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embarrassment from what Ed had just said to Trick. Or possibly said. Maybe Ed meant something else entirely. Trick seemed unfazed. She wanted to say something, apologize for Ed if need be, but she was the newcomer here, and she really didn’t know what was going on.
    A log in the fireplace snapped and sparks showered down. It was the first fire she’d encountered since the quake, and she could feel her anxiety building into what might become a panic attack. She’d never had one, but her mom had after Katelyn’s dad had been killed. Katelyn wanted to race out of the room. Yet if she did anything like that, it would serve as more “proof” that she needed her grandfather’s version of normal.
    Trying to look casual, she wrapped her arms around herself and sauntered away from the fire—and from him. Her nerves and the wood smoke were making her sick.
    “So, you’re the granddaughter,” Trick said, giving her a slow, lazy once-over that made her flush to the roots of her hair. Kimi had been a huge flirt, which made Katelyn a flirt by association. So she was used to appraising looks. But this guy made it seem too intimate, like it meant more than it was supposed to.
    “I guess,” she said reluctantly. She didn’t want to be related to Ed.
    “Paternity test results not back yet?” He grinned lopsidedly. Then he grew very serious, lowering his head. “I’m sorry about your mother.”
    It was more than Ed had offered. Sympathy from a complete stranger, and none from her grandfather. She’d almost forgotten about that.
    “Thanks.” Her throat tightened. Afraid she was going to cry, she turned her back, pretending to stare at an oil painting, this one of mountains, trees, and a waterfall. Her gaze fell on the artist’s signature. M.M . Mordecai McBride?
    “Do you and my grandfather usually drink beer together?” she asked.
    “I’m underage,” he said, dodging. “Soda sounds ducky.”
    Ducky ?
    He came up beside her. She felt his body heat and smelled rainwater and soap. Droplets of rain clung to his long eyelashes. Part of her was planning her conversation with Kimi, looking for words to describe him. Interesting? Weird? Hot?
    “My last name’s Sokolov,” he said. “Russian.”
    To go with the Vladimir. She was mildly surprised that he wasn’t Native American or something. “Are you from Russia?”
    “Nope.” He sounded amused. “I’m from Wolf Springs.”
    Now she was afraid she sounded as close-minded as Ed. “What year are you in?” Maybe he didn’t even go to high school. He looked older than seventeen or eighteen.
    “Senior, like you. This year’s gonna take forever. I cannot wait to graduate.”
    “Same here,” she said, feeling herself thaw a little. He had a great smile.
    He touched his forehead, and it took her a second to realize he was reflexively pushing back phantom tendrils of hair. The buzz cut was new, then.
    “I’d probably better warn you,” he went on. “Everyone knows you’re coming and there’s been a thousand theories about why. Aside from the real one.”
    She thought about Samohi. Over thirty-five hundred students went to her school, and still the new kids got noticed. She supposed that when there was one-seventh the number of kids, it made sense that you got noticed more, especially on a late transfer.
    He held up a finger. “News travels faster than you can text. And gossip travels faster. Except you can’t really text here, because we have crappy cell coverage.”
    He pushed back more ghost hair again. He caught her looking, and he shrugged. “Sorry. I had to have my head shaved for the surgery.”
    “Oh.” She was mildly shocked, but she was too polite to show it.
    Unsure what else to do, she studied the next oil painting. It was of a tree, with a deer peering from behind it. In the foreground was a big rock shaped vaguely like a heart. And behind the deer, a shadow, also somewhat heart-shaped. The signature on this one wasn’t M.M., but she couldn’t