Page 86 of Buried Beneath Sin

“Tell me this isn’t a usual day for you,” I beg as Beatrix continues pushing the cart.

The pained look she shoots me confirms that this is definitely not uncommon for her. My stomach drops. I know how it feels to be alienated from your peers. It fucking sucks.

“I’m sorry if it’s uncomfortable,” she mutters. “I can wait out in the car, if you want?”

I scowl at her. “You’re not waiting in the fucking car. You and I are going to shop where we want and not give a fuck about what others think about us, alright? Come on, let’s go.”

We make it down three more aisles before we get nearly the same conversation from another couple, a younger one this time. Then, as we checkout, the clerk eyes the both of us with suspicion.

If I thought this trip was going to help ease my bad mood, I was sorely mistaken. Climbing in the passenger seat, I kick my feet up onto the dash and cross my arms over my chest. The one-hour parking sign gets the brunt of my glare as I stare straight ahead. As I seethe, Starr Girl packs the items into the trunk. I catch sight of her in the side mirrors as she grabs the bags from the cart. Her expression is neutral. It baffles me. How can she be so calm? She should be in here seething with me, shit talking the people who accosted us and helping plot murders.

Ok, maybe not the plotting murders part. I can’t imagine she’d have any good ideas about that given she hasn’t really committed one yet. An accomplice doesn’t count in my book.

But still, I’m not sure how she’s managed to keep her mouth shut with each interaction. It’s as if their words no longer faze her. I know that’s not true. I grew up in a place just like this. Never once had I been able to simply just shrug and move on. And never did their words not hurt on some level. Nowadays therejection and ugly looks I receive don’t bother meas much,but, if I’m being honest with myself, sometimes they still get to me.

Beatrix climbs into the car a few minutes later after returning the cart inside like a good little girl. As she shuts her door, I turn to look at her.

“Ok, if we weren’t bunking down here for the foreseeable future, I would’ve hunted everyone in that store down and killed them,” I snarl.

Starr Girl says nothing to this. She simply turns the car on, backs out of our parking spot, and heads toward the road. For ten minutes, she says nothing. During that time I tell her all the waysIwould go about killing them. At first I get no response, but finally, as I tell her about plucking the brains out of Darlene’s skull with chopsticks since the organ would be so small, Beatrix giggles.

“Finallyyou react. I was beginning to think you were a robot or something,” I complain with an exasperated sigh.

She shoots me an apologetic glance. “I try to ignore it all.”

“Why?” I demand. “Why not call them out on their shit?”

I just can’t fathom not sayinganything. Where I grew up, people finally stopped saying shit to my face because I wasn’t shy nor did I mince my words when I turned shit around on them. Sure, it made people dislike me more, but what did I care? I knew even at a young age I wasn’t ever going to stick around that shithole, and look, I was right.

Beatrix shrugs. “Where would that get me?”

“It would garner some respect for you.” I almost regret the words that slip out my mouth. Especially when she gives the slightest of flinches.

“Maybe,” Beatrix agrees after a second. “Or maybe it would only lead to losing clients who’d rather use a different funeral home the next time someone died in their family simply to be vindictive and hurt my business.”

Oh. Well… I suppose when she puts it like that, IguessI can understand. I glare out the window, pissed off at the town for both of our sakes. It’s annoying that I’m offended on her behalf. The fact that I am tells me that, as hard as I’m trying to keep her from getting under my skin, she might already be there.

Sneaky bitch.

“Knox… are you ok?” she asks after a moment.

I roll my eyes. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

There’s a second where she doesn’t speak. When she does, she says, “Darlene can be cruel. She didn’t… you know, hurt your feelings, did she?”

For a second, I appreciate her asking. I’ve never met someone who seems to be as genuinely kind as Beatrix is. That appreciation is swept away as ugly memories resurface from my past. Of people pretending to be kind, pretending tocareeven. It was a lie. All of it. A facade to weaken my defenses and hurt me in unspeakable ways. My stomach clenches as anger and distrust well up in my chest.

“You don’t need to look out for me, Starr Girl. The only one without a spine or any amount of self-respect in this car is you,” I sneer. “Prejudices don’t fucking bother me. Now how about you shut your trap and take us home?”

There’s a soft, forlorn sigh then silence. I half-expect her to blow up at me in the seconds that tick by. It would be warranted at this point. Surely being barked at like this, as often as I do it toward her, she’ll eventually crack and show her true colors. At least, that’s what I keep telling myself. When she does speak a few minutes later, it’s not what I expect to hear.

“Do you want to get a rotisserie chicken for dinner tonight and some dessert croissants?”

Food? My glare lessens as we drive by different shops and businesses.

“Can I eat the croissants now?” I ask like a pouty child. “I’m hungry.”

“And fussy,” she adds.

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