Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
“N uh-uh, park your dump truck over there. I don’t want to catch your cooties,” I told Sienna later that evening when she’d finally wandered into the kitchen for dinner.
Sienna’s reply was a whine, still looking pale and weak, a very clear indicator of the condition she had been in. In all the years we’d been friends, I couldn’t remember her ever being sick. I didn’t think I’d ever heard her cough. And the more I’d thought about it, the more I was convinced she and Matti had contracted some terrible bacteria that would probably put anyone without incredible magical DNA in the hospital, if not worse. I’d seen Matti eat some things when we’d been kids that made the kinds of “organic matter” Duncan put into his mouth seem almost Michelin rated.
Because of that, I’d called the convenience store where I was sure the contaminated food had been from and warned them they might have a death trap on their hands.
And since I didn’t want to risk her hacking germs into my eyeballs on the 1 percent chance whatever they had was contagious, I pointed at the seat two down from mine. A little distance was better than no distance, I figured. But if she tried to touch Duncan, I’d tackle her.
My best friend winced as she took the stool. We were the only two people in the kitchen at that point. I’d checked the calendar in the pantry, and Franklin’s name and meal had been signed into the slot, so I assumed I would sous chef for him and keep learning where ingredients were and how they liked to do things. We were immersing ourselves.
The sooner we started, the better.
Based on how this afternoon had gone, Duncan was already doing a spectacular job at it. He had been so happy when I’d gone to the nursery to check on him. His teacher had let me stay after she’d spotted me at the window. He had jumped on me, sending me “Love, love, love,” even as he’d played with the other children, like he was singing it. His puppy smile had been radiant. The teacher had said he’d done great. All signs pointed at him having a good time.
I’d tried to convince myself that it was better this way. If he’d pitched a fit and had been crying, climbing on me, begging me not to leave him with those puppy eyes, it would have been so hard. This immediate independence and confidence was better.
Sure .
My little selfish heart just needed to come around.
Now, the black ball of fur was so exhausted he was curled under my stool, passed out from a long day of interacting in a new environment with new people. He was going to have to adjust to a new sleep schedule from now on.
“My butt is sore.” Sienna winced as she propped her legs on the rung of the stool. “I didn’t want to waste the day not spending time with you. This sucks.”
I snickered as she planted an elbow on the counter. “I know, and I hope you and your butt feel better.”
“Matti says he now understands why I’ve never wanted to try a-n-a-l,” she whispered.
We had already gone over how Duncan didn’t know his alphabet yet—at least I hadn’t taught it to him, and he didn’t watch Sesame Street, so I figured? More like hoped. “But maybe now would be the time to do it since all those muscles are blown out,” I told her, and she groaned.
“No. Never. He’s not even allowed to look at it ever again.”
I laughed, and she smiled a little. “Where is he anyway? He’s still really sick?”
“Uh-huh. I told him to fast, but he didn’t listen and ate more of your jerky a few hours ago, and now he’s paying for it.”
We both scrunched up our faces and said, “Dumb,” at the same time, making us burst into giggles.
“How was your day?” she asked, misery etched all over her features. “I feel so bad we left you with all these strangers.”
“You should.” I lifted a shoulder. “First off, someone—” I pointed toward the floor where Duncan was. “—forgot I existed. Did you know the preschool here is mandatory for the kids? Anyway, I dropped him off, and I was trying so hard not to c-r-y, and he ran in there like his butt was on fire. Real fire, I mean.”
Sienna’s laugh was as loud as it could be considering I was pretty sure she might have pulled some ab muscles on the toilet seat today.
“I’m o-f-f-e-n-d-e-d and a little h-u-r-t, but I’m really, really glad he seems to be doing well.” I was. Deep down. I gestured with my chin toward the cutest donut on the planet by my feet. “See how tired he is?”
We looked down. The tip of his tongue was hanging out of his mouth. I was pretty sure I heard a snore. So freaking adorable. Traitor and all.
I wasn’t going to get upset, so I changed the subject. “Anyway, all you missed out on was a tour of the ranch.”
She made a circle with her hand like she wanted me to rewind. “Who gave you a tour?”
“Henri.”
“Who else went?”
“Just us.”
Her nose wrinkled. “Huh.”
“What?”
Her shrug was pretty dang dainty. “Just you two. Huh. Hmm.” She slumped even more across the counter, but her expression stayed attentive. “He doesn’t have time to text Matti back, but he has time to give you a tour of this place.”
“Franklin, the elder, pawned me off on him. I’m pretty sure he—Henri—only wanted me to be sure I understood that there’s a lot of work that goes into the upkeep and that they expect me to help,” I told her. “We had a chitchat over me moving here after that crap he threw out about the three months, and he said it was fine, but….”
But maybe that was in character with the way he operated, but maybe he was also trying to be diplomatic when he would rather me leave regardless of what he’d said.
I doubted it. Nothing about the way he spoke or acted, so far, gave me the impression he spent too much time screening his words or decisions. Just his emotions. He still seemed to be the same honorable Henri who had been so reluctantly chivalrous when I’d been a kid. Like if he’d catch me busting my ass, he’d lead me back into Matti’s house and hand me a first aid kit. Or if Matti and I got caught playing too rough, he had never hesitated to remind him to be gentler. I’d had a crush on him for a reason. Once I’d discovered liking boys, he’d been one of my earliest victims.
He just… was a decent man. Maybe a good man now, was my guess. I figured I’d find out the more time we spent together. Talking to each other hadn’t been a struggle so far. He’d called me Cricket multiple times. It was nice that he’d remembered.
