Page 54 of Defensive Indifference

“I hope you’re kidding.” I flip the turn signal and pray he’s joking. I glance down at the brake before I start to slow down, ensuring I’m not about to squish his new pet. All clear, so I calmly—calmly—turn into the nearest gas station. “All right kid, find that rodent and I’ll set up the cage so he doesn’t escape again.

Somehow, I manage to erect a wire cage in the back seat of my car while Dustin searches. I’m positive he won’t escape this Alcatraz of cages, but I have yet to hear Dustin yell got him! I’m about to turn back around to help him search, preferably without opening any doors so I’m not chasing it down the road.

“Don’t sit!” Dustin screams and lunges into the driver’s seat.

I arch my back and contort myself every which way to avoid sitting on the hamster, in which I am successful, but the hamster screeches anyway and leaps away from Dustin and onto me. It clings to my shirt with little hamster claws and climbs up to my shoulder. I’m smacked in the nose as Dustin works diligently to capture his pet.

Biting back the sting, my attention shifts back to the unruly rodent that runs down my chest and digs into the flesh of my thigh. Once again, I grit my teeth and try to scoop him up. He’s fast and leaps across the console toward Dustin. Those little claws are going to hurt him, so I snatch the fuzzball in midair. Thank goodness for baseball skills.

It bites me.

Repeatedly.

Until Dustin manages to get the cage door open wide enough for me to shove the hamster and both hands through.

“As soon as I let go, slam the door shut!”

I let go of the hamster, and he slams the door shut…on my thumb. Stifling a yelp, I yank my thumb free and latch the door, all while the hamster screeches and scolds us for existing in the same world as him. I can’t help wondering if we purchased the worst pet on the planet, but it’s too late now.

“I’m going to call him Tornado,” Dustin says.

All I can do is stare at the boy, because yes, the thing is like a tornado, but also, I’m bleeding and he’s worried about naming this little beast. Thank goodness we’re not far from the bakery where I can clean up these wounds that will likely give me some kind of fatal infection.

Once the drama settles, we make our way to the empty lot. Every other business has already vacated, leaving Sparkly’s as the last sliver of humanity left on the street. Everything else is modern and harsh. Nothing like what Savannah should be.

Inside, Annie and Evalina are finishing up the last few boxes.

“I am here to do the heavy lifting,” I announce when we enter.

Annie rolls her eyes, but Evalina’s eyes are locked on the beast in the cage that fills Dustin’s arms.

“Mom, look what Koa got me! His name is Tornado!”

Evalina looks at me, glances back to Tornado, then back to me. “At any point did you think you should ask me before bringing a large rodent into my home?”

Dustin runs off, leaving me to face his mother alone.

This kid.

“Dustin said you told him he could get a hamster when you could afford one. I’ve got enough junk in my car to care for this thing for a year.”

Evalina looks down at Tornado, who looks back up at her. “Hamster? Is…is that what you think this is?” She points at the cage with a smirk.

The furball pees in the cage, which I forgot to put paper in, and looks at me as if I am his personal servant there to clean up after him. He’s small, furry, has beady little eyes…looks like a hamster to me.

“Yes?”

“Koa, this is a guinea pig. It’s, like, ten times bigger than a hamster, hence the massive cage.”

“What? No, the employee even gave me instructions on care. Look.” I hand her the little red envelope titled How to Care for Your New Pet.

Evalina rolls her eyes and opens the envelope, hands me the contents, and giggles. “How to Care for Your New Pet…Guinea Pig.”

“Oh, sorry, but I mean, how long can it possibly live? Like two years? It’s a rodent.”

“Try five to eight, so you just slapped me with weekly cage cleaning for five to eight years. I thought you liked me.” She puckers her lower lip out. I’ve never wanted to kiss her more than I do right now. Weeks ago, she might have thrown this hamster—I mean, guinea pig—at me, but now she’s flirting.

I throw caution to the wind, lean in, see if she’ll bite and let me kiss her. She offers a smile, then her face contorts and her mouth falls open. “What happened to you? You’re bleeding!”