don’t learn. They never learn, and we all pay for their mistakes.”
Jak stared at him. Was that true? Were people bad? Some were, he knew that. People had taken his baka away. Tried to kill him. Made it so he had to live in the faraway woods by himself. But some were good, weren’t they? His baka had been good. She’d tried to pretend she didn’t like him all the time, but he could tell she did anyway. She’d cared for him and taught him things, and looked proud when he did a good job at something or another. She’d given him books, and words, and numbers, and orange drinks with fizzy bubbles. But now, he was confused and wanted to go. “Okay. I’ll be back then with the boots.”
Driscoll blinked, then his eyes moved over Jak’s head, his brow scrunching. “What?” He gave his head a shake. “Yes. Boots. Right. Yes, bring me a pair of boots. And I’ll give you a box of matches.”
“Two boxes,” Jak corrected. “You said you’d give me two boxes.”
Driscoll waved his hand as though there was no difference between one or two. But he couldn’t mean that. The difference between plenty of matches and not enough was life . . . or death. “Two boxes. Yes, fine.”
Jak nodded, already turning toward the door. “Bye,” he said as he slipped outside into the snow. He turned his face, small bullets of icy hail hitting his cheek. A whipping wind had picked up. He should ask Driscoll if he could stay for a while instead of making the walk home. His face already hurt and his boots were coming loose, he could feel it with each step. He didn’t want to let Driscoll know that though or he might back out of their trade. And anyway, even as the thought of staying drifted through his mind, the whispery feelings were telling him to go, and he was moving away from the house. Away from Driscoll and his wild eyes. Away from the man who made him feel like prey, even though he didn’t know why.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The girl named Harper was snoring. Loudly.
Lucas watched her where she was sitting on his floor, her head leaned forward, and her mouth wide open. He took the moment to stare at her without her knowing, to let his eyes travel free.
It’s you, he thought. It felt like a bee was trapped in his chest.
She was the baby in the photo he’d worn around his neck for so long. Was that why the low-down whispers stirred whenever she was around? Why he felt like he knew her? He reached for the necklace out of habit, his hand falling away. Empty. Still staring. She was the small smiling girl with the pink bow in her brown curls.
How could it be? It shocked him. Although so much shocked him. Why wouldn’t it? A jolt of unhappiness went through him, but he pushed it down. For now. While she was there. The girl made him jumpy. Or . . . no, not jumpy. It was the opposite. What is the opposite of jumpy? She made him still. Like he wanted to stop and wait and watch until he could understand her.
Still wasn’t the right word either, and he thought about that for a minute as he put his jacket on, trying to be loud so she would wake. She let out another snore, which almost made him smile, except he was too tense to smile.
He turned away for a minute, but couldn’t help turning back. He wanted to look at her. She’s beautiful. But could he trust her? He rubbed his head. The woman with red hair, who had taken her clothes off for him and kissed his mouth, had been beautiful too. Not as beautiful as the girl drooling in her sleep on his floor, but still beautiful. But anyway, they were different, right? He knew this woman. Didn’t he? He sort of felt like he did.
A piece of her dark hair fell over her face. The color of chestnuts in the sunshine. Deep shiny brown. His hand itched to push it back, to run his fingers through it and find out if it was as silky as it looked. To touch. To smell. Her eyes were closed now, but he could picture them open and staring at him like she didn’t know what he might do next.
What did she think? What did she see when she looked at him? An animal