“Is that right? And what makes you such a big authority on everything?”
“I make it my business to know everything that goes on at Marvel’s.”
“And I’m sure your mother’s real proud. Now, could you please get lost? I’ve got work to do.”
He started off again; again she stopped him. “When I saw you at the concession stand, I thought you were up to something, so I followed you. I saw the whole thing.”
“Yeah? Well, it’s my word against yours, kid. And I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
She tilted her head back and laughed. “Don’t look so worried. I hated those two guys. They were total pigs. I’m glad they’re gone.” She leaned conspiratorially toward him. “Your secret’s safe with me.”
Just what he wanted, to be in cahoots with a snot-nosed, busybody twelve-year-old girl. Just great.
“Look, kid,” he said, “you want to buzz off? Like I said, I’ve got work to do.” He headed in the opposite direction; she followed him.
“My name’s Skye.”
“Whatever.”
“My mother’s Madame Claire.” At his blank look, she frowned. “You know, the fortune-teller.”
“Is that supposed to mean something to me?”
“Not if you don’t care about a curse being put on you.”
“I’m really worried.”
“She can do it. She made one kid’s hair fall out.”
He laughed. “And I bet she turned another one into a frog.”
“Laugh now. You’ll see.”
“You’re terrifying me, really. See you around.”
He turned and started for the supply tent. She hurried after him, and he muttered an oath. What was with this kid? What did he have to do to get rid of her?
“If I ask her to put a spell on you, she will.”
He made a sound of annoyance, stopped and swung to face her. “So, you’re saying your mom’s a witch?”
“No. She’s a fortune-teller.”
“A Gypsy fortune-teller?”
“No.” The girl propped her hands on her hips and sucked in a quick, frustrated-sounding breath. “She’s just a fortune-teller.”
Amused, he mimicked her, making an exaggerated sound of frustration and placing his hands on his hips. “Witches put curses on people. Fortune-tellers tell the future. Gypsies do both, at least in the movies. Of course, I don’t believe in that stuff. In fact, I think it’s all a bunch of crap, so why don’t you get lost?”
She ignored him. “Where’d you get the black eye?”
“None of your business.” He started off again.
“I bet it was one of the other guys.” She screwed up her face as if deep in thought. “My guess is Max or Len.” She cut him a glance. “But, probably Len. He’s a real badass.”
Chance supposed he would call Len that. He was the blade-happy bozo with dibs on his throat.
“They’re all pissed at you,” she continued, “because you took Rick and Benny’s place.”
“Yeah, well, that’s tough shit. They’ll get over it.”
She smiled. “Good thing they don’t know what I know.” He glared at her, and she smiled again. “I didn’t mean anything by that. I told you I wasn’t going to tell, and I’m not.”
This was just getting better and better. He stepped up his pace in an effort to shake her.
“I’ll tell you what to do about those creeps,” she said, hurrying to keep up. “Just give ‘em a good pop.” She nodded for emphasis. “They’ll respect that.”
He scowled, annoyed that she, a goofy kid, was saying the same thing he had thought only moments ago. “What do you know? You’re just a kid. And a girl, at that.”
“So what? Girls can know anything boys can.”
“Right,” he drawled.
“They can!” She lifted her chin, practically quivering with twelve-year-old indignation. “You know, I’ve been around. Besides, you don’t see any black eyes on me, do you?”
He stopped so suddenly she collided with his back. Exasperated, he turned to face her. “Is there some reason you’ve decided to single me out for torture?”
She laughed. “I like you, Chance. You’re funny.”
Funny to a twelve-year-old girl. Wow. Another great life accomplishment. “I’m out of here, kid.” He started walking away.
“I’ll go with you.”
“I’d rather you didn’t.”
She ignored him. “Really, Chance, you can’t let those guys push you around.” She tucked a hank of hair that had escaped her ponytail behind her ear. “I meet a lot of smartasses in school. A lot of tough-guy types.”
“I’ll just bet.”
“I’m the new kid a lot, and you know what that means.”
He stopped and faced her again. “You seem intent on telling me this.”
“I am.”
“So do it, little-miss-know-it-all. Then leave me alone.”
“You don’t have to be so grouchy.” She cocked up her chin. “You have to be smarter and tougher. If they give you any crap, just give it back double. That’s what I do.”
“And I’m sure you’re very popular.”
“With the principal.” She shrugged.
“It’s cool.” “I’ll think about your advice. Okay?” Chance saw a couple of his bunk mates across the way, and he scowled, not wanting them to see him conversing with a kid. “Now, for the last time, will you please buzz off?”
This time, when he walked away, she didn’t follow or call out. Relieved, he took one last glance over his shoulder, just to make sure. She stood alone, looking out of place in the midst of all the activity around her; she looked lonely.
For a moment he almost felt sorry for her, then he shook his head. If the kid was lonely, it was because she was a know-it-all pest. Let her mother, the witch-Gypsy-fortune-teller worry about her, she wasn’t his problem. His lips curved up at the thought of actually being responsible for a kid like that. Forget sugar
