The Boy and His Ribbon (Ribbon Duet Book 1) Page 11

  And when I still belonged to Mclary, a wish was a desire for the long days, starving nights, and harsh punishments to stop.

  A wish was hope, and hope killed you faster than anything. A wish was running away, and I didn’t want Della to go anywhere.

  The waitress gave me a strange look before answering. “A wish is asking for something you want so badly but don’t know how you’ll get it. It’s a request for something you don’t think will come true but believe in with all your heart anyway.”

  I gritted my teeth as Della nodded solemnly. “Oh.” Her intelligent blue eyes met mine, studying me as if forming a wish full of complications and tough requests. “I wish for Ren to always be mine. To take me everywhere. And to give me more birthdays.” Her white teeth flashed as she beamed at the waitress. “Do you make my wish come true now?”

  “No, sweetie.” The waitress giggled. “Now you blow out the candles, and it will come true by the power of pink icing and vanilla sponge!”

  Della leaned closer and spat all over the cupcakes, blowing raspberries instead of air.

  Not one stopped flickering with its mocking fire. I swallowed down my laughter as her joy deflated, and she looked at me forlorn. “Does that mean my wish won’t come true, Ren?”

  Ugh, this was what I didn’t want.

  Della lived in reality.

  She knew the cost of hunting because she helped me kill what we ate. She knew the cost of shelter because she helped maintain the house we’d borrowed. But now she knew the cost of wishing for fantasies and the heartache when they didn’t come true.

  She didn’t need a stupid wish to make her requests become real. I had no intention of ever leaving her again—I’d learned that lesson years ago. The next time we were apart, it would be because of her. She would leave me when she was ready. I would be the one heartbroken when she woke up one day and decided she needed more than what I could offer.

  For now, though, she was still mine, and I wouldn’t let her think for a moment she couldn’t have everything she ever wanted.

  Yanking her onto my lap—now that I was back in control of my thoughts and reactions—I dragged the cupcakes closer. “It only means the wish comes true faster and stronger.” Giving her a smile, I said, “If we blow them out together, it will mean we’re never apart. Want to do that?”

  “Yes!” She bounced on my thighs. “Yes, please.”

  My chest ached that even in the middle of something as new as blowing out candles for the first time, she remembered her manners—the same manners I hadn’t been raised with but learned were just as important as respect and discipline.

  “Ready?” I puffed out my cheeks. “One, two, three…”

  We blew out every candle.

  We helped ourselves to our very first taste of sugar that didn’t come from fruit and left the diner thirty-four dollars and ninety-one cents poorer.

  Our crazy sugar high kept us chuckling and racing around the farm’s fields, cannonballing in the pond, and playing with our dairy cow named Snowflake until the moon and stars appeared and we retreated into the house, exhausted.

  * * * * *

  Della watched me clean my teeth with a look in her eyes I hadn’t seen before.

  Scrubbing away the remnants of our overindulgence today, I spat mint into the sink and rinsed my mouth. She’d already cleaned hers thanks to the second brush I’d stolen her a few months ago.

  Drying my hands on my shorts, I brushed past her to enter the corridor and head to our bedroom. She padded after me in my t-shirt without the baling twine belt—her version of pyjamas—still silent and staring at me with an intensity that made my skin crawl.

  We shouldn’t have had that nap on the couch before. She seemed just as wired now as she did when she’d stuffed a full-size cupcake in her tiny mouth.

  “What?” I barked, climbing into bed and pulling the unzipped sleeping bag over me. She didn’t crawl in beside me like usual. Instead, she stood by the foot of the mattress, crossed her twig-like arms, and announced, “I want to go to school.”

  I sat bolt upright, my heart racing. “School?”

  She nodded, her button nose sniffing importantly. “Yes. I’m old now. I’m fifteen. I need to know what fifteen-year-olds know.”

  “I’m fifteen, and you know as much as I do.”

  “I want to know more than you do.”

  I fought the urge to crumple. I’d known this moment would come—I was thinking on it just a few hours ago at the diner—but to happen so fast?

  Rubbing the sudden ache in my chest, I growled. “It’s not safe. You know that.”

  “You keep me safe.”

  “I can’t keep you safe in school.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I don’t want to go, and even if I did, we’d be in different classes.”

  “Why?”

  “Because we’re different ages.”

  She stomped her foot. “We’re the same.”

  I rolled my eyes, dropping my hand as the fear of losing her was drowned out by the frustration of arguing with her.

  Della had a mean temper—just like I did. We didn’t often get into screaming matches, but when we did…I was grateful we didn’t have neighbours because the police would’ve appeared on our doorstep.

  “You’re not going to school, Della. That’s the end of it.”

  “No!” She raced from the bedroom, clattering down the wooden steps like a herd of sheep and not a barefoot five-year-old.

  “Goddammit,” I groaned under my breath. I didn’t curse often because I hated the way Mclary had mastered the art of throwing words with such anger they had the power to make you flinch almost as much as a fist could.

  I never wanted Della to be afraid of language or of me talking to her.

  But when she acted like this…

  Well…fuck.

