The Devouring Gray(8)

But it meant Justin was on his own, at least as far as talking to strangers was concerned.

“I’m Justin Hawthorne,” he said to her, trying to echo her snappy tone. The words sounded strange and forced coming out of his mouth, but he smiled anyway.

“Violet Saunders,” she said reluctantly, after enough time had gone by for her to realize he was, in fact, talking to her. “Are you about to extol the wonders of the cuisine here, too?”

“Pete runs the place,” said Justin, who wasn’t quite sure what extol meant. “He has to say that.”

“So you’re saying the food here isn’t actually good?”

“No! No, the food’s fine.”

“Well, there’s something on the menu called a garbage plate,” said Violet. “So that doesn’t exactly inspire confidence.”

“It’s an upstate thing!” said Justin, flustered. “It’s fine.”

“Fine, or good? There’s a difference.”

Justin frowned, unsure what he was supposed to say. Isaac smirked behind his book.

“Good, I guess.” It was the truth, although it was also true that if the Burnhams thought he was insulting the Diner, they’d take him out to the parking lot and slug him, Hawthorne or not. And Justin liked his nose better when it wasn’t broken. “You’re new here, right?”

It was a basic thing to say. But he didn’t know what to tell her. She’d displayed no sign of recognizing his last name, so she definitely didn’t know about the founders. Which meant his mother had been right, and he had no idea how she was supposed to help him if she knew nothing about the Gray, or her family’s powers.

“Is this town really small enough that you can tell instantly?” Violet moved her hand away from the counter. “Or do I just look like I don’t belong here?”

Her arms shuttered across her tank top. That simple gesture, the way her body caved inward, made him think of Harper Carlisle.

Thoughts of Harper were always followed by guilt. Justin shoved her image back down into the recesses of his brain, but it was too late to stem the shame that rose in his throat.

“Are you just going to stare?” Violet said sharply.

Justin realized with a stab of horror that his easy smile was gone. Harper did that to him—made him forget how to be a Hawthorne. Made him slip.

“I wasn’t—” he started, but Pete emerged from the kitchen, holding a giant paper bag.

“Here you are,” he said.

“Thank you.” Violet grabbed the bag of food and paid faster than Justin had thought possible. She started toward the exit, then paused. Justin felt a brief flash of hope, but her eyes darted over to Isaac instead, who had arranged his book very carefully over his face. “You won’t like the way that ends.”

The Beach Boys warbled behind her as she strode out the door.

Isaac lowered the book. “That went well. I bet when you get home, you’ll find her waiting in your bed.”

“Hey, I’m already down. No need to kick.” Justin leaned over the booth. “And why didn’t you talk to her? She’s a new founder. Seems like you’d care.”

“Didn’t you get the sheriff’s lecture?” said Isaac. “Dead bloodline, no powers, leave them alone?”

Maybe Justin should’ve been surprised that she’d talked to everyone else, but he wasn’t. Augusta was always thorough. “You listen to my mother less than I do.”

Isaac shrugged. “Maybe I think she’s right.”

That wasn’t it. Justin knew Isaac better than anyone—well, anyone who was still alive. The slight deepening in his voice meant he was lying. But there was no point in pushing, not with Pete hovering at the front of the restaurant.

His eyes caught on the book Violet had commented on. Brave New World. Isaac loved books with the kind of sharp, pretentious titles that made Justin feel foolish.

“You’ve read that one before, right?” he asked.

Isaac nodded.

“What happens at the end?”

Isaac snorted, flipped the novel shut. “The last hope for humanity’s soul kills himself.”

Justin shook his head. “Shit, man. Why would anyone want to read about that?”

“And you wonder why she didn’t want to talk to you.”

“Sullivan!” called Pete from the front of the restaurant. Justin could tell he hadn’t forgotten Isaac’s comment about his ma earlier. “Are you planning on working at all this shift?”

Isaac took an exaggerated look around the empty restaurant. “I’m keeping all the customers satisfied.”

Pete frowned. “Just get a new apron and do your damn job. And yes, I will be docking the cost of that uniform from your paycheck.”

Isaac slammed his book on the table, and for a second Justin was nervous again. But then he was walking to the back of the restaurant, and the air around him almost looked normal. With Isaac, almost normal was as good as it got.

“He’s not usually such an asshole,” said Pete, after Isaac had disappeared through the swinging doors.

“He always gets like this in the weeks before the anniversary.”

“Ah. Right, then.” Pete was suddenly preoccupied with the cash register. “I’ll go easy on him.”