The Boy and His Ribbon (The Ribbon Duet, #1)(31)

One day, she would want to be normal.

She would want to have friends other than me.

A husband.

Children of her own.

She had to become used to people looking and talking and being cramped in a tiny space all eating together.

A woman in a purple and grey uniform with a stained apron spotted us lurking by the door. She waved with a pad and pencil, brown hair escaping her hairnet. “Grab a place anywhere you want, kids. I’ll be right there.” She returned to the people at the table before her, scribbling something down on her pad.

“Ren.” Della tugged my hand, pressing her body against my leg. “I don’t like it.”

All around us bright lights flickered, plates clattered, people laughed and talked. The walls were painted the same purple as the waitresses’ uniform, the booths wood and grey vinyl.

Not letting her fear override a new experience, I grabbed her hand and tugged her toward the closest booth by the door. I kept my own discomfort hidden, but I couldn’t conceal the fact my hand trembled slightly in hers, matching her jumpy need to run.

“Get in.” I pushed her onto the booth then sat beside her, gripping the table with my fingers. This was supposed to be fun.

It was terrifying.

Della scowled as if she was mad and hated me but cuddled close due to fear. “I don’t like birthdays.”

Sucking up my own issues with this outing, I kept my voice cool and commanding. “You’re not a baby anymore. You have to deal with new things so you grow up.”

My voice sounded hypocritical even to my ears.

My legs bunched and bounced beneath the table ready to bolt. My fists clenched to strike anyone who looked at Della wrong.

“I want to go home,” she whined.

“And I want to go back to the forest,” I snapped. “But we can’t have everything we want.”

Her eyes filled with liquid. “I want to go back to the forest, too.”

“You don’t remember it.”

“Do too.”

I rolled my eyes. “You were in diapers. Trust me. You don’t remember it.”

“Liar. I do. I do. I want to go now. I don’t like it here.” She scrambled at my arm, trying to raise it so she could climb into my lap.

I kept my elbow locked and remained unmoved by her terror of new things. “Della Ribbon, don’t make me get angry.”

She lowered her chin, her shoulders sagging even as her small body continued to quake with nerves.

“Now, kids. What can I getcha?” The waitress from before appeared, flipping her pad to a new page and looking at us expectantly.

I stiffened as her gaze slipped from my face to my chest then over to Della who’d turned into a tiny pouting mouse beside me.

I waited for her to recognise us.

For her to announce to the entire diner that we were the kids from Mclary’s farm all those years ago.

But her eyes remained void of recognition, and no child snatchers appeared from the walls.

Della looked up with big blue distrusting eyes. Distrust that I’d put there from my own distrust. I’d failed her in that respect.

She shouldn’t fear her own species, and I needed to fix that error on my part.

The waitress suddenly leaned on the table, planting her elbows in the middle and reaching for Della.

Della shrieked and practically crawled into the vinyl booth while I couldn’t stop my natural instinct to protect.

My hand lashed out, locking around the woman’s wrist, stopping her mid-touch of the only thing I loved, the only girl I ever needed, the only friend I ever wanted. “Don’t.” My voice smoked with ice. Possession snaked in my gut.

Della was mine, and I would kill anyone trying to hurt her.

The waitress froze, leaving her wrist in my iron-shackle grasp. “I wasn’t gonna do anything. She looks sad poor poppet. Only gonna cheer her up.”

I let her go, narrowing my eyes as she straightened and rubbed her wrist. She glanced over her shoulder to see if anyone else had witnessed the vicious teen grabbing her.

I glanced at the exit already planning how to run.

This was a bad, bad idea.

“Look, sweetie.” The waitress waved kindly at Della. “I only wanted to touch your beautiful hair and tell you what a pretty little thing you are.” She smiled.

Della bared her teeth like a feral kitten.

The woman carried on unfazed. “You know…I work at the school down the road on weekdays and never seen you guys there. Are you new in town?”

I crossed my arms. “Something like that.”

“What school do you go to?”

“Mr. Sloshpants and friends,” Della whispered. “It’s the program—”

I wrapped my arm around her tight shoulders, squeezing her in warning. “No school you will have heard of.”

The woman pursed her lips. “Well, if you’re new in town and don’t have a school to go to, you should come to ours. We always have room for newbies.”

Della perked up as the woman smiled bright as the sun. “We have finger-painting, playgroup, story time, maths and sciences and English—”

“Story time?” Della asked. “As good as the stories Ren tells?”

The waitress flicked me a look. “I dunno if they’ll be as good as that, but they’re pretty darn amazing.” She winked. “You should come sometime. We’d love to have you. Show you around. You get a backpack full of crayons and colouring books and exercises. We even provide a uniform free of charge thanks to a grant from the government for small rural towns and our slipping education.” She snapped her fingers. “Oh, and I almost forgot the best part!”