Prince

by Cambria Hebert

  My brothers stared, both sporting mildly aggressive looks on their faces. It made me wonder what kind of face I’d been making.

  “I don’t have any look on my face,” I said, trying to make it so my expression was blank.

  “If you need anything, you know where to find us,” Beau said, accepting my reply.

  Earth was a lot more suspicious, but he didn’t say anything, just stared with that intimidating expression on his face.

  “I’ll see you guys later!” I waved.

  “Stay out of trouble.” Earth tossed the warning in my direction.

  “Okay,” I mumbled, feeling like I was fifteen and not twenty-two.

  A snort echoed behind me as I let myself out of the apartment. Could have been Earth. Could have been Snort. I really didn’t know.

  The air was cold this morning, the chill firmly in place as if it had no intention of being chased away by the sun. The wind blew in a single direction down the street. The howling echoed in my ears as my hair lifted away from my forehead.

  I still had quite a while before I was to meet up with Ethan, and my plan was to head down to the subway for some busking (aka playing my violin for money). But when I got there, my feet kept going past the steps leading underground, clearly following a mission I didn’t know about.

  Not far into my unexpected walk, I passed by an alley I knew quite well. Even though I didn’t want to, my head turned and my eyes looked.

  I mean, really, who was in control of my body here?

  I expected the familiar tightening of my gut, the familiar rush of loneliness and fear I felt whenever I passed by this particular place.

  All of that was definitely there today, but it was muted by something else.

  Someone was in the alley, a boy. He was younger than me, maybe late teens.

  I’d never seen this kid before, but I recognized him.

  I recognized the way he crouched against the building, how his bare arms wrapped around pulled-in knees. Fear clung to him like a scent, and his vacant stare was pointed straight ahead.

  Instead of continuing on, my footsteps paused, body rotating.

  The second he saw me approaching, he straightened, jolting up to his feet. He was thin and dressed a lot like me actually.

  “Hey.” I started.

  “What do you want? I don’t have any money!”

  I held out my hand. “I don’t want anything. I was just wondering if you needed help.”

  His expression changed instantly, fear morphing into aggression as though I’d somehow offended him. I understood. Pride meant a lot here in the Grimms because for a lot of people, pride was all they had left.

  “Why would I need help?” he snarled.

  I shrugged. “Haven’t seen you around before. I know most everyone here.”

  “I’m just passing through.”

  The tough bravado wasn’t unfamiliar, but I wasn’t about to call him out. “Yeah, okay. Cool.”

  “I’m out of here.” He sniffed, sauntering away from the wall.

  “Hey.”

  He swung around, the slight worry in his eyes replaced with hardness.

  “Here,” I said, unzipping the coat and holding it out.

  “What the fuck, man?”

  “You and I both know you’re scared as hell and probably not sure where you’ll go next.” Before he could denounce the truth, I motioned to the coat, extending it a little farther. “You have goose bumps. Wouldn’t hurt to be warm while you figure out your next move.”

  His face was wary as if the call for some protection against the elements was going to outweigh his pride.

  I understood that too.

  I shrugged. “I don’t want it anyway. I stole it last year. It’s about time I got an upgrade.”

  When I let go, the coat fell to the ground between us, and I left it there, turning to leave. As I was walking away, I heard the rustle of the fabric as he bent to pick it up.

  “Oh, hey.” Even though I didn’t turn around, I knew he froze at my words, and the coat fell back on the ground.

  “If you go two blocks over to the tiny diner in the alley, Heather will hook you up with a free meal. Tell her Fletch sent you.”

  He said nothing, and I continued on my way, not stopping or looking back until I was around the corner and partway down the street. When I did turn back, I saw him fleeing in the opposite direction, the fur on the hood of the coat easy to spot. He was heading in the direction of the diner.

  Tucking the hand not carrying my violin case into the pocket of my jeans, I turned and continued along my way. It wasn’t much, what I’d done, but at least he would be warm and get a meal. It was more kindness than these streets usually offered.

