The rest of the drive is as quiet as it can get with Xavier’s babbling, and the contrast that was there before isn’t there anymore. It’s not so bad then, if this team also hates silence. Though it bamboozles me how Xavier can hold a conversation all by himself. At least Mitch had someone to bounce off of. Xavier doesn’t need anyone.
Tobias absentmindedly pulls out a knife and starts twirling it—his thoughts obviously far away—I pretend the asshole in front of him doesn’t exist, and I don’t feel Reuben’s eyes on me again for the rest of the drive.
I’m relaxed as I watch a whole new world pass us by, leaning against the window, but it’s not long before the sadness is rolling in again.
It’s astonishing how quickly everything around me has changed.
The ring hidden inside my shirt burns against my chest, and the scar along my stomach stings. I’d put it there before I left Portland, a single wound across my stomach to remind me of the blow that killed the real Christian, as well as two scars from bullet wounds in my back.
So that I never forget the real Christian is gone.
That he was shot in the back by one of his own.
“Pull over here, Wesley, I’m starving,” Reuben’s voice breaks through a temporary silence so suddenly I almost jump.
“As you wish, sir,” the driver responds and before I know it, we’re turning off the freeway and into a parking lot in front of a big building.
“Thank god.” Xavier doesn’t even wait for the car to come to a full stop before he’s jumping out, “I thought I was dying from all the boredom.”
“I thought I’d die listening to you talk,” Gabriel mumbles as he steps out and Tobias follows suit after him with another amused smile.
I’m the last to get out and stretch my legs before Xavier shuts the door behind me. Reuben leads the way inside the small grocery, a badly painted red and blue building with the words ‘People’s Grocery’ in blinding white letters. It looks well-maintained compared to the shops deeper in the city, and I’m grateful that it doesn’t attract any of the ‘wrong crowds’. On the contrary, it looks pretty safe and the people that are scattered around are about the same, just tourists and families on road trips.
A loud cough interrupts my thoughts and when I look back, Wesley is leaning against the car, watching me. “Stick close,” he nudges his head in the direction of the others who’ve already disappeared inside and I follow after them quickly.
I can’t say I’ve been inside a grocery store before. They tend not to allow pets.
There are rows and rows of coloured wrappers and scents—pastries, jellies, hard candies, cans of uncooked foods. The floors are unnecessarily shiny, the lights in the ceiling are blinding, and I have to try my best not to look out of place.
I follow behind Xavier, who I hadn’t noticed was toting a large grey duffle across his back and he already has more than a handful of things in his basket.
Tobias and Reuben are two to three aisles down and I don’t exactly care where Gabriel is as long as he’s not in my space.
“Don’t be picky, just pick anything you like,” Xavier’s voice quips through my thoughts, and I can’t help but wonder if he even cares what’s in the basket. I barely looked away and it’s already half-full.
Deciding to follow suit, I just grab three random coloured wrappers and chuck them in, but it still earns me a strange look.
“You picked three different brands of the same cookies?” Xavier’s brows furrow and I keep my expression indifferent but I’m already scribbling another rule down in my mental rulebook while replying, “The kids on them look happy.”
The look deepens, “… Uh huh.”
Don’t make this harder for me, bud.
“Here.” He opens a glass door along the wall to pull out a small carton and hand it to me, “You’ll need this. This brand is my favourite.”
‘Vanilla Milk’? I can’t say I recognize the ‘vanilla’ bit.
“Thanks.” I figure it can’t hurt. I don’t think any team would try to kill me on my pre-first day.
A shot rings out in the air, along with the sound of shattering glass, and the world immediately tilts as Xavier tackles me, dragging me to the floor with a sharp curse.
Before I can fully understand the situation, Xavier pulls a pistol out of his jacket and takes aim over the shelf, and Gabriel ducks into my aisle to take cover, though I wish he hadn’t.
“I fucking knew this would happen,” he snaps over the sound of shots being fired, pulling his gun from his back pocket, and I’m still frozen on the floor when his words finally click into that slot in my head.
“What?” I ask dumbly.
“Thisis why we take the plane, cookie man.” Xavier pulls the duffle bag off his shoulders and I watch as he assembles a rifle within a count of six seconds, before taking aim over the shelf. “There isn’t a gang on this side of the state that would miss a shot at a Taiga traveling across the border on the ground,” he explains quickly before pulling the trigger and I’m half-tempted to lie on the floor, lap my legs and go, ‘oh is that right’.
