a/n: Todd is going to be Massie's little brother in this story.

This is bleh, but it's better than doing hw eh?

….

Rule #4: Bowling only guides you towards bad thoughts

(Preface)

Salvage Sightings was a warehouse located in an old mill building on the narrow strip of land between a canal and Birch Falls – just like the paper factory located by the "Fisherance" building, but on the opposite side. To drive to it, one would have to cross a narrow, one-lane bridge that was just a few feet above the rushing water in the canal.

However, living in Westchester, everyone was used to bridges – in other words most people developed immunity to it. Whenever grandparents or cousins visited, they always clutched their car seats and armrests, knuckles white, bracing themselves, and warding against an imminent panic attack for the worst.

But most people that were from Westchester had developed that immunity by the time they were seniors. Once you're a senior, it's tradition to jump off the big bridge north of Birch Falls. People would usually spray paint their initials on the underside of the bridge, or their friends would, and then they'd drop into the river where it pooled above the falls. People mostly did it in groups to be safe, but also to have witnesses so they wouldn't be accused of wimping out.

.&.

Salvage Sightings had the following rules posted on its entrance door:

NO WHOLESALERS

SHOPLIFTERS WILL BE PROSECUTED

ALL SALE ARE FINAL

NO SMOKING

SALVAGE SIGHTINGS ASSUMES NO RESPONSIBILITY FOR CARS LEFT OVER 24 HOURS

But Massie, and everyone else, knew that nobody paid attention to the last two rules. The far side of the Salvage Sightings parking lot was filled with rusted-out, abandoned cars and if someone went inside, the warehouse had a faint aroma of smoke, because the clerks chain-smoked, and some of the merchandise had been rescued from fires.

Salvage Sightings had three types of items: brand-new, nearly new, and flat-out irregular. "Nearly new" meant that it had either fallen off or out of a truck or train or been rescued from a warehouse that caught on fire or flooded. Natural disasters struck, and they ran to collect the precious items that were leftover and sell it to people in Westchester – cheap. It might sound kind of strange, but Massie had guessed that people kept going to Salvage Sightings because it was interesting what got left over – what tornadoes, hurricanes, floods, and other disasters left behind.

Massie's dad insisted on taking her and her little brother Todd there every other Sunday, which gave the store time to get new merchandise. Her dad was obsessed with looking for good deals, for getting the best price. "Hidden treasure," he'd call it when he found something good in the giant Overstock City section, where most people found hundreds of shirts in not quite the right color – but occasionally something semi-cool would show up, and her father would say, "We'll take a flyer on this."

For her dad, going to Salvage Sightings was as close he got to gambling, as close as he got to taking a risk. When someone found something good there, after searching through various, hopeless, unpromising bins, it was like winning the lottery. Her dad and Todd would race around trying to find the best bargains and the hidden gems that everyone else had somehow missed.

Besides the remnants and closeout specials, Salvage Sightings actually featured trendy clothes and used clothes. Alicia had found a cool, used leather jacket last year, and she bought at least four or five ten-dollar wool sweaters that were originally sold at Ralph Lauren. It was sort of like those tales that appeared on the streets of Boston, where suddenly in a rainstorm someone would be selling umbrellas for five dollars, but if it were sunny the same table would have sunglasses and hats.

The store itself featured trendy stuff that people had to have, but those that didn't want to spend much money on bought knock-offs. Salvage Sighting was full of knock-offs. It was unheard-of brands of soda, of socks, of tennis balls, and shampoos.

Massie was holding up a pair of skinny jeans and contemplating whether they were last year's trend or whether they might be next year's trend, when she sensed someone standing next to her.

"Hey, Massie." Derrick smiled at her.

"Oh hey! What are you doing here?" she asked. It sounded rude when she said it. She was just surprised to see him.

"My dad insisted we check it out. He said he's been looking out the window at it every day, and he was curious." Derrick rolled his eyes. "So I'm standing here and I'm wondering. What is the deal with this place? I mean it's sort of retro in a violating-every-antismoking-law-in-the-state-way."

"Yeah. I know." She waved her hand in the air, and she could have sworn she saw white air move.

