14: why is adoption not a good idea?

Safiya thought I was joking, but I wasn't. I really don't know what we're supposed to do with this kid. Nobody does. So we all just stand there and stare at him, wondering if he's about to spring awake or if we're looking at a corpse. It's hard to tell, what with all the blood all over him.

Then Midge makes an exasperated noise, tapping her foot. "This is ridiculous. Let's just take him to a hospital or something."

"A hospital? How the hell are we supposed to explain what we're doing with this kid?" Safiya argues. "I mean, does he even have parents? A pack? Anything?"

I shake my head. "He's a fighter, Safi. They don't have packs. Most of them left theirs or got rejected, or something."

"Oh, alright," Safiya replies, bugging her eyes out at me. "You know everything, because you're the freaking expert on werewolf culture, aren't you?"

"My dad went to these things, okay! You know that. That's the only reason I know anything—"

"Yet you're the one who got us stuck with this dumb kid who's probably dead and we don't even—"

"Guys, guys!" interjects Midge, stepping between the two of us. At first I don't know what she's on about, but then she points at Bullet, who seems to be stirring. I swore I saw his head move an inch. "He's not dead. He's waking up."

Safiya and I drift into silence as the kid groans, his eyes opening. One's a bright ice blue, while the other's a wolf's eye, warm amber. He pauses to sniff the cold pavement under him before sitting up fully, scratching his head.

He blinks at us like he's never seen people before.

Then he says, "Food."

I check with Midge and Safiya to be sure I heard that right, but then he says again, his voice caught somewhere between a human whine and a wolf's whimper, "Food."

"Aw. He's hungry," Midge says, and I give her a weird look, wondering how in the heck this is an "aw" moment. If anything it's a "what the hell" moment, because this kid's name is Bullet and he's supposed to be formidable or whatever, but he's a skinny teenager whose first thought upon almost dying is...food. I'm entirely lost. I'm off-the-map lost. This can't be it. This can't be what my life has come to.

"Yeah, well so am I," I counter. "He's gonna have to answer a few questions for us if he thinks he's getting anything."

"Go easy on him, Grey. He's—"

"A kid. I know. But he's also one of their best fighters, apparently, and looking at him, that doesn't add up."

Safiya nods in agreement, and neither of the two girls stop me when I approach the kid, sitting in front of him. He's still sitting there, smudgy and shivering, cooped up right beside a busted trash bag. He seems distracted, watching the city lights dance in the distance as he mutters every few moments, "Food. Food. Food?"

He's insane. They must have beat his brains out of him.

"Hey," I say, and his eyes snap towards me. "Do you know where you are? Do you remember what just happened?"

He peers at me closely, pale eyebrows drawing in for a moment. Then he reaches out a hand, gesturing at me. I'm not sure what he wants, but he seems pleased when I give him my hand.

I watch with slight discomfort as he lifts my palm towards his nose and sniffs it. "Yes," says Bullet, the first word he's said besides "food" in the last five minutes. "You're a friend. Right? Ricky was going to hurt you, but that's not fair. You didn't do anything. And then you saved me, so you're a friend."

He lifts his mismatched eyes towards Midge and Safi. "You're all friends."

I shrug. "I mean, sure, if you want to be. I'm Grey."

Bullet nods and shakes my hand weakly before returning it to me. "Grey. My name's Jamie."

"What? You mean it's not Bullet?"

Jamie rolls his eyes like he's heard that one a million times before. "No, that's the name the trainers gave me. But my mom, she called me Jamie. So that's my name."

I don't tell him that I thought the whole Bullet thing was kinda badass. I just ask him, "How old are you, Jamie?"

He pauses to think about it. "Fifteen."

"And how long have you been fighting?"

"I don't know. A while. But I've always been in the ring. Even when I was little," Jamie answers, which doesn't make one hundred percent sense, but I'm beginning to doubt that much of anything about this guy does. "Do you have food? They never have anything good in the cages..."

I don't even want to know what the cages are. I just sigh, sensing he's tired of answering questions and getting to my feet. Turning towards Midge and Safiya, I say, "Alright, here's how we're doing this. You guys stay here and keep an eye on Jamie, and I'll go find a convenience store and buy him something to eat real fast. When I get back, we'll decide where to go from there. Okay?"

"Oh, so now you make plans?" taunts Safiya.

I decide not to spare her a reply. Instead, I just pivot on my heel and make for the end of the alleyway, but not before Midge calls after me, "Wait up! I'm coming with you, Grey. Stay here, Safiya."

"What!" explodes Safi. "You can't leave me here with this kid—I'm not good with children—I'll eat him—"

As Midge falls into step beside me, I chuckle. "No you won't, Safi."

I stay long enough to hear her sputter, and then round the corner onto the street. Truth is, I'm not convinced Safiya wouldn't try to eat Jamie. But I am convinced that Jamie knows how to defend himself. He's proved it more than once in that ring.

People mull about the streets as usual, and at first I'm confused until I realize that, oh yeah, not everyone just faced down a crazy werewolf and barely escaped with their lives. In fact, it's kind of quiet, a soft symphony of car horns, warbled voices, gentle footsteps.

Lucky for us, there's a Walmart across the street. I hit the button for the crosswalk, watching the cars drive by in silence.

For a moment, I almost forget Midge is with me. Yet, like Midge tends to do, she reminds me of her presence once again. She says, "You can't help but be a little worried about him."

"Hmm?"

