"Better," I mutter, though we all know Jinx is far from stupid. He just doesn't give a shit about mob movies the way Kade does. Kade steals them from the video store and watches them over and over until he can quote every line.
He gotreallypissed when I said he couldn’t bitch about ruining the day of his daughter’s wedding because he’s twelve.
A metallic clang from outside makes me jump a little. I peek out through the curtain that only partially softens the blinding sun coming in through the cracked window. Tank's over by the rusted car remnants that have been slowly decomposing beside our RV since before we claimed this place. He's crouched down, completely absorbed in whatever he's doing, his massive frame folded in on itself.
"What's he doing?" Kade asks, following my gaze.
I untangle my hair from Jinx's hands and hop out of the RV, my curiosity getting the better of me. The gravel crunches under my feet, and I have to step around a broken bottle someone threw here last night. Probably Kyle and his asshole friends.
Tank's staring at the ground with an intensity most people reserve for matters of life and death. I crouch beside him, trying to see what's captured his attention.
"Oh," I say, understanding immediately. "It's ants."
A stream of them, hundreds maybe, marching in their perfect little line toward their hill. But there's a puddle in their wayfrom yesterday's rain mixed with shiny motor oil, and they're bunching up at the edge, unable to cross. Some brave ones are trying to go around, but it's too wide.
Tank's already started building something. Tiny pieces of metal, splinters of wood, even bottle caps for stabilization. He's constructing a bridge. His huge hands move carefully, placing each piece just so.
"You're building them a bridge," I say softly.
Tank looks up briefly and nods, his dark eyes crinkling above the skull bandana that always covers the lower half of his face before he goes back to his work.
"Are you fucking kidding me?" Kade groans, leaning out of the RV’s side door. "Tank, we're trying to build an empire here and you're building shit forants?"
Tank just keeps working, adjusting a piece of wire to make the bridge more stable. One ant ventures onto it, testing, then another. Soon they're streaming across, their crisis averted by a mute giant with scarred hands and infinite patience.
I grab a rusty washer from the ground and add it to the construction, sticking it in the dirt to reinforce one side. "I think it's nice."
"It'sants," Kade protests, but he's already walking over, unable to resist seeing what we're doing.
"So?" I place another piece, a bent nail that creates a perfect ramp. "Maybe he doesn't want them to drown in motor oil. You've got your protection racket, we've got a bridge."
"It's not a—" Kade stops, sighs, then crouches down beside us. "Fine. But this is fucking ridiculous."
He says that, but he's already reaching for a piece of aluminum to add to our bridge. Cyrus and Jinx join us, all five of us focused on saving a bunch of insects like it's the most important thing in the world right now.
"This is actually kind of cool," Jinx admits, watching the ants navigate the bridge. "Look at them go."
Cyrus adjusts a bottle cap one of the more distractible ants got stuck investigating. “One takes a chance on a new path, and the others follow its scent trail. Its pheromones. Sometimes they get caught in a loop. Circular milling—or a death spiral.”
"Dude, it's Saturday and you sound like Mr. Tipton in science class," Kade mutters, but he's smiling now.
We work in comfortable silence, the kind that only comes from years of knowing each other's rhythms. Tank places the major pieces, Kade reinforces the weak spots, Cyrus figures out the angles, and Jinx adds what he calls "aesthetic touches"—a piece of colored glass here, an interesting twig there.
And I fill in the gaps.
"There," I say finally, sitting back on my heels. "The Great Ant Bridge of Creekside Estates."
The ants stream across it steadily now, carrying their tiny burdens to safety. Tank watches them contentedly. It's hard to tell sometimes with half his face covered, and most of the visible portion so badly scarred he can't fully make certain expressions, but I've learned to read him over the years. The slight softening around his eyes, the way his shoulders relax just a fraction…
Yeah. He's happy.
I just wish he'd let me see him without his mask. Only Kade ever has. Cyrus says he got a brief glimpse once and saw teeth. I don't know if I believe him, but Cyrus didn’t say it in a mean way—he seemed freaked out and sad, if anything—and Cyrus doesn't usually lie.
Lying is Kade's thing. Sometimes Jinx's, even if his lies are usually the kind so absurd, they're meant to make me laugh.
"We should charge them rent," Kade says. "Two crumbs a week."
"You're such an asshole," I tell him, pushing him hard enough with my shoulder that I almost knock him over, but I'm grinning.
