Page 24 of Glass
10
POPPY
I sit on the edge of a picnic table in the center of an unused camping lot, my feet dangling over the edge as I stare aimlessly at the trees. Doc tried to follow me when I snuck away from camp, but I told him I didn’t need a babysitter.
My mother’s letter sits next to me, the corner tucked under my thigh so it can’t go floating off.
“What were you doing, Mother?” I breathe out, wishing for the first time since she left that I could have a conversation with her. I never cared about anything she had to say until now.
“Corey says our parents were villains.” The soft voice startles, me and I jerk around to see Shelby that has managed to sneak up on me unannounced. My instincts need to be better out here; I’ve been off my game since the moment I arrived in Maine.
I don’t want to sugarcoat anything for my sister. “They weren’t good people,” I confirm.
“Then why are you talking to her?” Shelby puts her free hand on her hip. The other hand clutches a black quilted bag.
“Only because I wish I knew what she was thinking,” I tell her honestly. “But even if she was here to answer my questions, I’m sure I wouldn’t like any of her answers. She wasn’t a good person. Neither of our parents were. And the only thing they did right was having all of us.”
Shelby takes her hand off her hip so she can clutch her bag with both hands. “You’re not going to abandon us the way they did, are you?” Her voice is so small, and finally she looks her age. She might be sassy, but she’s still only a child, barely even a teenager.
“Never,” I promise fiercely.
“Good.” She nods, taking me at my word hopefully. I don’t want her to ever have any doubts about what I’m willing to do to keep them now that I’ve found them. She holds her bag up with both hands and shakes it a little. “Can I fix your hair now?”
“Of course.” I slide off the picnic table, taking my mother’s letter and cramming it into my pocket. I sit on the bench, patting the table for Shelby to climb up behind me.
She steps onto the bench and then the table, and plops down with her legs on either side of me. She pulls out unlabeled bottles of hair product and a whole collection of combs, lying it all out beside her on the table.
“Where did you get all of that?” I try to swallow my surprise, but I wasn’t expecting anyone to have a salon’s worth of hair products in a place like this. I should have known better, considering how neatly braided Shelby’s hair is.
Shelby leans over my shoulder and points seemingly at random. “Way out that way, there’s a woman, Kiara, who came to The Lost about the same time as us. She’s a hairdresser, but she doesn’t live traveling with the pack, so she stays in one of the houses. She taught me how to do hair and makes sure I have what I need.”
“The pack has houses?” In my head, I guess I pictured them all scattered, camping across the park. I get a little choked up with guilt over jumping to that assumption.
“Yeah, mostly to be near fishing areas in and around Acadia. There’s also a few apartments in Brooklyn, but no one goes there often.” Shelby carefully pulls a comb through my hair, but I mess her up when I jerk my head around to glance at her.
“Brooklyn, New York?” That’s at least eight or nine hours from here.
“Mhm.” Shelby puts her hands on either side of my head and gently pushes my head forward again. I let her since it hides my gaping mouth from her. I can understand some houses in the area, even if I expected things to be a little more primitive, but apartments in Brooklyn… That’s completely out of left field.
I tilt my head, more questions on my lips as I prepare to pump Shelby for more information, but shetsksat me, as if I’m the unruly younger sister. “No more talking, okay? I need to focus on fixing this mess for you.”
The questions fade away as a smile tugs at my lips. I can’t believe twenty-four hours ago I didn’t even know this precious girl, barely a teenager, existed. And already, I can’t imagine my life without her—or any of them.
* * *
I feel about one hundred times more relaxed as Shelby tugs me by the hand to lead me back to camp. I can’t remember the last time anyone besides myself or David’s mom touched my hair. Not only was the routine much needed to detangle the disaster my hair was this morning, but it also gave Shelby and I some amazing time to bond.
After she got over the first few minutes of awkward silence, she talked like she was starting a podcast. I’m pretty sure I know every thought she’s ever had at this point, and I loved every minute of it.
A wide smile splits my face—so big it almost hurts my cheeks—as we step back into the main area of camp. Thanks to Shelby, I now know that we’re staying in the center of the camp with Doc, while most of the other pack members stay in adjoining campsites.
Doc kneels next to Jacob, cleaning up a scrape he’s managed to get on his knee in the time we were gone. At the sound of Shelby greeting everyone as we return, Doc whips his head around and takes us in with wide eyes. He nervously lurches to his feet.
“You’re back,” he points out needlessly.
“Yeah.” I look around the campsite, taking in a couple of unfamiliar shifters sitting with my other three siblings. There’s a man showing Corey chords on a guitar. My gaze lingers for a moment until I realize what’s missing. “Where’s Felix?”
Doc hesitates, and my heart rate ricochets up.