When My Heart Joins the Thousand(62)

I reach into the box again, and my hand comes out empty. I upend the box, collecting the last bit of chocolate-flavored sugar dust from the bottom, then lick my palm clean. I feel disgusting. I am disgusting. But I’m not about to waste precious calories. My ribs are already showing.

There’s a sudden, loud knocking. I give a start, and Chance’s head swivels toward the door.

“Miss Fitz?” It’s Mrs. Schultz, the landlady. Her full, booming voice cuts through the silence. “Miss Fitz, may I speak with you?”

I swallow the half-chewed lump of cereal in my mouth. It sticks in my throat. Of course I know what she wants to talk about. She’s already left three voice mails about rent, which I’ve ignored, because I have nothing to tell her—or at least, nothing that would help my situation. I got fired for vigilante animal rights activity would probably not make her more sympathetic to my plight.

More knocking. “I know you’re in there. Do I need to keep shouting at you, or are you going to open this door?”

I look at Chance. If she sees him, I’ll be instantly evicted. “No.”

There’s a brief silence. When she speaks again, her voice is sharper, almost shrill. “You think this is some kinda joke?”

“No. I just don’t want to open the door right now. I’m—” I pause, fumbling for an excuse. “I’m in a robe.” It’s true, anyway.

She breathes a low, heavy sigh and mutters something incoherent under her breath, then raises her voice again. “You know that your rent’s overdue, right?”

“Yes.”

Chance shifts his weight, talons flexing and clenching. I grip the armrest. Please don’t start shrieking.

“Well, have you got the money?”

“No.” I swallow. I need to offer her some kind of explanation; she won’t let up, otherwise. “I lost my job at the zoo. But I’m going to get another one soon. I’ve been sending in job applications every day.” Even if I leave parts blank, it still counts. “I’ll get you the money. I just need a little more time.”

There’s a long pause. “I’ll give you till the end of the month. After that, you’re gonna be looking for a new apartment. You understand?”

My throat cinches shut. I swallow a few times, trying to loosen it. “I understand.”

“Good. ’Cause I’m not playing around.” There’s a pause, then: “What’s that smell?”

I look at the white-spattered newspapers and the small, compact clump of glistening rat intestines near the foot of my coffee table. I’m normally not good at lying on the spot, but there happens to be a commercial for Burrito Mania on TV. The cartoon burrito dances around, grinning as the camera floats over a plate of enchiladas smothered in something orange. In a burst of inspiration, I say, “I had Mexican takeout last night. It affects my digestion.”

This is also true, though if my gas actually smelled this potent, it would be a sign that I needed urgent medical attention. I can only hope she’ll believe the excuse.

“Christ on a cracker,” she mutters. The floorboards creak under her receding footsteps.

I exhale slowly. Whether she believes me or not, it seems I’ve been granted a temporary reprieve . . . but I now have a deadline. The end of the month. Fifteen days.

Chance watches me. His inner eyelids flick back and forth.

More than once, I’ve gotten so low that I’ve thought about calling Dr. Bernhardt and asking for help. But he’s no longer my guardian; he has no obligation to help me. What could he do, anyway?

I grab my coat and decide that I’m not going to come back to my apartment until I’ve found a job. If I’m evicted, there’s no telling what will happen to Chance. It’s not just my own home at stake; it’s his, too.

If I could just set him free, this would be much simpler. But of course, that’s not an option. Chance might survive a few weeks in the wild, if he was lucky. But eventually he’d die of starvation, if another predator didn’t grab him first.

I wonder if there is any place in the world for a creature so fierce, yet so in need of care.

As I’m walking, my phone rings.

“Hello?” It’s a man’s voice. I don’t recognize it. “Miss, uh, Alvie Fitz?”

“Y-yes.”

“This is Maxon’s Burgers. We received your application. Looks like you’ve got some experience working with customers, and we need a position filled ASAP, so—are you available for an interview later today?”

So soon. The world seems to be turning slowly around me. “Yes, I’m available,” I say, trying to keep my voice from shaking.

“Great. How’s three o’clock?”

I agree and hang up. For a moment, I can’t remember how to breathe, then I suck air into my lungs with a whoosh.

I can do this.

I arrive at the restaurant at exactly three o’clock. The walls are covered with old Coca-Cola advertisements and Japanese movie posters for Godzilla and Mothra and a replica of the Mona Lisa with a mustache. There’s a carousel horse in the lobby and a bicycle hanging from the ceiling and a string of green Christmas lights. Trying to make sense of it hurts my brain, so I just focus on the space directly in front of me and avoid looking at the walls. My palms are slick with sweat, so I dry them on my pants.