Juveniles

Chapter 4

He had different clothes on, and I didn’t know he  was Irish, but there was no mistaking the sly glitter in his eyes, or his spiked brown hair. A corner of his mouth twitched, but he had the smile. My smile.

“My name’s Damien. And you are?” I stammered.

“I’m . . . I . . . I think I know . . .”

“This is Parfait.” Blaine had saved me from explaining. In one smooth motion he put the jacket around my shoulders again, kept his arm there, and toted me to a seat. Damien’s smile flickered, and he nodded at Blaine.

“As I was sayin’,” Damien clapped his hands and gazed around at the other Juveniles. “Caraway excepts on’y the best, and on’y keeps the best. So if yer lookin’ to get in, I’d be careful of how you act.” I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. It was just surreal. I couldn’t believe that he was here. As in, right now. Right after I had seen him. I felt like crying.

I knew him. From somewhere. Someplace. And apparently Blaine knew him, too. But where? And When? Damien went on and on and on and on and on about how amazing Caraway was. He even listed people that went there, like Amelia Earhart, Thomas Jefferson, John Peterson (whoever that is), and the inventor of the Pony Express.

Finally he saluted all of us, kissed Trisha’s hand, and left. Just left. Not thinking, I followed him. I heard Blaine step up behind me.

“Just a second. Okay? I need to do . . . something.” Damien turned the corner ahead of me as Blaine backed up. I could've stopped there. Let Damien leave and stayed in the hell-hole that was the Home. But I followed.

Damien strode purposefully deeper into the Home, down into places I never knew existed. While I trailed him, I gazed around, something telling me to check out my surroundings so I couldn’t get lost.

I guess the Home had a basement, big surprise. Where else would they torture little children? Just kidding, but seriously. It was cold and dark, and I winced as I crunched along over dozens of dead bugs. Damien never looked back, so I was congratulating myself on how sneaky I was when I heard a thud behind me.

A hand slid over my mouth, and the other tightened around my waist.

“Why’ve you followed me?” Damien hissed in my ear. He must’ve jumped up to the rafters, waited until I had passed, then dropped behind me and grabbed me ever so rudely. I stopped thrashing, and focused on the sound of his voice. Then I fell limp. Damien swore loudly, and I bit my lip to keep from laughing. I don’t know about you, but I think it’s funny when people with accents curse. Like, when Damien said ‘crap’ (trust me, he said something much worse than that) it sounded a little like ‘craw.’ It’s hilarious.

He loosened his grip, like I knew he would. I flipped around and kicked his knee. Unfortunately, he was waiting, and he had already hopped back. I threw myself backwards too fast and stumbled, still managing to stay on my feet. When Damien wanted to look menacing, he could angle his eyebrows and make his eyes look murderous.

“Now what?” He asked, throwing out his arms. “You go’ me. Whad’ya wan’?”

“Answers.” I spat. “Who are you?” He sighed.

“So, you don’ recognize me?” He looked disappointed. “Blaine said you would.” He turned around started walking away. Now, you have to know, if there’s one thing in this world I hate, it’s people walking away from me when I’m talking to them.

“Hey!” I cried, grabbing his arm. Before I could blink He had turned around, flipped me upside-down, and thrown me over his shoulder. By the ankles. Which means my hands were almost dragging against the ground and my feet were against his neck.

But the worst part was that he walked past the Hall, which was still full from his speech. So everyone saw Damien strolling away carrying me. I beat at his calves.

“Put me down!” I screamed. But he just kept walking. God he was strong. “Will you at least tell me where we’re going?” He didn’t stop.

“Home.”

Mysterious much?

We walked right out to the parking lot, toward a black Ferrari. I gagged (partly from being held upside down for more than five minutes, partly from the idea of Damien driving a Ferrari), and tried to twist around. Finally, I just settled on kicking Damien in the face. My heel hit him solidly in the temple, and he let go of my feet. Unfortunately, I landed on my back, blasting away every ounce of air I had in my lungs. Fortunately, I didn’t land on my head.

Damien growled.

“I didn’ wan’ to do this. But you’re too much trouble.” He knelt down while I was still trying to catch my breath, and slipped something over my mouth.

“Hey!” I cried, but little black spots were already dancing on the edge of my vision. “No Damien, don’t do that.” I slurred as Damien doubled then tripled above me. “I’m too pretty. I’ll pass out.” Then I passed out.