protect it from prying eyes.
She pulled up next to that building where nothing good could possibly happen, its neon lights flashing in the growing dusk. Without a word to her son, she hopped out and strolled inside, taking the keys with her. Not wanting any part of whatever would go down in that place, Finn stayed put, deciding to enjoy his pilfered treats while he still could.
When his food was gone and boredom set in, Finn sat back and stared at the building’s front door. Above it, reddish-blue letters spelled out the word Infinity . Inside he knew he’d find the city’s most infamous names, including one of his mother’s visitors—and the man who gave him his leather jacket. But no one had gone in or out since his mother, and he was starting to wonder if she’d slipped out the back and left him there.
Hoping for the best, he started rooting around the car in search of entertainment, finding it in the form of a random copper wire. Already seeing its potential, he began to shape the thin metal, looping a head, bending legs, twisting and tying a piece of his candy wrapper to form clothes. When he was done he had a tiny man two inches tall, with one arm slightly longer than the other.
“No one’s perfect,” he told the figure, deciding not to fix it. A glance out the window showed him the doors were still closed, the sidewalks empty. “Bet you wouldn’t let a lady like that take you to the back room,” he said to the man, imagining him nodding back. “Bet you’re better than that. I’ll be better than that.”
When he went to move the man to the dashboard, ready to imagine him having a normal, happy morning with family, Finn felt a rush of worry, making his arms hesitate in the air. By now he recognized it not as his own worry, but belonging to the girl who didn’t know how to handle such emotions.
What’s wrong? he asked Snow, already poised to help her defend herself. But, instead of bullies at school, she told him about a lady at her house asking about him, a friend of her mommy’s who wanted to know if he was in Snow’s class.
Don’t tell her nothing! was his immediate response, now feeling his own worry that their secret was being revealed. He knew how scared Snow was of strangers and respected her wishes to keep their real names and homes separate—so who was this lady who knew about him, and would she make Snow stop talking to him?
She asked if I’m talking to you right now.
Finn sat up straighter, instantly mad at the fact some person thought she could butt into his friendship with Snow. His anger forced out a reply to sound as harsh and serious as possible. Tell her no.
But that’s a lie.
“What’s so wrong with lying?” he muttered to himself, half annoyed by her unwillingness to say anything that wasn’t the truth. If she wouldn’t lie, then he could at least make it so she wouldn’t have to. So he sat with his arms crossed and pouted rather than say anything else.
Finn?
He heard her calling and debated answering. If there was a lady asking about him on the other end of their conversation, then Finn didn’t want her knowing anything else. And, he figured, if he stopped answering, then Snow could tell the truth. So he stayed silent, hating how much it hurt to ignore Snow’s attempts to contact him in a moment of need, feeling like he was betraying her. It felt like a hand reaching into his body and pulling him forward. But still he resisted, closing his eyes against the pain of silencing his own voice.
After a few long minutes the internal tugging began to fade. Finn released a breath, grateful Snow was no longer in need yet wondering what had happened. He considered asking her, but didn’t want to risk the woman still being there. Instead he returned his attention back to the wire man, and continued his wait.
AN HOUR LATER his mother emerged, one side of her face bruised and her hair a mess. “What happened to you?” he asked, half curious, half not caring. He
She pulled up next to that building where nothing good could possibly happen, its neon lights flashing in the growing dusk. Without a word to her son, she hopped out and strolled inside, taking the keys with her. Not wanting any part of whatever would go down in that place, Finn stayed put, deciding to enjoy his pilfered treats while he still could.
When his food was gone and boredom set in, Finn sat back and stared at the building’s front door. Above it, reddish-blue letters spelled out the word Infinity . Inside he knew he’d find the city’s most infamous names, including one of his mother’s visitors—and the man who gave him his leather jacket. But no one had gone in or out since his mother, and he was starting to wonder if she’d slipped out the back and left him there.
Hoping for the best, he started rooting around the car in search of entertainment, finding it in the form of a random copper wire. Already seeing its potential, he began to shape the thin metal, looping a head, bending legs, twisting and tying a piece of his candy wrapper to form clothes. When he was done he had a tiny man two inches tall, with one arm slightly longer than the other.
“No one’s perfect,” he told the figure, deciding not to fix it. A glance out the window showed him the doors were still closed, the sidewalks empty. “Bet you wouldn’t let a lady like that take you to the back room,” he said to the man, imagining him nodding back. “Bet you’re better than that. I’ll be better than that.”
When he went to move the man to the dashboard, ready to imagine him having a normal, happy morning with family, Finn felt a rush of worry, making his arms hesitate in the air. By now he recognized it not as his own worry, but belonging to the girl who didn’t know how to handle such emotions.
What’s wrong? he asked Snow, already poised to help her defend herself. But, instead of bullies at school, she told him about a lady at her house asking about him, a friend of her mommy’s who wanted to know if he was in Snow’s class.
Don’t tell her nothing! was his immediate response, now feeling his own worry that their secret was being revealed. He knew how scared Snow was of strangers and respected her wishes to keep their real names and homes separate—so who was this lady who knew about him, and would she make Snow stop talking to him?
She asked if I’m talking to you right now.
Finn sat up straighter, instantly mad at the fact some person thought she could butt into his friendship with Snow. His anger forced out a reply to sound as harsh and serious as possible. Tell her no.
But that’s a lie.
“What’s so wrong with lying?” he muttered to himself, half annoyed by her unwillingness to say anything that wasn’t the truth. If she wouldn’t lie, then he could at least make it so she wouldn’t have to. So he sat with his arms crossed and pouted rather than say anything else.
Finn?
He heard her calling and debated answering. If there was a lady asking about him on the other end of their conversation, then Finn didn’t want her knowing anything else. And, he figured, if he stopped answering, then Snow could tell the truth. So he stayed silent, hating how much it hurt to ignore Snow’s attempts to contact him in a moment of need, feeling like he was betraying her. It felt like a hand reaching into his body and pulling him forward. But still he resisted, closing his eyes against the pain of silencing his own voice.
After a few long minutes the internal tugging began to fade. Finn released a breath, grateful Snow was no longer in need yet wondering what had happened. He considered asking her, but didn’t want to risk the woman still being there. Instead he returned his attention back to the wire man, and continued his wait.
AN HOUR LATER his mother emerged, one side of her face bruised and her hair a mess. “What happened to you?” he asked, half curious, half not caring. He
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