AllFreeNovel
Share Us
* * *
“Thanks for shutting Dan up,”I tell Marku as we turn out of the main office in the lobby and head back to our classes.
“We’re brothers,” he replies, but levels a hard stare at me and adds, “But Crina’s mine. If someone’s gonna hurt her, it’s gonna be me.”
“Yeah, I got it,” I call out as he turns and takes the stairs back to his classroom.
Not in a rush to get back to boring class, I amble down the empty main hallway. I trail my hand over the ugly green tiles on the bottom half of the wall, while my eyes skim over the drawings and paintings tacked up on the walls.
I pause in front of her painting. I tilt my head to the side as I take a moment. Green hills are dotted with brown bears, lynx, and lots of wolves. Lots more wolves than anything else. Makes sense considering they’re the namesake of herLupuclan.
As I peer up at the blobs of brown and gray paint, my lips turn down in a frown. It doesn’t feel so good to make her cry anymore. It did when my father went away to the hospital, but not since she lost her daddy.
I like her better mad. The spark of anger in her eyes chases her sadness away.
A teacher coming out of one of the rooms waves me away with a warning that I’d better get back to my class. I head up the main staircase and I’ve just hung a right toward my classroom when I freeze.
Is that crying?
Pausing at the doorway of the art room, I peer in and scan the empty room. Three rows of long tables each have identical red chairs tucked in. The papers, paints, crayons, and markers are carefully organized on counters at the back of the room. The walls are covered with artwork. A large carpet with squares in rows lies near the front of the white smartboard.
I hear another sniffle.
I step into the room. This new angle gives me a better look at the corners of the room. Star is tucked away in one corner. She’s on the floor, getting her pretty, blue-checkered dress dirty, with her knees tucked against her small chest. Her face is buried in her hands.
I quietly close the door behind me. She doesn’t hear me. She lets out another big cry. It shakes me up a little inside and I rub my chest to ease the feeling as I walk up to her.
She still doesn’t realize she’s not alone.
I tap the toe of her black patent leather Mary Janes. The glittering rhinestone in the center of the little embroidered black flower on the top of her shoe quivers.
Star gasps and plasters herself against the whitewashed brick wall, staring at me, terrified.
“Shhh,” I say.
I put my hands out in the calming way my Mama does. “It’s okay. It’s alright.”
Her gaze darts around the room. Before she can scurry away, I drop down beside her.
Dust spreads out beneath me and I sneeze a little. Humph, they don’t keep things clean like my mama does. Lazy.
Palms on the dusty floor, mouth agape, she watches me, ready to jump up and sprint away any second.
I wrap a hand around her knee, the tip of my finger grazes over her skin where there’s a rip in her stockings that I caused. I squeeze her knee, commanding her to stay still.
“I know what happened to your dad,” I said, the fight forgotten in the face of real problems. Dead or sick dads are real problems, playground pushes are not.
“You do?” she whispers.
Her eyes instantly drop to her shoes; tears fall to the ground. Is that shame? She shouldn’t feel shame. He didn’t dishonor her like my daddy did me. I heard how the Bratva slaughtered him, the bastards.
“He died in battle. He died with honor,” I tell her to make her happy.
She lets out a whimper, as if I’ve hurt her more.
Not the reaction I’m expecting.
I frown down at her, wiggling my index finger in the hole at the knee of her stocking.
