“He tried,” I replied flippantly and ducked out of his hold. “He failed, and it cost himhislife.”
“Whathappened?”
“I was fifteen, an easy target, or so he assumed. I slit his throat when he became distracted by trying to pull off my pants. Afterward, I was fully prepared to slice off the dick of the next man totryit.”
Corson smiled, but rage still simmered in his eyes. “You really cantalksexy.”
“You are one twisted demon. Would it grow back if it werecutoff?”
“It would, but I’d prefer not to have thatexperience.”
“Understandable.”
Stepping away from the locker, I strolled down the hall before stopping and opening another locker. Pictures of a boy and girl who had their arms draped around each other covered every available inch of space. “They look like they were in love,” Imurmured.
“They do,” Corson agreed. “So why did Randy nameyouWren?”
“In the beginning, he tried to get me to tell him my name, but I didn’t speak for months after what I witnessed with my mom. Then, one day, on a scouting mission we came across a group of people. This was before all Wilders agreed to work together, so everything was fair game back then. While Randy and some others tried to formulate a plan on how to get their supplies without violence, I darted in and stole them without anyone knowing whatI’ddone.
“I didn’t hit my growth spurt until I was thirteen, so I was really small then. When I dropped the supplies at Randy’s feet, he’d gawked at them before grinning proudly and hugging me. He’d declared I was like a wren—fast and small, but with a whole lot of attitude. One day he stopped saying I was like a wren and just started calling me Wren, so did all theothers.”
“And when you started speaking?” Corsonprodded.
“By the time I talked again, no one thought to ask if I had a different name, and I didn’t offer it to them. There was no point. I was Wren by then, and I didn’t want to beanyoneelse.”
“And you said your nightmare made you rememberyourname?”
“I guess I always remembered it,” I replied. “I just hadn’t thought of it inyears.”
He followed me down the hall while I continued to examine the lockers. “Bonnie girl wasn’t an endearment from your mom. Your name is Bonnie,” he murmured after a fewminutes.
I flinched, and my shoulders hunched up as if he’d struck me. “My name isWren,” I replied through gritted teeth. I should have known he would figure it out; I had shared all the details of my nightmare with him. “Hername was Bonnie, but she died that day. IamWren.”
He rested his hand on my shoulder again, and I reluctantly looked at him. I didn’t know what I expected him to say as his thumb stroked my cheek. “You can be both,” he murmured. “You don’t have to be one or theother.”
“No one is going to call me Bonnie Wren, and that would be ridiculous. Besides, do I look like a Bonnietoyou?”
“I don’t know what a Bonnielookslike.”
“She looks like a happy girl who eats cookie dough, wears pigtails, is excited about lunch boxes, and loves bear hugs from her dad. She’s not a girl who worries about starvation and being eaten by a manticore or corrupted by ahorseman.”
“She soundsboring.”
“Or normal,” Iretorted.
“So,boringthen.”
“Yes, boring. Normal isboring.”
“And what was your last name?” he inquired as he lifted his other hand to cup my face between hispalms.
I frowned as I gazed at his mouth, and much to my horror, it took me a few moments to recall the answer. “Steward!” I blurted when it finally came backtome.
“Bonnie Steward,” hemurmured.
I flinched again before catching myself. It had been so many years since anyone had spoken my old name out loud. It sounded so wrong, yet so right that my head spun from the dizzying confusion of Bonnie trying to reassert herself into my life. I had the disconcerting notion that Wren was an alien who had invadedherbody.
I didn’t belong here, but Idid. This was my body now, my life.Corsonwas mine,nothers.
