Free Blink & Caution by Tim Wynne-Jones Page B

about family, she has to say something. She props her eyes open, works up a tired smile.
    “How’s the . . . what’s it called . . . audio engineering — how’s that going?”
    “You mean TMI?” he says.
    “Right, The Music Institute.”
    He rubs his chin with the back of his hand, looks away. “I kinda dropped out.”
    “No way,” she says. “You were so pumped — the whole recording engineer thing.”
    He nods. “Yeah, it was very cool. But . . . well, things got rough there for a bit. . . .”
    Something in his eye finishes the sentence for him. Dim as the light in the room is, she can see it.
    “Was it because of . . . because of what happened?”
    He shrugs, won’t look at her. “What do you think?” he says.
    And what Caution thinks is that, yet again, she has made a big mistake.
    Caution: Watch Your Step. She should never have come here. With all that stolen money, she could have stayed at a hotel — stayed right out of this. Wayne-Ray has been so good to her just now. Always was, once he got over her hanging around with him and Spence. Once he knew she wouldn’t go away no matter how much you threatened her or cajoled her. He had become like another brother. He had been good to her, but that didn’t change anything. If she stayed, she’d be waiting for him to suddenly point his finger at her, shout at her. She’d thought maybe she could tiptoe around things by asking him about school. But school ended with Spence’s death. Everything ended with Spence’s death. All this was just a slow dying.
    “What are you going to do?” Wayne-Ray says, gentle as can be.
    She shrugs. “I’d just like to lie low until all this blows over,” she says.
    “All what?”
    “This,” she says. “Life.”
    She hears him sip his tea, place the cup down on the arm of the chair. He is breathing through his mouth. He’s so big. He was never this big.
    The silence closes in. She picks at something caught between her teeth. Looks away.
    He had come to the city to get into the recording business, but he’d also come to be near Spence. Spence had always been more like a big brother to Wayne-Ray than a cousin. And Wayne-Ray had flunked out of school once Spence died. Not because he wasn’t good enough but because his best friend in the world had been shot and killed. Kind of hard to do your homework under those conditions. She knew that much herself.
    “It’s hard, eh?” he says.
    And before she really knows what she’s doing, Caution is on her feet, slipping into her tired shoes, grabbing up her pink backpack from where it lies at her feet.
    “What’re you doing?”
    “I shouldn’t have come,” she says, pushing past him.
    “Yes, you should have,” he says, his voice rising. “You should have come months ago.”
    “It’s no use,” she says, shaking his hand off her arm.
    “You can’t go, Kitty.”
    “Watch me,” she says.
    For a big guy, Wayne-Ray is still quick on his feet. He gets to the door before her.
    “You don’t want me here,” she says.
    “Are you crazy?”
    She stamps her foot. “Yes!” she says. “Haven’t you been listening?”
    Then she starts beating on him, punching him, trying to heave his massive frame out of the way. He doesn’t even try to fend her off, just lets her go at him with all she’s got, while he bars that exit, like beyond the door was some sacred shrine she planned to desecrate. And all the time he’s saying, “Ah, Kitty. Ah, Kitty. Ah, Kitty.”
    Finally, there is nothing left in her — not one precious joule of energy, not one swear word. He guides her back to the couch, his hand cupping her elbow like she’s some old lady he’s helping cross the street. He gets her sitting down, then kneels, laboriously, and slips off her sneakers. When he’s sure she’s not going to bolt, he goes into the bedroom and comes back with a pillow and a blanket. He tries to coax her to lie down, but she won’t. He tries to unzip her jacket, but she slaps his hand