Wink Poppy Midnight - April Genevieve Tucholke Page 0,21

they moved with the words, mouth as red as blood.

Bee Lee cuddled up next to me, head against my side.

The Orphans consisted of three boys and two girls. All redheads, except for Bee, who had deep brown hair. Bee had just turned seven years old. I knew this, because it was one of the first things she told me. The twins were Hops and Moon, the oldest boy was Felix, and last of all was tiny Peach, the youngest. The ten-year-old twins were the wildest. They always seemed to be trying to outdo the other. Who could scream the loudest? Who could get the dogs howling? Who could put the most hay down the other’s shirt? After that came Peach, who was about five or six, but had the same loud, rascally fierceness of the twins. Felix was maybe fourteen and had the look of his older brother, Leaf, about him. He was quieter than the others, though his eyes were lively enough.

Bee Lee was already my favorite. She was cuddly and sweet like the Bichon Frisé I’d had when I was little. She was always trying to squeeze her hand into mine, or put her dimpled little arm around my waist.

Wink had a beautiful reading voice. Delicate and slow. She read about Thief, about the death of his father, and the prophecy. She read about his journey into the Cursed Woods, just him and the clothes on his back and the sword his father left him. She read about how he needed to steal food, apples from orchards and pies from windowsills, to keep himself from starving. She read about how he sat by his small fire at night and sang the old songs to keep his loneliness at bay.

We heard Mim call out dinner just as Wink read the last word of the fifth chapter. She slipped the book back in her pocket. The Orphans jumped up and took off for the house, Bee Lee giving me a shy smile over her shoulder before darting down the ladder.

I looked at Wink, and she was looking at me.

“Should we go to dinner?” I asked.

She shrugged.

I got to my knees. I put my fingers on the small of her back, and kissed her belly button, right through her cotton overalls. She put her hands on my head, her strawberry-stained fingertips in my hair. I turned my chin, and leaned my cheek against her.

“What the hell is this?”

I jerked. Wink’s hands dropped to her sides. I opened my eyes. Closed them. Opened them again, let go of Wink, and stood up.

Poppy.

Wink stepped backward, a quiet sidle into the corner shadows. Poppy ignored her. She was wearing another short, swoopy sort of dress, the kind that showed more than it hid. It was green, the same color as Wink’s eyes.

“You weren’t home and your dad wouldn’t tell me where you’d gone. He’s always hated me.” She paused, and ran her hand down her hair, smoothing it, drawing attention to it. “But I figured it out.”

“You’re trespassing,” I said. “This is Wink’s farm. You’re not welcome. She doesn’t want you here.”

Poppy laughed.

She grabbed me by the front of my shirt and yanked me toward her. Then she narrowed her eyes at the darkness behind me. “Is that true, Feral? You don’t want me here?”

Wink stayed in the shadows.

Poppy let go of my shirt and walked into the dark. She wrapped her fingers around the right strap of Wink’s overalls and pulled her, one step, two, back into the fading evening light at the center of the hayloft. Wink followed, meek as a lamb.

Poppy brushed a curly strand of Wink’s hair off her cheek. Wink didn’t stop her.

“Do you think Midnight is a prince come to rescue you from being a loser?” Poppy kept her fingers on Wink’s face. “Is that what you think? I bet you kissed him last night, after you showed everyone your unicorn underwear at the party. I bet you crawled all over him. You Bells—you’re nothing but animals. Dirty and sex-crazed like a bunch of smelly goats.”

“Stop it, Poppy.”

I didn’t scream it. I didn’t even raise my voice. But she took her hand from Wink’s cheek and turned around.

“You protecting your new little girlfriend, Midnight? Wow, that’s adorable.” She put her hand on her hip and twitched her torso until her dress swung against her upper thighs, swish, swish. “How can you stand it? How can you stand kissing such a pasty, freckled, dirty thing? Is it just hormones?