The Survivor (Book #2)

Chapter 39

"Are you scared they'd get you in trouble?" he said, still grinning. He had told me he didn't have siblings, but it was clear at this moment. He was so cocky about it, I wanted to knock him down a couple of pegs. I wanted to show him that I didn't fear anything.

"Nope. I fear nothing." I retorted in a dry tone.

"Not even... getting a bad grade on this assignment?" he asked with a melodramatic gasp, putting his hand over his mouth. My body shook with laughter until he stopped making the goofy face.

"We only have a couple of days left in class, and I'm pretty sure our teacher has given me an A on every assignment without checking any of my work," I argued.

"What do we have to do for this project anyway?" I asked quizzically. He shrugged his backpack off his shoulder and pulled out the instructions. While he described the exact requirements, I chose a cute slideshow background and hoped that it wouldn't be the only contribution I had to the project.

We argued over the topic for a minute or two and then came to a compromise that we both happily accepted. We worked in silence on our respective laptops, typing notes to each other in the comment section of Google Slides and then commenting back on each other's comments.

Charlotte came in and placed a tray of homemade chocolate chip cookies in front of us quietly, before slipping out with a smile in my direction. She also subtly pointed to Asher behind his head and gave me a thumbs up. I shook my head with a fake smile plastered on my face, trying not to reveal anything to either of them. She closed the door softly, but I heard her giggling out in the hall.

"Gosh, she's so nice," I said, taking a big bite of a cookie and humming with delight.

"Better than your uncle?" Asher asked, looking up. I froze and lowered the cookie, eyeing him suspiciously until I remembered that he had overheard me at the police station. He knew that I had lived with my uncle before I had come to the Anders house. He didn't know anything else. I tried to calm my breathing and act casual, but it was too late.

"Yes, much better," I replied truthfully. It looked like he was processing something or putting pieces together in his mind that hadn't made sense before. I longed to distract him with a question before it could lead him to the truth about me, but instead, I stayed silent.

"Can I ask what he was like?" Asher said cautiously as if he were delicately choosing each of his words. He closed his laptop slowly and gave me his full attention.

"He wasn't the nicest guy in the world," I finally admitted, catching his eyes once more. I was scanning him for a reaction almost immediately. Would it be pity? Disgust? Would he care to ask more questions or was he just looking for a good story to tell his friends? Would he hate me after? How could he not?

"I'm sorry, Maya. That's awful." His forehead creased and I thought I could see anger in his expression. Anger at me?

"It wasn't that bad." I lied instinctively.

"It doesn't sound good," he countered. "It's okay if it was bad."

I shrugged, unsure of what to say.

"I don't really like thinking about it. He wasn't the greatest guy, and I think I learned a lot of bad habits from him. Charlotte and the Anders have already taught me so much more about family and myself and love..." I trailed off, happy that I was gaining good memories, and wishing they could replace the old ones.

"I'm really happy you found them. They're lucky to have you." Asher acknowledged, opening his laptop back up and looking down at it. He seemed to sense that I wasn't going to go any further.

"They're lucky to have me?" I asked with surprise.

He looked up at me like I was crazy.

"Yeah, Maya. You're the kindest girl I've ever met, and you're so strong."

A laugh unintentionally bubbled out of my throat.

"Strong?" I questioned incredulously. Weak. Weak. Weak. "I'm the opposite of strong," I said, unable to hear anything but my uncle's voice in my head.

"That's not true!" he defended. "You're very strong."

"Prove it." I challenged, positive that his assessment of me was flawed. I waited for a counterargument but instead, I saw a fist fly at my arm.

Instead of punching me, his clenched fist had barely grazed me before it was ricocheting back towards him. He shook his hand and hissed, pretending he had broken it. I laughed at his goofiness, and he gave me a soft smile.

"Very strong." He emphasized, looking back down at his screen.

We continued to work on the project for the next hour until we had almost completely finished it.