Page 7 of Bad for You

I’m eating my watery porridge, keeping my head down. But it doesn’t matter. It seems trouble always follows me.

“Who let you out of your cage?” Hugo laughs as he sits across from me.

I clench the spoon in my hand but don’t react.

“Deaf and stupid. No wonder your mom abandoned you. I heard she’s had ten children. They all live happily with her in a mansion by the beach. You’re the only one she didn’t want because you’re a reject.”

The spoon rattles against the bowl as I try to contain my temper.

“Are you going to cry?” he mocks, and when I continue to ignore him, he flips my bowl, spilling porridge all down the front of my dress.

The room erupts into laughter.

My cheeks heat under my long hair, which shields my face. I wish I was brave like the boy I saw last night. He wouldn’t sit here with spilled breakfast down his clothes. He would fight back.

So for the first time in my life, I slowly lift my chin and lock eyes with Hugo.

He gasps, as I think it’s the first time he’s ever seen my blue eyes, eyes which Father Merry calls eyes of the devil as they’re identical to my mother’s. And right now, I use that wickedness to ram the spoon I’m holding into Hugo’s eye.

I don’t even think twice about the repercussions. It comes naturally. I like it.

He does not like it, as I can imagine a spoon being impaled into one’s eyeball would be quite painful. He grows silent before the reality of what I’ve done sinks in, and a pained howl echoes off the walls.

He leaps from the seat, the spoon embedded into his eyeball.

I can’t help but laugh.

“Daddy’s girl,”a voice randomly says in my head. It scares me because I’ve not heard it before. But it sounds familiar. I just don’t know why.

He tries to pull it out but screams in pain and, instead, blindly flails around the room. The kids shrink away as he begs for help. They don’t want to get involved. I simply sit back and smile at the chaos I’ve created.

Suddenly, the same feelings as last night overwhelm me. I look across the table and see the boy who’s never left my mind since I first saw him. He coolly takes the same seat Hugo was sitting in before he had a spoon wedged into his eyeball.

He doesn’t say a word.

And neither do I.

We’re both calm in the chaos.

I examine him closely because I feel a connection to him that I can’t explain. His eyes are the strangest color—a mixture of blue and gray, reminding me of the bluest skies before the storm clouds roll in, the chaos replacing the calm. His brown hair is longer on top with shorter sides. He’s older than me. I would guess eleven or twelve. But he seems more mature than his years.

I wonder how long he’s been here.

He’s wearing a black T-shirt with holes that it seems he ripped in the material. I see he has a gold necklace around his neck. The pendant is round and looks to be a compass. I wonder whatit means. He has on torn black jeans and scuffed boots with the laces untied.

He smiles, and I like it. So I smile back. It feels strange. I’m not used to smiling. So I hope I don’t scare him away.

He leans across the table and steals someone’s porridge mid-bite. They dare not object because they don’t fancy joining Hugo.

“Eat,” he orders, sliding the bowl toward me. Who knew that word would be the first one spoken.

He offers me a spoon, and when the doors burst open, and three sisters come running into the room to see what the noise is about, he nods in a gesture that I can trust him.

I don’t know why, but I do.

I accept the spoon, but when he stands, I don’t understand why. That is, until he walks over to Hugo and punches him in the ribs.

My hands fly up to my mouth. What is he doing?

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