Who We Are (The Seafare Chronicles 2)

He blushes but doesn’t speak.

“He lives with his foster parents, a few houses down,” Georgia tells me, watching him with what almost looks like fondness in her eyes. “Dominic and I go way back, isn’t that right, Dom?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he rumbles at her.

“What are you doing here?”

“Hi, Dominic!” the Kid says, smiling as wide as I’ve ever seen. “And Anna and Mrs. Paquinn!”

Dominic grins at Tyson and reaches out and touches his shoulder before lowering his hand to his sides. It’s a simple act, but one that obviously means something to the two of them. I don’t know what it could be.

“And Creed,” Creed says from the phone.

“Third person,” I warn him. “Shouldn’t you be in class?”

“Mrs. Paquinn does it all the time!” he gripes. “And I have labs tonight, so nope!”

“I’m seventy-six,” Mrs. Paquinn scolds. “I’m allowed to talk about Mrs.

Paquinn that way. People just think she’s senile. You do it, and you sound like a douche bag.” She looks at Georgia. “Hello, I’m Mrs. Paquinn. I babysit the Kid from time to time.”

“She doesn’t always talk in the third person,” I say to Georgia quickly.

“And she’s not senile. And she doesn’t always say things like ‘douche bag’

in front of Tyson.”

“Well, not all the time,” the Kid says.

“Tyson’s my friend,” I hear Dominic tell Georgia. “I wanted to make sure he was okay today. It can be… you know.” He shrugs as he blushes. He must realize as I do that this is the most I’ve ever heard him speak.

She nods at him sympathetically, and I wonder at that, at this kid yet again, this kid who Ty saw fit to include in his social worker SOS. Why is he in foster care? What happened to his family? Every horror story I’d ever heard on the news about kids being removed from their homes because of horrible abuse and/or living conditions flashes through my head, and my heart breaks a little then, not knowing what he’s been exposed to, wondering if that’s the reason he’s so quiet, because he’s seen things that no kid his age should see.

Or maybe I’m thinking too much. Maybe there’s a logical explanation for it. And maybe it’s none of my business.

But I can’t help notice the way Georgia watches Tyson and Dominic as they speak quietly to each other, that small smile never really leaving Dominic’s face. Georgia looks surprised, if only for a moment, then pleased.

Otter notices it too, and shrugs behind Georgia’s back, mouthing “later” to me.

“Why did everyone go quiet?” Creed demands through the phone. “Did you mu

te me? Are you all talking about me behind my back? Bear and I hugged for like six hours! I’m not mad anymore! Anna, I’m sorry that I said I wish I could have sex with him, but it’s not like I’m going to do it—”

“It’s a straight-guy thing,” I explain to Georgia as I grimace. She’s looking at me like that doesn’t even begin to make sense to her, which is probably true. I resist the urge to explain fully and in great detail, but just barely. Erica is right. I overshare. Nobody likes an oversharer.

Georgia seems to snap back into hard-core mode, looking at our new guests suspiciously. “And who are you all?” she asks.

“I’m Anna,” Anna says. “Bear’s ex-girlfriend and current friend.”

“I’m Mrs. Paquinn,” says Mrs. Paquinn kindly and slowly. “But, had you been listening to me earlier, you would have heard that already.”

“And the young man on the phone?”

“Creed,” Creed says. “Otter’s brother, Bear’s best friend, Anna’s…

whatever. I live in Phoenix, so I can’t be there right now. You know what I can’t wait for? The future. That way everyone would have video phones, and I could actually see what was going on. This is lame.”

“You could always hang up,” I grumble.