"Jamie. I mean, he's really been a fighter his whole life? There's got to be something wrong with that."

"Not to him," I say, lending her a sideways glance. "Not if you don't know anything else."

"What if he's never been outside? What if they've locked him up, been starving him this whole time? My God, what if—"

"Jesus, Midge, you're like a helicopter mom, or something," I cut her off, unable to stifle a chuckle. I'm not sure why, but she doesn't laugh with me, just gives me this weird, wide-eyed expression like she's dying. It startles me; I thought she'd been okay ever since she woke up earlier. "Hey, you okay? Your face is all flushed."

"Huh?" She looks down at the sidewalk. "Oh. It is?"

"Yeah," I joke. "Almost as pink as your hair."

Her hands self-consciously go to her head, but I just smile at her and lower them. She stares up at me in silence for a moment, then gently plucks my hands free. "It was a spell."

"What?"

"My hair. You're always looking at it and I've been waiting for you to ask. It was a spell I did when I was learning, but I said it wrong, and it turned my hair pink. Permanently."

"Really?" my eyebrows go up. "I thought you dyed it, or something."

Midge shakes her head, glancing towards the street. The light's gone red, and the walking signal flashes. She steps away from the curb, and I follow after her. "No, I didn't. But I've been thinking about dyeing it back, when I get the chance."

I consider it for a moment. A dark-haired Midge. Normal-headed Midge. Doesn't even sound right. "Mm...nah, you shouldn't."

I could've imagined it, but it seems like Midge jolts a little, a weird, unnatural misstep as she walks. "I shouldn't?"

"No," I tell her. "I like your hair as it is. I think it suits you."

As we cut through the Walmart parking lot, Midge falls off into silence. When I glimpse her, though, she's smiling, and I just shake my head, wondering if she's trying to kill me with that expression on her face.

Walmart is a strange place, especially now. I walk in there and it feels like I've been transported to planet Andromeda.

Actually, I think I remember something about Andromeda being a galaxy. Whatever. You get the point.

Because it just doesn't make sense that a place like this would be in this plane. Like, clogging up the makeup section you've got the rich moms in their pencil skirts and kitten heels with their iPhone 70s or whatever in their hands, and searching through the array of bath soaps will be one of those homeless-looking vampire dudes who call their style "hipster." I don't even know anymore.

Not to mention there's the fact that this store has literally everything. Like, yeah, I came in here for food for Jamie, but I know I'm leaving with about six packs of gum and a five-dollar flashlight I thought was cool for whatever reason.

Midge steers me towards the store's back, the snack racks. The two of us pause in front of a wall of chips, which has just about everything from sour cream and onion Ruffles to those strange sweet potato chips that are merely posing as potato chips. Who do they think they're fooling? They're not really potato chips unless they're covered in grease and a bunch of other preservatives that I know are killing me but continue to eat anyway.

"We didn't ask him what he wants," Midge says. "What do you think he wants?"

"I don't know. Maybe some jerky. Don't they like meat?"

"I think that's a stereotype. I've met a vegan werewolf before."

"Well, Jesus, you've seen everything."

Midge rolls her eyes, snatching up a Pringles can and then turning to grab a roll of sandwich cookies. Holding her merchandise to her chest, she leads the way out of the aisles. "This should do. He shouldn't complain, anyway."

As Midge is checking out, I see this chew toy hanging near the register. It's a rubber bone with a colorful tassel attached to it, and it's literally two dollars. Before I can overthink anything, I grab it and put it on the conveyor belt.

Midge looks at the toy, then at me. "He's not a pet, Grey. Why do you think—"

"Oh, just buy it. Who knows. He might like it."

Midge lets the cashier scan it, but she's giving me a death glare. "You're an idiot."

"You've already told me that."

A smile crosses my face when Midge and I get back to the alleyway and both Safiya and Jamie are there in one piece. Safiya's standing there with her arms crossed, staring at the kid, and Jamie's just plucking at a fray in his shorts and humming joyfully.

Yeah, this still doesn't make any sense.

I toss the chips and the cookies at him and he makes a delighted noise, and then I toss the squeaky toy at him, and he makes an even more delighted noise. I shoot Midge a look that says, I told you so.

I grimace a little as Jamie tears the Pringles can open and tips the contents into his mouth like he would a drink, crunching happily. I rub my temples. I get the feeling this kid's going to be a bit of work.

And then, it gets worse.

"Here's what I'm thinking," Midge says then, resting her hands in her pockets. "My house doesn't have any space. Safiya'll probably starve the kid if she's forced to look after him for too long. So...he should go home with you, Grey."

"What?" I protest, every nerve in my body rebelling against this. Yes, I had saved the kid or whatever, but that was only because he'd saved me first. Yes, I'd agreed we had to look after him. But never had I said I wanted to be the one to do it. "No. I don't think that's a good idea. I mean, can I honestly be—"

"You heard Midge," Safiya interrupts. "Her house is no vacancy, and I need my alone time. You're taking him home, Grey, and that's the end of this discussion."

"But—"

"Nope," Midge snaps. "No buts."

Jamie pauses his ferocious snacking to look up at me. He offers a smile so wide that his eyes crease, and I try to return it, but I'm not exactly in a smiley mood.

"I never signed up for this," I say. "I never agreed to...to freaking adopt a child."

Midge pats my shoulder like she and Safiya haven't just ruined my private life as they know it. "You'll figure something out. I know you will."