On the way back from the bigfoot—I meant Spencer the sasquatch, who I still needed to tell her about—Henri had told me more about the situation with the children who lived on the ranch. How when they reached a certain age and were in control enough of their magic, they attended a normal school in the closest town, but not all of them did. Half the teenagers preferred to study on the property. For every question I’d shot at him, he’d had an answer. A good one.
He knew everything about this place.
And he’d told me a few other things that caught my attention.
There was a five-thousand-acre wildlife preserve located on the ranch.
Two weeks a year, some of the residents worked as tour guides for exclusive—he meant expensive—raft fishing tours through a section of a river on the opposite side of the property.
One of the mountains you could see from certain spots on the ranch was called Blackrock Mountain.
When we’d made it back to the building that stored the vehicles, all he’d said was, “Someone else will give you more details.” Then he’d headed straight back to the clubhouse without another word, leaving me there outside.
Henri wasn’t the first person to ditch me without a second glance, and he wasn’t going to be the last. At least Duncan had given me kisses every time he’d run by while I’d spent the rest of the day in the nursery with the very nice teacher named Maggie, who had thanked me no less than ten times for helping out since I had no idea what else to do with myself. Even if that “help” had mainly consisted of me helping her pass out supplies for projects, tie shoelaces that somehow miraculously were constantly getting unraveled, and then playing board games with the older kids—who had been whispering about Shiloh and Pascal’s shenanigans the day before—who were out of school for the summer, still.
I liked all the kids. They were well-mannered, a little mischievous, kind, and just good kids.
Even Agnes, who had snarled at me when I’d offered to wipe her face after she’d eaten dehydrated chicken necks for a snack.
And now we were here, in the kitchen, just the three of us. Agnes had left the nursery with a puppy a little older than her.
“It just seems a little convenient to me that he has time.” Sienna tried to give me a smile that mostly made her look drunk since she wasn’t feeling well. She dropped her voice. “He doesn’t make you feel awkward?”
Awkward? “No. Why?” I whispered back.
She dropped her voice even more, to the point where I had to read her lips because her volume was nonexistent. “Because of the vibes he gives off. The way he talks. He feels like… so much , you know what I mean?”
Hmm. I guess I could see it. Everything about him seemed bigger, size-wise and personality-wise, than any other person I’d ever met. There was something imposing about him. Like if there was a werewolf I needed to roll over and show my belly to, he was the only one that would make me. “The way he was talking to someone today, I can see that. But I’m not like you guys, so it doesn’t hit me as hard. I can still picture him as a teenager in my head, with his hoodie always pulled up, trying to be quiet and mysterious. Maybe that’s it?”
“Yeah,” she agreed. “And he isn’t a warm person. Not like Matti at all.”
I thought about the way he’d made the kids’ breakfast so patiently and thoughtfully. But I barely knew him, and really, the more I argued about the goodness in him, the more Sienna might see something that wasn’t there. He was doing his duty. In his ridiculous body. That was all.
“Who knows why people are the way they are and do the things they do. I only hope he’s nice to Duncan and decent with me.”
“He better be.” She fisted her hand in the air between us.
I laughed at the same time as she did the same. “ Hopefully other people here like me. So far, I’ve got most of the kids in the bag. I met some family members today who were friendly….” They had all been werewolves, except for Shiloh’s mother. The ogre child had left with a werewolf pup and her parents. “I’ll settle for no one calling me hurtful names.” I crossed my fingers.
Like Spencer.
And there went the guilt again.
“They better f-ing not,” she threatened in that way she always had when someone had been rude in her presence. People could be mean to her, but heaven forbid anyone hurt one of her loved ones’ feelings. It was the werewolf in her. “You don’t need to win anyone over. Someone having you in their life is a gift they should be grateful for.”
I started to reach over to touch her, but I remembered she was sick and stopped with my hand halfway to her. “Have I told you today that I love you, Germs?” I asked, dropping my hand.
“You don’t need to. I know.” She smiled, and I tucked her love into my heart where it belonged.
“Before I forget, guess what I saw?” I didn’t wait for her to answer. “A sasquatch!”
She sucked in a breath just like I’d expected. “You saw one?”
“I did more than see it. We pissed each other off, and I told him he had dry hair?—”
“Nina!” she shrieked with a hoarse laugh, instantly regretting it from the way she broke off into a whimper, her palm going for her stomach.
“He was ready to end me. He threw a log at me, and I told him he had split ends, and now I feel bad because Henri said he’s mean but he’s also a lonely sasquatch.”
“He threw a log at you?”
She sounded so concerned. “Henri threw one back at him. It was pretty epic,” I explained, miming the movement of him treating the log like a javelin. “He made me promise to stay out of the way when we got to the area where we found him, but I didn’t listen.”
“Good,” she grumbled, not seeming all that convinced.
Maybe I hadn’t gotten lucky in a lot of ways I wish I would’ve been, but in all the ones that mattered, I’d won the lottery. I’d been raised by wonderful parents. I had two friends who loved me so much, I was their second favorite person after each other. And I had a little guy that might trade me for a chicken tender basket if he was hungry enough, but later on, he’d regret it. But for the first time in a couple months, I wasn’t so concerned about the uncertainties of the future.
I told Sienna all about Spencer the sasquatch, and I gave her a hug anyway when we started cracking up over other dumb stuff we’d done that the incident reminded us of.
If I was going to get diarrhea, I might as well get it from one of my favorite people in the world, especially when our time together was running out.
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