The Gift

Chapter 58

Wisty

THEY FINALLY GIVE UP on me. At least for now. I curl up in a tight little ball, trying to recoup my energy for when they come back. The endless hours of drip-drip-drip quiet are interrupted only by the occasional scuffle of a rat, the noise of the grate opening in the food chute, and the thunk, thunk, thunk of a loaf of stale bread and a semifrozen block of lima beans descending to me.

Yes, lima beans. With freezer burn.

I pick up the crumbling block, and I'm startled by what I think sounds like a sizzle. Must be my imagination. It reminds me of when I was six, when Whit and I plotted to steal Mom's lima beans out of the freezer and flush them down the toilet without her knowing. We succeeded with part A, but not part B. And guess who got in trouble? Me. Always me. And still it's me, alone in my punishment.

Whit, I need you here now! I hurl the chunk of beans at the door with a power I didn't even know I had, and it shatters with a satisfying crunch.

"Uh-oh." I hear a voice from behind the door. "You okay in there, Wist?"

Whit?

"Whit?" I shout, running toward the door as I hear a key in the lock.

In comes my brother, escorted by a chunky school monitor. Much to my amusement, the guy actually slips on a couple of lima beans as he enters the room but tragically doesn't fall flat on his face.

"Jeez, Wisty, what happened to your head?" is Whit's greeting.

I'm hugging him in an instant, and then I see who's being escorted in behind him. Sporting a black eye. How predictable is this?

I glare at the weasel. "I thought this was supposed to be solitary."

He glares back. "Don't blame me, Wisty. It wasn't my decision. Ask your brother."

I let Whit go as the grunting monitors shove their wards into the basement with me. Without a word they leave, the door clicking and locking behind them.

"What happened to you two?" I ask, not entirely hiding my delight at their imprisonment, or really at the fact that I have some company, which, as you probably know, misery so loves.

Whit shrugs. "Byron and I got in a good old-fashioned fistfight. You know. Guy stuff."

"Well, good for you, boys. And good for me. I have company now!" I spread my hands out grandly. "Welcome to my little shop of horrors. They do free head-waxing here, by the way. I'm sure they'd do your chest for you, Whit. And your monobrow, Byron."

"That's vile," Byron remarks, picking up a lima bean from the dirty floor and examining it.

And it's going to get a lot more vile down in this dungeon.