Page 19 of Starve
“Did she really?”
“Well, no, but we all have problems.”
He snorts at that, smiling in spite of himself, and turns to gaze out the window again. I look out the glass as well, wondering if there’s something to see. But all I find is the courtyard one floor down, with a few patients milling around or talking. Two orderlies sit outside as well, deep in conversation while one gestures animatedly with the book she’s holding. I can’t see any of their faces clearly, of course. Not with the ancient window between us. “It’d be better if you could go tonight,” he remarks offhandedly, and I huff out an agreement.
“It would be better if I was never forced to come here at all. But then I wouldn’t have met you, and my life would be just a shade less interesting.”
His eyes find mine, and Cairo gives me a once over. “You’re brave today. It must be from the excitement and the fact you’re almost out.” He’s surprisingly spot on, though I won’t give him the satisfaction of knowing that. Still, it makes me check myself, and I don’t respond. I only watch him, still leaning against the window like he is.
“How long have you been here?” The question is out before I really think about it, but I suppose the worst thing he can do is not answer.
Cairo rolls his shoulders in a shrug. “I don’t know.” The words are a breathy sigh. “I don’t really keep track. Feels like I just showed up here one day, and that was that.”
“Want me to smuggle you out with me?” The offer is a joke, but he looks at me with surprise on his face, like he wasn’t expecting it, so I continue with a few nods. “Yeah, I’ve seen a few movies where someone gets smuggled out of jail. We could put you in a laundry hamper? Or, on a scale of one to ten, how would you rate your ability to hold on to the bottom of a bus all the way down the mountain?”
“Low.” His voice is flat, and he rolls his eyes, but I swear I can see the humor in them from my words. “Very low, in fact. And we have laundry machines here, so why would they send it out on a bus?”
“Well, I don’t hear you coming up with anything.”
“Maybe I don't need to leave.” He goes back to looking out the window again, and worries his lip between his teeth before adding, “Or maybe I don’t need help to do it.” His eyes dart back to my face, judging my reaction, and he finishes with, “Perhaps between us, I’m the one with a better rescue plan and if the roles were reversed, I’d be breaking you out with me.”
“And Moro,” I say instinctively, though my stomach twists when I think about the dog. “We’d have to get Moro out, too.”
He doesn’t answer that part, only shrugs and looks back out the window again.
“Do you have therapy?” I can’t imagine why he’d be on this side of the building, unless he does. I rarely see anyone hanging out here for fun.
“No.” His answer is absent as he stares out the window once more. “I don’t have therapy, Fern.” The way he says it seems more like he doesn’t have therapyat allversus not having it right now. But I know that can’t be the case.
“I won’t say I’ll miss you.” The silence stretches between us after I say it, though once again I see the little hint of a smile on his lips. “Because I barely know you, and you’re a little weird.”
“Just a little?” His gaze flicks to mine, showing his amusement. “That’s very kind of you.”
“I know.” We lapse into silence again before I push off of the window with a sigh. “See you later, then. Probably not, but—” He catches my arm suddenly, and my words trail off as I look at Cairo, even though he’s not returning the attention. Instead, he’s still gazing out the window.
But he doesn’t say a word. He finally glances at me, with an expression I can’t read for the life of me, before letting go of my arm and dropping his gaze back outside. “See you later, Fern,” he agrees with a sigh. It’s a clear dismissal, and I take it as one.
I walk a few steps backward before turning, trying not to notice the feeling of his eyes on me as I flee.
Chapter 9
My goalof sleeping until I can skip down the stairs and hop on the bus back to town is promptly shattered when my eyes open and it’s still pitch black outside.
I sit up before I really know what I’m doing—and before I’m properly awake—though it’s with a heavy sigh and the drag of sleep. “What…” I sigh and press my palm to my face, trying to figure out why I’m awake. Admittedly, I haven’t slept very well here, which I’m shocked by, but given the fact my clock that’s bolted to the nightstand shows it’s barely after midnight, I can’t help but feel dull surprise. I’ve only been asleep for a couple of hours, and this isn’t my normal time of night to be restless.
Rubbing my face again, I sit on my bed with my legs crossed under me. I’m more awake than I have any right to be, and I wish I knew why I bolted up so fast, without a good reason?—
“Fern?”I swear I hear my name from somewhere out in the hallway, though it’s so soft and indistinct it could’ve been half a dozen other words. Still, I get to my feet, toes curling against the cold hardwood beside my bed. Automatically, I slip on my laceless-shoes to fight the chill, though when I stand upright, my eyes catch movement outside of my window. Rather thanheading to the door, I go there, pressing my nose against the glass as my eyes search the trees beyond.
I expect to find nothing. For three breaths, I stare at the ground and the darkness of the trees, lit only by the outside lights of Bluebone Ridge. But just when I’m about to turn away, I finally see movement as something stands up, right in front of me, at the edge of the trees where everything gets dark.
As it straightens, I can’t look away.
It’s not an elk.
My breathing stops, held in my chest, and my fingers clench against the windowsill under my hands.
It’s definitely not a wolf.
