I was about to order Chinese when I looked out the window and saw you. Hey, do you two want to stay? We’re getting moo shu.”
It was so like Uncle Chris to go from wanting to beat John up one minute, to inviting him for moo shu the next.
“Uh, maybe,” I said. I pointed to the French doors, looking questioningly at John. He nodded. “Let’s see how it goes, okay, Uncle Chris?”
“That’d be good,” Uncle Chris said. “We could talk all this out.”
John followed me inside, Uncle Chris trailing behind us, his expression curious rather than suspicious.
“I hate it when families fight,” Uncle Chris was saying. “It makes it so uncomfortable…”
I suppose I should have counted it lucky that it had been Uncle Chris, and not some other adult, I’d run into first at home. I wasn’t sure if it was because of all the years he’d sent out of mainstream society-he still had no idea how to text, or what Google was-or if his personality was really this childlike.
No offense, but if you want to be with my niece, you should think about getting a haircut. My mother is very conservative.”
“No offense taken,” John said mildly.
Of course I didn’t think I’d heard him correctly. Why would he have told me something so important now, so casually, in the middle of a street fair?
Before I could stop myself, I blurted out the first thing I thought.
“Just one?”
The look he gave me was shattering.
Given everything I knew about him, though, I’d expected him to have killed a man.
It was the fact that his having taken a single life had resulted in his banishment to the Underworld for all eternity that I found so astonishing.
“I had no idea,” he said, with a dry smile, “that you were so bloodthirsty, Pierce. Should we try to find you one of those pirate costumes?
Hiding out in some cheap motel with a boy? Did my parents really think I would do something that immature and, I’m sorry, completely skanky?
Meg CabotIt’s seemed more like a punishment than a reward most days…” he said, his tone one of bitter resignation. Then his gaze lifted to meet mine, and his voice changed. “…at least until I found you.
Meg CabotOf course it’s real, you bloody git,” Frank said to the young man behind the fruit cart, who had apparently questioned the legitimacy of this form of currency. “That’s a genuine piece of eight. I could buy your whole cart with it.”
Great, I thought, sarcastically. John and his crew were doing an excellent job of blending in.
Kayla appeared to be thinking along similar lines, since she asked, “Where are those guys from, anyway?”
“Here,” I assured her.
“Really?” She looked skeptical. The fruit vendor had apparently decided the piece of eight was authentic, and was surrendering more fruit on a stick than Henry could carry. “Because I’d have remembered seeing him around here. And I don’t want to get into some whole long-distance thing. Those never work out.”
I smiled, meeting John’s gaze.
“Oh,” I said, “you never know.
I would think you’d have better things to do right now than look up the marital status of my ex-boyfriends on the Internet,” Mom had said to him, scathingly.
“I like to keep track of their mating habits,” Dad had smirked.
Why hadn’t she said anything? It wouldn’t have been weird for her to tell me, “Pierce, back when I was in high school and had terribly poor judgment, I used to go out with an extreme douche.
Meg CabotI reached out and wrapped both my arms around one of John’s. “Promise me we’ll never be like them, okay?” I asked, with a shudder, nodding at Seth and Farah. “Calling each other babe in that annoying way?”
“We could never be like those two,” John said, leading me away after giving Seth one last stony-eyed glare.
I did remember. Mr. Rector and Mr. Endicott had basically taken a beautiful island paradise and bulldozed it into an ugly subdivision, complete with tennis courts and a tiki bar.
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