The twins rounded up their tackle and the mess of fish they'd caught and the three headed for town about half a mile away.

"Puck, I've been thinking about your plan—"

"Get used to it," interrupted Margaret. "He analyzes everything. Drives me up the wall."

"Butt out, sis! Like I was saying...your plan and well, I'm just wondering whatcha gonna do about school in two mouths? You're about our age, aren't you?"

Puck thought about it for a minute. And he realized something—for every new place that he'd go, he'd have to explain the same things over and over again to people. First, it was to George, now the twins. He had better get used to it.

"If I get a job, then I don't plan to go back," answered Puck. "Me and school have bad blood: I don't like it and it don't like me."

"My folks would never stand for me quitting school."

"Speaking of, are you sure they won't mind extending their hospitality to a stranger?"

"It'll be fine. Everybody helps everybody around here," Margaret assured him.

By the time they arrived at the bait and tackle store, the sun had begun to set and it had cooled off a bit.

"What's that sound?"

"It's just the locusts," replied Mason. "We sell them for bait. Wanna see? We keep them in screened insect boxes out back."

"Uh, no thanks."

"Suit yourself."

"Enough of this stalling," Margaret commanded. "Let's get inside."

"That's my little sis, always bossing folks around, butting in, and cutting to the chase...Gotta love her!"

"Wait! Who are you calling little? We were born on the same day, remember?"

"Uh, correction. Yes, same day, but I beat you to the scene by an entire minute. That's sixty whole seconds."

Margaret rolled her eyes at her brother then muttered something to herself.

"Ha! That gets her every time."

"You two are like cat and mouse. It's hysterical."

The twins' mother greeted them at the door. "Mason, take those fish out back, please. You can help Dad scale. And who do we have here?"

"It's Puck, ma'am. It's a pleasure."

"Will you be staying for supper?"

"If you don't mind."

"Not at all. Maggie Girl, show Puck around then get him settled." Maggie Girl? Having found the nickname rather cute, Puck snickered to himself.

Everything was all on the property—the shop, their lodgings, and even an old barn that stored their Dad's 57 Chevy, his prize possession, a real fixer-upper, according to Margaret.

"Well, that's the tour," she said to him before handing him a wash cloth. "Here. Use this to freshen up for dinner. Hope you like fish. It's the only thing on the menu tonight."

Puck nodded. "Mind if I join your Dad and brother? I'd like to introduce myself."

"Come on, City Boy. We're gonna teach you how to scale fish." Wait, what! City Boy! What was with these folks and all the wild nicknames?

When the two got to the back of the tackle shop, their Dad placed the knife down that he was using to gut the fish then wiped his hand on his apron before reaching for Puck's. He was a tall, slender fellow with messy brown hair and untrimmed facial hair. "You must be Puck."

"Yes, sir."

"Mason tells me you're headed to St. Louis."

"That's right."

"It's a pretty nice town. Busy."

"It's that a bad thing, sir?"

"Not at all. Anyway, you're welcome to stay as long as you need."

"Thank you, sir. I appreciate that. Shouldn't be more than a day or two."

"Daddy, you have to convince him to stay for the expedition," Margaret urged.

"Now, Magpie, you can't stand in a man's way. If Puck has somewhere to be, then so be it."

Margaret huffed. "Yes, sir."

"Girls."

"Well, don't just stand there, Puck. Let's get those hands messy."

"Have fun," Margaret spouted off to him with a wink before disappearing into the tackle shop.

Mason shook his head then repeated himself, "Girls."

***

"Mrs. Bailey, that was delicious. Maybe there is something to this fishing. They sure do make a fine super."

"And probably tasted even better to you because you helped clean them. Nothing better than enjoying the fruits of your labor," the twins mother said to him. "And there's dessert. Lemon custard pie."

Puck relaxed himself in the wooden dining chair before placing his hands atop his bloated belly. "I'm sure I don't have room, ma'am."

"More for me," said Mason. His sister rolled her eyes.

"Never mind him. Come with me, Puck. I want to show you something out back. May we be excused?"

After Margaret lured Puck away from the house to the side of the barn, she planted a sloppy wet one on his cheek. He could feel the metal from her braces.

"What was that for?"

"Don't you like girls?"

Puck grimaced. "I don't want any trouble, okay. Your dad's just inside. Can we just pretend this never happened?"

Margaret looked disappointed. "That's a mean thing to say to a girl."

"I didn't mean it like that." It was obvious that he'd hurt her feelings. For a boy just passing through town—not looking to form any attachments—things had certainly gotten complicated all of a sudden...and very attached.

"Just go then."

He couldn't tell her the truth—that his heart still pined for the girl he left in Alberta, a girl who'd likely only saw him as a younger brother.

"Sorry." He surely didn't mean to hurt her feelings and felt bad about it, but Margaret wasn't having any of that. She'd already stumped off back towards the house and left him to his thoughts. Girls.