Page 143 of Barbi and the Villain

A loud bang makes me jump up in surprise as Nykander shows up in front of me.

He regards me with narrowed eyes.

“What happened?” he asks in a low, dangerous voice.

“Oh, why do you think something happened?” I quip in a forced cheery voice. “I was just making something for Ander. This should help him get used to solids since it’s not very hard for him to chew with his little teeth and?—”

“Barbi, what happened?” He interrupts me.

“I don’t know what you mean,” I murmurs.

“Your eyes are red,” he grits out as he takes a step toward me.

“That? It’s from the onions. You know how they make you cry.” I let out a small laugh. “They’re strange vegetables, aren’t they? I was thinking about what you told me about souls and reincarnations. Could I reincarnate into an onion? Then I would make people cry. Of course, it’s sad that I would eventually get eaten, but maybe I could be a mutant onion and give them a stomachache, or maybe food poisoning. Is there such a thing as a poisonous onion?”

“Who made you cry, Barbi?” He stops me from my work, grabbing my hands in his two, much bigger ones.

“No one. I told you?—”

“And I do not believe you. Tell me. Who made you cry?”

“It was nothing, Nykander. Really. I was just being particular about Ander’s food, and Mr. Foerie and I had a disagreement over it. That is all.”

“What did he say to you?” He continues to probe.

“It was just a small disagreement…”

“You cried. That is not small. Tell me,” he demands.

I bite my lip as I consider whether I should tell him the truth or lie. I don’t want this to turn into a conflict.

“Tell me. And it better be the truth, Barbi. Do not lie to me, or I will find other ways to get the truth.”

“Don’t do anything, okay? It wasn’t a big deal.”

“Barbi?” He raises a brow.

“Fine. He said I was empty-headed and that he hated my dogs because they are too spoiled,” I say, quickly looking away.

“He said you were empty-headed?”

“And ignorant,” I add quietly. “Which isn’t entirely false. I know I’m not the brightest...”

He stares at me, his cheek twitching.

“Stop,” he suddenly demands.

I close my mouth, glancing warily at him.

“You are not ignorant, Barbi, or empty-headed. How can you believe that?”

“But—”

“I do not like you putting yourself down. It is admirable how much you love your dogs, and you should not let anyone tell you how to care for them. I do not care who they are.”

My lips spread into a shy smile.

“Thank you.”

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