Who We Are (The Seafare Chronicles 2)

What I didn’t expect was the fury in his eyes.

I rounded the corner into our new living room, glancing around wildly until my gaze skittered onto the Kid. He stood before an opened box, a dripping white/blue something in his hands. I rushed over to him and heard Otter running in behind me.

“What happened?” I gasped out. “Are you alright?”

“Who did this?” he whispered, looking down at the fabric in his hands, moist and splotchy. At first I couldn’t tell what it was, and I began checking him roughly to make sure his bits and pieces were still attached. As far as I could see, he was fine, and I allowed myself a brief moment to relax.

Until I really saw what he held in his hands.

Then, I knew the shitstorm that was coming.

“What is it?” Otter asked, his tone worried and sharp. “Are you okay?”

“Who… did… this?”

“Did what?” I said, exasperated, my heart thumping in my chest.

He held up the blue and white fabric in his hands, his little fingers trembling. The fabric was soaked with something, and a bright smell bit my nose and eyes. I looked at the words on the front of his shirt and paled. The words that now read ME IS NEAT.

Oh, fuck, I thought.

“I dunno,” I mumbled.

Liar, my conscience ch

ided.

Shut up, I said back.

“Bear, why won’t you look at me?” the Kid said through gritted teeth as I found something neat to stare at on the other side of the room.

“What?” I glanced back at him, then looked away again. “I’m looking at you.”

“Uh-oh,” Otter said succinctly.

“Did you put this in the box with the bleach?” the Kid asked me.

“There was bleach in there? I’m sure I didn’t know that.”

“The fact that the box is labeled cleaning supplies wouldn’t have given it away?” His voice was rising, and I took a step back, only to run into a wall of resistance that was my boyfriend. My big solid, stupid boyfriend who wouldn’t move to let me run out the front door and to the next county.

Or even take the blame for this one. Otter felt me twitching and to ensure I couldn’t get away, grabbed my arm and held me tightly. I glared back up at him for just a split second. The traitor.

“You did this on purpose,” the Kid accused me with an angry tremor in his voice. “You did this to get back at me for the whole nudist colony/penis food/veggie sex shirt thing.”

“I did not!” I said, indignant.

The Kid shoved it toward me. “How the hell am I supposed to wear this anymore! You won’t let me buy more shirts because you’re scared of the vegetarian message and now you go and ruin the ones I have? I demand retribution!”

I looked down at the shirt again, reading its words. ME IS NEAT. “Well, you gotta admit, it has a new message now,” I told him optimistically.

“Like, if you needed a self-confidence boost one day and didn’t mind bad grammar, you could still wear it.” I heard Otter snort behind me, and his body started to shake as he attempted to keep his mirth at bay to avoid the wrath of the Kid.

The Kid’s eyes narrowed. Apparently he didn’t think it was funny. “One day, Bear, and one day soon,” he warned ominously, “when you least expect it, I’m going to get you back for this. You won’t see me coming but, my God, it will be epic. You’ve been warned.”

He turned and left the room.

I turned and smacked Otter across the chest. He winced and growled at me, “What the hell was that for?”