Kindling the Moon (Arcadia Bell #1)(99)

Jupe reached over me to sucker-punch Lon in the gut. Retaliation came as a swift, fat pinch on Jupe’s chest. He yowled and buckled, then snickered.

“Boys!” I chastised, grabbing both their arms. “Don’t make me break this up or you’ll be sorry.”

“Pfft. I’m sorry already,” Jupe said, grinning.

“Where’s Mr. Piggy?” I asked.

“Oh, shit. I mean shoot. Wait, here he is.” Jupe sat up and reached down by his feet, picking up the hedgehog and placing him on his chest after he lay back down. Foxglove moved so that she could better watch the hedgehog; she was awfully suspicious of the miniature visitor on her turf. “Hey, do you think Mr. Piggy would be stupid enough to fall off the cliff if we just let him roam around out here?”

“Yeah, I do, and if I find out he’s committed hedgie suicide, I’ll be really angry and blame it on you.”

Jupe lay his head on my shoulder as he moved Mr. Piggy closer to his face. “Calm down, woman. No need to get hysterical. I’m watching him.”

I wrapped my arm around his head and smacked his forehead lightly. He giggled as I pushed his thick curls out of my face, combing them back with my fingers. I held one curl out—it tripled in length—then let it spring back into place.

“Why don’t you just leave him here?” Jupe suggested. “He can stay in my room. I’ll keep the door shut so he can’t escape.”

“No,” Lon and I said together. Visions of Mr. Piggy being trampled under Jupe’s dirty laundry filled my head.

“Go put him up in his crate,” Lon said, checking his watch. “It’s ten thirty. Why don’t you get ready for bed?”

“Can he spend the night in my room if I promise not to let him out of his crate?”

“Okay,” I agreed, “but just tonight. I’m taking him back home with me tomorrow.”

Jupe stood and held Mr. Piggy in his hand. He rocketed toward the deck, clicking his tongue at Foxglove to follow.

“Don’t run with him, Jupe. It makes him dizzy.”

“Oops.” He slowed and climbed the stairs, pausing midway. “Hey, are you coming up to watch the late shows?”

“Just until midnight.” I stretched my legs out in front of me. “But only if you brush your teeth. Your breath smells like a sewer.”

He laughed and headed inside.

Lon rolled to his side, grunting, and threw his free arm around my middle, his leg over my thighs. “You working a full shift tomorrow?”

“Yeah. For the next three nights. Did you take that shoot in Phoenix?”

“Hmm-mmm. I’m leaving tomorrow morning. I’ll be gone two nights. If you could call and check in on Jupe after school, he’d appreciate it.”

“Yep.”

“Oh, and Mrs. Holiday has a doctor’s appointment tomorrow. Can you take Jupe to school in the morning?”

“Christ, can’t the boy get to school on his own?”

“The buses won’t come up here. The city says the main road is dangerous. One stops at a house at the base of the cliff to pick up two other kids. You can drop him off there if you’re willing to listen to Jupe bitch and whine.”

“Not cool enough?”

“Only losers ride the bus, apparently. One week early this year I made him walk down the cliff to catch it as punishment, until I got a call from the principal’s office. Two hours later I found him playing hooky at his friend Jack’s house.”

I pictured this in my mind and laughed.

“Hey, what about if you take him to school, then drop me off at the airport on your way back to your place,” Lon suggested.

“Jeez, all I do these days is cart the two of you back and forth to the city, only to have Jupe complain about the lack of elbow room in my car.”

Lon opened his mouth to smile against my neck.

“But I know what you’re doing,” I said quietly, “and I appreciate it.”

“Do you?”

“You’re trying to keep my mind off things by forcing me to help out with Jupe.”

“Is it working?”

He knew it was.

It had been two weeks since San Diego. I’d like to pretend that I was over the whole mess, but, like Lon told me, I’d probably never be done with it completely. It probably wasn’t fair of me, but during my darker moments I harbored an angry resentment toward other people who’d lost their parents in normal ways like car accidents or illness; at least the survivors knew that their parents had loved them. I didn’t even have that. Sometimes I told myself that they might’ve loved me once, before they went crazy, but that was more painful than comforting.

Still, I didn’t have any right to fall to pieces, and no one gave me time to do that anyway. Apart from Lon keeping me busy, there was work. I sat down with Kar Yee and Amanda after San Diego and told them more of the truth than I had before. I didn’t reveal my real identity, but I admitted that I’d lied about my parents being dead before, and reported that they’d died when I went to San Diego. True enough.

I told the same story to Father Carrow. I’d already been harboring more than a little guilt about lying to him in the first place, and this was less of a lie, if not quite honest. I’m pretty sure he knew that, but he never held it against me. He brought me dinner a couple times when I wasn’t staying with Lon and told me he prayed for me every night. I had my doubts regarding the amount of enthusiasm with which God received those requests, but, strange as it might sound, it gave me some amount of comfort.