Page 2 of The Sinner and the Gunslinger
“Hey!” he bellowed.
Everyone looked at him, but he only had eyes for the redheaded ringleader, who just couldn’t keep his trap shut. The boy stalked forward and shoved the bully hard enough that he fell on his ass, then said, “You wanna pick on someone, Puck? I’m your huckleberry.”
Every brat in there jumped on the boy. But he was no shrinking violet. Since his sister burned, he’d been in and out of foster homes and learned to protect himself. They all thought he’d killed his baby sister. They thought he’d had enough of her crying and got rid of her himself. No one believed his story of a fiery-eyed leopard demon who did the deed. They called him a baby killer, and they beat him up. Repeatedly.
Sometimes he was pinned down by three or more kids. Sometimes, the boy learned to improvise, just like now. When he was overpowered, he found sticks and used them like nunchucks. When the sticks broke, he used his coin and shoved it against their soft bits. Anything could be a weapon if used properly. Eventually, he forced Puck and his bullies to scatter.
Standing as the victor in the courtyard’s center, bleeding from his chin, he limped to where the stuffed bear had been dropped. He knew the toy was different when his trembling fingers touched the fluffy surface. It had a smokey scent. His instincts wanted him to be creeped out by the strange, beady eyes that seemed to follow him. Their red glint reminded him of the demon that burned his sister. One of the eyes was falling out of its socket. When he poked it back in, the toy seemed happier.
He used his shoulder to wipe the blood from his chin, then reverently wiped the dirt and dead leaves from the bear. Much better. He limped to the new girl.
Up close, she was even prettier. One day, she would grow to be a beautiful damsel worthy of any Wild West movie—no, not a damsel. She had a wild look about her... A free spirit shone from her eyes and refused to be cowed.
He handed her the stuffed animal. She bared her teeth and hissed at him.
The boy laughed. “You’re a real wildcat, huh?”
She swallowed. Nodded. Then walked away.
“See you around,” he mumbled, watching her go. It wasn’t until she’d turned a corner, leaving the courtyard, that he returned to his spot and flipped the coin around his knuckles.
The smell of smoke remained.
* * *
The girl stood at the front of the line for the school bus and hugged her backpack to stop herself from turning and punching the bully in the face. He tugged her pigtails. She clenched her jaw. She’d already been in two fights at this new school. She mustn’t make it a third, or another mark would be drawn on her naughty card at the group home. Who would adopt her then?
Her thoughts immediately traveled to the boy with dark, messy hair and intense eyes who always seemed to be around when she needed him most. They’d only known each other for a few weeks, but it would be sad to leave him. Maybe he would be adopted at the same time as her and they could be family.
Another tug on her pigtails yanked her head so hard that her neck cracked. A snarl ripped from her lips, and she spun to face the same freckle-faced bully from her group home. He laughed down at her with unhinged glee. He was five years older than her and taller by two heads, but she didn’t care. She torpedoed his midsection.
It took two teachers to pull her from the bully’s body.
“Detention. Now,” barked Mr. Diplo, pointing to the school gates, glaring at her from over his glasses.
“But... ” She glanced at the bright-yellow bus as it pulled up to the curb. If she missed it, she’d have to walk home alone, and—she shivered—creepy things followed her in the shadows. Without Snuggles to comfort her, she felt the bad things get closer. But bringing Snuggles to school at her age would get her teased. He had to remain home on her bed, waiting for her safe return.
Sniffing, she forced back tears and scowled at her bully. He climbed onto the bus and sat by the window, where he gave her a cocky finger wave.Not fair.She didn’t start the fight. This wasn’t fair!
“Now,” Mr. Diplo repeated.
With a frustrated whimper, she picked up her backpack and stomped toward the school gates. Someone grabbed her shoulder—her fist clenched and swung, but the boy from the group home stopped it inches from his face.
“Easy there, wildcat. It’s just me.”
She relaxed and tried to smile, but her chin trembled. With everyone else, she was brave. With him, it was hard to pretend.
“You okay?” His brows drew together.
“I have detention,” she blurted. “It wasn’t my fault and now I have to walk home late.” She hugged her backpack. “Bad things follow me in the shadows.”
He watched her intently for a moment, then glanced over his shoulder and checked what Mr. Diplo was doing—he was too busy wrangling the kids in the bus line to notice he’d waylaid the girl. He got down on his knee and pulled something from his pocket.
“Here,” he murmured, holding it out. “I’ve been meaning to give you this.”
“For me?” Her voice was full of awe as she took the red knotted bracelet. A tiny white bead was in the center. Upon seeing it, she scrunched up her nose. “Is that an eyeball?”
He nodded, puffing out his chest. “It’s called the evil eye. In Turkey, where my parents are from, they use this to ward off evil spirits.”