  Throwing off the sleeping bag, I charged after her in my boxers, racing down the stairs to find her cross-legged in front of the TV, flicking through the channels, desperately trying to find the educational kid’s one.

  She wouldn’t find it.

  The past few days’ reception had been terrible, leaving us with hissing snow on most channels.

  “Della,” I warned. “Don’t start a fight over something as stupid as going to school.”

  “It’s not stupid! I want to go.” She turned her back on me, crossing her arms. “I should’ve wished to go to school with the candles instead. Then I could go to school, and you couldn’t stop me!”

  Raking my fingers through my hair, I moved in front of her and ducked to her level. “You know why you can’t go.”

  “No, I don’t. We live in a house. We’re normal! No one cares.” Tears welled and spilled down her cheeks. “No one cared we were in town today. No one said anything.”

  I shook my head, hating that my stupid idea of doing something special had already backfired. “It was a mistake to go. I’m sorry if I made it seem like we can have that sort of life, but we can’t.” I reached out, my hand trembling a little like it always did when we fought.

  Fighting with her stripped me of every reserve I had, draining me to the point of emotional and physical exhaustion because I hated denying her things, but at the same time, she needed boundaries.

  She would have everything she needed, but she would never be spoiled.

  She wrenched away, crawling out of reach. “No! I want school. I don’t want you. I want colouring and stories and painting.”

  “Now you’re just being hurtful.” I sat on my ass with my knees bent and feet planted on the floor in front of me.

  “You’re being mean. You won’t let me go to school!”

  “It’s for your own safety.”

  “No. It’s because you’re mean!”

  “I can’t deal with you when you’re like this. You’re acting like a child.”

  “I’m not a child. I’m fifteen!”

  “How many times do I have to tell you? You are not fifteen. Goddammit,
you are five years old, and it’s my responsibility to keep you safe and I can only do that if you stop arguing and being a brat and listen to what I’m saying.”

  She glared at me across the lounge, her legs and arms tightly crossed, her body language shut off and hating me.

  I didn’t care.

  She wanted to know the real reason she couldn’t go to school?

  Fine, I’d tell her.

  Keeping my voice chilly and cruel, I said, “You can’t go to school because of me, okay?”

  Her forehead furrowed, eyes narrowed.

  I continued, “You don’t have any parents to take you or meet with the teachers or sign any forms. You don’t have any money. You don’t have anything that the other kids will have, and people will notice. They’ll ask why your mum or dad don’t drop you off. They’ll pry into your home life. They’ll grow suspicious of who I am. They’ll—they’ll take you away from me.”

  My anger faded as, once again, the heaviness of missing her even while she sat in front of me squashed my heart.

  Della sniffed back tears and scooted closer toward me—still wary, still angry, but her face lost its pinched annoyance. “Why would they take me away? You’re Ren.”

  I smiled sadly. “Because I’m not your father or brother. I’m not your family, and they’ll figure that out. They’ll know I stole you and put you with another family who won’t love you like I do. You’ll be trapped in a house in the middle of streets and people, and I’ll never find you again because they’ll chase after me for stealing you. They’ll try to lock me up, and we’ll never be together again.”

  I tried to stop there. I didn’t want to layer her with guilt for asking for something she should have by right, but I couldn’t stop myself from whispering, “Is that what you want, Della Ribbon? To never see me again?”

  She burst into noisy tears, speed-crawling across the floor to barrel into my arms. She curled into a ball in my embrace as I rocked her and kissed the top of her head. Her little arms wrapped around me tight and strong, and we both shook at the thought of losing everything we knew and cared for.

  “No! No. No. No.” Her tears wet the side of my neck as she burrowed her face into me, and even though I’d earned what I wanted and had Della obeying me and wanting what I wanted, I couldn’t help the awful taste in my mouth for being so nasty.

  For shattering her dreams.

  For denying her a future.

  I froze.

  What have I done?

  Just because I was terrified of what would happen didn’t mean it wasn’t what was best for Della. There was no denying she would be better off with a family with healthier food and warmer beds. I’d always known that, yet my selfishness had stopped me from giving her up.

  Della’s tears slowly dried as I stroked her blonde hair and battled a war deep inside me. This was the first thing she’d ever asked for. The first thing she was passionate about. And I’d twisted the truth to kill her dream before it’d even been fully realised.

  My shoulders rolled in horror. “I’m sorry, Little Ribbon.”

  Her face appeared in front of mine, and I studied the beautiful blue eyes, button nose, rosy lips, pretty cheeks, and lovely little curls.

  She was far too innocent, and because of that, I was far too protective.

  If I didn’t keep myself in check, I’d suffocate her.

  “I’m sorry too, Ren.” She wiped her tears with the back of her hand. “I don’t want to go to school. I don’t want to leave you.”

  Half-smiling, I held her close and stood. She weighed so much more than she had when I’d carried her in my backpack, but I still thought of her as a baby sometimes—completely helpless and tasty for anything to come along and eat.

  But she wasn’t.

  She had claws even if they were short.

  She had teeth even if they weren’t sharp.

  Carrying her up the stairs, I whispered, “I changed my mind. You can go.”

  Her entire body stiffened in my hold. “You mean it?”

  No.

