CHRISTINE “CHAOS” ROE:
The hypocrisy. Countless rules and lectures and plans, and Anderson lets that thief walk right in. No questions asked.
The next morning, I stood in the doorway of his room. The guts of solar-powered garden lights strewn across the carpet.
He saw me and asked what I wanted. I wanted him to know he was stupid.
“I’m not stupid.” Andi looked at me like I was the crazy one. “There’s cautious and then there’s selfish. He was gonna die.”
“You should’ve followed your own rules.”
He set down his screwdriver. “What are my rules?”
“Stay safe until Mom and Dad get home.”
“I never broke them. You’re safe, Ivy’s safe, I’m safe. And for now, Elise is safe, too.”
Fine. He can justify it all he wants. Still stupid.
Ivy was no help either.
“I don’t know, Chaos.” She held up pieces of paper. Simple addition. A drawing of a butterfly in the corner. “Daisy’s pretty smart. I think I can get her started on multiplication next week.”
“Remember,” I told her, “It’s temporary.”
She stacked the paper on her desk. “But I wouldn’t mind if it wasn’t.”
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Water circling a drain. That feeling in your stomach when you miss a stair step. Clawing and nothing to grip onto.
What about our plans to steal the files? Saving Elise? Did that not matter to Ivy anymore?
And what about me? No one cared about my opinion.
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Something had to be done. And there was only one option left: scare Walter and Daisy into leaving.
I started with Daisy first. Lunch.
“Did you know,” I told her, “That thieves get put into the WorkForce? My sister works in law enforcement. Just wait ‘til she finds out what you and Walter did.”
She chewed on a potato very slowly.
I lowered my voice. “They’ll take you away. You’ll never see Walter again.”
Her eyes widened, and something sharp and bright lit in my chest. But then Walter walked into the kitchen and stood in front of me. “She’s joking, Daisy. She’s being silly.”
He lowered his voice. “She is seven years old. You’re pathetic.”
I think he was trying to look tough. But he was so skinny, his eyes seemed way too big. And his arm was wrapped in all that gauze.
A split second of silence. I crossed my arms. “I think you mean, ‘thank you for the food.’”
He looked away, eyes burning. “Thank you,” he mumbled, “for the food.”
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For the next couple days, it became my mission: scare him away. I called him Thief. I hid the gauze and told everyone he used the rest of it. How selfish of him, right? When I served meals, he always got the smallest portion. There were candles and matches in his room, and I took them, slipped them inside my nightstand.
“This will all stop,” I told him, “If you leave.”
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Andi pulled me outside one night and sat me on the front steps. Crickets. Mosquitoes.
He stared at me for a long time. “What is your problem?”
“The thief. He’s a problem. I want him gone.”
He set his hands on the cement. Let out a long exhale.
“I’m serious, Andi. He takes up space and supplies.”
Fingers on the bridge of his nose. “They’re kids. I’m not kicking them out.”
So “temporary” was a lie. Should’ve known. I rested my head on my knees.
Andi said, “Look at Ivy. They listen to her, they make her laugh. She’s not reading the same five books all the time.” He gave me a look. “That’s worth it.”
“It’s not worth it.”
His face to the sky. “You’re trying so hard to find something to hate.”
“There’s so many things to hate!”
Something like pity in his eyes. “I get it. I really do. But, Christine, you’re poisoning this house.”
“The thief,” I said, “is poisoning this house.”
The sharp sliver of the moon, the stars. Witnesses. I slapped my arm and brushed a squished mosquito off my palm.
Andi rubbed his eyes. Did this weird sigh-laugh thing. “I can’t do this.” He glared at me. “The gauze. The matches. Put them back.”
“I didn’t—”
“New rule: we help people. And we don’t torment kids.”
I grumbled, “I hate that rule,” and wished I had something harsher to say.
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and then Add to home screen.