“Do we have any Lucky Charms left?” I asked.
Cash shrugged. “I ate them.”
“Seriously?”
“You snooze, you lose.”
I elbowed him, and then, to apologize, I said, “Tell me about Mr. McIntyre?”
“He had photos of all the dogs he ever owned on his bookshelf,” Cash said, snuggling closer. “He told me all their names.”
Cash loved animals. We’d never had any pets when we were kids, for obvious reasons, but Cash had always tried to feed any animals he found lurking around the place. Maybe that was why he hadn’t been as suspicious as me when Danny had offered to bring us home and feed us that time he’d found us digging through the dumpster behind Goose Run Gas—in Cash’s world, that was what people did with strays. We didn’t have any pets now either, because we couldn’t afford them, though Gracie was still campaigning on and off for a kitten. I bet that if she finally wore Wilder down, Cash would be right there doing whatever it was people did with kittens. Dangled pieces of yarn for them? Cleaned their shit out of a box? I wasn’t sure of the details apart from that, but it didn’t sound like much fun.
Cash told me about Mr. McIntyre’s dogs, and I listened while my gaze slid around the living room. The couch was the newest thing in it. It was folded up now, but later on tonight it would be Wilder’s bed, unless he was staying over next door at Avery’s.The floors were a little scuffed and worn, and the rug had a weird stain on it, but it was nicer than any other place we’d ever lived. More than that, this house, with its creaking boards and rusted gutters and the lawn that was constantly losing the battle with weeds, was home.
Cash talked about Mr. McIntyre’s dogs for a while longer, and his hand slid into mine, our fingers curling together. Then he let out a long breath and said, “Sorry I ate the Lucky Charms. Want me to make you a sandwich?”
“Nah. I’m not hungry.” I’d had that quiche for lunch, and it had been so fucking tasty. And free. Maybe I could eat at least two meals a day at work, and I’d be able to save up more quickly for that new jacket I needed while still keeping up with our Lucky Charms addiction. When we were little kids, Lucky Charms had been the cereal that occasionally appeared in the kitchen and you knew shit was going great. Like, either Mom or Dad had gotten their hands on some money and for once they’d held on to it long enough to buy us a treat, and we’d all be riding that high for the next few days. As we got older, the good days slowed first to a trickle and then stopped coming altogether, but Cash and I never really stopped associating Lucky Charms with happy times. So now we bought them ourselves, as often as we could, even though, real talk, they were kind of gross.
I heard the rumble of Wilder’s truck in the driveway and then the engine cutting out. A few moments later, the front door opened, and a tiny wailing tornado darted past the living room.
Cash sat up and looked at me.
“Gracie?” I called. “You okay?”
Her door slammed.
Wilder’s footsteps sounded on the porch, and then he walked into the living room.
“Hey, guys.” He sat on the couch with a groan.
“Is Gracie okay?” I asked, wondering if it was some more shit with her grandparents. The Moores rode Wilder hard. They’d pulled their heads in now Miller had told them that their grandparents’ rights idea was bullshit, but they still hated Wilder. Firstly because he’d knocked their daughter up and hadn’t married her, and their brand of Jesus didn’t approve, and most recently because Wilder was dating Avery. Their brand of Jesus approved of that even less than the unmarried thing.
Wilder groaned again. “She was moving pretty fast when she got in here, huh?”
Cash nodded.
“She gave herself a haircut at school today,” Wilder said.
I couldn’t stop the laugh that burst out of me, and Cash elbowed me.
“It’s pretty bad,” Wilder said. He rubbed his forehead. “She looks like the crazy Barbie from the movie. You know the one.”
“Weird Barbie,” Cash whispered to me.
“Weird Barbie,” I told Wilder, then said to Cash, “Wait, when did you see that movie?”
“At work,” he whispered.
“He watched it with his old ladies,” I said. “It’s not that bad, is it?”
“Fu—udge.” Wilder sagged back against the couch. “It’sbadbad. And she’s meant to go to the Moores’ tomorrow.”
That made it a lot less funny.
I climbed out of the recliner, half dragging Cash with me since we were tangled in the same blanket, and set off across the hall to Gracie’s room. I knocked on the door and didn’t get an answer. So I knocked again and opened it a crack.
“Hey. Gracie? It’s Uncle Chase. You okay in there?”
