My fur rises, even if hers can’t, and I prepare for a leap. I do not know this man but I do not trust him.
‘But you should be thanking Tick.’ He’s moving closer. I gauge the distance. Focus on his eyes. ‘If it weren’t for him coming back to us, him sticking by us, you might have been there when the old man was offed. You might’ve gotten it too. Accessory and all that.’
Care had frozen from the noise. Now she shrugs, her shoulders still stiff with rage. I pick up the movement even as I watch the man. She’s readying for a fight, too.
‘That’s not what accessory means, AD.’ Her voice is quiet but her jaw is clenched. She cannot help herself, I think. I will her to be silent. To have caution.
‘Care and her books. Getting above herself with the old man’s investigations.’ He turns to the others and gets another laugh. He is showing teeth. His version of a smile. ‘Don’t know everything, though, do you?’
‘Guess not.’ She looks down, then over at the boy, and the moment passes. The softness of her voice and the downcast gaze have appeased AD. I keep my eyes on him. Those teeth. But I sense Tick digging through his clothes – a pocket, a fold. ‘Tick?’ She senses it too.
‘Here.’ Whatever he has retrieved, it’s heavy for its size. His hand trembles as he offers it up to her. ‘He knew I had it.’ His words come in a rush, almost a whisper. ‘He said I should give it to you.’
He turns, but AD is already there, moving almost silently over the earth floor. He takes the trinket from the boy’s hand as if he hadn’t spoken at all. I can see its rounded sides, the dull glow where the faint light hits it, the engraving on its flat bottom. But AD must hold it up to the light and even then seems to have trouble making it out. He squints and his mouth draws tight before he tosses it in the dirt.
‘Pretty cheap, your old man,’ he says, turning back to the fire. I can see the effort it takes Care not to bend, not to scramble for the discarded object. I make my own move, silent and unnoticed in the larger drama, sniffing at the small thing that has rolled to a stop. No scent beyond the boy. And yet …
‘Your old man had fallen on hard times, Care.’ AD keeps talking, his voice flat. ‘Used to be, he paid in coin. Used to be, we could keep what we lifted, no questions asked.’
She’s staring at the piece and doesn’t respond.
‘So where are you going, my girl?’
She stands defeated, a new weight on her back. ‘Don’t know. South, maybe.’
‘South, is it?’ AD says the word like it’s part of a fairy tale. ‘Well, you know you always have a home here.’
He laughs, and the gathered crowd begins to disperse. Care has been dismissed, her potential for amusement – or threat? – played out. I watch as she makes her way toward the doorway before following, silently, along what remains of the wall.
‘Wait. Care?’ It’s Tick. He’s hung back until AD moved on and now he chases after her as she leaves the inner room, catching her by the ruined stoop. The light is brighter here and I see how sallow his cheeks are compared to the bruises beneath his eyes. How the skin on his lips peels. ‘I’m sorry, OK? It was right after my mom – well, I had just come back here and all.’
‘It doesn’t matter.’ She shakes her head. ‘He’s probably right. I probably couldn’t have done anything. Only, I would’ve liked to try.’
Tick nods, and I watch, wondering if the two will embrace. Although he had shrunk from her before, there’s something like a family feeling between these two, an attachment that explains AD’s jealousy.
‘He said something else.’ Tick looks up at her. ‘Something only for you. He made me repeat it. He said there was too much current. That he was looking for other tributaries.’
‘Tributaries?’ She’s quizzing him.
He nods. ‘Like in a river,’ he says. ‘I asked.’ He pushes something into her hands. The trinket.
She smiles and pockets it, then holds out her arms. He hesitates, but he goes to her. ‘Take care, Tick,’ she says once he pulls away. She searches his face, those dark eyes. ‘Stay away from the scat.’
He nods again. ‘You’re not going south, are you?’
Now it’s her turn to shrug. ‘We’ll see.’
I move in, wanting to get a last impression of this Tick, this boy who seems to mean something to the girl. I smell sweat and dirt and, ever so faint, that chemical tang. I glance up at the girl, wondering if she knows. Wondering if it could be from the building, the close quarters. She hasn’t picked up on it, I am sure.
‘What’s with the cat?’ he asks, looking down at me. I freeze.
‘He saved me,’ says the girl. My girl. Care. ‘He’s my friend.’
FOUR