  “Yes. I’ll say I’m your brother and our parents are out of town. I’ll lie and keep you safe.”

  She threw her arms around my neck. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

  “You won’t be able to go for long. Eventually, someone will ask questions, and then we’ll have to leave.”

  “I’ll go wherever you say.”

  I placed her on her feet in the corridor, needing her to hear how serious this was. “I don’t mean leave school, Della. I mean we’ll have to leave this place. This house. Once they know who we are, they won’t stop. Do you understand?”

  She backed away nervously. “But…I don’t want to leave.”

  I shrugged. “We’d have to leave eventually. Someone will want to buy this place. We always knew this was temporary.”

  Fear filled her face then drained away as she straightened her spine. “Okay. I go to school, and we leave when you say.”

  I held out my hand. “Shake on it?”

  She placed her small fingers in mine and squeezed with her tongue sticking between her lips in concentration. “Promise.”

  Letting her go, I padded toward the bedroom. “Let’s go to bed. You and your temper have drained me.”

  She followed with yet another strange look in her eyes.

  I groaned. “What now?”

  “We don’t have the same name.”

  I stopped, turning to face her. “Huh?”

  She came as close as she could, grabbing my waistband above the brand embossed into my hip with urgency. “If you say you’re my brother, we need the same name.”

  Goosebumps scattered over my arms at how smart she was; how effortlessly she saw the future and plotted potential problems at such a young age. “What do you suggest we do then?” I already knew what we would have to do, but I wanted to hear her theory first.

  “Well…” She curled her nose, thinking hard. “You’re Wild, and I’m Ribbon. One of us needs to change.”

  “Change?”

  “Duh.” She rolled her eyes, then her little lips widened in a brilliant smile, and she hugged my leg, her face going terribly close to the part of me I could no longer control. “I know!”

  Tugging her away to put distance between us, I asked, “Know what?”

  “You’re my brother, so I need to be a Wild too. Can I? Can you share your last name with me?”

  The amount of emotions this kid had put me through tonight was nothing compared to the crest of pride and love now.

  “You want to share my name? The name you gave me?” I didn’t know why that meant so much. Why I placed so much weight when really there was no weight at all. Why it felt so much more permanent and full of promises than a simple fix to an unfixable situation.

  “Yes! I want to be Della Wild, and you’re Ren Wild, and together, we’re a Wild family.”

  I dropped to my knee and hugged her right there in the dingy corridor. “It would be a pleasure to share Wild with you and an honour to be yours.”

  It wasn’t until Della snored softly beside me and dawn knocked on the horizon that I realised I’d deliberately not finished that sentence.

  I’d meant to say it would be an honour to be your brother.

  But I hadn’t.

  Because that wouldn’t be enough.

  Nothing would be enough because Della was more than just my sister and friend.

  She was my world.

  And I could already feel her slipping away.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  REN

  * * * * * *

  2005

  FOR NINE WEEKS, Della went to school.

  I accompanied her every day and waited for her every hour until she was back in my possession. The park across the road offered a convenient place to protect her without lurking outside and earning the wrong sort of attention.

  That first day, I investigated every inch of the park and chose a tree high enough to look over the wall separating the sc
hool from the street and kept an eye on her. Trees and shade and shadows were my allies as I watched from afar, ready to run to her if she ever needed me.

  It meant the chores at the farm went untended, that weeds grew in the veggie patch, and dinner was delayed due to later hunting, but the change in Della was one hundred percent worth it.

  All weekend—as I freaked out how to handle her away from me for hours at a time—she’d talked about nothing but school, school, school. My ears rang with what she expected, and her dreams were full of happy thoughts as she tumbled into sleep with a smile on her face.

  She’d laid out her clothes for her first day, and I’d swallowed my anxiety, knowing she couldn’t go into public with what she’d chosen: a holey t-shirt and underwear far too small for her with the pair of flip-flops I’d stolen that I’d cut down to fit her.

  No way.

  That would be a sure way to announce we weren’t a typical family and to invite deeper investigation.

  So, as Della slept, I’d sneaked out and patrolled the town, looking for any laundry left on washing lines—hopefully a family with a little girl.

  I hadn’t found anything that easy, but I had found a house with a back door unlocked and a little boy’s wardrobe folded neatly on the dining room table along with fresh sheets and towels.

  I took two towels, some underwear, a pair of jeans, two t-shirts, and a jumper with a dinosaur on the front. They’d fit Della now that she’d outgrown her other stuff, and it wasn’t like she’d grown up wearing pink princess stuff. She was used to navy, black, and brown.

  At least she had clothes that weren’t hand-me-downs and held together with plaited twine.

  The morning of her first day, she’d been a vibrating bag of nerves, soaring with excitement to shivering with terror as we’d dressed, had breakfast of freshly gathered milk and eggs from the two hens I’d managed to steal from three farms away, and left the house.

  I’d clutched her hand so hard, she’d complained about pins and needles as we strolled as casually as we could onto school property and told the receptionist we’d been invited to attend by the waitress at the diner.

  Turned out, the waitress was also the deputy principal and came bouncing from the staff room, whisked Della from my hold, and promised to give her back at precisely three p.m.