Page 8 of Cruel Legacy

I glance over my shoulder at the witch. That’s not at all what she suggested, and if landfill was a joke, it wasn’t even remotely funny. Redirecting my gaze to Moria, I ask, “So everything got wet?”

“I had our insurance adjuster go there. He’s still working on the claim. If anything is salvageable, it will be brought here, and if not, then you’ll be reimbursed for the cost of what was damaged.”

I feel my anger deflate. “Well, she could’ve explained that.”

“Yes, um, we meant to talk to you about it ourselves, last night when you arrived, but we were called away on a business trip at the last minute.”

“Thatpart she explained.”

Aunt Moira’s gaze is fixated on a spot over my shoulder. “Is that your breakfast?”

Oh shit. I don’t wanna get Cora in trouble for doing something I asked. “Yup, and don’t be mad at Cora. I told her I’d feel more comfortable eating here than at a big formal table alone.” I hurry to retake my seat.

“Oh, yes, of course,” Moira says, as she grabs the seat beside me. “I think we’ll join you. Right, Scott?”

Scott looks less enthused about the idea, but sits on the stool next to my aunt, anyway. Cora puts a plate in front of me. It’s not the cereal I asked for. Looking around the room, I’m guessing they don’t have that in this house. It’s cool. The bacon, eggs, and flapjacks will do.

I’m enjoying my food, ignoring the awkwardness of our first official meeting, waiting for someone to say something. Uncle Scott breaks the silence first. “Your aunt and I apologize for not being here when you arrived, but we expected you early afternoon.”

I stick a forkful of pancakes into my mouth and suck down some coffee before answering. “Yeah, about that. I was on my way and turned around a few times. I would’ve called, but my cell phone stopped working.”

A worried expression crosses my aunt's face. “Oh dear. That’s awful. We could send it to get serviced. Who’s your provider?”

I wave my fork dismissively. “Oh, it’s not that. The reception dropped off. It’s prepaid, so I knew the service carrier probably wouldn’t reach this far. I’ll just find another one around here and try to keep the same number, that way-.”

My uncle cuts in, “A prepaid plan won’t be necessary. We’ll have all of your new electronics delivered to you by this afternoon.”

My aunt nods, then says, “Oh, that reminds me. I can’t wait to show you the car.”

The two of them lob things off their to-do list at each other while I’m still processing the words electronics and car. I cut in when they get toclothes and allowance. “I’m sorry. What’s happening right now?”

They continue talking as if they didn’t hear me. I put my fingers in my mouth and whistle the way Antonio Vega taught me the first time we snuck into a high school football game.

The conversation stops, and I ignore the look on my uncle’s face to address the seemingly more approachable person at the table. His wife. “Can someone please explain what you mean byTheona’s car and electronics?”

“There’s nothing to explain. We’ll be providing you with the latest smartphone, laptop and tablet, and a car.” Scott says, as if it’s already decided.

All of that sounds expensive. I have some money left in my bank account, but until I get a job, I can’t afford to be paying for any fancy new shit. No sense in pretending otherwise. “I appreciate you making arrangements for me to have those things, but we’re gonna have to put a pin in it until I find a job.”

“Why would you need a job?” He’s hard to read. I can’t tell if he’s appalled or amused at the idea of me being employed.

“Because working is a sign of maturity and is the way I take care of myself. Don’t you work?” I mean, I’m assuming he does. But maybe he inherited all this and just sits home all day or plays golf.

“What your uncle meant was we don’t have any expectation for you to get a job until you’ve finished school.”

And I don’t have any expectation of depending on anyone for my basic needs. “I like working and I’d need to pay to use all those things you mentioned.”

Moira cuts her eyes at Scott. Why does she keep doing that? Does she need permission to talk or something?

“I see, but uh, these things are gifts, and we’re happy to provide them to you. You don’t need to reimburse us.”

“Why not?” I squint my eyes, trying to get a read on her. Nothing in life is free. Especially state-of-the-art technology and a car.

My uncle's voice is terse when he says, “Because we’re your family and we’ve assumed responsibility for you.”

I lean forward to look at him. “That doesn’t mean youhaveto do it. If those words meant anything, then the foster care system wouldn’t have kids there who were cast off byfamilymembers who aresupposedto be responsible for them.”

Moira places a hand on mine. I look down at it and try not to snatch mine out from under hers. I’m not used to people touching me so softly unless they want something or are up to something. She must feel the distrust rolling off me, because she quickly pulls it away. She sounds sincere when she says, “You’re right. We don’t have to, and I realize you’re used to taking care of yourself. But you’re here, and we’d like to provide these things for you.”

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