  If it weren’t for my brothers, specifically Neo who found me in that very same alley, I might not even be here at all.

  The moment I stepped onto a familiar street, the weird feeling I woke up with was replaced with knots of tension, weariness in my limbs and shoulders that slumped under the weight of what was to come.

  Why did I do this to myself?

  You know why.

  Now I knew why my subconscious brought me here. Because if I’d known I was coming, I’d have told Earth and Beau. They would not have been happy and tried to stop me. I didn’t want to argue with them. Not about this.

  This was something I had to do. Something I couldn’t just walk away from even if sometimes I wanted to.

  The buildings here were rundown, the townhomes all needing paint and repair. Even the sidewalks had cracks and dips as if the concrete were tired of holding up this street.

  Brown weeds reached weakly between those cracks, stretching across the pavement like they had died in the process of trying to escape.

  Some pipe must have burst somewhere underground because massive white puffs of smoke rose from a grate in the street, bringing with it a rotten stench.

  Tucking my chin against my chest, I walked past the abandoned apartment whose door wasn’t latched so it shook and creaked in the wind. Past broken beer bottles, cigarette butts, and various pieces of trash littering the ground.

  For long moments, I was swallowed whole by the steam, everything turning a milky white, eerily closing in like some kind of horror flick.

  On the other side, there were two kids playing, one riding a bike that had more rust than paint and the other swinging a stick like it was a sword. Both of them looked up when I passed, and I gave them a little wave. Neither of them had on coats, and I wondered if they were cold.

  My destination was at the end of the block. A cracked clay pot filled with plants that had died long ago stood lonely on one of the crooked concrete steps. The railing was only present on one side. The other side probably hadn’t been put in at all.

  The wooden door was cracked and faded. The metal mailbox fastened to the side of the building creaked as the wind blew.

  Reaching toward the door handle, I noted the violin case clutched in my chilled hand.

  Panic seized me, tossing my heart into my throat. With a tight chest, I tried to breathe, giving up when my lungs wouldn’t cooperate. My fingers trembled as I backtracked down the few steps and around the side of the building.

  Glancing around to make sure no one was watching, I bent to an old yet familiar spot. Even though it wasn’t obvious to the eye, I knew. My fingers went right to the loose brick, wiggling until it came out. I repeated the action with a few more and then shoved my case into the small opening, the already beat-up exterior earning a few more scrapes in my impatience.

  Once it was in, I replaced the bricks, standing back to make sure it wasn’t obvious.

  Despite the cold air, my palms were sweaty, and I wiped them down my jeans as I made my way back around the house and up the rickety stairs, sparing a glance at the lifeless, brittle plant.

  I couldn’t help but wonder if that was what my fate would have been if I’d stayed here. I definitely was partway there when I met my brothers.

  Pulling a key from
my pocket, I let myself in, the door groaning stiffly on its hinges.

  Inside was dim but not dark. Just in front of me was a crooked staircase, tilting oddly away from the wall. The third one up was caved in, the wood having given out long ago. To my right was a wide doorway leading into the living room where light filtered in from the dirty front windows, dimly illuminating the tidy but rundown space.

  Swallowing, shoving my hands into my pockets, I stepped farther inside.

  “I’m here,” I called out.

  A faint sound from the back of the house made my shoulders stiffen, and then her tall, thin frame materialized like a lurking shadow.

  “Who’s there?” she called out, stepping into the room and therefore the light. I started to smile and offer a greeting, but she cut me off. “Oh. It’s you.”

  Swallow. “Hi, Mom.”

  Her eyes swept over me, making me feel cold in a way the wind outside never could. She didn’t smile. In fact, my mother smiling was something like a unicorn. Maybe it existed, but I had yet to see it.

  “Where the hell have you been?” she asked, regarding me not as a son but as an annoyance.

