I pick at my tray of food in the mess hall, pushing my salad around, completely distracted. Counting down
the minutes before I can head upstairs, already on edge, unable to think about anything else despite telling myself I’m only making it worse. My nerves are already shot.
Meadow keeps her distance and sits down at the far end of the long table because she knows she won’t hold it in if we sit close. She isn’t doing a great job of acting naturally either, and I can almost taste her tension waving this way. I catch her eyes on me a couple of times, but she looks away quickly, as though we’ve had some sort of lover’s tiff, and I wish she would stop before someone picks up on it. I think she’s why I’m on such high alert because she’s adding to my stress levels.
The rest of the sub pack is dotted around me, although still grouped in an obvious unit. I’m stuck between the twins, who decided they were flanking me in here today, and they are arguing about who got more coleslaw with their baked potatoes while reaching over me trying to steal each other’s food. Radar watching them silently across the table, like an amused parent who is not inclined to intervene until I can’t take it anymore.
“Here. Just take mine, okay. I’m not hungry, and you’re making me crazy.” It’s a despairing snap as I push my tray at Remi on my left and skid my chair back to escape this nonsense. Not caring if all eyes turn to quiet little me in surprise; they’re behaving like a couple of toddlers.
They behave like this at every mealtime, but I’m on edge and tetchy, and my nerves are pulled taut with the knowledge I have to get going soon if I’m going to be ready by dusk. I have so much going on in my head, my heart is in eternal conflict, and I just need some timeout.
Everyone has been feeling the strain of late. With more trucks arriving this afternoon, more prisoners carried in from around the mountain so that they can forgive me for the random outburst at the two most irritating of this sub pack. They may be older than me physically, but it’s obvious the twins are the two most juvenile among us. I stand up, ignoring the inquiring glances, but no one questions, probably guessing I finally got as fed up with them bickering as everyone else, as they do it almost daily.
The mess hall is full of Santos chowing down at this hour before they get called out to assemble for evening chores and duties. Patrols get pulled out onto the main field an hour before dusk, giving me a window of opportunity. Pack, get out and move before the first patrol walks the perimeter. We have a rest and refresh hour in our rooms after meals, and, for me, that signals the last time I carry out the routine I’ve fallen into the past few days. That’s my chance.
I’m supposed to help with the cleaning crews every day after our evening meal, and tonight I’m in the laundry room for the first time, as they like to rotate duties. It says so on the checklist I got given a few days back, but as I’ve never been in there before, I doubt I’ll be missed.
“I’m going to get changed and freshen up before chores begin,” I say to no one in particular, trying to act natural and weirdly, Jesús is the one to reply. Eyeing me up in that odd paternal way he has become accustomed to doing lately.
“You should eat. Keep your strength up. You’ve been looking pale these past few days.” It’s more of a stern command than a suggestion. Blinking at him, unsure if I heard him right, I throw a subtle smile his way. Confused but appreciative of the unexpected care. He sounds like a dad or a big brother. Something I’m not used to.
“He’s right. You look tired, and eating well is part of fixing that. Here, sit. We’ll behave.” It’s Remi this time, pushing my plate back at me, and as I glance from him to Domi, who is nodding in agreement, both equally apologetic guilty, and it hits me so hard it makes me choke up. I catch nods around the table as all eyes fall on me, the subtle expressions of agreement that they’ve noticed I’ve not been myself these past days and telling me they care enough to point it out. There’s no malice or deviousness in their expressions. They genuinely are trying to advise me for my own good.
They’ve accepted me as part of the sub pack, while I wasn’t even paying attention. This is pack care; this is how it’s meant to be. Watching out for one another and guiding one of your pack when needed. Being a family.
I almost break, tears hitting the back of my eyes, and I have to try so hard to push them away and stay visually unaffected. To not crumble and show them it’s gotten to me because, for them, it’s natural behavior, and they don’t know how overwhelming it is or how absent from my life it’s been. No one cared if I skipped meals in the home. If I looked pale, tired, or even just plain sad. No one mentioned it; no one pushed me to take care of myself. So invisible for so long, and now I feel like these people see me, really see me.
“I’m okay, and you’re right … I’ll eat later. I just need some quiet time to think.” I play it off coolly, but inside, so many warring emotions are kicking me in the ass, ripping my heart to shreds at the realization I have a chance of a real pack family with these people, and I’m leaving them behind. It’s hard to swallow, words sticking like glue in my throat, and my face aches with the effort of keeping my expression neutral.
“Are you coming to the com room after chores?” Cesar startles me with this one, and I blink at him, completely non-plussed. Panic setting in that we might have some sort of meeting I have to show up for, or Colton will suspect.
“Yeah, we decided we needed some pack hanging time, a few beers, movie ... all chilling together.” Radar finishes it for him, all eyes on me, standing awkwardly, poised, and I hesitate. Struggling to think up an instant refusal, while dying inside, I’m being asked to initiate, bond, and I can’t. If ever there was a moment I wanted to kick the Fates in the ass, it’s now.
