Page 38 of Wicked Dreams

Chapter 8

Margo

Iget home fifteen minutes before Robert. Luckily, he had a few after school meetings that delayed him, and Lenora is working late in the city, too.

He comes in and kicks off his shoes by the door and finds me curled up in the living room. Staying down here was difficult when all I wanted was to retreat to my room. But I need to make an effort with my foster parents.

If I don’t, they may as well get rid of me.

“Feeling better?” Robert asks. “You looked pale in class.”

I nod, my fingers digging into the blanket covering my legs. “I was a bit dizzy.”

They have a big open-concept house. The kitchen is separated from the dining room and living room by a large island, and the other spaces are sectioned off by artfully placed furniture. I’d bet Lenora designed it. If she did, her style is impressive. She knows how to fill a home without overwhelming it.

But it just means that when Robert heads to the kitchen, I can still keep an eye on him—and vice versa.

“It’s probably been overwhelming,” he sympathizes. “Did you have anything to eat?”

I hesitate. I haven’t thought about food—it was far from the front of my mind as I walked home, and then I didn’t want to get in trouble for eating something I shouldn’t have. I can’t really say that, though, without it sounding like a guilt trip.

“I didn’t.”

I push the blanket off and move to one of the kitchen stools. It’s counter height, the island flat with a sink in the center. He pulls a soda from the fridge and holds it out to me. I take it carefully, cracking it open, while he does the same with a beer.

“Lenora will be home soon, and I like to have dinner ready. Want to help me cook?”

I freeze. “Me?”

After I became a ward of the state, I learned to cook to survive. I can make rice and chicken, ground beef and pasta. I know how to thin out a can of soup to make it last an extra three days… But that was always about not starving. There was no enjoyment in it.

“I could teach you,” he offers. “If you had any interest.”

I swallow. “Yeah,” I manage in a hoarse voice, “that’d be… that’d be great.”

“Okay, first thing’s first.” He goes into the pantry and returns with two aprons. He slings one over his head and ties it at the small of his back.

I mirror him, but the ties are long enough to wrap around my waist and knot in the front. It’s very clearly Lenora’s, and a twinge of guilt at borrowing something without asking almost makes me take it off.

But Robert gave it to me to use… surely it’s okay?

“You look pale again.” He picks up my soda can and offers it to me. “The sugar will help until we can get some sustenance in you.”

I manage a smile.

He points to the fridge and gives me a list of items to retrieve. While I do that, he pulls out pans and a pot, gleaming knives, a cutting board.

“Have you chopped onions before?”

I shake my head.

“Okay.” He takes the huge knife and shows me how to do it. “If your eyes water, it’s totally normal. I have that effect on people.”

I laugh.

Laugh. Then stop just as fast.

The corner of his lip turns up, and he leaves me to it. I’m mindful of the safety tips he just advised, because the last thing we need is a trip to urgent care for cutting my finger off.

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