Page 59 of Remnants
Childishshoutsandlaughterpass unrestrained through the apartment door, bringing a small smile to my lips as I tap my knuckles against it.
“Be right there!” Briar calls out, sounding breathless. I tuck my hand back in my pocket, and it’s only a minute before I hear the slide of the peephole. “Oh, Jackson! Is it that day already?”
The door opens, revealing a young blonde with her hair tied back. There’s gaudy beads and jewels dangling around her neck and wrists, and a construction paper crown covered in glitter and dried macaroni on her head. She smiles when she sees me, one of a handful of Guild members who don’t seem as fearful of me as the rest.
When I’d asked her about it, she claimed she trusted the kids’ instinct over everyone else’s opinions.
A silly reason. The kids have nothing to fear from me. Adults who know better do.
But she’s new, having joined while the Guild was living in the bunker as Claudia’s helper with the kids. After Claudia’s death, she’staken over living with and handling the children full-time until they can be sent safely into witness protection with their families.
“Sorry things are a mess. We’re playing knights and dragons.” There’s a long pause where I suspect she thinks I’ll say something nice in return. When I remain silent, she blinks and calls over her shoulder, “Mallory! It’s time for your lessons.” She finally steps back, opening the door wide for me to enter.
The living room is overtaken by forts made from colorful sheets and string lights, draped over whatever furniture had been in the apartment. The six kids are running and jumping on everything, a whirlwind of energy as they play-fight with their foam swords and shields.
I move inside, my eyes latching on to the blonde-haired girl in a puffy pink princess dress.
Mallory gasps when she sees me, ditching her sword and flouncing toward me with wide blue eyes and a bright smile. “Jack!” She tackles my arm, wrapping hers around it and then tugging excitedly. “I’ve gotten so much better! Come see! Come see!”
I follow her to the fourth bedroom, now converted to a learning room, and she hops in front of the whiteboard, fluffing her hair. The blonde strands darken to black, then shorten to a bob framing her face. She wrinkles her nose, and the tip narrows and points further out. Her eyes are brown when she looks at me and throws her hands out. “Ta-da!”
“Better.” Smiling, I push off the wall and retrieve a small mirror from the cabinet to hand her. Then, a book from the shelf with real-life people and images in it. Flipping to a page with a girl aroundher age, I place it on the table and tap on it. “Match her.”
“Okay!” She kneels in front of the table, the book on her left and the mirror on her right, as she looks between the two.
I return to my spot on the opposite wall, leaning back with a leg bent as I withdraw a square of paper from my pocket and work on some origami while I wait.
Her work isn’t quiet. If she isn’t huffing, muttering to herself, or groaning when something doesn’t look right, she’s gasping sharply or releasing tiny squeals when something she tries works.
It’s when she grows quiet that I look up.
She’s staring at my hands—at the twelfth paper animal I’ve made—with ripe curiosity. “Why are you always making those?”
“They keep my hands busy.”
“Why?”
Rather than explain, I tilt my head and regard her unchanged appearance. “Did you get stuck?”
“No!” she replies indignantly. “I just…I just…can I have one?”
“No.”
“Why not? You have so many!”
“They’re not for you.”
She folds her arms and pouts. “Who are they for?”
“Raegan.”
Her face falls. Even though we’ve talked about her before, we talked about what the bad guys said and did, she’s still scared of her. I’m not expecting a change overnight. Logic and reasoning only go so far with children before emotions win. And unfortunately for Raegan, she’s tangled up in a web of bad feelings that Mallory’s stilltrying to work through.
It was the main reason I started visiting her. I want to learn more about what Raegan went through the last time with Gordon and to see if I might sway Mallory’s opinion of Raegan.
I have a feeling Mallory’s acceptance of her might help fix how she sees herself.
She stays quiet, and I don’t push her to speak. I give her time to sort through her feelings and continue folding the paper as if I could do this all day.
