suspicious?”
“No.” Mouse pulled the hair out of her mouth, studied the wet tips, and reinserted it before adding, “We think they’re gone.”
“They’re not gone,” Amanda said impatiently. “They’re still collecting names. They wouldn’t do that if they were stopping.”
Mouse shrugged as if it was a moot point.
“Anyway, I’ve got some more for you.” Amanda drew the slip of paper out of her pocket and slid it across the table, feeling as if every eye in the room had suddenly homed in on her. Which is silly , she told herself. Paranoia. There was no reason for anyone to suspect her of anything.
Mouse picked the paper up and tucked it into her jacket pocket. Watching, Amanda asked, “Aren’t you going to read it?”
“Later.” The waitress came back and placed a round plate stacked high with four pancakes and an alarming tower of whipped cream in front of Mouse. The plate had barely touched the table before Mouse dug in with her fork, shoveling a huge bite into her mouth.
“You’re not eating,” Mouse observed, chewing with her mouth open. Her eyes narrowed as she examined Amanda. “You look sick.”
“I’m not sick,” Amanda grumbled. Why was everyone saying that lately? “I’m fine.”
“Well, you look like crap,” Mouse said matter-of-factly as she piled more food on the fork. Whipped cream smeared the corners of her mouth.
“Thanks,” Amanda said. “Really.”
Mouse shrugged again, an action that comprised roughly half of their conversations.
Amanda suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to get out of there, certain that if she spent another minute watching Mouse gobble down food, she’d vomit. “Here,” she said abruptly, pulling a twenty-dollar bill out of her wallet. “This should cover the check. I’ve got to go.”
“Whatever.” Mouse’s hand darted out and seized the money, tucking it away quickly.
“So . . . same time next week?” Amanda said as she stood.
“Yeah.” Mouse didn’t bother glancing up as she left. Amanda got the distinct feeling that the waitress wouldn’t be getting much of a tip this time.
Teo sat silently in the back of the van. By now he knew everyone’s name. There was Remo, a skinny kid whose jet-black hair hung over his eyes, and Janiqua, a girl who looked far older than her seventeen years. Crystal, Danny, and Hopper were all around his age. He hadn’t gotten much of a chance to talk to them, but they seemed all right.
And of course, Daisy. Back in Oakland she’d slid into the van and sat beside him, so close their thighs were touching the entire ride. Although that might have been by accident; they were hunkered down as far as possible from the back of the van.
Once they’d left the farm, the atmosphere had cheered up considerably. The kids passed around a bag of chips and cans of soda and teased one another about how freaked they’d all been by the dead guy.
Teo didn’t join in. It was still bothering him. Remo and Janiqua had helped Noa and Zeke unload the body. Ten minutes later they were back, which definitely wasn’t enough time to bury someone. He couldn’t stop obsessing over what they had done with it, but didn’t want to ask. He had the feeling he wouldn’t like the answer.
Daisy bumped against him every time the van took a turn. She was smiling and laughing along with the others now, which just made him feel even more left out.
How could they all act like nothing had happened? They’d been forced to ride in the back of a van for hours with a dead body. Not that he felt sorry for the guy, exactly—after all, he’d been hired to deliver Teo to people who would kill him.
Teo wrapped his arms more tightly around his knees. The way the others were acting reminded him a lot of his house growing up, before Child Services took him away. His mother had a similar high, frantic energy as she babbled on, like words alone would keep his dad from beating on them. It never worked.
“Want some?”
Teo lifted
“No.” Mouse pulled the hair out of her mouth, studied the wet tips, and reinserted it before adding, “We think they’re gone.”
“They’re not gone,” Amanda said impatiently. “They’re still collecting names. They wouldn’t do that if they were stopping.”
Mouse shrugged as if it was a moot point.
“Anyway, I’ve got some more for you.” Amanda drew the slip of paper out of her pocket and slid it across the table, feeling as if every eye in the room had suddenly homed in on her. Which is silly , she told herself. Paranoia. There was no reason for anyone to suspect her of anything.
Mouse picked the paper up and tucked it into her jacket pocket. Watching, Amanda asked, “Aren’t you going to read it?”
“Later.” The waitress came back and placed a round plate stacked high with four pancakes and an alarming tower of whipped cream in front of Mouse. The plate had barely touched the table before Mouse dug in with her fork, shoveling a huge bite into her mouth.
“You’re not eating,” Mouse observed, chewing with her mouth open. Her eyes narrowed as she examined Amanda. “You look sick.”
“I’m not sick,” Amanda grumbled. Why was everyone saying that lately? “I’m fine.”
“Well, you look like crap,” Mouse said matter-of-factly as she piled more food on the fork. Whipped cream smeared the corners of her mouth.
“Thanks,” Amanda said. “Really.”
Mouse shrugged again, an action that comprised roughly half of their conversations.
Amanda suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to get out of there, certain that if she spent another minute watching Mouse gobble down food, she’d vomit. “Here,” she said abruptly, pulling a twenty-dollar bill out of her wallet. “This should cover the check. I’ve got to go.”
“Whatever.” Mouse’s hand darted out and seized the money, tucking it away quickly.
“So . . . same time next week?” Amanda said as she stood.
“Yeah.” Mouse didn’t bother glancing up as she left. Amanda got the distinct feeling that the waitress wouldn’t be getting much of a tip this time.
Teo sat silently in the back of the van. By now he knew everyone’s name. There was Remo, a skinny kid whose jet-black hair hung over his eyes, and Janiqua, a girl who looked far older than her seventeen years. Crystal, Danny, and Hopper were all around his age. He hadn’t gotten much of a chance to talk to them, but they seemed all right.
And of course, Daisy. Back in Oakland she’d slid into the van and sat beside him, so close their thighs were touching the entire ride. Although that might have been by accident; they were hunkered down as far as possible from the back of the van.
Once they’d left the farm, the atmosphere had cheered up considerably. The kids passed around a bag of chips and cans of soda and teased one another about how freaked they’d all been by the dead guy.
Teo didn’t join in. It was still bothering him. Remo and Janiqua had helped Noa and Zeke unload the body. Ten minutes later they were back, which definitely wasn’t enough time to bury someone. He couldn’t stop obsessing over what they had done with it, but didn’t want to ask. He had the feeling he wouldn’t like the answer.
Daisy bumped against him every time the van took a turn. She was smiling and laughing along with the others now, which just made him feel even more left out.
How could they all act like nothing had happened? They’d been forced to ride in the back of a van for hours with a dead body. Not that he felt sorry for the guy, exactly—after all, he’d been hired to deliver Teo to people who would kill him.
Teo wrapped his arms more tightly around his knees. The way the others were acting reminded him a lot of his house growing up, before Child Services took him away. His mother had a similar high, frantic energy as she babbled on, like words alone would keep his dad from beating on them. It never worked.
“Want some?”
Teo lifted
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