did. After a couple of minutes, the silence was getting to me. For this, I entirely blame my parents. They always insisted on those wholesome family dinners, the kind without television and lots of substantial conversation. I could get that these guys spent most of their day together, but eating in complete silence like this was maddening.
I crunched on the crust of my bread and tried to laugh. “If any of you guys is the chef, I could give you some pointers.”
Yuri wasn’t as obvious with his scowl, but Reid slammed down his spoon, having no problems expressing himself. “Ungrateful little bitch! You really complaining—”
“I wasn’t complaining.” The eagerness to defend myself made me speak before thinking. Needless to say, I was surprised that it shut him up. As I looked away, however, I realized it wasn’t my words that had made him retreat, but the look on Charlie’s face. It made Reid back down instantly.
I couldn’t help but feel as though I had once again been the source of his anger. His eyes caught mine and softened slightly—I most desperately wanted to see him smile.
“I didn’t realize you boys were so sensitive.”
Even Yuri laughed then.
Chapter 6
“Sorry ‘bout those guys.”
In his cabin, Charlie smoked a cigarette while sketching something in one of his books. Meanwhile, I was sitting in the corner working on my fifth, very sad attempt to draw a smiley face with decent eyebrows.
I waved him away and began erasing. I thought maybe I should go back to stick figures. “No one should be anymore sorry than they have to be.” I paused, considering the work in front of me. “Well, that’s not true. I feel pretty sorry for this smiley face right now.”
Again I felt Charlie’s smile on me.
“I don’t blame them for hating me. I would, too, if I were them.”
“It’s me they’re sore at.” He rubbed the cigarette butt out on the bottom of his boot.
I looked up. “Can you blame them?”
“Guess not.” He took out a switchblade from his pocket and began sharpening the pencil. I tried to remember which pocket he had put the Wi-Fi card in, but for the life of me, couldn’t. It was then I realized that I hadn’t even batted an eye when I saw him take out the knife and begin working the point of the pencil. It was stupid of me not to be terrified of something that could kill me; I registered the fact in my mind. Yet it didn’t weigh against me—if given the choice, I knew Charlie alone wouldn’t hurt me.
“Where are you from?” I asked
“Why do ya wanna know?”
“Because I’m curious.”
“Curiosity killed the cat.”
“It’s not fair that you can look up almost anything about me, but I know almost nothing about you. Besides, I’m just going to figure it out, anyway. I don’t have to tell you how helpful the Internet can be.”
He sighed. “All over.”
I looked at him and began tapping my fingers. I could wait. And if I couldn’t, I could start listing the names of states, their capitals and cities, both major and minor, across the United States until he grew impatient enough to give it away.
“You’re right.” It wasn’t what I expected to hear him say and I guess my confusion must have shown.
“When you go home…now that I’m a big criminal and all, they’ll be saying all kinds of stuff ‘bout me.”
I shuddered at the thought. “I don’t want to imagine the kinds of things they might be writing about me right now.”
He suddenly burst out laughing and lit another cigarette. “You’re kiddin’ me, right? Your America’s Sweetheart right now—pretty girl, good family, genius smart. The only bad stuff their sayin’ is ‘bout your Dad, ‘cause he’s cursing out the cops.”
I turned my head and cleared my throat, trying to make it sound like a laugh. Of all the information he had given me, I couldn’t get over that he had described me as attractive. Had he actually called me pretty or did the media just describe me that way? Logic suggested that he was just using generalizations, but I still felt myself grow giddy at the idea. Or at least I think I did—that couldn’t have been hope I was feeling, could it?
“I’m not ‘genius smart.’” I used air quotes for emphasis. “I just graduated from high school early.”
He raised a single eyebrow. “An IQ of 136?”
“My Mom rigged those. I’m sure of it.”
He smiled and erased something from the sketch. “I doubt it.”