Page 13 of Fruit
“Do you—” I cut myself off as Snapback turns sharply and goes into a building. I look at its façade for a moment. It’s an LGBTQ youth centre, I realise.
I follow him in, looking around. A large waiting room greets me, filled with large blue couches and low, round tables. There’s a reception desk at the rear, and behind it a set of closed double doors.
“Joshua! What happened to you?” An East-Asian woman exclaims from behind the reception desk.
“Nothin’” Joshua, apparently, says, going for the double doors. The woman stops him before he can slam them open, however.
“Whoa, wait a sec. Joshua. What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“Joshua.”
“Some losers from my school, okay? Ask that lady, she followed me here,” Joshua says, pointing at me. The woman looks at me suspiciously.
“Uhm, it was a little scrap in the subway. I just wanted to make sure he got somewhere safe,” I explain. The woman nods at me before turning to inspect Joshua’s face. To my surprise, he allows the attention.
“Doesn’t look like you’ll need stitches, but let’s have Jackson check you out.”
“Whatever.”
“Excuse me?”
“I meant, thanks, Jasmine.”
“Good. Jackson!” she calls, opening one of the double doors. I can just see an older man walk after them.
“Joshua! What happened?” Jackson asks.
“Take care of him, okay? Tell me if you think it needs stitches,” Jasmine says. Jackson nods and guides Joshua away. The door swings shut, and Joshua disappears.
Jasmine turns to me. “What was your name?”
“Iva.”
“Thanks for getting him here, Iva. He would have gone off on his own if you hadn’t.”
“Yeah, I was afraid of that.”
“What happened?”
“Some kids were picking on him. It sort of…escalated.”
“Did he hurt anybody?”
“A bruise on the other kid’s face. No worse than what he’s got.”
“Okay. That’s good. Thanks again for—oh, Sebastian. There you are,” she says, and I turn to the side, following her line of sight to a now-open door tucked by one of the room’s corners.
My mouth drops open. There, in a short-sleeved, white dress shirt and jeans is the bastard who stole my cat.
“Hey. Have you…Iva?” Sebastián says as he spots me. I splutter for a second.
“You!” I say.
“What are you…how did you find me?” Sebastián asks, frowning.
“I didn’t find you! I mean, obviously Ididfind you, but I wasn’t—you stole my cat,” I accuse. This time, Sebastián’s eyebrows rise.
