Page 80 of Rage

“How old are you?”

“Fifteen.”

We reach the buggy and I get my first good look at the other two. The young woman is about twenty. The boy looks to be about ten. They’re scared. As if they’ve been caught doing something they know they shouldn’t be doing.

“Is there anyone else with you?” I ask.

“No,” says the young woman. “Just us.”

I make eye contact with her. She’s tall and slender with a face pretty enough to be on the cover of a magazine. She stares back at me with huge green eyes fringed with sooty lashes. She’s got blond hair. Her complexion is like porcelain except for the scattering of freckles on her nose.

“What’s your name?” I ask.

“I’m Rose.” She looks at the boy next to her. “That’s my little brother, Mervin. He’s eleven.”

“All of you are siblings?” I ask.

“Ja,” she replies.

“Rose, how old are you?”

“Almost twenty-one.”

I study their faces a moment. Noah stares down at the ground. Mervin busies himself running the toe of his sneaker through dirt. Rose is the only one who holds my gaze.

“What are you doing here?” I ask.

She looks away. I see her brain scrambling. Looking for an answer that’s more acceptable than the truth, whatever that is. After a moment, she sighs. “Getting my things.”

“What things?”

“My … clock,” she says. “The singing bird clock. It belonged to my grohs-mammi.” Grandmother. “I wanted it back.”

“Were you living here?” I ask.

Her eyes slide right and then left as if seeking a lie, but she can’t conceive one. “No, but … I was. I mean, I moved out. A few months ago. I … left some of my things behind.”

“Why did you wait until now to pick up your things?” I ask.

“I…” Again, she struggles to find the words, stumbles over her answer. “I didn’t want to come back.”

“Why not?”

Her expression turns pained. “I didn’t want to run into anyone. I didn’t want to see them or talk to them. After what happened today, I didn’t think anyone would be here.”

“How did you find out what happened today?” I ask.

“Brick Solly down to the feed store told me,” Noah interjects.

“They weren’t very nice people,” Mervin mutters.

“Beheef dich!” Rose says sharply. Behave yourself.

I study the three young people, trying to figure out the dynamics of the situation. “Who are you talking about exactly?” I ask. “Who didn’t you want to see?”

The little boy’s eyes hit the ground.

I turn my attention to Rose to see her expression flatten. Shutting down, I think, and I realize I’m not getting the whole story.