Chapter 15: Opinions Can Change
I SHOVE A bowl of soup into Jonas' hands, then take the bowl with broth only and sit carefully on the sofa next to Apollon. Lifting his head, he suppresses most of a groan while Oscar stuffs my jacket under him. His face is pale— too pale. I'm worried that he might be taking a turn for the worse, but he insists he's on the mend. Neveah, as always, says nothing about it. The others speculate, but I don't trust their knowledge enough to place any stock in their predictions. Quietly, I spoon the warm liquid into his mouth, and wipe dribbles away with my thumb.
"What is this?" Jonas asks. He looks down into his bowl and chases the chunks around with his spoon.
"Good for you," I answer flatly. "Eat up. The rest of us don't get any."
Miranda, from the kitchen chair, makes a noise and pouts. I ignore her. It's my soup. I feed Apollon another bite of broth.
Jonas chews a bite of meat thoughtfully, then says, "It tastes like cat."
Apollon opens his mouth for another bite. After he swallows, he says, "Tastes like something that rhymes with cat."
Jonas pauses with the spoon halfway to his mouth. He glances at me nervously.
Apollon winces in pain as he suppresses his laughter. He closes his eyes and doesn't breathe. Then he takes very careful, slow breaths. He avoids looking at my face. Slowly, the corners of his mouth uncurl and relax.
"That's disgusting," Miranda says, recovering from her shocked silence.
I narrow my eyes at her. "I thought you wanted some."
She makes a face at me, but glances at the bowl. The smell is quite enticing. It's been a long time since we've eaten meat.
"It's protein." I look at Apollon, whose mouth is open. I feel like a momma bird feeding her young.
Jonas shrugs and keeps eating. "Protein is protein," he concedes after chewing.
Miranda, however, proves she's not to be so easily dismissed. "I'm sure you could get something better from Matthew," she says lightly. As if it's some simple, casual thought that just occurred to her.
My face darkens as all three of the boys look at me. None of them comment, so I take the opportunity to snap at Miranda. "Or Donegan, maybe. What do you think he'd give me in exchange for you?"
She pales, mouth open. Tears shine in her widened eyes. She actually trembles.
Guilt rushes at me. I've gone too far, but I can't bring myself to take it back. I turn back to Apollon, shoving another bite at him. He only just manages to get his mouth open in time to avoid the broth spilling down his front. Still, a bit of it trickles over. I wipe his chin with the bottom hem of my shirt.
"Enough," he mutters, turning his face away.
I set the bowl aside and climb to my feet.
"For god sakes, Eden," Jonas mumbles, but I ignore him.
I leave. It's cold outside. Bitter cold. And my jacket is still tucked under Apollon's head. I don't have anywhere to go, so I walk around back and stand in the sunshine. The wind whips its chill straight through my bones, and between bursts, the sun makes futile attempts to warm my skin. I stand there and shiver, wrapping my arms around myself, turning my back against the wind. My hair flies in my face, tendrils waving and jerking, dropping briefly before beginning the performance again. I close my eyes.
I don't hear Oscar coming, but somehow I know he's beside me. I open my eyes and turn my head toward him, sighing.
He looks up at me, and says nothing.
Finally, I ruffle his hair, pacing a few steps away before turning back. "Is she OK?"
He shrugs, gazing down at his feet. Then he moves his big brown eyes to my face and says, "You shouldn't have said that." It's a simple statement. I shouldn't have. He means to help me learn to be better.
I cross my arms again, but it's only because I'm cold. "I know," I start to lean against one of the barrels, but it's icy, so I stand straight again. "I was angry."
"Miranda shouldn't have said what she said either."
I blink, studying his face. Sometimes, he understands things I don't expect him to.
"She was being mean, too," he says.
I try not to allow the word "too" to sink in too deeply.
"I just wish you could be nice to each other." He sighs, and looks wistfully away toward the concrete wall that separates us from the outside of the Outpost. Then I see it. He looks tired, and sad. He looks like half of his family has been beaten down by the world and the other half is at each other's throats.
I purse my lips and nod. "I'll try," I say. And I mean it. I think Oscar really does help me to be better.
The smile he beams at me solidifies the idea even as it's just beginning to form. I smile back. He runs to me and throws his arms around my waist, tilting his head back to look up at me.
I squeeze him back. "Go inside and warm up," I tell him. "I just need a little time to think."
He hesitates, but does as I ask. As I watch him go, I shiver from the cold, but somehow, the wind's bite doesn't sting as much as it did before.