Stray
Page 78
“I haven’t touched her.”
“You haven’t let her go, either.”
He wagged his finger at me, as I’d seen our mother do a thousand times, and the familiar gesture made me ache with homesickness. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d wanted to go home, but I would have wil ingly locked myself in my father’s cage at that moment. I’d have even let my mother nag me. Or knit me a sweater.
“I’ll deal with you in a minute,” Ryan said, jerking me out of my private pity party. “After I convince her to eat.”
I exhaled in a huff. “Abby, take the bag so Ryan can ‘deal’ with me.”
Abby glanced up sharply, surprised by my harsh tone. But then she took several steps forward and snatched the bag and water bottle from him. Pouting, she carried them back to her corner, where she dropped them on the mattress, unopened. It was better than nothing. And frankly, I was kind of tickled to have someone take orders from me without argument.
“Thank you, Abby,” Ryan said, sounding genuinely relieved.
She flipped him off, and that time I did laugh. I couldn’t help it.
Grumbling something unintel igible, Ryan nudged my paper sack with his foot, shoving it between two of my bars without meeting my eyes. He left the bottle where it sat, within reach, should I want it.
“Do I have to threaten a hunger strike to get you to talk to me?” I asked. “Or don’t you care if I starve myself.”
“He cares,” Abby said, arms crossed over a nearly flat chest. “Miguel wil kil him if anything happens to either of us.”
I raised my eyebrows, thril ed with that little tidbit of information. “So, you’re our keeper? How does one find a job like that? Answer an ad in the classifieds?
‘Wanted—werecat with a smal brain and even smal er heart.’ Do you get benefits?
Dental, maybe? ’Cause you’re going to need it when I break off every tooth in your mouth.”
Ryan frowned, looking more ashamed than frightened. “I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. That’s it.”
“A victim of circumstance, huh? And since misery loves company, you decided to hand your sister and cousin over to be murdered by a group of feline serial killers?”
“He’s not going to kil you, Faythe,” Ryan said, rol ing his eyes at my melodrama as he shoved his hands into the pockets of a tattered pair of jeans.
“You’re too valuable.”
I bit my tongue to keep from asking whether he’d promised Sara the same thing.
Ryan glanced away again, too chicken to meet my eyes as he continued, “He won’t even hurt you if you’ll just shut your mouth and cooperate.”
Furious, I gripped the bars, squeezing until my hands throbbed.
“Cooperate?” I hissed through clenched teeth. “You must be fucking joking, Ryan.
You do know what he wants, don’t you?”
“Better than you do.” He stared at his feet, scuffing the toe of his sneaker on the crack in the floor.
My heart clawed its way up my throat. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Trying to get closer to my brother, I shuffled sideways, moving my hands arm over arm from one bar to the next.
“Nothing.” Ryan shook his head, and I was reminded of a child shaking an Etch A Sketch to clear it. When he finally met my eyes, his own were blank, as if he’d done exactly that. “Look, I’m only trying to help. Don’t make things any harder than they have to be, okay? This isn’t the time to make trouble.”
Funny, I couldn’t think of a better time to make trouble.
“How could you do this?” I demanded, trying to rattle the bars. They wouldn’t budge, and that only made me angrier. “How could you sell me out?” I didn’t have words strong enough to tel him how pissed off I was. How betrayed I felt. But if he’d come just an inch or two closer, I could sure as hel show him.
“I had nothing to do with it.” He stared at me boldly for the first time. “I never even mentioned you, but when Miguel found out about Dad, he put it together.”
“Who told him about Daddy?” I did my best to look curious rather than enraged as I lowered myself to the floor, hoping to appear less threatening off my feet.
Ryan shrugged, and his shirt drooped at his throat, exposing too-well-defined collarbones. “My guess would be Eric,” he said, sitting on the ground across from me. “But it could have been anyone. There isn’t a cat in the country, stray, wild or Pride, who doesn’t know that Greg Sanders is head of the territorial council.”
“Did you at least try to stop them?”
“You can’t stop Miguel,” he said, frowning at me as if I should have known better.
“Shit, Ryan, you didn’t even try?” I slammed my fist into the ground and regretted it almost instantly. The rough surface of the concrete skinned the outside edge of my hand, leaving it raw and slowly oozing blood. Wonderful.
“What was I supposed to do, suggest an alternate choice? Would you real y have wanted me to trade you in for someone else, maybe even younger than Abby?”
Of course not. I let silence answer for me, but my anger at him didn’t fade.
Ignoring him, I dug through my fast-food bag for a napkin, and used it to dab at my raw skin.
“Besides, I thought they’d never get another shot at you once you went home.”
My head snapped up, my hand forgotten. “Another shot?” He knew about the stray on campus?
