Fox Forever (Jenna Fox Chronicles 3)

“Hello,” Ian calls.

The little girl looks up and smiles. “Mommy, they’re here!”

The woman glances nervously at me and then back to her daughter. I hold my breath hoping the entire exchange goes unnoticed. It seems to, only because this whole environment is so foreign to everyone else that

it’s all strange. It’s a lot to take in at once. Ian approaches the woman and we follow and soon others come outside to see these odd strangers who have entered their neighborhood. By now, they can see we’re not part of the Security Force. Several mothers with small children on their hips and clinging to their clothing talk with us. One of them is Xavier’s wife. She must have gotten my message and spread the word. Until the child ran out, they probably planned to avoid us entirely. She purposely dodges my gaze. But the conversations are easy, smoother than expected and lasting five, ten, fifteen minutes, both sides appearing to be intrigued by the other.

Raine hangs back, avoiding any conversation at all. She only watches as more people emerge from the dilapidated buildings. She watches Vina and Cece from a distance as they talk with two women and an older man, watches as the children play games around their feet. She’s silent, examining their faces, and then seems to breathe again when no one looks anything like her. She stares at one thin woman who chats with Ian, tired lines fanning out from the corners of the woman’s eyes and her hair graying prematurely. A sleepy toddler rests on her shoulder, patting her mother’s back with tiny dimpled fingers.

I step closer to Raine, away from the others. “Not what you expected, is it?” I whisper.

“We should go,” she says.

“What are you afraid of, Raine?”

She shakes her head, refusing to answer. I know what she’s afraid of and right now it isn’t her father. “They aren’t animals, Raine. They never were.”

We hear Ian thanking them for their time and the others saying their good-byes and they all turn to leave. A small girl runs a few steps toward us and waves at Raine. The girl stands there waiting with a shy expectant smile. Raine hesitantly lifts her hand and waves back. The girl giggles and then looks straight at me saying, “Bye, Locke!” before she runs away.

Raine turns to me, confused. “I didn’t hear you tell her your name.”

“Yes, I did,” I answer, with a reply that comes a beat too fast. “When we first got here.”

“Oh.”

I hear the doubt in her voice. Even now, I know she’s retracing our steps through the courtyard, knowing she was distracted, but always aware of where I was and who I spoke to. Raine doesn’t miss much. I’m wondering if I should try to explain further, but too much explanation can backfire, and right now I’m a ten on the trust meter. I decide to ride that and let her chalk it up to distraction.

Shane sees us whispering and marches over from his safe encampment with the Menace. “We’ve seen enough. Let’s get out of here, Raine.” He reaches for her hand, but I step in his way.

“We’ll catch up with you,” I tell him.

He tries to step around me. “I don’t think—”

I block him again. “That’s your problem, Shane. You don’t think. Back off.”

He steps back, his shocked expression quickly changing to a glare. He looks at Raine, who gives him no ground, and then looks back at me. “So … that’s how it is. Let me warn you, you’re making a big, big mistake.”

“Probably so,” I answer.

He stomps off, heading toward the alley.

Raine shakes her head and sighs. “Oh, Locke, I could have handled him on my own. I have for three years now.”

“I don’t doubt that. But there’s safety in numbers too. Sometimes it doesn’t hurt to have someone who cares about you covering your back.”

“He’s hardly a threat. Just an annoyance.”

“Maybe,” I say, but I’m not so sure. Especially since the Secretary seems to think he’s a good match for Raine, and the Secretary is used to getting what he wants.

When we reach the alley she pauses and gazes back over her shoulder into the courtyard, looking at what I don’t know. The Non-pacts have all gone back inside. I watch the breeze lift loose tendrils of hair at her neck, her lashes casting a shadow beneath her eyes; I watch the tenderness of Raine, trampled beneath years of obsessive control, all the wasted years that even eighty billion duros can never buy back, and I think about how much Miesha would have loved Raine the way she deserved to be loved. If only she had had the chance.

Tossed

“And this?”

Raine and I lie on the grass looking up at the stars. It’s a sweltering night in Boston. Probably one of the last before the season changes, before leaves begin sprinkling the sidewalks and winds bring on weather that my mother said made for hearty stock like us. Hearty. If she only knew.

“That’s the pit of a chocolate peach.”