“I figured a break from driving is in order.” She touched the back of my hand. “You okay?”
My skin sparked from her touch while the whiff of oily food outside made my stomach growl even though my stomach still hadn’t gotten used to such richness.
Gem gave me a soft smile. “You’re hungry.”
I gritted my teeth. “It seems my body is making up for lost time.”
That was another thing I hadn’t gotten used to. Eating in the valley came with strict rules and rations. In summer, I could relax those rules and indulge in the blackberries I’d find by the river and enjoy an extra rabbit on an open fire just because they were plentiful. But come winter, my eating routine normally included once a day while the rest of the hours were spent trying to ignore the constant hunger pangs.
The fact that Gem could conjure food from nowhere and at all times awed and confused me. Nurses would bring extra trays if Gem heard my stomach snarling mid-afternoon. Boxes with glass windows delivered sugar-filled candy or salty fried potatoes all by tapping a plastic card where a big arrow said PAY HERE, and now that we’d left the hospital, I noticed that every few miles, a building promised hearty all-day breakfast, gravy steaks, and cheese-dripping burgers.
Most of those things didn’t even pull a memory out of my head.
All-day breakfasts? What the hell was that?
Whatever it was screamed decadence.
The excess of this world was mindboggling.
The ease in this city’s survival showed me just how hard I’d lived. How desperate I’d been to stay alive one more day even while the other part of me craved just to give in. Out here, in this overpopulated place, humans had no fucking idea what rough was.
They didn’t know the cost of cultivation. The pain of starvation. The very real danger of freezing to death if they didn’t gather enough fuel.
Gem pulled forward again, not letting the silence thicken too long between us. She drove toward the building promising food and slipped down the side under a sign with a big arrow.
“What are you doing?” I asked again.
She stopped beside a black box, and a robotic-sounding voice said, “Please place your order when ready.”
“I’m getting you something to eat.” She grabbed the same plastic card that she’d used to pay for other things and peered at the excessively bright billboard listing all kinds of items. Finally, she spoke out the window. “We’ll have two cheeseburger combos, large with fries, Coke for the drinks, and two apple pies.”
“Please drive up to the window.”
I didn’t look away as she eased the car to another part of the building, swiped her plastic card through some contraption a zit-faced teen gave her, then pulled to yet another window and accepted a big bag of heavenly smelling food along with two large cups with plastic lids and straws.
Once again, I was hit with the excess of this place.
Back in Fables, I’d eaten off plates that’d long since lost their pretty glazing. If I accidentally broke a glass, I was one less richer than before. If I didn’t look after my things, then I would end up with nothing.
But here...everything seemed temporary and non-valued.
Just like we’d been treated.
People of this world treated crockery and food as inconsequentially as my family and I had been treated by guests—something to use when they felt like it and thrown in the trash when they’d finished.
I shuddered, feeling a billow of temper rising.
Gemma noticed my curling hands and shoved the bag of food into them. The weight and heat distracted me from my thoughts as she put the car into gear and drove away from the building. Grease stains already appeared on the paper bag, making me curious.
“Go on then.” She smiled. “Eat something.”
My stomach snarled and mouth watered, but I didn’t open it. Anger still swirled in my gut. Impotence and lack of ability to survive in this new world drowned me. How the fuck was I supposed to show her I cared when I didn’t know how to exist out here? How was I supposed to protect her when she was the one protecting me? How was I supposed to provide for her when I didn’t have a magical plastic card and not a single goddamn dollar to my name?
Crushing the bag in my hands, I growled, “Keep a tally.”
“Excuse me?” She pulled the car into a parking space and shut off the engine. Prying my hands off the bag, she opened it and scooped out a burger, fries, and sipped on a large drink with a straw.
“Whatever you spend on me. I want you to keep track. I’m going to pay you back. Someday. Somehow.”
She frowned as she placed a fry into her mouth. It reminded me of the fries I’d made her when she was still trapped in my basement. The pride I’d felt watching her eat food I’d planted, harvested, and prepared had filled my chest to bursting.