Walking With The Outcast

Chapter 12 - Ace

"It's beautiful, Queenie!" I pepper kisses across her face, making her giggle excitedly. Her smile, so carefree and innocent, helps to relieve the dread of going home.

As long as she's safe, I can handle it.

Scooping the ball of energy into my arms, I stand up, intending to carry her the couple of miles home. While walking away from the kindergarten, I watch the last vestiges of the sun and feel a small twinge of gratitude that the new kid is giving Lucilia a ride home.

Halfway home, Queenie's babbling comes to a halt and she stares intently over my shoulder. "Look, Bubba. A twuck!"

I glance backwards and find the new kid speeding towards us. When he gets closer, I notice the empty passenger seat and realize that he dropped Lucilia off already. Slowing down, Ethan parks beside us and hops out.

"You want a ride?" He questions with a curious look at Queenie.

"No."

Annoyance creeps onto his face. "Seriously, Ace? Look at how cold she is." I follow his gesturing hand to a shivering Queenie, who stares imploringly into my eyes.

"Pwease, Bubba."

I huff and place her on the ground, taking off my coat to bundle her up. Then I pick her up and approach Ethan's black pick-up.

Catching Ethan throwing Queenie a thumbs-up, I glare at him menacingly. "Unlock the door, new kid."

Rolling his eyes but complying nonetheless, Ethan hopped in the truck, and I deposit Queenie onto the middle seat.

She smiles widely at Ethan. "Are you Bubba's fwiend?"

"Yes."

"No." We speak simultaneously.

After a brief glower sent my way, Ethan starts the car. "So what's your name, cutie?"

Queenie's ever-present smile widens brilliantly. "Queenie."

"And how old are you, Miss Queenie?"

"Five," she says, holding up four fingers. I reach over and lift her thumb.

"Well, Miss Queenie, I'm Ethan, your brother's friend." He reciprocates her sweet smile, but then speaks, "Where to, Ace?"

I gesture towards the road. "Straight."

"Still a man of many words, I see."

I do not deign to reply.

The road spans before us, disappearing beneath the truck hood with every foot closer to my impending 'discussion'. My anxiousness increases, and I do not want to go home.

With each passing tree, my grip on the cushioned seats intensifies, and my back stiffens, muscles quivering. My body feels like it does right before a fight, like it did earlier when I got into an argument with Peter Davis, the irritation from math class. He was the person I got caught fighting, and for once, I wasn't even the one who started the fight.

Queenie's right hand drops onto my closed fist, and she opens it, playing with my long fingers. Then she presses her palm flat against mine, and her hand seems so pure compared to my calloused ones. I'd do anything to keep her safe.

"Bubba, my hand's small. Your hand's big, weally big."

I lean towards her and peer into her vibrant green eyes that shine with innocence and youth. "All the better to tickle you with," I whisper dramatically.

My hand slips out from under hers and shoots forward, tickling her side as she breaks out into peals of laughter. "Bubba, no! Pwease, Bubba!" My tickling persists, and she scoots closer to Ethan. "E'an, help me!"