Wendy rolls her eyes. “Same thing. It’s just diet for boys.”
Pan blinks. Then cracks up. And when he does, I realize something. Remember something. Wendy thinks I am a boy.
Somehow talking to this kid, this girl, has almost made me forget exactly who I am and what I am doing here.
All the more reason to get her back home ASAP.
Assuming there…is anyone at home.
I clear my throat. Lower my voice for good measure. “Well, diet for boys is all we have.”
“Unless you want beer,” Pan adds. “But Tink said you’re not allowed.”
Wendy giggles. Then she sighs, an exaggerated sound. “I guess I can try it.”
I hand over the can, and as I do, I throw Pan a meaningful look.
He raises an eyebrow.What?
Who’s back at her house?I mouth, cocking my head and jerking a thumb at Wendy.
Pan frowns. Then realization dawns.Oh, because they’re…He draws a finger across his throat, sticks out his tongue like a corpse.
Dude. I bug my eyes at him, stomach clenching. Fucking morbid as shit.
And I don’t want to think about that any more than I absolutely have to.
Pan breezes forward. “Yo, Wendy.” He frowns, rubbing his chin, like he’s just thought of something. “It’s just you and the guys, right?”
“Huh?” Wendy pauses, mid-crack of her Coke.
I cringe. He’s really not asking very delicately. “Back at home,” I add quickly, my arms flung over the back of the couch so I come off all casual, too. “You, your brothers, and…your mom and dad?”
“Ihavea dad, if that’s what you mean.” She crosses her arms, suddenly defensive—and God, do I remember what it’s like to be ten years old. “But he…” She pauses. “He had to leave when I was six. For business.”
“Aha,” Pan says, as though he’s sincerely interested, then glances at me.No way she has a dad,he mouths.
And yeah, I hate to agree, but.
“So there’s no one else?” I press, still as casual as I can. “Living with you?”
Wendy blinks. “What, you mean, like…Nana?”
“Yeah.” Pan throws me a told-you-so look. “Exactly. Duh. Nana.” He smacks his forehead. “Can’t forget good ol’ Nana.”
Wendy frowns. Pauses a little longer this time. “How do you know my brothers again?”
There’s the thinnest little edge in her voice. Like she trusts us, more or less, but needs to verify. Or else she’ll panic.
And I do not want her to panic.
“Work,” I say quickly.
“Work?”
“Yeah, you know.” I don’t even know what kind of work those guys do. Did. Besides underground gambling, anyway. “Business.”
“Okay,” Wendy says. Like she’s satisfied with the answer, but maybe doesn’t like it. Or me.