  Well, that’s what you are.

  “I’ve been working a lot lately.”

  She laughed, but it was not a humorous sound. Instead, it smacked of sinister sarcasm, audible doubt, and most of all, bitterness I couldn’t understand.

  “You? Work? You couldn’t hold a job if your life depended on it.”

  “I’ve been doing okay lately,” I refuted weakly.

  She made a sound, her nearly midnight eyes fixing on my face like a whip. “Okay,” she nagged. “If you’re doing okay, then why the hell am I still living in this ghetto?”

  She came closer and, with her, a faint smell of alcohol and anger. She was always angry. “You been living it up, out there spending on yourself, forgetting about everything I’ve given up for you?”

  “No,” I hurried to say, hating the way my knees slightly trembled. “Of course not. I just meant I’ve been able to make a little money.”

  My shoulders ached under the weight of her scrutiny. My heart ached from her indifference.

  She laughed again. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”

  “Here,” I said, eagerly reaching into my pocket.

  It was good I wasn’t wearing my coat. If I was, she definitely would have thought I was being selfish.

  Pulling out all the money I’d made in the last week busking in the subway—and maybe a little I’d swiped from unsuspecting pockets—I handed it all over.

  She took it without hesitation, sitting down on the worn sofa to promptly count it out in front of her on the coffee table. When she was done, she glanced up.

  “See? I’ve been working hard.”

  A sound vibrated her throat. “This is the least you could do.”

  Her lukewarm words felt like a compliment, so much so that my aching heart felt just a little better. “I did good?” I asked.

  “I wouldn’t go that far.” She sniffed.

  “I’m glad it made you happy, Mom.”

  Grabbing the money, she folded it up and pushed it into her pocket.

  A strong wind blew outside, whistling through the windows, causing a bone-chilling draft to float through the room and tap against the back of my bare neck.

  Suppressing a shiver, I moved around to perch on the edge of a wooden seat near the couch. “How have you been?”

  “Like you care.”

  “Of course I care. You’re my mom.”

  “If you really cared, you never would have been born.”

  Hurt pinged my heart, making me look down at my hands, which were clasped together in my lap. The truth was I didn’t want to be here. I didn’t like the way she acted or the words she spoke.

  “You better not have earned this from doing what I forbade you to do!”

  I shook my head adamantly. I might not be a good liar, but I could lie to her. “Never.” I swore. “I’ve been helping out down at the fish market.”

  “Hmph.” Her lips pursed with the sound. “I’m surprised your scrawny arms could even haul half of those fish.”

  “I’m stronger than I look.”

  Her eyes shot up at that, piercing me with their dark depths, almost like she was trying to find something she thought was there.

  I hated when she looked at me like this. Like she knew I was hiding something or she saw something even I didn’t know I contained.

  “Are you talking back?”

  I shook my head.

  “Didn’t think so.”

  “Well,” I said, rubbing my palms against my knees before standing. “I should probably get going. I have a lead on another job. I just wanted to stop by and make sure you’re okay. Give you that.” I gestured toward the money she’d already hidden away. “Do you need anything?”

  “I need to not have to look at your face!” She hurled the words, and I felt them like they weighed a thousand pounds.

  I nodded. “Okay. I’ll come back to check on you.”

  She said nothing as I shuffled to the door, said nothing when I paused with my hand on the handle, and silence followed me out the front door.

  Once it was shut between us, I let out a long, shuddering breath, leaning against the cold, uneven wood.

  She didn’t ask me why I wasn’t wearing a coat. She didn’t ask if I was cold or hungry.

  She never did.

  Ignoring the shaking of my limbs, I went back around the house, making sure no one was watching while I unearthed the case I’d stowed away.

  As I walked away, my stomach rumbled loudly, and I regretted my choice to skip breakfast. I could go home and grab something, but the second my brothers looked at me, they would know.