"So. This is like the Westchester Mall? Or what?" Derrick asked. "Hey, they really should think about opening one."

"Yeah, well. Alicia and I go to Yorktown or Thornwood when we want to actually buy anything." She shrugged. "Well, if we can convince our parents to take us. If not, there's a bus." She added.

Derrick wasn't listening to her however. He was staring across the first floor at the checkout. Massie followed his gaze and saw a man leaning out to light the cigarette of a girl working there. Massie guessed he was checking out the girl – she had the kind of body that actually looked okay in a hideous, bright orange-red uniform that had definitely come from someone else's overstock of bad uniform colors.

"Oh, great," Derrick muttered. "He's hitting on a woman in a smock top."

"He is?" Massie asked. "Who?"

Derrick turned away from them. "This is what my dad does. He's a serial flirt."

"Serial flirt?" Massie repeated.

Derrick nodded. "He's horrible. He can't resist anyone with – well, you know."

Two aisles over, Massie saw her dad pushing a cart filled with cheap soda and dented canned vegetables and fruit – his usual purchases. He hadn't hit a jackpot yet.

She felt someone tap her in the back, and turned around to see Todd standing behind her. He had jabbed her with a two-liter bottle of Soda – Dr. Salt, which almost never lived up to his name. It tasted nothing like the original brand Dr. Pepper. "Derrick, this is Todd, my little brother," she said.

"Brother." Todd insisted. "Not little."

He was right. Todd was tall and lanky, and when he was wearing his soccer cleats, he nearly towered over Massie. In fact, he nearly towered over her now, anyway, in sneakers. Todd looked a lot like her dad – they were both tall, with dark brown hair and green-gray eyes, while Massie felt unfortunate with her amber colored eyes.

"Okay. How about just Todd, then," Massie suggested.

"Hey, Todd," Derrick said.

Todd was carrying a couple of soccer balls in a net over his shoulder, but Massie couldn't see what was wrong with them. Maybe they had gotten wet and were warped, or maybe they were just plain defective. Todd looked at Derrick. "You play?"

"No. I never learned," Derrick said. Then he laughed. "Okay, I tried to learn. But I sucked. My hand-eye coordination doesn't exist at all."

"Yeah?" Todd asked, smiling. "I'm on the freshman team, a club team, and I'm going to this elite soccer camp this summer." He wasn't bragging, or if he was, at least he was justified. He really was an incredibly good player. He had all the athletic talent in the family.

"Impressive. I'll have to check out some games," Derrick remarked. "Next year, I guess."

Massie spotted her father watching them and moving closer with his cart. He was casting a strange look towards Massie. "So, we'd better go," she said to Todd, alerting her eyes towards their father.

"Yeah, hang around here much longer and you'll get cancer." Derrick coughed and waved his hand in front of his face as a clerk walked past, a cigarette hanging on the edge of his lips.

Massie tried to smile. "Yeah."

"Besides, I've got to find my dad before he hits on that woman over there restocking the candy aisle," Derrick laughed. "Do they have anything good here? Any salvaged candy I'd want?"

"I don't know. We bought some shattered peanut brittle once that wasn't too bad," she told him. "So, see you Monday?" Massie added, before walking over to join Todd and her dad in line at the register. She glanced around for Derrick's dad, but didn't see him anywhere. She looked back and saw Derrick picking up bags of no-name candy and examining them.

"Who's that?" her father asked Todd once Massie had reached the two.

"That's Derrick," Todd said. "He's new here and doesn't play soccer."

"Well then, what is the town doing, letting him stay?" Her dad shook his head. "Outrageous."

"Dad," Todd said.

"I'm calling the town council first thing tomorrow. Something needs to be done," he went on. "Issue that boy a soccer ball immediately. Here, let's give him a couple of yours." He struggled to pull a soccer ball from the net that Todd was securely holding on to.

"Dad. Quit it," Todd said, but he was starting to laugh.

There they were, having a good time. Her dad was just joking about the soccer thing, but it was the hype in Westchester, since that was the only sport that Briarwood was only good at.

