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“In case you didn’t understand, you need a local guide, an interpreter,” I quipped.
He raised a dark slash of an eyebrow at me in question.
I rolled my eyes, knowing I would have to spell it out to this newbie. “You’re not like us. You don’t belong, genius. Some people won’t like that. They can make it hard for you here.”
Kirill was expressionless, but he moved. He took three steps toward me. Not much, but with his long legs, the distance quickly disappeared. He was a boy on his way to manhood, caught in the space between. He was so tall that I had to tilt my head back to maintain eye contact. The rest of his body hadn’t received the message yet, and his broad shoulders remained bony, his long body lanky and lacking muscle.
“Mallory, wasn’t it?” he asked, throwing me with the sudden change of subject.
I nodded. “It means bad luck, which you’ve had since coming here.”
“Well, Mallory. I don’t care what you or anyone else here thinks of me. I don’t care if they want to make it difficult for me. They can try. I have one goal and not long to achieve it. Nothing else matters to me.”
His words were delivered with such confidence that they struck me hard. Not much reached me these days, but this stranger’s conviction rang true to my jaded ears. I didn’t think I’d met anyone in a long time who genuinely didn’t give a shit about appearances and social climbing.
“Nice speech. Did you practice in front of the mirror this morning?”
“Do you have any other setting than jaded nihilist?”
I tossed my hair back and gave him a shit-eating grin. “It’s not an insult if I need a dictionary to understand it,” I sniped. “But if you’re asking if I’m always a raging bitch, the answer is yes. I’m the bitch no one messes with. The one whose father isn’t someone to be messed with.” I didn’t mean to sound defensive, but somehow, I did. Why did I care if this self-righteous asshole didn’t want my help?
A slight smirk played around Kirill’s full-lipped mouth. Such a pretty mouth for such an odd face. “Is that right?” Kirill asked, stepping closer and looking down at me. He towered over me like an awkward giant.
“That’s right.” I gave him my patented, sugary sweet smile, the one my father had backhanded me for last month. I didn’t care that much. It meant it had worked.
Kirill didn’t seem to buy it, however. He looked at me like he saw right through my mean girl disguise. “Good job you’re my guide, then. I wouldn’t want to be on your wrong side, Molly.”
There was a good chance he was mocking me. He reached a hand for my bag and slid it off my shoulder. His blood-stained fingers left a red mark on my school shirt. He hefted it effortlessly onto his shoulder and started past me toward the front doors.
“Molly?” No one called me that as a nickname, but I liked it. I liked it right away.
“You don’t seem like bad luck to me, so I’m going to call you Molly,” he tossed over his shoulder. “Are you coming?”
“Where are you going?” I was unsure what to make of this kid.
“Home. School’s done, isn’t it?”
* * *
Kirill’s housewas across town. The wrong side of the tracks. People sat outside the sagging, dilapidated houses and watched us walk past in silence, speaking in hushed whispers. Young guys gathered around cars and watched us with aggressive looks. Kirill walked past them all with straight-backed confidence I wished I had. Nerves prickled my spine as one man stepped onto the sidewalk in front of me, causing me to bump into his folded arms.
“Hello, pretty kitty cat.” He laughed, showing a row of gold-capped teeth. His skinny white arms were riddled with tattoos, and his wife-beater was stained with things I didn’t want to name.
“Not her,” Kirill’s voice was like a whip.
The tattooed-nightmare man sneered at me, but after a tense moment, he stepped to the side.
I scurried after Kirill, my heart pounding in a way it hadn’t in a long time. I was afraid—real, genuine fear. After my safely numb life of late, it was a shock.
“I shouldn’t have brought you here wearing that,” Kirill said quietly as he waited for me to catch up. “These guys like innocent little things to play with.”
I let out an offended laugh. “I’m hardly innocent.” I didn’t know why it felt like an insult in front of this guy. He had no idea about the home life I had to endure.
“You thinking that makes you more innocent than I thought,” Kirill said wryly, annoying me even more.
I was about to let him have it when he turned into a garden. Although “garden” was a generous description, it was slightly less depressing than the others. He opened the front door, which was unlocked, sure—seems safe around here—and disappeared inside.
My heart felt like it had jumped into my throat. Why was I here? Why had I followed this stranger home? He had my bag, but I could have asked for it. Was my recklessness finally about to harm me? Belated alarm rushed through me as I stood on the threshold. I hated to feel afraid. I hated it more than anything, so I decided not to be.