  I didn’t want to face them right now. To see the pity and underlying anger in their eyes.

  They couldn’t understand why I still went to see her, the woman who’d kicked me out on the street. They couldn’t understand why I would give her money, why I let her get in my head.

  They didn’t understand.

  She was my mother.

  The only family I had until I met them.

  I didn’t let her get in my head because she was already there. Her blood was mine. There was no escape from that.

  It was quite true she didn’t like me. And honestly, I couldn’t blame her.

  My stomach rumbled again, threatening to eat itself if I didn’t provide something soon. I always got extra hungry when I was stressed out. And right now, I was stressed.

  What the hell possessed me to see her this morning?

  As if you don’t know. Yeah, okay, I knew.

  Guilt.

  Guilt for defying her demands and taking a violin job.

  The heady, warm scent of baking bread swirled around, bringing up my chin and turning my thoughts outward. My chest expanded with the deep breath I inhaled, practically salivating at the idea of a warm treat.

  Staring ahead to the corner of the next block, my eyes fixed on the small bakery, an establishment that had been here in the Grimms since before I was. Outside the door were stands set up with mounds of bright red and green apples, along with a pile of oranges.

  My feet sped up without my realizing it as I stared at the fruit, all the while sniffing the bread-scented air.

  A small bell rang when a customer stepped out holding the handles of a paper sack. A long golden baguette peeked out from the top, almost as if it were taunting me.

  I felt a dark cloud roll over me, my usually unruffled mood suddenly affected with darkness. Anger tainted my brain, and unreasonable frustration consumed me.

  I’m hungry and have no money to buy some simple bread.

  I can’t go home because I don’t want them to know.

  I am cold, and she didn’t even notice.

  Scuffling right by the bakery, my quick hand shot out, slipping two apples into the pockets of my jeans. Moving at the same unhurried pace past the door, I didn’t look to see if I
’d been caught. Eyes ahead, I fixated on the woman hunkered down in her coat as she walked, that damn baguette still teasing.

  It looked like a full bag, as though she’d bought lots of fresh bread.

  Moving quickly along, I silently, quickly grabbed the end and pulled it from the bag.

  I started to shove it inside my coat—shit! I’m not wearing one anymore!

  “Hey!” the woman yelled, her voice angry and loud.

  Jolting, I looked up, realizing too late I’d been caught.

  Behind me, the bell on the bakery door jangled angrily, and pounding feet hit the pavement. “Hey! Stop! Thief!”

  Momentarily glued in place, I looked at the bread clutched in my hand, then divided my stare between the angry woman and shop owner who were coming at me from both sides.

  Willing myself to move, I took off, darting backward, avoiding both my pursuers. As I darted across the street, a cab honked wildly, barely missing me, but I didn’t look back because people were still shouting.

  Glancing down at my feet, I willed myself to go faster, clutching the bread like it was some hard-won prize.

  Slam! My entire body collided full force into something and bounced back, my feet unsuccessfully staying on the ground.

  One second, I was running with my riches, and the next, I was staring at my too-big shoes as they came above my head.

  Oomph! All the wind was knocked out of my body, leaving me to gasp and groan for more. While I was shaking off the stunned feeling, the sound of more shouts infiltrated my spinning head.

  “Stop him! Thief!”

  Scrambling up, I prepared to run off again, but a hand clamped around my upper arm, swinging me around and slamming me into a nearby building.

  Another painful groan escaped my lips, and I looked up.

  “Gotcha,” the familiar voice crowed.

  Feeling my eyes widen, I tried to take off once more, but the hand holding my arm moved to my neck where the overzealous cop pinned me, barely allowing room to breathe.

  I sagged into the building, dropping the bread onto the cold concrete.

  Fig. The Grimms’ dumbest, most arrogant cop. He lived for trying to catch me and my brothers in the act of anything he could use against us.

  I’d been caught more than anyone else, but I always managed to get out of it.