“You know the whole Carmen ... Colton thing. I don’t think …” I stutter my feeble excuse, hoping they take pity on that messy triangle of heartache and release me from the invitation.
“He won’t be there; he’s avoiding all of us, so screw him. And ‘Car-moan-all-day’ is following his ass around like she’s in the haze already. She won’t be there if he isn’t,” Remi said, adding more weight to my already trodden down soul, which is about to snap under all this pressure. I can’t formulate a reply. Sweat beading at the back of my neck when Meadow swoops in and saves my ass. Her eyes darting to me, concern etched on her brow.
“Give her some breathing space, guys. Girl’s had a tough week, and she’s tired. Let her see how she feels after her first time down in laundry. We all know how tough that shift is, stuck down in the sweat room.” She throws me a supportive half-smile that doesn’t reach her eyes, and I could practically kiss her. My foggy mind grasping onto that little reason to bail without actually rejecting the invitation.
“Yeah, I’ll see how I feel after that. I hear it’s pretty exhausting, and I might be wiped out after. Don’t want to ruin your viewing with my snores.” I make light of it, exhaling softly with relief that she gave me an angle, and the urge to kiss her all over again calms me down.
“Well, you know where it is. We’ll be there after nine.” Now Domi, and I honestly feel like this is some sort of sign, but I have to ignore it. I have to stay steadfast with the plan.
“Sure, I’ll catch you guys later. I better go.” It’s a fast exit, saying it as I make a turn and head away, so I don’t get sidetracked with any more conversation or unexpected invitations. Hoping not to get caught in another offer I can hardly refuse, and I’m so busy looking back, smiling at them guiltily, that I don’t look where I’m going. I crash into someone’s chest, ‘oofting’ with the sudden contact, and wind myself lightly, bouncing, almost sending myself and them flying with the force of the collision.
“Ouch!” I yelp out in response, winded momentarily, and inhale sharply, catching my breath in my throat when I realize who was standing a foot back from me now and looking equally surprised. That swoon-worthy cute-boy face, dark, sultry eyes under a furrowed brow, and I want to melt into a hole in the floor and disappear. It could only be me and today that this happens.
“Hey. Sorry.” Colton tries to avoid looking right at me, the awkward tension deafening, and for a moment, I feel like looking up at the sky and screaming, WHY??? Heartbeat a hundred times faster, palms clammy, and legs weak, as I get hit with the usual Colton effects. Someone up there is testing me now I know what I’m doing, and I can’t deal with this on top of everything else.
“Hey, and bye.” I throw the words in a hurried, almost sassy breath, duck around him fast, avoiding looking at him any more than I need to, and head on my way at speed, not wanting to get into this with him. He affects me in all forms, and I can’t stay firm with him in my head. It’s already too raw, and I don’t want to lose my courage. I don’t look back, almost fall over Carmen, running along behind him, ignoring her completely, and shut off my hearing when his voice echoes after me.
“I guess ... bye.” He sounds wounded but screw him. He’s no right to be hurt at my rebuff because he’s ignored me for days. He’s the reason I’m running. I try not to let myself react, just tuck my head down against my chest and keep going, pushing it all away.
I stop thinking about him. Will my brain to focus on the steps I’m taking and hyper-speed up the stairs as soon as I get out of sight. I need to file everything into one little box in my head and focus on doing, not feeling. My emotions are not helping. I have to take from logic to deal with this. I can fall apart later when I’m out of here and miles away. I can break like a dam if that’s what I need to do, wail to my heart’s content, but just not right now. I have to be strong to see this through.
Despite telling myself that, it doesn’t stop a tiny, slight murmur of insane jealousy in the corner of my brain, shouting questions at me anyway. Why was he heading in there now, after days of not? He doesn’t eat with us anymore for some unknown reason, and where was he with her? They didn’t look like they just bumped into each other. She was following him into the mess hall, although, to be fair, she’s been following him for days, anyway.
I push the green mist aside, chastising myself for it, and get my ass up the stairs, along the hall, and down to the end where my room is. Wasting no time getting inside and breathe a sigh of relief when I lock it shut from the inside and sag back for a moment to pull my wits together. I turn to walk to my bed and unexpectedly kick something light across the floor, looking down as it skids to the center of my rug and stops. I scoop down to pick it up.
It’s an envelope, and I recognize Meadow’s gentle curving cursive on the front. I turn it over hastily, inhaling her heady scent and perfume as I pull it open and gawp at the stash of cash inside. There’s a note tucked in behind the money, and I pull it out to read it, hands shaking at my discovery, once again overwhelmed.
Hey, Chica
This isn't much, but you need it more than I do.
My number is on the back of this. Keep it. You know where we are if you need us.
We are your pack.
I'll miss you.
XXX