Page 18 of Wild Child
I keep my eyes on the road and the scowl on my face, but inside my heart melts a little. My chest feels light, and the entire world looks a little bit brighter.
9
CHARLIE
“Animal, vegetable, or mineral?” Quentin asks for the hundredth time.
I cast around the landscape, trying to think of an object that I haven’t already come up with. We’ve been playing this game across most of New Mexico right after we ran out of ideas for I Spy. There’s not a lot to spy when you’re driving through the plains of New Mexico.
My gaze wanders back to Quentin. His profile is more relaxed than I’ve seen him. A light stubble coats his chin, a sign that the afternoon’s getting late, and there’s a hint of a smile on his usually serious features.
He glances over at me with his eyebrows raised. “Well? We haven’t got all day.”
We both laugh at what’s become a running joke. The day has stretched before us, and we’ve spent it playing silly car games and taking it in turns to choose the music.
I don’t mind his alt rock too much, and he’s tapped along respectfully to Boygenius and Mitski.
In twenty years of music, the sentiment hasn’t changed. The songs are about lost love, feeling like an outsider, and trying tofind your place in life. Universal themes no matter the decade of music.
“Animal,” I say.
“Kangaroo,” Quentin says immediately, making me chuckle. There are no kangaroos out here.
“No.”
“Is it a mammal?”
“Yes.”
“Is it domesticated?”
I give Quentin an assessing look. “Maybe?”
He glances at me and frowns. “What do you mean maybe? Either it’s been domesticated or not.”
I hide my laugher behind my hands. He doesn’t know that he’s the animal I’ve chosen.
“Okay, yes. It’s domesticated.”
He thinks for a moment, causing little frown lines to appear on his forehead. I like the way he frowns when he’s thinking, like everything he does is of importance, even a guessing game.
“Does it sleep in a barn?”
I can’t stop laughing now, thinking about Quentin sleeping in a barn.
“No.”
“Is it a dog?”
“No.”
His frown deepens. “Does it sleep on its owner’s bed?”
Imagining Quentin curled up at the end of my bed makes me laugh so hard I double over.
“Maybe. I mean it could.”
He eyes me suspiciously. “What’s so funny?”
