A tear slipped down my cheek, hot and humiliating.Stupid girl, I told myself.Stupid, stupid girl.
At the club,I kept looking toward the door, waiting for him to show, hating myself for it. He never came. His friends did. They watched me with wary curiosity, probably wondering how much of myself I had given to the captain.
Nobody touched me.
The tips were good.
And I hated all of it.
By the time I walked home, my throat was tight, and my feet were numb. I just wanted to crawl into my—new and warm—blanket and pretend none of this had ever happened.
But when I stepped inside the ruin, I froze. Klaus and Axel were sitting on—a rug. A real rug. Warm and soft and patterned. Covering the cold concrete. That wasn't all, though; they were playing a game, one of those American board games with bright colors and little pieces.
Chutes and Ladders, Klaus told me proudly, though he said it wrong and it came out "Shoots-and-Leddahs."
They had snacks.
Snacks!
Little crackers shaped like fish from a bright-red box.
They looked… fed. Safe. Happy.
Like two well-fed cats on a hearth rug instead of war ghosts in the ruins.
Klaus ran to me and hugged my waist. "Inga! Look! Look what Gideon brought!"
My heart stuttered painfully. On the crate was an MRE—Meal Ready to Eat—pouch, the instructions in English. Klaus demonstrated proudly how to heat it with the little chemical pack. I wanted to refuse it, but my stomach betrayed me with a loud, desperate growl.
"It's for you," Klaus said, pressing it into my hands. "All for you."
Despite myself, I tore it open. The rich smell of beef stew hit me like a wave. I ate. I devoured. I moaned. And then I saw more. By what once had been the kitchen, sat a loaf of bread. A jar of peanut butter. A whole jar of jelly. Grape jelly. I nearly fell to my knees.
I had given Klaus the last spoon of jelly I'd saved for his birthday the other day, and he'd been so happy. Now there was a whole jar. I pressed my hand to my mouth, breathing shakily. I nearly hated Gideon for this.
For making me feel so weak.
So grateful.
So overwhelmed.
But mostly…
I hated that a part of me wanted him here. Wanted totell him I was sorry. Wanted to know why he cared. Wanted to know if he hurt like this, too.
My eyes burned.
"Inga?" Klaus asked softly, touching my knee. "Happy?"
I forced a smile through tears. "Yes," I whispered. "I'm… happy."
But the truth was messier.
I was furious.
Relieved.
Confused.
