Untraceable by S. R. Johannes

Then I spot Mr. Fields carrying out another box from his store. “What’s going on with Fields’ place?”
    Wyn tries on his serious look for a minute. “I don’t know. He came by to see Captain yesterday. Evidently, the bank didn’t give him enough money. So he’s closing up shop. After thirty years. Can you believe it?”
    My heart sinks as I watch Mr. Fields hug his wife. “That sucks. He loves that place. This is the second shop that’s closed in the last few months. If this keeps happening, there won’t be a town left.”
    Just then, Skyler appears from around the corner. Compared to my standard black and tan look, she is overly colorful in turquoise jeans and a bright yellow top. Skyler tosses her over-processed hair and waves like an excited three-year-old. “Hey, Wyn! I’ve been looking for you! Want to join some of us for lunch?”
    “Hold on a second.” As soon as he faces me again, Skyler shoots me a dirty look. Typical. To this day, she hasn’t forgotten the Girl Scouts incident. Personally, I still don’t see the big deal. At least she has boobs.
    I can’t help but rearrange my hair a little. I look like a mess compared to her. The before and after shot at an Oprah makeover show. I point over his shoulder. “Looks like love’s a-calling.”
    He smirks and his cheeks flush a little, as if someone pinched them. “Maybe it’s a wrong number.” He brushes his hand across my shoulder, pushing my hair to the back. Something he used to always do. “You wanna come with?”
    I laugh. “Me? Somehow, I’m guessing I’m not on Skyler’s Evite. But you go, I gotta get to work anyway.”
    He looks at Skyler then at me. “You sure you’re okay?”
    “Go. I’m fine.”
    He bites his lip. “You know what FINE means, right?”
    Dr. Head’s definition of FINE scribbles across my brain. “Feelings Inside Not Expressed?”
    “No. Freaked out, insecure, neurotic and—.”
    “Emotional.” I roll my eyes and play along. “Gee, I’ll try real hard to keep my tears in check.” Behind him, Skyler crosses her arms and taps her foot to a silent beat. “Um, I think Barbie’s about to kick Ken’s ass.”
    He winks. “I’m not worried. Kinda hoping Skipper will save me.” He presses his finger into the dimple on my chin. “See ya later, Little Miss Independent.”
    When he joins Skyler, she makes a point of touching his arm and laughing a little too hard for my taste. I bird-dog them until they disappear around the corner, half wishing he’d stayed.
    I had forgotten how good of a distraction Wyn can be. I shake off the thought and turn away. How is it, after three months, Wyn can just jump back in and mush up all my feelings again. I thought I was over him. Because, to be honest, my heart can’t take any more drama.
    I have more than enough as it is.
     
     

Survival Skill #9
     
     

A good knife is an essential tool that can be used as a weapon or help construct other survival items.
     

     
    The wooden sign swings above me—Tommy’s Fishing Shack: Where Anyone Can Fly—squeaking in the breeze. As I push through the door, ready for my morning shift, the slight smell of leather finds my nose. The store is quiet and empty. Tan clothes, fishing vests, and waders hang on racks, and rows of fishing rods line the back wall. Soothing Native American music floats through the comfy space. No matter how much time I spend here, entering the shop always feels like I’m wrapping up in an old sweater on a chilly night.
    Comfy and warm.
    I call out to my boss. “Tommy?”
    A bass-toned voice answers me from the back room. “Elu! Be out in a second.” I grin at the Cherokee nickname he gave me when I was just a kid, or an usdi . Elu means “full of grace.”
    I’m full of something, but it definitely isn’t grace.
    I stroll toward the front counter, staring at the old pictures hanging along the wall. Some are of Tommy posing with famous fishermen who have frequented his well-respected shop. Others