The next outfit consisted of more new clothes, this time provided by Fox: dark jeans and a white button-up, with a pair of chukkas Iknewwere still legally mine, but seemed to be permanently requisitioned by the Feral Wolf Child.
It was even worse this time.Millie instructed Keme to lean up against an ivy-covered wall.He did, but with about as much grace and ease as if somebody had propped one of his surfboards in the exact same position.Millie tried to help—“Bend your knee, drop your shoulder, let’s see if you like your hand in your pocket.”It was, again, a train wreck.
“Oh my God,” I whispered to Bobby.
Next to me, Bobby still had his arms folded across his chest, his expression tight.
“It’s bad, right?”I asked.“It’s really bad.It’s a category-five, and it’s about to be upgraded to emergency red alert.”
“What rating system are you using?”
“God, Bobby, Kemehatesbeing the center of attention.Of course he’s going to be uncomfortable standing there and having all of us stare at him.”
Bobby made a considering noise.And then he said, “Remember how this was your idea?”
“Uh, well, it was more of a group thing—”
“Get ready to throw yourself on a grenade.”
“Oh, I’m more of the hide-in-a-foxhole kind of—Bobby, that look on your face isreallyscary.Why are you grinning—”
“Stop saying he looks like such a little man,” Bobby said, loudly enough for the words to carry clearly across the lawn.“It’s infantilizing.”
Time stopped.
Keme’s laser-eyed death stare swiveled toward me.
Okay, yes, hedidlook like such a little man.He was adorable, actually, in the dark jeans and the crisp white shirt.
But I was smart enough not to say that kind of thing out loud.
“You must have misheard me,” I said—also loudly.“Because I never said that or anything that sounded anything like that.Ever.”
“Yes, you did,” Bobby said.And then he pushed me toward where Keme was posing, and he muttered, “Talk to him.Distract him.”
“This is not what I imagined when I told you that you were the prison guard!”
“Go!”
I slunk across the lawn.
Keme watched me come.
“So, about that,” I said, “huge misunderstanding.What I said was—”
That was when Keme grabbed my hoodie and started shoving me against the wall.
(He’s freakishly strong, if I haven’t mentioned that before.)
Between concussions, I was vaguely aware of Millie circling us, snapping pictures in the brief interludes when Keme wasn’t committing physical violence against my person.Snatches of conversation drifted in to me: “He looks so handsome,” and “Oh God, that one’s perfect,” and “Do you see that smile?”
And then Fox clapped their hands and announced, “Costume change!”
Keme growled at me before Indira led him inside for the next outfit.
“Oh my God, Dash,” Millie said, “this is PERFECT!”
“I think he broke my spine,” I moaned.
