"That's awesome," I said, feeling a lump in my throat.
"Of course, everyone is going to have to act normal," Shawn said, raising his eyebrows at me.
"What? I act normal."
"Reallllllllly," he said, fluffing my newly dyed hair.
"Hey, even normal people dye their hair."
"True, but they don't talk about wanting to kick Daemon ass or terrain training they've done with their Arch Angel," he teased.
"Duh, what am I, a complete moron? Besides, you guys should be more worried about yourselves. You're not exactly Joe and Mary Ray of Sunshine from Perfectville, USA," I said, defending myself.
Everyone looked at me for a moment before bursting out laughing. "You definitely have a way with words, Jordyn, no doubt," Shawn choked out.
"So, how old is the rugrat?" I asked curiously.
"He just turned nine. They didn't know he even existed until a neighbor notified the authorities that he was all alone in the trailer he'd shared with his father. Turns out, he'd been all alone in there for three days after his father was arrested."
"Holy shit," I muttered. "Oops, sorry," I said, looking at Mark.
"I'd say under the circumstances, we'll let it slide. It's a deplorable situation," he said, looking solemn.
"He'll be placed in foster care until any relatives can be reached, which could take up to a year," Sam said, sounding dismayed at the idea. The woman at the agency said he was taken to the hospital and treated for dehydration and multiple abrasions, including a broken arm that had gone untreated. They actually had to break the bone again to get it to set the right way. He also has a limp from a bone that was broken in his leg a long time ago that never healed right. Eventually, they'll put in a rod and screws to fix the bone. All the bad conditions and poor nutrition have made him frail and his bones very weak. He saw the hospital psychologist this morning and seems to okay mentally, despite his obvious horrible past," Sam said quietly, struggling with her emotions over the situation.
This is where being a Guide was tough. Sam could feel every bit of pain this poor kid has endured in his short nine years.
Krista reached over and patted her hand. "I'm sure he's tough, Sam. He'd have to be to make it through that, right?" she said, putting her arm around Sam.
Where the girls in our family struggled with containing their sensitive emotions in a situation like this, mine went in the opposite direction. I wanted to hit someone. I wanted justice for those who were unable to fight for themselves. I wanted someone to pay.
"Settle down," Mark said, coming over to place his hand on my shoulder while I rocked back and forth on the balls of my feet. My agitation radiated through me and I fought the urge to lash out at him, knowing I could break the hand on my shoulder if I wanted to. I tamped my anger back and stepped away from him.
"Ready?" I asked Sam, suddenly desperate to leave the house. I was happy for them, but at the moment, I wanted to hunt down the little boy's dad and show him what a real ass kicking looked like.
"Sure," she said, sensing how volatile I was at the moment.
"Be careful," Krista said, giving me the eye.
"Always am," I lied, heading out.
Sam was silent as I put the car in reverse and backed out of the driveway without bothering to look for oncoming traffic. I slammed my foot on the gas pedal, making the car buckle slightly under us before shifting into the gear I wanted. My small car raced down the road as I took each of the sharp curves with the precision of a race car driver. Driving came almost as naturally to me as fighting, and I felt in control as we rocketed through the night. I could tell Sam was nervous by the way her white knuckles gripped the dash, but she remained silent, letting me get my inner demons out. If Lynn would have been here, she would have most likely cheered me on to go faster. That's why we were such good friends, we meshed well. I took the turn into the movie theater parking lot without slowing and felt the back end of the car fishtail as I finally applied the brake. Whipping the wheel around, I slid into a parking spot and killed the engine in one fluid movement. Sam and I were thrown against the seat belts with my abrupt stop, and I welcomed the pain as the seat belt bit into my shoulder and across my stomach.
"Feel better now?" Sam finally huffed out.
"Not really," I answered shortly, striding toward the ticket booth, but wishing now that I hadn't agreed to see a movie. I was in a piss poor mood that was guaranteed to ruin our night.
"Chill, you're like a volcano waiting to erupt," she joked, trailing after me. "Jordyn, remember something. I know you can get fired up easily, but you've got to keep it in check for the sake of people around you. It's all good."
"Two students for Zombie Island," I told the bored looking girl in the ticket booth who was chomping gum like it was her last meal.
"Sixteen dollars," she said, blowing a bubble with the gum.
I handed over a twenty and was waiting for my change when I was knocked into from behind. Stumbling, I used the counter to keep from falling forward. I whirled around on the defensive to find a group of college football blockheads, judging by their brawn and cocky attitudes. They were too wrapped up in their rough housing to take notice of knocking into me and a young couple. None of them offered up an apology, which relit the fuse on my temper.
"Hey, watch it, dick," I said to the one that had knocked into me.
His friends hooted at my comment. "Dude, you just got served by a chick," one of them crowed.