The Boy and His Ribbon (The Ribbon Duet, #1)(9)

Slipping into the backyard, I saw a basket of toys neatly placed, and a large umbrella wrapped tight, guarding its family, the table and chairs.

Della hung heavily on my back as I stooped as low as I could to avoid the sensor light and made my way as carefully as I could to the back door.

I had my knife.

I could smash a window or jimmy a lock.

But as I climbed the deck to investigate, my eyes fell on an oversize cat flap. Ducking, I tested it with my hand, punching it quickly.

The plastic flopped open, letting me stick my head into the warm scents of cooking, clean linen, and happiness.

I practically drooled on their welcome mat.

For once, I was thankful for my small size and skinny frame. It would be a tight fit, but I could contort myself to gain entrance. Hell, I could do anything if it meant earning a full belly tonight.

Shrugging the backpack off my shoulders, I shoved it against the side of the house out of the way. Unzipping it a little, I placed my hand on Della’s dirty blonde curls as she popped up like a jack-in-the-box. “No. You’re staying here.”

Her blue eyes searched mine, achingly hungry and begging for any scrap of attention, food, or whatever else kids like her were used to getting.

Her helplessness did not work on me, and my heart grew ever harder. “I’m going inside to fetch supplies. Do. Not. Move.” Her head ducked beneath my hand as she slouched sadly back into the bag.

I didn’t know if she understood what I was saying, but I didn’t take my hand away. I squeezed her tiny skull with my fingers. “I’m warning you. If you run off, I won’t search for you. You’ll die and get eaten by a dog. Do you want to be eaten by a dog, Della Mclary?”

Her nose wrinkled and tears welled, making her eyes glow blue.

“No crying. I don’t like cry-babies.” Grabbing the zippers, I pushed my face almost to hers. “If you’re good and sit here quietly, I’ll bring you fruit and chocolate and even new clothes, okay?”

The tears teetered on her bottom lashes but didn’t fall. Twirling that confounded ribbon around her tiny fist, she plonked down and ducked her head.

I took that as a yes.

“Remember, be quiet as a mouse, and no one will hurt you.”

I zipped up the bag and crawled through the cat flap before I could change my mind.





CHAPTER FIVE


REN



2000




ONLY A FEW minutes I spent in that house, and I made the first mistake of my short life within thirty seconds of them.

The kitchen was freshly scrubbed from cooking, the dishwasher sloshing quietly in the corner, a gold fish bowl humming with a night light revealing lazy, glittery fish.

A cat sprang onto the granite countertop, its yellow eyes glowing in the darkness.

I waved a hand at it, not daring to speak just in case the heavy silence carried my voice to wherever the people slept in this place.

It ignored my command to leave, never blinking, its whiskers prickling at my invasion.

Giving it the finger, I slunk deeper into its home. The cat followed me, flicking its tail, silent paws hunting my every step.

Goosebumps trailed down my spine as I entered the dining room which spread out into a family room with comfy golden couches, large TV, and a shaggy rug full of toys. The mess on the rug was the only thing out of place with large artwork staring down from neatly painted walls and dust-free figurines judging me as I spun around and headed back toward the kitchen.

I didn’t need to steal anything of value, just things of practicality.

Like food.

Delicious food.

And that was when I saw it.

The booster chair wedged up against the breakfast bar ready for someone of Della’s size to hang out with their much larger family members.

This family had kids.

This family had a baby like Della.

Unlike my backpack baby who sucked my finger for lack of food and slept with a stained ribbon for comfort, their baby had a cat to squeeze and fish to coo at. Unlike Della who slept beneath trees while blanketed in moonlight, their baby had a comfy crib, soft sheets, and all the food it could ever want.

My fists curled to think of his luck and Della’s misfortune. Whoever this baby was I hated him because he had something Della never would.

Consistency…familiarity…home.

My feet froze to the crumb-free floor.

The idea unravelled too fast to stop it.

Leave her here.

I’d been begging for a way to be rid of her ever since I’d found her squishing my cheese. It wasn’t that I hated her because she was the blood of my enemies but because, day by day, she was robbing me of my only chance at making something of myself.

I couldn’t run far. I couldn’t travel fast. All my ideas of finding a new place to call my own had been scrapped because of her endless needs.

She would end up killing us both, and a solution had just landed squarely in my lap.

The cat meowed, weaving around my legs as I strode quickly toward the back door. Shoving the creature away, I ducked on all fours and wriggled my shoulders back through the tight rectangle.

I’d have bruises tomorrow, but I wasn’t counting. I already had more than normal along with scars and bumps and missing fingers.

With my body half in the kitchen and half on the deck outside, I strained to reach the backpack and dragged it unceremoniously toward me.