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His eyes snap back open. “You’re cold.”
“Oh, uh, I don’t know. I’m fine.”
He swears again, and it’s really apparent now why Andromeda used to. I don’t know how many times I’ve heard him swear in the brief moments we’ve encountered one another. Shrugging out of his coat, he wraps the massive tent around my shoulders. “I’m sorry I dragged you out here. You look…” His voice trembles, if slightly. “Bees. You were wearing something else with bees when we met.”
“I…was?”
“Yes.”
“I…like bees.”
“I don’t know much about bees. I know more about moths. There’s a hawk moth that looks like a bee. You’d probably like it.” He swipes a hand over his mouth, and the shadows across his face seem to—for a moment—turn the whites of his eyes black. Closing his eyes once more, he swears again. “I’m sorry. I am experiencing unfamiliar emotions and do not know how to proceed correctly. It feels as though I may swallow my own tongue if I keep trying. Excuse me.”
Turning on his heel, he walks right through a bush on his way off the lawn.
Standing in his coat, I stare as the large man plows across the street, narrowly misses being hit by a car that doesn’t so much as honk, and disappears into the narrow space between two other houses.
In my hands, the tiny kitten cries pitifully while I attempt to sort through the events that just transpired. Drunk or high people handing out kittens is…new.
I have no idea what to do with a kitten.
I also have no idea what to do with the fact Pollux’s clothes don’t smell like liquor, but rather like coconut and chai.
Chapter 5
~~~~~~~~~~~~
This tapestry of red flags just keeps getting bigger.
“What are you naming him?” Andromeda asks the same question Zahra’s been asking me ever since I told her what happened after she abandoned me. Unlike Zahra—who is currently outside with the kids and who was more than happy to tell me the entire event was a lovely social experience for me—Andromeda seems genuinely happy.
I do not want to tell her, or Zahra, the only name I can think of. Because it is stupid. And I’m almost positive I dreamed up the part of the story where Pollux gave me his coat, and his coat smelled like chai and coconut. I must have been losing my mind. Because this morning, the coat was gone, the scent was lingering, and the tiny cinnamon-sprinkled kitten was sleeping on my throat.
Long story short: I am not naming him Chai.
“Mm, still thinking about that one,” I offer, absently.
“I can’t believe you accepted him,” she chirps.
Neither can I.
Coming home to Mom and Dad with a kitten last night was not what I planned. Lucky for me, Dad fell in love the second the tiny fuzzball began purring. He seemed truly miffed he previously made plans with Mom today that meant I had to bring our—as he explicitly informed me while we were at the twenty-four-hour Walmart getting supplies—new kitten with me to school.
Andromeda plays with the kitten’s tiny paws. “Zy should meet him. They could kitty together.”
“Zy?” Vacantly, I mark down another detail I can’t forget concerning the field trip I’m planning for the end of this month, after Thanksgiving break. With all the holidays coming up, and all the unavoidable scattered sick days a small school like ours inevitably had, I need to squish the field trip onto a weekend to get an extra “school day” marked down. I need to iron out school board approval for bus rental costs and get permission slips sent around. As if permission slips mean anything. Clearly, Pollux didn’t know Andromeda was coming here, Willow isn’t really her guardian, and all I need is a stupid signature to absolve this school of liability in the event whoever actually takes care of her raises a fuss.
But, officer, I have in pen a scribble of a name that matches other scribbles. I’ve done my very best to gain the consent of the adult responsible for this child.
Everything is such a joke. There’s no real protection for anyone from anything. It’s all one word against another, and too often those words are much too flimsy to relay anything of worth.
My brow furrows, and I realize I have zoned out into a court room full of dodo birds who can barely hold their pencils. The judge’s gavel flies from his feathers, and he loses his wig trying to get it back. Lifting my head, I find Andromeda, who isn’t even supposed to be inside right now. It’s recess. Everyone else is playing dodge ball. “I’m sorry, sweetie. What did you say?”
“Zy is Willow’s husband. He’s a vampire cat. Our relationship isn’t really something Daddy wants me to talk about.”
My stomach sinks. “Sweetie…” I set my pen down. “You can tell me anything. I promise you won’t get in trouble. I’m here to help you.”
She lifts her gaze off the tiny cat, who is not named Chai, and her smile fades. “It’s…complicated, Mrs. Role.”
