Page 25 of Blood Queen
He looks at me, slightly baffled a beat and then, “Come on, Kid, looks like you’re staying at my house tonight. Hope you’re hungry; we’re having Chinese tonight.” He shrugs and walks out from under the bridge and waits.
I decide I’ll take my chances with Truman.
I get to my feet and sling my backpack over my shoulder. Truman’s hands are dug deep into his jeans’ pockets as he strides up the wooded path to the street. I scurry behind him to keep up—exhausted.
They have cast iron radiators that steam angrily as we walk into the house.
“You can stay here tonight. I promise it’s okay with my parents.” I watch him as he makes himself comfortable.
He’s got an aggressively sexual face, I decide. His golden-skin, deep-set smoldering green eyes and full sensual lips somehow make him seem like the perfect crush or the perfect best friend. Neither of which I need at the moment.
“So, Kid, huh? That’s a weird name.”
I furrow my brow. “Is it?”
Truman laughs and nods his head yes. I shrug. A woman walks through the door carrying two white plastic bags.
“I swear the summers here are bipolar. Eighty-nine this morning and down to forty-five already. God damn, oh,” she says when she sees me. She looks at Truman, eyes widening. “You didn’t tell me were having guests.”
Her blonde hair looks soft. It hangs near her breasts as she cocks her head at her son. She looks suspicious and suddenly I’m hit with a pang of grief. I’m not welcome here. I might not be welcome anywhere.
“Is it okay?” he asks.
She stalls for a moment but ultimately nods her head and gives a quick verbal ‘sure’ before heading into the kitchen.
The kids set the table with paper plates, and we pick what we want from the white takeout containers.
Truman has a younger sister named Kenzie who doesn’t look too much younger than us and an even younger brother named Nate. They all have the same smile, complete with matching dimples. Their mom, Mrs. Biggins, says grace. They all try to bring me into the conversation as we eat, asking me questions, but I try to stay out of it. Giving only basic information. The bare minimum.
Survival means keeping to yourself and minding your own.
Kenzie speaks rapidly, gesticulating wildly, making faces to emphasize her points. It’s comical to observe. This family’s dinners are so much different than mine and Papa’s. Loud, talkative, gluttonous.
“No one is going to believe this. The crazy chick is eating at my house! I’m so instagraming this!” She holds up her phone and snaps a picture of me eating. I’m bewildered. I don’t know what she’s talking about, and my confusion must show.
“Quit it, Kenz!” Truman says and swats at her phone. It bangs on the table loud enough that I jump in my seat. He snatches it up and does something to the little white box that makes Kenzie whine.
I stare at their interaction bewildered. I’ve never used a phone. I’ve only read about them in my books.
“It’s a smartphone. You don’t have one?” I shake my head and he pulls his from his pants’ pocket and hands it to me.
I turn it over in my hands. It’s thin and small and doesn’t look like much of anything at all really. I’m not sure what the fuss is about. Is it a weapon? Or a book? Like what makes these things so special?
“Neat,” I say. I set it on the table and pick up my fork.
“We can go over smartphone basics after dinner,” Truman says.
Confused, I shrug. “Sure.”
“Dude, you don’t know what a smartphone is?” Kenzie asks blinking rapidly.
Nate smacks her shoulder. “What?” she says looking around the table.
“Do you like Chinese?” Mrs. Biggins asks.
I point to my plate with my fork and she nods. “Yes. Thank you. It’s very good.”
“You’ve never had it before?” she asks.
