winked at me.

I rolled my eyes. "Sure, Dad."

The first thing I did when I got to town was turn down Myers Street and look for the bait and tackle shop. It wasn't like I had anything better to do.

Of all five or six bait and tackle shops on Myers Street, four or five were closed on Sundays. Luckily, Campbell's Bait and Tackle Shop was open, so I walked inside. A bell jingled as I entered. The store was completely empty, save for someone stocking shelves. A display of fishing rods was hanging on one wall. I stopped in front of it. What does one look for when buying a fishing rod? I decided to move on and come back to the rods later. On a shelf across from the fishing rod display was a multitude of fish hooks and colourful plastic fish. Why did there have to be so many choices? I frowned at the shelf and examined my options.

"Can I help you find something?" The boy who'd been stocking shelves when I came in walked up to me. He looked about my age.

"Um...I'm not sure. We just moved here and my dad's looking for fishing equipment. I'm not sure exactly what that includes though." I twisted the toe of my shoe into the floor.

"Well, you probably want a fishing rod, a hook, a reel, some line, a leader, a float, a sinker, and some bait or lures. You could also get a tacklebox if you need something to carry it in." He turned and indicated the fishing rod display behind me.

"Okay, I don't understand any of the words you just said."

He laughed. "Not into fishing?"

"Nope. Fish are kinda disgusting." I covered my mouth. Why did I say that? His whole job revolved around fish! "I mean..."

"I get it. Fish aren't for everyone." He turned away from me and headed to the back of the store. When I didn't follow him, he looked back over his shoulder. "Are you coming?"

I followed after him and he led me to a shelf of what I can only assume were tackle boxes.

He confirmed my theory. "These are tackle boxes. They include pretty much everything you'd need for fishing, except live bait. There's a rod, a reel, a hook," He saw my bemused expression and finished, "Basically all the stuff I just said. If you buy it and your dad doesn't like it, he can always return it and get something else."

I sighed in relief. "Thanks. I'll take it."

"That'll be $56." He walked around to the other side of the counter and scanned the fishing kit into the register.

I tapped my debit card to the eftpos machine and he handed me the fishing kit. "Thank you,"—I paused to read his nametag—"Liam".

"You're very welcome, uhh.." I didn't have a nametag for him to read.

"Charlotte. I mean, Charlie." I twirled a strand of hair around my finger.

"You're very welcome, Charlie." He grinned at me. "Would you like your receipt?"