“I’ll come with you,” I said without hesitation. Where Yoss went, I went. That seemed to be a given.
Yoss turned away from me, dropping the cigarette he had barely smoked in a water bottle before rooting through his things until he found his toothbrush and a small, dirty bar of soap. “You can’t,” he responded brusquely.
“Why not? Where are you going?” I pressed.
Yoss’s shoulders were rigid and he wouldn’t look at me. Something about his demeanor felt off. “Look, Imogen, it’s great having you around and all, but I do have a life that doesn’t include you. Now be a big girl and fend for yourself for one evening, alright?” He was being uncharacteristically harsh.
I reared back as if he had slapped me. I could handle nastiness from just about anyone. But not from Yoss.
“Oh. Okay,” I said, sounding small.
Yoss sighed, his shoulders sagging, his face softening. “I’ll be back later. I’ve left a bag of chips and some bagels from this morning underneath my bag.”
“Thanks,” I muttered. I didn’t want him to leave. The Pit was starting to fill up with people who were seeking shelter for the night. Every day new people came and familiar ones left. It was a revolving door. I held onto my fear because it was the smart thing to do. I couldn’t forget for one moment how risky it was out here for a girl. For anyone.
But I hadn’t let it consume me because Yoss had never left me alone.
Until tonight.
I thought about Tag, the guy who had tried to hurt me that first night, and I wondered if he was around somewhere. I had seen him a few times in the last couple of weeks, but he never approached me. And I knew that was because of Yoss. But what if he found me while Yoss was gone? If not him, what about some other guy with bad intentions?
Yoss glanced back, the hard set of his mouth relaxing. He knelt down in front of me, our faces level. “Shane and Karla said they’d keep you company.”
I made a face. “How about just Shane?”
Yoss chuckled. “You don’t like Karla?”
“Are you kidding me? She’d tear out my kidneys and sell them in a heartbeat,” I remarked dryly.
“I think you’re being overly dramatic, don’t ya think? Karla likes you just fine,” he protested.
“Then you’re either an idiot or completely blind.” Yoss’s eyebrows disappeared into his hairline.
“Wow, tell me how you really feel, Imi.”
“She’s totally into you. She sees me as a threat,” I told him, rolling my eyes.
Yoss laughed lightly and then leaned forward, just slightly, his forearms brushing against my knees and I shivered. Why was he always making me tremble?
“And are you?”
“Am I what?” I asked, swallowing thickly. His eyes burrowed holes through me.
“A threat,” he said softly.
I giggled and looked away. “Why would I be a threat to anyone?”
“Imi.” Yoss touched my leg. Then his fingers were on my chin, gently turning my head so that our eyes met. “I—”
“Yossarian! Come on!”
Yoss snatched his hand from my face and stood up abruptly. A man that I didn’t recognize came over and Yoss looked ready to bolt.
“Yoss, we’ve got to go. It’s getting late.” The man looked down at me and smiled. It was a strange smile. I couldn’t tell if it was genuine or sleazy. He wasn’t much older than Yoss, maybe in his late twenties. He was a big boned guy though it was obvious he had lost a lot of weight. His skin seemed to hang off him in folds. His face was bland and non-descript. Like someone’s uncle that only came around for family reunions. Not someone you would remember.
“Who are you? I’ve never seen you around before,” he mused, cocking his head to the side as if I were something sort of adorable.
I glanced at Yoss, but he didn’t say anything. His entire body was taut as he shuffled restlessly on his feet.
“I’m Imogen Conner. I’m a friend of Yoss’s,” I told him.
“It’s nice to meet you, Imogen Conner.” His smile grew wider. “I’m Manny.”
This was Manny?
When Yoss had mentioned Manny before, I had imagined some burly dude who laid the smack down if anyone got out of line. He was the supposed protector of the kids out here. This guy didn’t look like he could take care of himself, let alone anyone else.
“You’re a lovely girl. How old are you?” he asked and I thought his question strange. What did my age matter?
Yoss stepped in between Manny and me, shielding me from the older man’s view. “She just turned nineteen,” he interjected before I could say anything.
I frowned. Why had he lied about my age?
“Are you sure? She doesn’t look a day over fifteen.” Manny’s voice was sweet as sugar.
Fifteen? Did I really look that young? And why did I feel like my looking young was a bad thing? Not for Manny. But for me.