Chapter 7
7
ADAM
I jerk awake in my chair as the passage sensor beeps. The timestamp in the corner of the screen tells me it’s 22:07. I must have just nodded off.
I blink and rub sleep from my eyes, trying to focus on what’s happening on the screen. Jonathan Belle is in the passage with one of the children. Malakai.
What the hell is he doing? Where is he taking him?
I slip from my chair and follow. The rain masks my footsteps behind them, but my heart is pounding so loud I’m surprised they can’t hear it. My head is foggy with sleep, I can’t figure out what his plan might be. Is he trying to discipline him? Kidnap him?
They turn left at the bottom of the stairs and I wait a moment before following, turning into the passage just as they step into the warm light spilling from the kitchen.
Oh.
My sluggish brain catches up.
I explicitly told Malakai that if he didn’t at least try to eat Ray’s stew, then he would go to bed hungry. Everyone at the table heard. Malakai has to learn, just like we all had to. If I didn’t finish what was on my plate, I would have been told it was ungrateful and wasteful. My mother would have kept the leftovers in the fridge and made me eat them the next day, cold.
Day one and already this imposter is undermining us. This isn’t going to work. What was I thinking?
I hear Ray greeting them warmly. Typical. I creep up to the ajar door and witness Ray springing to action to “rustle up” some sandwiches. Gall rises in my throat. I should step in. I should stop this. I don’t. I don’t know why I don’t.
Malakai fidgets, looking everywhere but at Belle or Ray. Belle settles at the table opposite him.
Now’s the time I should intervene. I very nearly push through the door.
Then Belle says, “Do you want to talk about why you didn’t want the stew?”
Malakai shrugs.
“You know, Mal, if we’re aware of your preferences then we can try to make sure that you’re catered to.”
How casually Belle uses the collective ‘we’.
Malakai’s throat bobs, he looks down at his fidgeting hands. “It’s not a preference .”
“All right, so what is it?”
His gaze snaps up to meet Belle’s, as if he’s about to challenge him, then drops down to his hands again.
He doesn’t say more before Ray sets a sandwich and a glass of milk down in front of him. I think he’s going to refuse that too, but he picks up the sandwich with both hands and shoves it into his mouth. He hardly chews before swallowing, washing each massive bite down with his milk.
Shame washes over me. He’s starving. His file flashes before my eyes. Neglect. His addict parents leaving him alone at home for weeks at a time, with only school meals to sustain him. Then those were cut and, well, child services got involved not long after. But if he was so hungry then why…
Ray offers him seconds, but Malakai shakes his head. Ray takes his plate and disappears back out of view. Belle and the boy sit together for a long moment with only the rain filling the silence.
Eventually Mal whispers, so soft that I can hardly hear him, “Stew… stew was all we used to… sometimes.” His fingers worry at the edge of the wooden table. “And then once there was… I knew it had been sitting out too long but I was hungry.”
“And it made you ill?” Belle guesses, without missing a beat.
Malakai nods.
“Well there, that makes a lot of sense. I can’t eat oysters for the same reason.”
He’s so calm, nearly cheerful.
I hate myself in that moment. No matter what I might try to do to hide it, deep down I am the monster they all think I am. Because only a monster would deny food to a child who’s faced food scarcity, would assume fussiness in a situation like this.
I force myself to unclench my fists and take deep breaths. Impotent rage simmers in my gut as I turn away from the scene and head up to bed.