Page 6 of Forget Me Not

“Here,” Mags steps toward us, handing Gun a cookie. I don’t know where she keeps her sweets, but they’re always appearing out of thin air at the most surprising moments. “Eat it. You need it.” She’s not wrong. He looks pale and thinner than usual. Living on the streets wasn’t easy to begin with. A week and a half in juvy probably wasn’t the sort of vacation that was going to help him recoup.

“B’s downstairs ordering pizza. Shouldn’t take more than twenty before it gets here,” Mags rambles on, walking out of the room again.

Gun and I watch each other in silence as he chomps away at his cookie and we both listen for Mags to make her way down the stairs. When we hear her exchanging insults with Mr. B in the kitchen, we start to relax a bit.

“I can’t believe she’s Mr. B’s sister.” He shakes his head, placing the second half of his cookie on my nightstand. It must be really tasty if he’s saving me some.

“Did you know he was like us?” I ask, moving toward my bed to have a seat. Gun follows, plopping down beside me and laying his head back onto the mattress, his arms up and crossed behind his head like a pillow.

“Thought maybe. He’s made a few random comments here and there, made me wonder.” He kicks off his shoes and stretches his long legs out as far as they will go. “What’s Mags like?”

“You.” I hadn’t thought about it until it shot right out of my mouth like a bullet.

“Come again?” He chuckles, as if I’ve made an unbelievable suggestion.

“She is. She’s sort of harsh and blunt in a lot of ways, but at her core, she’s like, the best possible person, you know?” I think back at our first conversation. “She called me a crack-whore baby and then high-fived me the first time we met.” I laugh, bouncing myself slowly back until I’m lying down beside him, both of us staring up at the ceiling.

“Guess she doesn’t pull any punches.”

I shake my head, the ruffle of my bedding in my ear. “Nope. Every thought seems to just sort of fall out of her mouth completely unfiltered. I like it. I never have to wonder with her. She doesn’t look at me as anything but me. She doesn’t think I’m trouble. She definitely doesn’t feel bad for me. It’s nice.”

His head turns and I can see him looking at me out of the corner of my eye. “She does give off a bit of a candy witch vibe though, doesn’t she? I mean, she shoved a Hershey bar in my hand before I even walked in the door. Then a cookie before she left. You’re seeing that, right? You’re not hovering around her oven or anything? Maybe just stay out of the kitchen all together.”

I elbow his side and laugh. “You’re ridiculous. And the witch winds up in the oven, not the kids.”

He rubs his side, pretending to be put out. “Seriously though, it’s a little weird.”

I shrug. “I think it’s just a very literal sweet side. And probably the only one she’s got.”

He returns his attention to the ceiling. “I’m glad you’re here. With her. And her literal sweet side.”

“Me too.”

His arm comes down between us until his hand finds mine and he twines our fingers together. We’ve been holding hands since we were kids. It’s never been more than a basic gesture of support. Of knowing we’re in this together. No matter what. And, as he squeezes his palm into mine, I remind myself, that’s all it still is. A gesture between friends. Best friends.

“It was worth it. Getting you out of that house. Getting caught. This time. It was really worth it.” He seems genuinely pleased but I can’t help but feel guilt rise from the pit of my stomach, making me outright nauseous. I’m better off for it, but Gun? He just barely scraped his way out and by some miracle managed to hang on to the good thing he already had. The good thing he only walked away from, for me.

“I’m sorry,” I mumble.

“Wasn’t your fault.”

“It’s always my fault.”

His fingers abandon mine to move up my side until they curl up in my hair and tug, giving me little choice but to turn and face him. “I choose, Coop. Every sticky situation I’ve ever gotten myself into, I chose to be in.I choose. And that makes it my responsibility, my fault, when I get caught.”

“You really need to start making better choices then.” I kid, of course. It’s time to let the light back in. Things get too dark, too quickly when we’re not careful. And tonight, I just want to be happy that my best friend is back. That he’s safe. That we’re both going to be okay.

CHAPTER FIVE

“Idon’t think I’ve ever seen someone quite so chipper on the first day of school,” Mags says dryly, handing me a cup of coffee. That’s the extent of breakfast around here.

“It’ll be the first time in all the years Gun and I have known each other that we actually get to go to the same school.” I grab a banana from the counter. Just because Mags doesn’t eat doesn’t mean she withholds food. Quite the contrary. She’s a lot like her mom in that regard.

“You and Gun, huh?” She’s eying me curiously over the rim of her mug. “What’s the story there anyway?”

I find it really hard to believe Mr. B didn’t spell it all out for her. Especially because I know she would have asked him before ever agreeing to take me. And if he’d left anything out, she would have asked me the second she got the chance. She wouldn’t have sat on it. Whatever story she’s fishing for, is notthestory.

“Come on, Mags,” I scold, peeling my banana. “I know you can be more direct than that.”

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