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They missed the way Beckett’s hands tightened into white fists at her use of the nickname. Soren and Colette wandered away from Beckett without a second glance, leaving him alone in the middle of the hall, a whirling maelstrom of emotions twisting around him. I wondered how long he was going to stand there, stopping me from escaping, just as he raised a hand and furiously wiped at his eyes.
He was crying. Sobs shook his bony shoulders. All his earlier bravado and strength were crumbling to dust now that he was alone. I turned my eyes away, knowing I was intruding ona highly private moment. Unfortunately, the armchair I was hiding behind had other ideas. I tried to shift my numb legs, and the damn chair squeaked across the floor. It was only a tiny sound, but deafening given the circumstances.
Should I hide better? Where could I go?Before I could decide, sneakers appeared before mine.
Beckett was standing right in front of me.
“Who are you?” he demanded angrily.
I looked up slowly. His face was marred with angry red-stained cheeks. His eyes were blazing; it was hard to face that stare. He was prettier than I’d realized before. His face was full of mismatched parts that didn’t quite fit, but one day they would. His Adam’s apple stuck out on his skinny neck and bobbed as he swallowed back the last of his tears. Tracks of salt had burned paths through the ruddiness on his cheeks, damning evidence of his crying.
“I’m – I’m here with my mom,” I said.
“And why are you sneaking around? Trying to see something you shouldn’t? Hot gossip about the Andersons? Or trying to steal something, maybe?”
“What?! No, of course not!”
“Or is your mom one of Soren’s whores? Didn’t she get the memo that he just put a ring on the flavor of the week? He’ll probably stop sleeping around for a few months or so. Your mom should come back then. Anyway, my dad must be really scraping the bottom of the barrel if he’s bringing home whores with kids.”
I was on my feet before I could stop myself. “Hey – don’t call my mom that, you idiot!”
He grabbed my hand as I pushed at his chest. “What did you call me?” His eyes stabbed into mine.
“An idiot. My mom’s the cleaner, not one of your dad’s girlfriends, or whatever.”
He jerked like I’d slapped him. “The cleaner?”
I nodded. Silence fell between us, and my gaze strayed to his cheek. When he failed to speak for too long, my curiosity got the best of me.
“Was that man your dad?” I nearly whispered.
“Obviously.”
“What happened to your mom?” I heard myself ask. Why did I ask that? What was wrong with me? I’d never had a very strong filter between my thoughts and my mouth, and the elephant in the room was the mystery of his birth mom.
Beckett’s perplexed expression hardened, and he frowned at me. “Why?”
I shrugged. “I just wondered. Are you okay?” I tacked on.
That was a mistake, I saw it immediately. The boy tensed and stepped back from me. There was a moment when I saw his sadness and pain. Something terrible and sad had happened to his mother. It was the source of his fury; I could tell by the split second of vulnerability on his face. Then a furious façade snapped into place.
He scanned me up and down, a sneer marring his features. “You’reasking me if I’m okay? The cleaner’s daughter?”
His cold laugh sent a chill skating down my spine.
“You’d be less pathetic if you were the daughter of one of my dad’s whores. At least you’d be getting a good payday from it.” He picked up my comic from the floor. “Instead, not only are you trash, but you’re poor trash, at that.”
He tore a line right down the illustrated pages before I could stop him. I fought for my manga, but by the time I snatched it out of his strong grip, it was in pieces. He dropped the tattered remains to the floor.
“Clean it up,Cinderella, or get your mom to do it. I don’t care,” he said, his voice thick with bored-sounding malice, then turned on his heel and strode away.
Anger pushed up my throat, stealing my words for a moment. My mind raced over the last few seconds. This bully thought he could just put me down like that? I’d show him.
“I’m sorry your dad hates you so much…Hang in there, tough guy. It’ll get better one day!” I called to him, my voice dripping with saccharine false concern. I’d never been able to take a hit lying down.
He stopped dead in the center of the marble hall, his hands curling again.Bullseye.I’d hit a nerve, and he deserved it for ripping up my manga. I raised my chin and prepared to meet his cruelty head-on when a voice reached us from down the hall.
“Master Beckett? You’re home from school already? I’m so sorry, I didn’t know.” Mrs. Linton bustled past me and approached the furious boy.
