The Boy and His Ribbon (The Ribbon Duet, #1)(38)

This was what I’d been afraid of.

This was why I hated walls and doors and locks.

Because once I stepped inside, there was nowhere to run. No way to get free. No gullies to disappear into or bushes to hide beneath. I would be seen.

I stepped back from the threshold as images of rain droplets on trees and sun dappling bracken filled my mind. If I left now, I could have those things. I’d never have to be trapped in a house with people again.

My heart galloped as I fought the overwhelming urge to flee, but then my gaze met Della’s terrified one where she sat on a chair too big for her with her little legs dangling and hair tangled around her face where she’d yanked her ribbon from her plait.

She clutched it tight—tighter than I’d ever seen with a plea in her eyes to fix this.

Swallowing my matching terror, I squared my shoulders and strode into the room with every shred of rage and anger I could materialize. “What the hell is going on?” I went straight to Della and planted my hand on her small shoulder.

Her body quaked beneath my touch, and I squeezed her gently, wordlessly telling her to trust me. That we’d get out of here together.

A self-important man behind a self-important desk with degrees and accolades plastered to his walls ignored me, scowling at his laptop as he spoke into the phone held to his ear. “Yes, okay. Will do. We’ll keep them here until you arrive. Thanks so much.”

I pinned my glare on him as he hung up. “Who was that?”

The man smoothed his plaid suit with a quick glance at the waitress from the diner who looked distraught over whatever was happening. “That was Social Services. Our school has a policy to reach out if anything disturbing occurs.” He cleared his throat. “Where are your parents? Before we release Miss Wild here, we really need to speak to an adult in charge.”

I prayed my tongue wouldn’t fail me as I prepared to tell convincing enough lies to get us free. “They’re out of town.”

“Oh?” The man raised his eyebrow. “How long have they been out of town?”

“Does it matter? I’m old enough to take care of her without their supervision.”

“That’s true.” The man nodded. “But Miss Lawson here tells me that she’s never met your parents. That Della’s been coming to our school for over two months and no forms have been filled in or emergency contacts given.” He gave the waitress/deputy principal a heavy scowl. “As she’s new to the position and excited about educating young minds to the detriment of following protocol, I will overlook the lack of information we have on you and your sister and permit her to stay if we meet your parents, and if we have a strict conversation on subjects that are suitable in a classroom.”

Della shrank into the wooden chair, her fingers twirling and twisting her ribbon.

I squeezed her again as I growled at the principal. “If you tell me what happened, I can give you the answers you need. Our parents are busy. They’d prefer not to be dealing with nonsense.”

The principal shifted behind his desk, his greying hair slicked with oil. “This is not nonsense, boy.”

“Don’t call him boy,” Della piped up, her girlish voice cutting through the tension. She cowered as all eyes landed on her, mumbling, “It’s not Boy. It’s Ren.”

I smiled softly, letting her know how much I appreciated her having my back. “It’s fine, Della.”

She bit her lip, tears welling. “I’m sorry…”

“Don’t apologise.”

“But—”

I shook my head sharply. “You did nothing wrong.”

“I beg to differ,” the principal said. “She told her fellow students how to kill, skin, and cook a rabbit while holding the class pet. She’s traumatized most of them, and I already have parents demanding to know how this could’ve happened.” His brown, beady eyes narrowed at Della then slid to me. “Do you mind telling me why a girl of her age knows such things?”

I gave him the same condensing look. “She knows because I told her.”

“Why tell her such terrible—”

“Because she needs to know the cost of life and death. She knows if she wants meat, she has to kill. She knows if she wants vegetables, she has to plant. She knows if she wants to survive, then things must die to achieve that.” I crossed my arms. “Isn’t that what education is about?”

“That may be the case, Mr. Wild, but we still need to talk to your parents.” The waitress-deputy teacher smiled sadly. “I’m sorry, but we really must insist.”

The atmosphere in the room changed from inquisition to punishment. My arms uncrossed, and I reached down for Della’s hand.

She grabbed it instantly, wedging her ribbon between our palms.

“When our parents are back in town, I’ll have them call you,” I said smooth as ice. “But now, I’m taking my sister and going home.”

Della leapt from the chair as I tugged her toward the door.

The closed door.

“Let us out,” I snarled at the principal.

“I’m afraid that’s not possible. Not until Social Services have met Della, yourself, your parents, and investigated the type of home you are currently being raised in.” He steepled his fingers importantly. “This is for your own protection, you understand. We’re not here to be the bad guys; just making sure you and Della are in a healthy environment and are happy.”