Ruin - By N.M. Martinez Page 0,10

I'm the best one to tell you."

There is no twinkle in his blue eyes this time. He has this air of maturity that he didn't have earlier. Brandon seems to watch me carefully, his eyes both gentle and sharp. "Mr. Smith is your dad." He pauses to take a breath and then quickly exhale it. "He's also the leader here."

My breath catches, and I bite my lip. Brandon becomes fuzzy for a moment until I take off my glasses and wipe at my eyes. Mom always had a different story for my father. Sometimes he was a soldier. Sometimes he was a politician. After a while, she would just work it into silly bed time stories, and I'd pretend they were all true. I had a vision of my father being an honest and decent man who just couldn't be with my mother.

My hands shake. I trap them between my body and my knees.

"And he's my father too." Brandon says it quietly, his eyes on me and still lacking that sparkle.

My toes curl against the mattress. I have a brother. For a moment, my mouth falls open and then I look away, down at my bare feet on the blanket. Secretly I always wanted an older brother though I don't know why. All of my friends who had older brothers said they were nothing but pests.

I didn't get a good look at Mr. Smith, but I don't see much similarity between Brandon and him. But Brandon and I do both have dark hair. Like my mother. I bite my lip hard.

"Just him," Brandon adds. "We share blood through Henri. I mean, Mr. Smith."

"So we're only half related?”

Brandon shakes his head, and he frowns. "I don't know what you mean."

"We only share one parent."

"Ah. We don't make distinctions like that here. We share blood. That's all that matters.” Brandon leans back on the bed, one hand behind him as he looks at me. "You don't like us, do you?"

I almost choke, but the words fall out of my mouth quickly. "No, it's not that. It's just--" But my words completely fail me. My hand falls on my mouth as our eyes meet. There is something of a twinkle to his eyes now, but it doesn't look the same. His lips curl up in a smirk like he expected that I wouldn't be able to explain myself.

"Right. Well, you stay here. I'll leave you the lamp tonight just until you get your bearings. We can't do this every night, okay? Oil's not always easy to get." Brandon stands and reaches out to the lamp to twist a knob. It shortens the wick and dims the light. "I'm going to take the couch."

Four

The bed is cold. I wake up but find I can easily go back to sleep to avoid the reality that I'm in someone else's bed. Sounds from the kitchen tell me he's probably making breakfast for us even though I'm really nothing more than a complete stranger to him. But he's got to eat, and so he's probably going to make me breakfast too. I stretch out, sliding my bare feet into the cold unused corners of the bed and pushing the blanket away from me to let the early morning air into my warm sanctuary.

I reach over to the table for my glasses. The lamp still sits there with its shortened wick bravely burning away. Not much is left but a small halo of flame. I sit up and blow it out, not quite sure what else you're supposed to do with it. A tail of smoke curls up from the wick and pokes at my nose.

My clothes are crumpled. It's a little too dark for me to go digging around in my duffle bag. Plus I don't want to be rude. I don't know what Brandon's schedule is like yet. What if he needs to get in here and I'm in the way? So I just pat my clothes to smooth them out the best I can, and then step over to the door.

I open the door carefully and peek out. It's still somewhat dark in the main room. There are three windows, but only one is facing towards the sun. The two other windows at the front of the apartment will be covered in the building's shadow until noon most likely.

Brandon peeks out from the kitchen with a small smile. "Did you sleep okay?"

I nod, still not knowing exactly what to say to him.

"Well, breakfast is almost