Grasp Heart

Chapter 27: Who ya gonna call?

"Morning!" Trevor greeted, settling down next to me for our second-period US History Course, "How was your weekend?"

"Eventful! I went fishing one day then went on a date with Mason the next. What about you?"

"Mainly just worked at my family's store," he said with a scrunched-face, "Catch any fish?"

I grinned, pulling out my phone to show him the picture of my Coho.

He laughed, "First time out on the Homer rivers and you're already a pro. Hey, stop by the shop tomorrow afternoon; I can hook you up with the friends and family discount on supplies."

"Sure. I'll ask Chief Murphy if he needs anything."

"The Chief of Police?" Trevor asked, alarmed.

"Yes," I showed him the group photo, "He was the one to invite me out with some of his friends from Valley Point. That man there, his name's Ray, he's got a son who's cleaning the fish for us. He's going to stop by Chief Murphy's house this evening to drop it off and I'm going to try my hand at a salmon bake."

"How'd you get in friendly with the police?"

"By staying out of trouble," I said, wrinkling my nose smugly as I smirked. Trevor rolled his eyes. "Anyway, did you hear some of the seniors' project ideas? I'm trying to get inspired for mine..."

"Phew, don't remind me," he huffed, leaning back in his chair and staring at the ceiling, "But I guess we should be paying attention. I heard Bonnie McMurray's project is going to be starting up a beekeeping club - "

"Really?!".

"Y-yeah," he stammered in surprise, before pushing on excitedly, "You like bees?"

"I don't know much about bees, but I love honey!"

"You do seem the type to have a secret sweet tooth."

"Hey, Trevor, Sara," Tim Garrison joined us, sitting across the table, "Did I hear you say 'honey'? Talking about Bonnie's senior project?"

"Yep!"

"I'm not really where to start with mine," Tim sighed, putting his book-bag down and setting his chin in his hand, "Two seniors in my programming club are doing a coding basics course this year."

"Actually, I have an idea for you," I proposed; Tim leaned in over the table a little too quickly, nearly toppling his chair over.

"Please, anything, seriously - I've got nothing!"

"The police station website is really out of date. Not only could it use an overhaul, it would be helpful to have an easy way for the officers to update the board without needing to know how to code. Especially since some of them tend to be a little older and not as tech savvy."

Tim dived for his backpack, his sleek-black hair went askew. He pulled out a well-worn notebook and scribbled down the idea.

"Man, if you have an idea for me, let me know."

Trevor watched Tim enviously. Anthony joined us last, completing our table's quartet and chattering about his daily-calisthenics idea for a senior project. When our exams passed back, I wasn't surprised by my low C-grade. Prior to the nineteen-hundreds, my knowledge of United States history was a tad fuzzy. I'd only known it vaguely with relation to supernatural events.

Mr. Wagner began to lecture about colonies and settler-native relations; a familiar point of contention even among my kind. There had been endemic supernaturals in the Americas: some predatory, some benign. Both had been affected by colonization, like the humans, but we hadn't stepped in to do anything about that. Perhaps we should've stuck up for the non-threatening species. Maybe, in our time of need, someone might've stood up for us...