The City Is at War

{Ceejay.}

With this Fenton kid is the driver’s seat, I finally realize how tired I am. But even with lack of sleep weighing down on me, I find time to look over my new companion; if you could call him that.

Upon closer inspection, I see that his hair is closely cropped about his temples, and two jagged scars trace their path above his right ear. Even in the faint light, I can see them clearly. I wonder how he got them.

Fenton has very nice cheekbones; high and defined. He is almost reminiscent of a young Johnny Depp in the facial area. Almost. His jaw is more square. With a light layer of stubble dotting his chin. His eyes are a bright, deep shade of blue. One I’ve never seen before. He is quite beautiful.

I snuggle deeper into my seat, watching as Fenton taps his fingers against the wheel. Something about him makes me feel safe. I’m not sure why, and I’m not sure I like it. He feels like home. Maybe it’s because I’ve been out of contact with the human race for so long. For the moment, though, I’m going to ignore it.

My eyes are only closed for what seems like seconds before I am being nudged in the arm. I mumble something about stopping, not wanting to open my eyes. I can feel the sunlight burning against my lids.

“Ceejay, wake up,” a deep, gravely voice coaxes me.

“No,” I mutter, shaking a hand at Fenton.

I feel his hands hesitate against my arm. They are strong, and lightly calloused. I huddle against the warm glass of the window and Fenton retreats. I hear the driver’s side door shut. I smile, satisfaction painting my features.

Next thing I know, though, the door I am leaning against isn’t there anymore. I tumble out of the car and onto the grass at the side of the road where Fenton has apparently parked the Volvo.

“What the fuck!” I shout, glaring up at Fenton’s smirking face.

“I told you to wake up.”

“I didn’t know you were going to dump me on the fucking ground!”

Fenton shrugs, and turns to his little sister. What was her name? Oh, right. Norah. She looks up to her brother, then back at me. She couldn’t be more than eleven. I suddenly hope she didn’t hear me cuss.

“I’m hungry, Fenton,” she speaks all of our thoughts.

“That’s why I pulled over,” he motions behind us to a gas station. “Are you going to get up?” he asks me.

I glare at him as I stand and wipe grass off the seat of my shorts. I give him one final eye roll and then push past him. My hand lingers for a second too long on his chest. I hope he doesn’t notice.

I lead the way to the front door. Norah comes up on my right. She looks down, dark chocolate ringlets falling from behind her ear.

“What happened to your leg?” she asks, all innocence.

“Norah!” Fenton cuts in, a pink blush ghosting over his cheeks. I smile as he apologizes. He scratches the back of his head and grins lopsidedly when I tell him it’s fine. I feel a sense of déja-vu.

I turn back to Norah, “I had an accident, that’s all.” She seems to accept this for now, and pushes open the door. There is a chime from the bell above as we step inside. Fenton first, then me, and Norah on my heels.

I try to move quickly once in the store, out of habit. Fenton and Norah, though, take their time picking soda brands. I tap the toe of my beaten-up Chuck against the floor, annoyed.

“Can we pick it up, please?” I groan. I have two bags of food, both perishable and non, and they are weighing down my arms. Fenton turns slightly to look at me.

“Root beer or cream soda?” he asks, holding up two bottles.

I point at the pink pop, sighing. Fenton smiles, and hands them both to Norah.

“Can we get some Goldfish, too?” she asks, cradling the soda.

“Of course,” Fenton goes off in search of the crackers and leaves me alone with his sister. I stare down at her, smile awkwardly.

“What did you get?” she asks.

“Some fruit, chips, lunchmeat, bread. Most of this we’ll have to eat soon. But I also got some canned stuff, too.”

Fenton returns, thank god, before I have to say anything else. I lead the way outside and back to the Volvo. I shove the bags into the back seat, after grabbing a peach.

Perched on the hood, I watch Fenton uncap a bottle of water and hand it to Norah. I turn away and take a large bite of my peach. The sweet, cold nectar quenches my dry lips and mouth. And, of course, Fenton decides to take a seat beside me just then.

“You want your pop now?” he offers it to me. I chew and swallow as fast as I can, nodding feverishly. I take the bottle and place it in my lap.

“Bite?” I ask, leaning the peach in his direction.

“Sure,” he smiles, taking the fruit from my grasp. I watch as his lips curve around the peach, jaws unclenching. I push my tongue against my labret piercing when I see his tongue dart out to lap up the access juice. Something stirs in the pit of my stomach. I quickly look away. He hands the fruit back to me.

He doesn’t move though. He continues to sit beside me. My cheeks flush the slightest bit. The sun beats down on us, and sweat glistens on my thighs. I lean back onto the windshield.

Fenton looks back at me, then past me. Panic crosses his eyes.

“What?”

“Where’s Norah?”

“Huh?”

“Norah?” He hops down from the hood and rounds the car. “She’s not here.” I come up behind him, place a hand on his shoulder.

“She can’t have gone far,” I assure him. “Norah!” I shout, starting to walk back the way we came. We only have to walk a few minutes, though.

I stop mid-stride when I see Norah, dragging a skinny blonde girl with purple streaks in tow.

“Who the fuck is that?”