Page 13 of Creep
My brothers might consider me someone who’s on the club's sidelines, but that still makes me feel more included than I ever was before Vulture Hollow. They don’t pretend I’m not there, or spit at the ground in warning when I pass. The Vultures include me in jokes, even though I fail at humor most of the time. When I’m around them, there’s a purpose to my life.
I’ve always been a loner, an outcast, and I expected to end up in prison not long after juvie, but I found Vulture Hollow and stayed. At first, I remained unseen, stealing food and sleeping in the caves that gave the community its name. It took them three weeks to discover my presence, and once a mob of workers dragged me from my hideout, I was saying goodbye to my life. But then Brigid appeared in her dark linen dress, hair pinned at the back of the head, eyes fierce, and demanded that I be given a chance. She said I’d proved myself by staying hidden for so long.
The men who at first had intended to put me down became family, and Brigid is the closest thing I’ve ever had to a mother. What others saw as a vice, something to be wary of, she appreciated. To her, the way I can sneak around is a valuable skill. She urged Harvey, the oldest member of our club, to teach me how to shoot a sniper rifle, and told Prophet to let me live in the caves if I wanted to. She even gave me a rug.
Prophet might be our prez, and he rules like a Viking leader of his clan, but Brigid is his most trusted advisor. He’d never admit how much influence she has, but it’s obvious, because he sometimes enters her cabin with one opinion on a topic, then leaves with another. Officially, she’s not allowed to know club secrets. Unofficially, I expect she knows more about Vulture Hollow than all of us combined, and I’m her spy, so I mean it.
“You really need to be more careful,” she says, putting the final stitch in the wound Angel left on me last night.
I nod, but it’s hard to focus when Angel’s taste still sizzles on my tongue. It’s just a phantom, but I swear I can sense it. “It’s nothing.” Yet she insisted it needed to be looked at. The way she notices things about me makes me feel like the apple of her eye, even though she’s got many more important things to deal with. I’m guessing she must be in her fifties, but if I were straight, I would have had a crush on her anyway. Maybe it’s for the better that I’m not, because she would keep me on a very short leash.
Brigid smirks. “You expect me to believe that when you’re so absent-minded? Go on, tell me what’s going on. I won’t judge,” she adds and pours us both some lemonade from a pitcher in the middle of the table.
My aunt would have called Brigid a witch and forbidden me from visiting her thatched house by the lake, but I love the way it smells of the herbs hanging in dry bundles above our heads, and all the jars and bottles occupying endless shelves make the interior cozy rather than threatening. Even though I’m certain one of the vials contains the eyeballs of a goat.
I lower my eyes when the first lady of Vulture Hollow pins her intense gaze to my face, but I believe she only wants to help. I’ve never felt judged by Brigid. I know I’m strange, but she’s different too, so maybe that’s why she always encourages me to be myself. She paints her nails black, wears clothes she sewsherself, and doesn’t care that when she visits local towns, God-fearing Christians cross the street to avoid her.
“I’m making a friend. Maybe.”
Her inquisitive eyes scan me from under long black lashes, and I fear I might have already said too much.
“Someone outside the village?” she asks. “Is that who the amethyst was for?”
I nod because I’m unable to lie to her. The caves are technically outside the village. “Just don’t tell Prophet. Or Road. Or anyone really. Especially not Rooster.”
“Oh, so it’sthatserious…” she muses with a curious expression. “Shall I make some tea and find out what the future holds?”
Actually, I’d love to find out, but Angel is waiting for me, and that feels more important than my selfish needs. Or is going to see him as soon as possible selfish because I want to see him smile at me so badly it makes my stomach twist?
“Tomorrow?”
Her eyes are deep like two wells leading straight into the underworld. “Are you seeing him today?”
I nod before I can question how she guessed the person I’m befriending is a man.
“Are you taking him out somewhere?”
“No, we’re staying in. I… I’m not sure how to entertain him.”
“Does he like board games? I could lend you Celestial Monopoly. You enjoyed it last time.”
“That’s perfect. Thank you. He will love it. Now I just need to pick up some food for us.” I stand up with new vigor, excited to show Angel the game.
Brigid whistles, and when Luna, her daughter, calls out from another room in the house, she shouts, “Could you bring us the Monopoly, honey?”
Without waiting for a response, she stretches in her antique throne and offers me a smile. “Treat him well. I’m sure he deserves it,” Brigid says just as Luna steps into the living room with the colorful box. She doesn’t speak much, and maybe that’s why I always felt at ease around her despite the long blonde hair reminding me of my four cousins.
She even packs the game for me in a bag, and I’m off. At this time of day, the village is bustling with activity, so it’s easy to stay unnoticed as long as I stay behind the trees on the outskirts. I’m not trying to be invisible, that would have taken more effort, but I do avoid the places where people gather, like the playground, or the garage.
But if I want cooked food, I do have to visit the canteen, which is the busiest place of them all. I have a good relationship with Rhonda though, so she doesn’t mind me coming in from the back to pick up what I need. Others would consider it skipping the line, so we don’t tell anyone about it, and in return I share the juiciest gossip with her. The kind you pick up when others don’t notice you’re eating lunch on their roof.
Armed with the game, fresh clothes for Angel, and our food, I head back into the caves. Since I’m carrying so much, I take the main entrance. Yeti, one of my club brothers is on watch by the entrance, and his caterpillar-thick brows rise at the sight of me. The man is big, hairy, boisterous and incapable of stealth. The antithesis of me in every way, but while we have sometimes gotten on each other’s nerves, even I can admit he’s the barbeque master of Vulture Hollow. Too bad he now only has his phone to entertain him.
“What do you have?” he asks, eyeing my bags. “Anything for me in there?”
I pass him a massive BLT sandwich, because I anticipated this, but I don’t stop for small talk, and he doesn’t mind.
I know the way to my home so well I could get there with my eyes closed, so fifteen minutes later, I’m at the door. It’s too late when I realize that maybe I should have knocked. After all, I never had a guest here. Especially not one so lovely.
