In Too Deep by Norah McClintock

you didn’t have before,” he said. “But other than that, your car’s fine.”
    My blue Toyota pulled up behind the tow truck and Derek got out. “You could stand a tune-up,” he said as he tossed me my keys.
    Mr. Wilson walked slowly around my car, pausing to inspect the body.
    â€œThe boys can fix those dings for you if you want,” he said. “Give you a tune-up, too, no charge.”
    â€œThanks,” I said. “But it’s late, and it’s been a long day.”
    â€œWell, another time, then,” Wilson said. He fished in his pocket for a business card and handed it to me. “If you want my guys to take a look at it, give me a call.”
    One of the boys watching shook his head and muttered something under his breath. Tal, the kid who had defended the shoplifter.
    â€œDo you have something to say, Tal?” Wilson asked him. “Why don’t you say it louder so we can all hear it?”
    â€œIt was nothing,” Tal muttered.
    Mr. Wilson glanced at the kid standing next to Tal, who shifted his gaze down at the ground. Wilson’s eyes went back to Tal.
    â€œWe’re waiting, Tal.”
    Tal met Wilson’s eyes. “I said, ‘I bet she won’t let us touch her car.’ I bet no one in town would. They don’t trust us.’”
    â€œThank you, Tal,” Wilson said. “That wasn’t so difficult, was it?” He turned back to me. “The offer stands. Some of these boys are better than any mechanic you’ll find in town.”
    Tal looked at me with sullen eyes, and I thought about what had happened outside the record store. I also thought about how some people regarded Nick, purely based on his background.
    â€œThank you for the offer, Mr. Wilson,” I said. “I’ll call you when I have time to bring my car back. And I appreciate what you did for me tonight.”
    â€œNo problem,” he said.
    I turned to go to my car but found Bruno blocking my path. He handed me a piece of paper. There was a small map sketched on it and a set of directions printed neatly below.
    â€œSo you don’t get lost again on your way back to town,” he said.
    I thanked him. It was only after I had gotten in the car and started the engine that I realized there was something written on the other side of the paper. I turned it over. My cheeks burned as I glanced out the window and saw Bruno looking at me. He was grinning. He had written the directions on the back of the note I had left in the glove compartment.

    Â Â .    .    .

    â€œYou have nothing to be embarrassed about,” Morgan said. “For all you knew, he could have been an axe-murderer.”
    The directions that Bruno had given me turned out to be excellent. I made it back to town without a hitch, parked in the marina parking lot, and boated across the water under the moon. I’d found Morgan waiting anxiously for me on the dock. We’d retreated to the veranda, where I told her what had happened.
    â€œYeah, but he wasn’t an axe-murderer,” I said. “He’s nice. The guys out there are all like Nick. They’ve been in trouble, but they’re getting their acts together.”
    â€œWhat about Nick?” Morgan said. “What’s he doing there?”
    â€œI have no idea.” All I knew was that he hadn’t trusted me enough to tell me the truth.
    â€œWell, look on the bright side,” Morgan said. “At least you know where he is.”
    Somehow, that didn’t help.

    Â Â .    .    .

    The next day Gloria kept me busy making invoices for all the people who had placed classifieds in the paper. It was late afternoon before I had a chance to tackle the story about the camp opening. By the time I was on my third and hopefully final draft, there was only one other person still in the office—Tom Matheson. He was talking on the phone and working on his