"Well, it's almost spring. He has nine months to pick it up," her dad said as he got out his wallet out to pay for the cart of assorted salvaged loot. "Then we'll have a little talk with him." Her dad looked at her. "Is he in your class?"

Massie nodded. "Just got here, though."

"Oh. Interesting. I wonder if his family's going to need new insurance," her dad said.

Without "Fisherance," life was not worth living – according to their slogan. He handed his business card to the curvaceous clerk behind the register, who was wearing a nametag that read, "I'M NEW HERE! TREAT ME NICE!" She took a drag from her cigarette and stared at his card.

"If you quit smoking, call me," her dad stated. "We give discounts to nonsmokers."

.&.

After Salvage Sightings, the Blocks decided to go to Briarwood Candlepin Bowling Center. Unfortunately for Massie, this was the second part of their every other Sunday routine.

"Lane twelve." Olivia, the bowling alley manager – who was also the cook at the snack bar and the girl who had to chase down lost bowling balls – slid a pair of off-black shoes with a light blue trim across the counter to Massie. "Size seven," she muttered.

That was usually the extent of her conversations with Olivia. She went to Massie's school, but she wasn't really fond of… anybody really. She kept to herself most of the time and Massie had once seen her eating lunch in the art room. She had tried saying "hi," multiple times, but mostly received the ol' "cold" shoulder and glares.

"Size eight, actually." Massie told her, pushing the shoes back.

"Oh. Really." Olivia stepped back and gave Massie a once-over, as if to determine if she were lying that she wasn't in fact growing. She hated when an adult did that during visits to their house and would always excitedly yell, "Oh my goodness, look how big you're growing!" as if she hadn't noticed. But the fact that her classmate did kind of spooked her. She felt as if she were living in a biology experiment. Hypothesis: girls will grow taller. Lab results: Duh, no need for the once-over, she thought.

"Why didn't Alicia come today?" Todd leaned against the counter beside Massie and waited for Olivia to fog his size-ten shoes with disinfectant spray.

"She hates bowling," Massie responded. "You know that." Whenever Alicia met their family here, she'd end up sitting at the snack bar, hanging out with some of the regulars, or calling her mom and asking for a ride home after twenty minutes.

"Yes, she hates bowling, but she seems to like getting out of the house for any reason," her father chimed in. "And you two are practically attached at the hip." He said this all of the time and therefore thought it was actually true.

"No, we're not," Massie usually responded.

As Massie sat down to put on her shoes, she watched Todd and her dad joking around as they selected the perfect bowling balls, even though she was pretty sure they were all the same in candlepin bowling. They did this: They joked and laughed and had fun together. Dad made a point of doing fun things with Todd. Like renting action and comedy flicks and going to high school football games and went down to the Basketball Hall of Fame in Springfield.

Todd was a great athlete, but he didn't have the mindset for bowling. He was too… hyper. If he got a strike or spare, he'd try to do too much on his next frame and end up following it up with a gutter ball. He could get four frames of two in a row, and then get four strikes, and then strictly gutter balls to the end of the game.

Todd used to spend hours every day in front of the TV: he'd watch any sport available. Basketball, golf, tennis, NASCAR, baseball, swimming, diving, the national cheer championships. Anything. Her dad would toss books and magazines into Todd's lap while he sat in front of the TV to try and get him to read instead. He'd run circles around Todd's chair, just to get his attention. He was very goofy about it. He even posted signs on the TV that read, IF YOU HAVE SEEN TODD BLOCK, PLEASE CALL. 1-800-FIND-TODD. THANK YOU. Or he'd run out in front of the TV and say it, pronouncing, "Thank you very much," instead of "Thank you," as if he were Elvis Presley.

Eventually, her dad just got rid of the TV all together. Todd switched obsessions and now he was into doing all sports instead of watching them. Therefore, he was gone from home a lot, but ironically her dad could spend more time with him now because he had to drive him to the gym, to the field, to the recreational center. So she guessed that, that was what her dad wanted, which was Todd out of the recliner. That was what made her dad happy. But now, they didn't have cable, and that's not what Massie wanted.

