Page 23 of Monstrous Serpent

Atlas parks beside me, pulls off his helmet, and hooks it on the handlebars. “Why the hell are we in Rosewood Bay?”

“Don't know.”

“Hunter.”

“Said I don’t know.” I dismount, stepping into his space. “Going to tell me what’s eating at you?”

He turns away, reaching for his cap inside his vest.

I grab the back of his neck and make him face me. “Talk to me.”

“Let it go.”

“No.”

“Hunter.” He shrugs out of my grip, fits his cap on backward, then stretches his arms overhead. His shirt lifts, exposing a strip of skin above his waistband. “Since you dragged us to enemy territory, you're buying me food.”

I grunt and start walking. He falls in beside me, close enough that our arms brush.

Main Street runs uphill from the harbor. Tight sidewalks, Friday night crowd, people stepping aside when they see us coming.

I catch him swipe under his left eye. “Did you do your eyedrops?”

“Right after dinner. My eyeball’s just being a little bitch. Also, Mom called. Wants to know what we're doing for Thanksgiving.”

My stride doesn't break, but my chest tightens right behind the sternum.

“You hear me?”

“Yeah.”

“So, are we going home, or no?”

Thanksgiving is two months from now. I don’t think that far.

But Atlas is looking at me, waiting, and the tightness in my chest is spreading into my shoulders.

I nod.

“Cool. She's putting you on potato duty again.” He bumps my shoulder. “You know she only asks you because she wants you in the kitchen with her.”

The tightness spreads up into my throat. Last Thanksgiving, Mrs. Trembley put her hand on my face and told me I looked tired. She gave me a place to stay when I needed one and never asked me to leave.

Nobody told her to do that. Nobody asked her to care.

But if she knew what's been pacing under my skin all week, she wouldn't want me near her family.

“Hunter?”

“Mashed potatoes are fine.”

Atlas grins and picks up his pace. “Yes! Ralph's is open.”

He's at the window before I catch up, already scanning the board, bouncing on his feet as one of the workers comes over to take his order. “Birthday Cake. Large.”

I step up beside him. “Chocolate Graham Marshmallow. Medium.”

He chuckles. “Dude, really?”