“I am your friend.”
“No, you’re not.”
The words come out shaking, but I say them anyway.
Rory looks at me for a long time.
Then he sets the water and pretzels on an old wooden table.
“You’re upset.”
“You shot Uncle Steffy.”
His eyes flick away.
“He was going to hurt me.”
“No, he wasn’t.” My voice gets louder. “He was saving us.”
“He was taking you back to Maverick.”
“Of course he was. That’s where we live.”
Rory’s face changes again.
Not sad this time.
Mad.
“You don’t understand what he is.”
“Yes, I do.”
“He’s bad.”
“No, you’re bad.”
That makes him go quiet.
I didn’t mean to say it.
Not out loud.
But I’m glad I did.
Rory takes one step toward me, and I step back until my legs hit Mama’s blanket.
“Don’t touch her,” I say.
“I’m not going to hurt your mother.”
“You already did.”
“I gave her something to keep her calm.”
“She won’t wake up.”
“She will.”
