Ruin - By N.M. Martinez Page 0,24

ripped and worn, with a pair of dirty jeans. She wears no shoes, so she stands near one of the pits in the distance in front of us with her hands outstretched to absorb the warmth. Right away I realize she's another one like me and Mitchell, but she looks worse. There's a cautious weariness to her. She glances furtively at the others standing around the pit with her. They stand around drinking from glasses and old plastic cups. The man seated next to her moves and it makes her flinch just as we pass by. She reminds me of the girl I saw on the balcony that one day, and I briefly wonder if it's her.

We cross the street, no words between us. People wave at Brandon and smile. Some even call him by name and he only smiles and gives them a nod like he's one of the popular guys walking the hall. I'm not sure if it should make me comfortable or make me more nervous that he's so well known. It makes sense if he's Henri's son that people would give him a grudging acknowledgement, but the ones who greet him seem to honestly do it, not out of obligation, but just because they're happy to see him.

I glance up at him trying to get some clues in the same way he picks up so much just by glancing at me. There's a lot that I don't know about him still. Though we've talked, we haven't really talked about anything of substance, and I make a decision that I will see if he'll open up to me about his life here and his past.

Across the street, Brandon heads towards a fire pit in what looks like an old parking lot. There's a small group of people already there, and they look up at us when they see Brandon. I notice three people right away. One tall man who stands on the other side of the fire as we walk up, his bright eyes on the two of us and a smile on his lips that makes the hair on my arms stand up and brush against the inside of my long sleeves. Another tall man stands with his arms crossed behind a chair that seats a petite girl who smiles at Brandon first in greeting.

Then all of their eyes then fall on me.

"This is my sister, Paula." Brandon says it loudly to all of them without a hint of shame though I'm sure they can see that I'm not like them right away. No one says anything though. The girl sitting down pours a glass and offers it to me. Brandon is the one to politely refuse for me and when I look up at him, he smiles, "Trust me. You won't like it."

I glance around at the others and let my eyes adjust to the firelight. The first one I notice is the girl who looks hardly older than me. She hops up from her chair and motions at it. "Uh, you wanna sit down?"

The last thing I want to do is be an inconvenience, so I refuse at first but she insists and Brandon gives me a soft nudge in the shoulder without even looking at me. He's talking to a large man much taller than himself who speaks quietly in soft grunts as Brandon mumbles questions to him. So I take a seat and hope that I can get on with my simple observations.

But I'm surprised by who's sitting near me in a chair, his hazel eyes looking away and avoiding me completely. It's Mitchell. When we walked up, he was sitting down and so he was completely obscured by the fire as we walked up. I want to ask him where he's been, but for the man standing next to him.

The man is tall and wiry. He looks young, just like Mitchell and Brandon. By the fire light, his eyes look almost purple. There's a slim chance that it's just a trick of the light, but silky blue hair falls over his forehead, and that is definitely not a trick of the light. He eyes me with one hand on the back of Mitchell's chair and right away I'm sure that he's Mitchell's caretaker the same way Brandon's mine. There's a dangerous gleam to his eyes. He watches me as if picking out all my weaknesses.

Then I remember Mitchell's words from the other day. "Brandon's a good guy. I'm sure he wouldn't