Rubbing the sudden ache in my chest, I growled. “It’s not safe. You know that.”
“You keep me safe.”
“I can’t keep you safe in school.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t want to go, and even if I did, we’d be in different classes.”
“Why?”
“Because we’re different ages.”
She stomped her foot. “We’re the same.”
I rolled my eyes, dropping my hand as the fear of losing her was drowned out by the frustration of arguing with her.
Della had a mean temper—just like I did. We didn’t often get into screaming matches, but when we did…I was grateful we didn’t have neighbours because the police would’ve appeared on our doorstep.
“You’re not going to school, Della. That’s the end of it.”
“No!” She raced from the bedroom, clattering down the wooden steps like a herd of sheep and not a barefoot five-year-old.
“Goddammit,” I groaned under my breath. I didn’t curse often because I hated the way Mclary had mastered the art of throwing words with such anger they had the power to make you flinch almost as much as a fist could.
I never wanted Della to be afraid of language or of me talking to her.
But when she acted like this…
Well…fuck.
Throwing off the sleeping bag, I charged after her in my boxers, racing down the stairs to find her cross-legged in front of the TV, flicking through the channels, desperately trying to find the educational kid’s one.
She wouldn’t find it.
The past few days’ reception had been terrible, leaving us with hissing snow on most channels.
“Della,” I warned. “Don’t start a fight over something as stupid as going to school.”
“It’s not stupid! I want to go.” She turned her back on me, crossing her arms. “I should’ve wished to go to school with the candles instead. Then I could go to school, and you couldn’t stop me!”
Raking my fingers through my hair, I moved in front of her and ducked to her level. “You know why you can’t go.”
“No, I don’t. We live in a house. We’re normal! No one cares.” Tears welled and spilled down her cheeks. “No one cared we were in town today. No one said anything.”
I shook my head, hating that my stupid idea of doing something special had already backfired. “It was a mistake to go. I’m sorry if I made it seem like we can have that sort of life, but we can’t.” I reached out, my hand trembling a little like it always did when we fought.
Fighting with her stripped me of every reserve I had, draining me to the point of emotional and physical exhaustion because I hated denying her things, but at the same time, she needed boundaries.
She would have everything she needed, but she would never be spoiled.
She wrenched away, crawling out of reach. “No! I want school. I don’t want you. I want colouring and stories and painting.”
“Now you’re just being hurtful.” I sat on my ass with my knees bent and feet planted on the floor in front of me.
“You’re being mean. You won’t let me go to school!”
“It’s for your own safety.”
“No. It’s because you’re mean!”
“I can’t deal with you when you’re like this. You’re acting like a child.”
“I’m not a child. I’m fifteen!”
“How many times do I have to tell you? You are not fifteen. Goddammit, you are five years old, and it’s my responsibility to keep you safe and I can only do that if you stop arguing and being a brat and listen to what I’m saying.”
She glared at me across the lounge, her legs and arms tightly crossed, her body language shut off and hating me.
I didn’t care.
She wanted to know the real reason she couldn’t go to school?
Fine, I’d tell her.
Keeping my voice chilly and cruel, I said, “You can’t go to school because of me, okay?”
Her forehead furrowed, eyes narrowed.
I continued, “You don’t have any parents to take you or meet with the teachers or sign any forms. You don’t have any money. You don’t have anything that the other kids will have, and people will notice. They’ll ask why your mum or dad don’t drop you off. They’ll pry into your home life. They’ll grow suspicious of who I am. They’ll—they’ll take you away from me.”
My anger faded as, once again, the heaviness of missing her even while she sat in front of me squashed my heart.
Della sniffed back tears and scooted closer toward me—still wary, still angry, but her face lost its pinched annoyance. “Why would they take me away? You’re Ren.”
I smiled sadly. “Because I’m not your father or brother. I’m not your family, and they’ll figure that out. They’ll know I stole you and put you with another family who won’t love you like I do. You’ll be trapped in a house in the middle of streets and people, and I’ll never find you again because they’ll chase after me for stealing you. They’ll try to lock me up, and we’ll never be together again.”