“You haven’t let her go, either.”
He wagged his finger at me, as I’d seen our mother do a thousand times, and the familiar gesture made me ache with homesickness. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d wanted to go home, but I would have wil ingly locked myself in my father’s cage at that moment. I’d have even let my mother nag me. Or knit me a sweater.
“I’ll deal with you in a minute,” Ryan said, jerking me out of my private pity party. “After I convince her to eat.”
I exhaled in a huff. “Abby, take the bag so Ryan can ‘deal’ with me.”
Abby glanced up sharply, surprised by my harsh tone. But then she took several steps forward and snatched the bag and water bottle from him. Pouting, she carried them back to her corner, where she dropped them on the mattress, unopened. It was better than nothing. And frankly, I was kind of tickled to have someone take orders from me without argument.
“Thank you, Abby,” Ryan said, sounding genuinely relieved.
She flipped him off, and that time I did laugh. I couldn’t help it.
Grumbling something unintel igible, Ryan nudged my paper sack with his foot, shoving it between two of my bars without meeting my eyes. He left the bottle where it sat, within reach, should I want it.
“Do I have to threaten a hunger strike to get you to talk to me?” I asked. “Or don’t you care if I starve myself.”
“He cares,” Abby said, arms crossed over a nearly flat chest. “Miguel wil kil him if anything happens to either of us.”
I raised my eyebrows, thril ed with that little tidbit of information. “So, you’re our keeper? How does one find a job like that? Answer an ad in the classifieds?
‘Wanted—werecat with a smal brain and even smal er heart.’ Do you get benefits?
Dental, maybe? ’Cause you’re going to need it when I break off every tooth in your mouth.”
Ryan frowned, looking more ashamed than frightened. “I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. That’s it.”
“A victim of circumstance, huh? And since misery loves company, you decided to hand your sister and cousin over to be murdered by a group of feline serial killers?”
“He’s not going to kil you, Faythe,” Ryan said, rol ing his eyes at my melodrama as he shoved his hands into the pockets of a tattered pair of jeans.
“You’re too valuable.”
I bit my tongue to keep from asking whether he’d promised Sara the same thing.
Ryan glanced away again, too chicken to meet my eyes as he continued, “He won’t even hurt you if you’ll just shut your mouth and cooperate.”
Furious, I gripped the bars, squeezing until my hands throbbed.
“Cooperate?” I hissed through clenched teeth. “You must be fucking joking, Ryan.
You do know what he wants, don’t you?”
“Better than you do.” He stared at his feet, scuffing the toe of his sneaker on the crack in the floor.
My heart clawed its way up my throat. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Trying to get closer to my brother, I shuffled sideways, moving my hands arm over arm from one bar to the next.
“Nothing.” Ryan shook his head, and I was reminded of a child shaking an Etch A Sketch to clear it. When he finally met my eyes, his own were blank, as if he’d done exactly that. “Look, I’m only trying to help. Don’t make things any harder than they have to be, okay? This isn’t the time to make trouble.”
Funny, I couldn’t think of a better time to make trouble.
“How could you do this?” I demanded, trying to rattle the bars. They wouldn’t budge, and that only made me angrier. “How could you sell me out?” I didn’t have words strong enough to tel him how pissed off I was. How betrayed I felt. But if he’d come just an inch or two closer, I could sure as hel show him.
“I had nothing to do with it.” He stared at me boldly for the first time. “I never even mentioned you, but when Miguel found out about Dad, he put it together.”
“Who told him about Daddy?” I did my best to look curious rather than enraged as I lowered myself to the floor, hoping to appear less threatening off my feet.
Ryan shrugged, and his shirt drooped at his throat, exposing too-well-defined collarbones. “My guess would be Eric,” he said, sitting on the ground across from me. “But it could have been anyone. There isn’t a cat in the country, stray, wild or Pride, who doesn’t know that Greg Sanders is head of the territorial council.”
“Did you at least try to stop them?”
“You can’t stop Miguel,” he said, frowning at me as if I should have known better.
“Shit, Ryan, you didn’t even try?” I slammed my fist into the ground and regretted it almost instantly. The rough surface of the concrete skinned the outside edge of my hand, leaving it raw and slowly oozing blood. Wonderful.
“What was I supposed to do, suggest an alternate choice? Would you real y have wanted me to trade you in for someone else, maybe even younger than Abby?”
Of course not. I let silence answer for me, but my anger at him didn’t fade.
Ignoring him, I dug through my fast-food bag for a napkin, and used it to dab at my raw skin.
“Besides, I thought they’d never get another shot at you once you went home.”
My head snapped up, my hand forgotten. “Another shot?” He knew about the stray on campus?
