Page 104 of You're so Bad

Which puts it just before Shauna’s.

“So we need to keep you hidden for another week or so. The cops want you for anything other than being a runaway?”

“I haven’t gotten caught doing anything,” he says with the stiff upper lip of someone who has a right to be offended.

“Do you have any skills?” Shauna asks. “Anything you enjoy doing?”

I give her a sidelong look, because I don’t know where she’s going with this.

“I flipped burgers at Wendy’s for a while.” He gives Bertie a hopeful look. The little gremlin wags his tail. “I like animals.”

“That’s good,” I say. “We have an in at an animal shelter where they pretend to euthanize kittens. They’d probably let you volunteer. Just don’t get too attached to any of the animals.”

His mouth drops open, but before any words can escape, Shauna shoves my arm and says, “You said you were planning on sketching people on the beach. Do you like art?”

He looks away. “Drawing’s a waste of time.”

“Says who?” Shauna says, letting a bit of her tiger out, because I’m sure we both know who said it.

Reese wiggles a little in his chair, his hands worrying at the edge of his new bandage. “My foster parents.”

“Do you know how to push around a broom better than you know how to clean a wound?” she asks.

He huffs air. “I said I worked at a Wendy’s, didn’t I?”

Shauna touches my arm but keeps her eyes on Reese. “We’re going to have to hire a janitor at The Waiting Place before we open. So if you want an honest job, I might be able to give you one. But if you steal anything from anyone, I’ll be the first one to turn you into the cops. Got it?”

“What’s The Waiting Place?” he asks, his eyes wide.

“It’s a collective of artists. We’re going to sell art and teach people to make it. My best friend is a painter. If you want to learn, he’ll teach you, but you’ll find he doesn’t take bullshit either. He’s also a former personal trainer, same as me. And Leonard and his friends are all big guys. No one’s going to bother you with us around.”

A sense of wonder fills me as I look at my girl. Because she’s sticking out her neck for him, same as she’s done for me. She’s…magnificent. Except that word doesn’t seem big enough for her. She’s the kind of woman you need a ten-dollar word to describe.

The kid’s quiet for a moment, staring at Bertie, his throat working.

“Well, out with it,” Constance says. “Either way, I imagine we can keep you hidden until your birthday.”

When he looks up, his eyes are glassy. “You don’t know me. Why would you do that for someone you don’t know?”

I meet his gaze, then get up and lift my fist out to him. He bumps it. I can tell he’s being careful not to cry in front of us—that he’ll think less of himself if he does. “Because it’s like I said, kid, we’ve been there. Sometimes you need a helping hand, and sometimes you are the helping hand.”

“You said you’d been in a bad situation when you were my age,” he says. “Did someone help you out?”

“Not then,” I say. “It was later I found help, but by then I’d been through hell and back enough times to make a map. You take your out when you’re given it.”

He nods slowly. “Yeah. Okay.” Then he glances at Shauna and says, “Thank you.”

“I’ve tried to be polite about the smell,” Constance says, which makes me snort, “but really, young man, I think it’s past time you washed. A bath will be best, keeping that shoulder out of the water, but I’m going to tape plastic over it anyway.”

“Is there any food here?” he asks.

“I’ll fix you something while you’re in the bath.”

He gets up but glances doubtfully at his dirty backpack. “I don’t have anything better to change into, so I’m probably still going to smell, ma’am.”

She tuts her tongue again. “Do you have any objection to wearing clothing left behind by an odious man?”

“Depends on what odious means,” he says, slouching a little.

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