Of Blood and Bone (Chronicles of The One #2)(56)

But if he ditched the essay, he’d pay for it. Not only with Mom Wrath, but an automatic cut from the next operation.

“Can’t do it.”

“Sucks for you. Want me to help you on it?”

He would, too, Duncan thought. He’d blow off the fun to huddle over a damn essay if Duncan asked.

“Nah, I got it.”

“If you get it done early, come hang out. I gotta book it. Later, gator.”

“Yeah.”

He watched Denzel, broad shoulders, beefy arms, lope across the street with his tightly curled tail of hair bouncing. He saw the kid from the rescue late last year—Garrett, he remembered—with his pack, racing along the opposite sidewalk. One of them rolled into a wolf and back out again, making the others laugh.

Garrett paused, shot Duncan a huge grin, waved. Then shouted out to Tonia.

Crushing, Duncan realized. The kid was crushing on Tonia—which could afford significant ammo for teasing his sister relentlessly.

Good intel.

Pleased, he slipped his hands into his pockets while Tonia caught up with him. April, with her flutters and giggles, had peeled off for home.

“Who’s she in love with now?”

“Greg.”

“Greg, the elf with the red hair and face full of freckles, or Denzel’s brother, Greg, or—”

“Freckles. She thinks he’s adorbs.”

“A what?”

“Short for adorable. She heard that on some DVD. It’s her favorite new word.”

Adorbs. Seriously? “Why do you hang with her?”

“She’s fun. She’s silly, but she’s fun. And she’s smarter than you think. She was smart enough to get over being in love with you.”

He hunched his shoulders, as the memory of having April giggle and flutter around him still mortified. “She’s not my type.”

Tonia snorted. “You’re fourteen. I know this because, hey, so am I. So you don’t have a type yet. Guys our age, the ones who like girls, have just one type requirement. Breasts.”

He thought of Cass’s—and the stupid essay. “What do you know about it?”

“I have breasts.”

He nearly gave a snort of his own, then it struck like lightning, pulled him up short. “If some jerk tries to touch you, I hear about it.”

“If some jerk tries to touch me, I can take care of myself.”

“Bullshit. If anybody tries to … with you, I break his hand, then his face.”

Tonia flipped back her hair, long and loose under her knit cap. “I don’t need you to fight my battles. And maybe I’d like somebody enough to let him try.”

“Screw that!”

The thought of some guy doing to Tonia what he imagined himself doing to Cass had his temper flashing like a grenade.

“I break his hand, then his face, then I deal with you.”

“You don’t deal with me, stupid.” She shoved him.

“Watch me.” He shoved her back.

“You just mind your own business.” She elbowed him aside.

“I am.” He grabbed her arm, yanked her back.

Right before she kicked him—hard enough to make him see stars—he spotted the blond girl, blue eyes wide with shock, as she tried to hide behind a snow-covered shrub.

He turned his grip on Tonia’s arm to a warning squeeze, shifted so they both faced the girl.

“Hey, ah … Petra, right?”

He nearly hadn’t recognized her, since she’d hidden a lot of pretty under the dirt. Her hair turned out to be a sunny, golden blond and her skin was sort of soft-looking. But she cringed back just as she had in the camp.

“We’re just messing around,” he said, with another warning squeeze for Tonia.

“Boys.” Tonia gave an exaggerated shrug. “Come on out.”

“I—I shouldn’t be outside.”

“Why not?” Tonia solved things by walking to her.

“Because … We’re supposed to stay separate. Mina said.”

“Not anymore. We live right there.” Tonia pointed toward the house. “Come on in for a while.”

“I don’t know if it’s permitted.”

“Sure it is.” In her take-charge way, Tonia took Petra’s hand, pulled her up, and kept it gripped as she walked. “How’s it going?”

“I don’t know.”

“I like your shoes.”

Petra looked down at the black, gently used Chucks. “They’re not really mine, but they took mine away. They brought others, but they were made from animal flesh.”

Tonia just led her up to the house, through the unlocked door. Then flicked a hand to start the fire.

On a gasp, Petra reeled back. “The demon—”

“Why demon?” Duncan demanded, peeling off his coat to toss it over the back of the couch. “We don’t believe that. You can if you want, but we don’t. We have a gift, and for us it comes from the light. Anyway, I’m starved.”

“He’s always hungry,” Tonia commented as Duncan wandered back toward the kitchen. “So, take off your coat.”

“It’s not really—”

“It is now.” Tonia took off her own, tossed it with Duncan’s, waited while Petra carefully took off a blue parka just a little too big for her thin frame. “Our sister Hannah’s probably over at the clinic. Maybe you met her.”