‘Where you’ve been?’ Now that AD has given his approval, everyone starts crowding around the girl. Everyone except that one boy, Tick. He stands as still as stone, his eyes on me. He must see my fangs. But – no – his dark eyes dart. He is watching the girl beneath his lashes. Watching in silence as his colleagues mill about her.
I will make an experiment. Jumping down, I pick my way through the debris. I saunter past him, over to her. Sure enough, he looks but does not follow. Although his head remains bent, as if he were watching the ground, his eyes follow the girl’s actions. Meanwhile, as quickly as it arose, the hubbub has subsided, bodies readjusting in the half light. The couple, giggling, retire to a shadowed corner, while that first boy – young man – looks on. The others gather round the fire, blue flame reflecting off their wide and anxious eyes. The boy stands now in shadow, watching.
The girl has turned her back on all of them. Turned back toward that pile of rubble. She has taken a book, its cover bent and broken, from beneath a brick. Wiping it on her pants, she shoves it into a denim bag. Some clothing follows, as colorless in this dim light as her faded blouse, those worn-out jeans. She pulls the bag up on her shoulder and looks around one final time.
‘Tick, what happened?’ Her voice is so soft, I wonder if he hears her, alone among the shadows. He’s staring at the ground as if willing it to open for him. A child’s wish. He can’t be more than ten or eleven. ‘I thought, since we found your mom …?’
He shrugs and seems to shrink, making himself smaller even than he’s been. I wrap my tail around myself. No need for further clawing here. Her bag packed, she steps toward him, curious rather than angry. It doesn’t matter. He has no fight left in him.
‘Talk to me, Tick.’ The words sound wrong in her mouth. She’s aping someone else. Not AD, though. Someone who stood back, who taught her not to suggest the answers.
Hands in pockets, he turns toward the glassless window. In the weak spring light, his face looks strangely aged for one so young. Gaunt where it should be round, and as hungry as a kitten. Hungry for attention, too, I see. But whoever has instructed Care did so well. She waits, and sure enough, he turns again. Not to face her, but to stare at the ground by her feet.
‘Tick?’ Her voice is soft. ‘Is it the scat?’
He starts to nod then shrugs again, and the movement of his narrow shoulders conveys something to the girl.
‘I’m sorry,’ she says and reaches for him.
He flinches and she stops herself. ‘It didn’t work, Care. She tried …’ He glances up to where the man has gone back to his cooking. Something went wrong there, that much is clear. ‘He was looking for you, the old man was. The day before it happened. You know.’
‘The old man?’ Her voice has tightened. I sense the others listening.
‘He had a message. I was supposed to find you. Only—’ He breaks off. Kicks at the dirt.
‘Tick?’ Again, I hear it. A tone that isn’t natural to her. She’s holding herself back. Thinking of someone else.
He hears it, too. Stands a bit straighter. ‘The balance is off,’ he says, the words foreign in his mouth. ‘The balance, or maybe the scale.’
‘Yes?’ She’s waiting. She must be aware that every creature in the room is watching her now. Everyone except me. I use the moment to survey the wan, rapt faces. Even AD looks up from the burner, his eyes slits.
Tick sighs, and the last of his resistance seems to dissolve as he exhales. ‘He said someone is weighing down the scale. That you’d know what to do. That Fat Peter wasn’t on the level.’
‘Fat Peter?’ She’s leaning in. ‘He said that?’
‘Uh huh.’ The boy nods. ‘He said it was urgent, that I should find you. I figured it was a job. You know, like we used to do, helping him figure out who done what. And since I was back, since my mom – I figured I could do it. I mean, I’m sorry you won’t get the coin—’
‘The coin?’ She explodes, spitting the word out. ‘I’m not thinking of the coin. This was a message, Tick. A message. If you had found me, if you’d told me this before, maybe I could’ve saved him.’
THREE
The response is immediate, and not what I would have anticipated. The girl is angry. Red spots appear high on her pale cheeks. She’s gotten loud, her arms up in the air. These signs all communicate that if she had fur, it would be on end. So I brace for an attack. A counter to her accusation.
What I don’t expect is the roar of sound. Ears flattened, I wheel to see heads thrown back, their mouths open, exposing black teeth and gaping jaws. Foul breath joins the miasma. They are laughing, all of them – even the couple, who have emerged from the darkness by the rotted stairs. All except the boy.
AD silences them, standing to raise one dirty hand. ‘That’s good, darling,’ he says. He’s tall and rangy, his voice too soft for his size. ‘I like to see some spunk in you.’