Chapter 20: The Shelter’s New Volunteer
The car was unremarkable—silver, clean, and rented just that morning from a no-frills counter that asked no questions beyond what was needed. It parked quietly in the gravel lot outside a squat, pale blue building with fading trim and a hand-painted sign that read: Hollow Pines Community Shelter. The name might have once sounded poetic, but time and wear had dulled its charm, much like the building itself.
Daniel stepped out, adjusting his thick-rimmed glasses with a timid hand. His slouched posture, layered hoodie, and worn jeans gave him the air of someone more comfortable behind a computer screen than among people. He clutched a small notebook to his chest as he crossed the lot, eyes scanning the uneven walkway ahead like he was counting his steps.
The inside of the shelter smelled faintly of old wood and cafeteria food. Down the hallway came a clatter of metal trays and the distant sound of someone laughing too loudly.
“Can I help you?” a voice called out.
Daniel turned to find a man standing in the office doorway. He was in his late fifties, heavyset, with a graying beard and thinning hair combed over in a way that didn’t fool anyone. His shirt was tucked in, but barely, and the sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing tan lines and faded ink on his forearm.
“Hi. Um, I’m Daniel,” he said, voice low, almost uncertain. “I emailed last week about volunteering?”
The man eyed him, expression neutral, then stepped aside and gestured toward the office. “You’re early.”
“I—I wasn’t sure how long it’d take to get here,” Daniel said, giving a shy smile as he stepped inside. “I didn’t want to be late.”
Mr. George Harvey gave a soft grunt. “People are usually late. Or they don’t show up at all.”
Daniel sat down on the chair across from the desk, clutching his notebook with both hands.
“So,” Harvey said, settling behind his desk, “you’re a student?”
“Yes, sir. Transferred here just this semester. Finishing up my undergrad in sociology.”
“From?”
“Wyoming. Laramie,” Daniel answered, with just the right amount of pause before the name—as if recalling it from homesickness rather than rehearsed memory.
Harvey narrowed his eyes slightly. “And why here?”
Daniel smiled again, a little sheepish. “Change of pace. Honestly, it was kind of impulsive. I just… needed a restart.”
Harvey nodded slowly, like he’d heard variations of that before but wasn’t quite ready to believe it yet. “You live nearby?”
“Yeah. A small apartment a few blocks from campus. Just me.”
“No roommates?”
Daniel shook his head. “No. I’m still figuring things out. Still looking for a job, too. I’ve got a little savings, but it won’t last forever. That’s partly why I wanted to volunteer. To stay busy. To… I don’t know. Do something useful while I’m waiting for things to settle.”
Harvey leaned back in his chair. “We don’t pay much. Barely anything.”
“That’s okay,” Daniel said quickly, shaking his head. “I wasn’t expecting to get paid. I just thought maybe I could help. A few hours a week. Part-time. I’ve got time.”
Harvey studied him for a moment longer. Then he picked up a folder and started flipping through it absently. “We get kids coming in all the time saying that. Wanting to make a difference. Most last a few weeks. Some just want something to put on their resume. Some can’t even look the residents in the eye.”
Daniel didn’t flinch. “I’m not scared of that. I mean… I’ve had some rough patches, too. I know how easy it is to lose things. Stability. Direction. It’s not hard to imagine being on the other side of this desk.”
That made Harvey pause. He glanced up and met Daniel’s eyes. Something in his face softened—just slightly.
After a moment, he muttered, “We could use help in the pantry and on Sundays. And if you’re around during lunch, we always need an extra hand in the kitchen.”
“I can do that.”
“Start next week?”
“Sure. Whatever time you need.”
Harvey gave a grunt of agreement, then stood and reached out a hand. “Welcome aboard, Daniel.”
Daniel stood too, setting down his notebook so he could shake the man’s hand. His grip was firm, but not too firm. He didn’t overdo it.
Harvey didn’t let go right away. “Don’t disappoint me. You seem like a good kid.”
Daniel nodded. “I won’t.”
Harvey lingered a second longer, eyes narrowing just slightly, then took a step closer. His gaze drifted—pointedly—to Daniel’s frame.
“You work out or something?” he asked, tone casual, like it was just another part of the small talk. “Didn’t expect it under that hoodie, but you’ve got some… build on you. Broad shoulders. Tall.”
Daniel chuckled awkwardly, reaching up to adjust his glasses again. “I guess. I bike a lot. Hike, sometimes.”
“Huh,” Harvey said. He nodded slowly, eyes still on him. “You got a girlfriend?”
Daniel blinked, caught off guard but not too surprised. This was the moment he had prepared for.
“No,” he said, keeping his tone light, like it wasn’t a big deal. “Not really into dating. Relationships are… messy. I keep to myself.”
Harvey’s brow lifted, intrigued. “That so? Not even tempted when they come around? I mean, girls your age, they throw themselves at guys like you.”
Daniel smiled, soft and self-deprecating. “I’ve just never been… interested that way. Not like that.”
Harvey leaned back slightly, his interest no longer veiled. “So, what are you interested in then?”
Daniel hesitated—not too long, just enough to seem nervous. Then he met Harvey’s eyes for the first time without flinching. “Still figuring that out.”
It was just enough. Just suggestive enough.
Harvey held his gaze for a beat, then nodded, like he’d found something useful in the exchange.
“Alright then,” he said, the moment loosening like a shift in air pressure. “We’ll see how you do next week.”
Daniel gave a small nod and offered a polite smile, then turned and walked out the door.
Harvey watched him go.
And Daniel knew. The bait had been taken. As he stepped back out into the sunlight, he adjusted his glasses again and slid back into the rental car. He didn’t start the engine right away. Just sat there for a moment, hands resting on the steering wheel, his reflection faint in the rearview mirror.
The corners of his mouth twitched slightly, almost a smile.