Over the winter, Todd and her dad had rented snowmobiles a few times, and they'd tried to convince Massie to come along, but she hadn't. They'd come home with glowing face, frostbit-looking noses, hat hair, and red ears. "We had a great time," they'd say. "You should come with us next time."

And when they said that, she wanted to. She wished she could have, but she couldn't.

They were halfway through their second game, and Massie was standing there, holding her second ball and waiting for the machine to clear the eight fallen pins, when she heard a high-pitched laugh. Then she heard someone else laugh - it sounded like her dad. Massie glanced over her shoulder and saw him talking and laughing with a woman who looked vaguely familiar, and the man standing beside her.

What was he doing? Massie stood there and stared. He was laughing. How could he laugh so much in one afternoon? He never laughed at home. He sat there and stared at the wall or dozed off in a chair while trying to read. The only time he perked up at all was when Todd was around.

But whenever they were out in public, he mingled with people. He made it look so casual, so easy. As if everyone wasn't staring at them and wondering, how are they doing? Are they all right?

Or maybe they weren't wondering, maybe they'd completely forgotten already, and she wasn't sure which was worse.

"Come on, Mass. Bowl already!" Todd nearly yelled.

But she just stood there staring at her dad as he walked back over to their scoring table. She was so mad, she couldn't take her eyes off him.

"Are you having fun?" she asked. She tried to keep it light, but her voice came out sounding rude and bitter.

"What's that, Massie?" her Dad looked up at her.

Are you having fun? Are you enjoying yourself? Is this a party for you? She thought. "Nothing," she responded.

"No, what?" her Dad continued.

"Never mind," she hastily responded.

"Massie. Come on. What did you say?"

"Bowl already," Todd said again.

Massie turned back to the lane to take her turn. It wasn't worth it, anyway.

"Come on, Massie," her Dad clapped. "Pick 'em up!" he called as she aimed for the two remaining pins. She reached back with her arm and concentrated, but when the ball rolled from her fingertips, it veered into the gutter.

"Gutter ball!" Todd yelled happily. That meant he still had a chance of beating her. "Too bad, Mass."

Her dad looked at her as she walked past the scoring table and sat in the chair farthest away from him. "You'll get him next game," he cheered in an encouraging tone. "Don't worry."

"I don't care," she muttered.

"Come on, Massie," her dad insisted. "Cheer up."

Cheer up? Who did he think he was talking to? Sometimes he seemed to be in a completely different world, as if having him say "have a nice day" and "cheer up" would just automatically make that happen, make horrible things disappear. He sounded like a bad, cheap greeting card. Maybe that worked with Todd, but not her.

"You know what?" Todd commented as she sat beside him at the scoring table a few minutes later. "You know what we should do?"

"Leave?" Massie mumbled.

"No." Todd elbowed her in the ribs. "We should join a bowling league. That way we'd bowl more often and get really good. That could be sort of cool."

"A league? All right. Let's talk about it," her Dad said, standing in front of them. "Seems to me that the first thing we have to decide is what to put on the back of our shirts. We need to ask someone to sponsor us. Right?"

"No." Massie muttered.

"Come on, Mass. It'll be great," Todd encouraged. "We'll purchase our own bowling balls–"

"No." Massie repeated.

"And our own shoes, so we won't have to rent shoes anymore, and you won't have to talk to Olivia– "

"No!" Massie yelled, not looking at either one of them. "You guys can do it, but count me out."

"You know what? You are not fun sometimes. So not fun." Todd shoved out of the chair and walked up to the counter to start another game.

Massie knew that Todd hated her when she acted like that. She hated that about herself, after the fact, when she saw how upset he got.

"Massie, it's all right." Her dad said. "We don't have to do anything you don't want to."

Massie just stared at the floor. Weren't they already?

…

Salvage Sightings is actually based on a place I experienced when I went downtown where I live, haha.

Reviews make me happy. Thanks to those that did! – Luv2Live Live2Luv, dead end justice, purplexheart, to infinity and beyonder, joan, get frisky, .space, Massiekurrr, and louiscide.

xx- Sami