“Hey,” Treasure says firmly. “This is an exotic dance club.”
“Uh, yeah, we did.” Fox cocks his head a little, heat creeping into his voice. “Because it beats…it beats the fuckin’ alternative, and you know it.”
He locks eyes with his twin and holds steady for a long, long moment. Long enough that I get the sense that there’s more to this than anything they’re saying out loud.
Kit breaks first. “It doesn’t matter now anyway,” he says, glancing at his watch. “County offices close at five. There’s no way they have the staff to work the weekend. You wouldn’t get a foster placement until Monday at the earliest. Besides,” he adds, “with the time it took you to get all the way back here, they probably just assume she’s…”
“Toast?” Pan offers. Kit groans.
“She can’t stay.” Blue’s voice is flat and hard.
I rub the sides of my head, which are throbbing, and nod. “Blue’s right.”
Blue doesn’t move to acknowledge that I’m agreeing with him, even though Iamagreeing with him. Dickhead.
Pan pouts. “C’mon. Why not?”
“Yeah, why not?” Fox says, glancing from his brother to Pan. “It’s Pan’s house.”
“It’s technically anabandonedhouse,” Kit mutters.
“It’s more mine than any ofyours,” Pan retorts. “And I’d like to see the city try and grab it back from me,” he adds. “So why not?”
Blue stares at Pan like he’s stupid. “Because.”
“Because why?”
And suddenly I can’t take it anymore—Pan’s contrarianism, Fox’s bleeding heart, Kit’s sarcasm, Blue’s…everything.
Because we live in a goddamn tattoo parlor across the street from a titty bar. Like Kit said.
Because she’ll get in trouble. Because she’ll getusin trouble.
Because she’s a kid.
Because…
“Because we can’t have a girl living with us,” I blurt out. “And all of you know it.”
At that, everyone falls silent.
Everyone except Treasure.
Treasure sighs, a deep, long sigh, and nods at Pan.
“Pan, baby,” she says softly. “Tink’s right. Look at you. Look at your life. You really think that little girl’s gonna feel safe with you?”
We all glance down to the other end of the bar, where Emerald is setting down a basket of chicken tenders and a bottle of ketchup—“You guys have chicken tenders here?” Fox asks, which Treasure ignores.
Pan turns back to our little group.
“Sure,” Pan says. “Why wouldn’t she be? Neverland’s plenty safe—I mean, as long as she doesn’t lick any tattoo needles, or whatever?—”
“Pan,” I interrupt. “Shut up.”
He shuts up.
Looks at me.
