As I wake up, everything from yesterday blurs together in my skull.

  “Anthea…” I groan. “What the hell are you doing?”

  I have no business caring for a kid. Our home is set up exactly as we like it. I’d already come to the conclusion I need to find him a new situation on the ride home, but what do I do with him now?

  I still need to deal with Penelope’s coop. It’s disgusting, but still a rather large upgrade from what he was lined up for yesterday.

  I roll out of bed and debate changing. It’ll be smarter to keep them on. They’re already soiled in three days worth of grime and sweat. Changing will only give me more laundry and that’s precious time I could use for something else.

  I pull my dreads into a big bun on the nape of my neck, grabbing a bandana before heading downstairs. The stairs creak under my steps, hopefully alerting my guest. I round the corner to my living room, expecting to see his head snap to attention at the new sound.

  He’s not here.

  “What the…” I back up, looking down the hall and checking the kitchen. Half the cupboards hang open. From here, I can’t see what he’s taken. “No, no, no!”

  It’s hard to blame him. Hell, if I was in my right mind last night… well I wouldn’t have even brought him home. So what if the twirp blackmailed me? He doesn’t know what’s wrong with me. But something in my gut just couldn’t take the risk.

  Okay, I have to think. He’s got short legs and doesn’t know the area. He can’t mount Marigold. He’ll be going slow, keeping an eye out for lurchers and my traps…

  I gasp in horror running out the front door, scrambling down rickety stairs and hobbling over the hole I’ve never bothered to fix.

  Which way did he go?

  Most of my traps are obvious, since they aren't for the living. But there’s a few I hide more carefully for intruders dumb enough to hop our fence and cross the moat. Charlotte calls it that, but it’s just a deep ditch on our side of the fence with sheers and spikes buried under the light brush. It’s deep so I can just burn the bodies that get stuck down there without a lot of hassle. The fall will crack your ankle.

  Either one of these secondary traps, littered throughout the woods, could kill this kid. The counter weights are intended for someone at least twice his size. The smaller traps are meant to instantly kill any animal so it won’t suffer or attract attention, lots or sharp spikes in deep holes that are well concealed.

  I pick up the pace, jogging jerkily toward the stable to grab Marigold. The only reason I’m not yelling for this idiot boy is because he’s unlikely to listen to what I say, more likely to run for it and trip into something.

  Unless he’s just sitting in the barn feeding Marigold dried apple bits. She huffs as I enter, as if to say You don't do this for me.

  I would be outraged at him feeding her outside the carefully curated diet I have established, but I’m too busy panting out the excess energy and anxiety.

  “Morning.” He hands her another slice of dried apple.

  “What.. are you…” I take in a deep breath, wheezing painfully between syllables, “doing… here?”

  “I didn’t know what I was allowed to touch in there.” He shrugs. “I got tired of sittin’ around.”

  I blink, letting my mind catch up. He was bored. That hadn’t even occurred to me. I was so tired when we got in last night, I could barely raise a limp arm to point to our old lumpy couch for the night. It hadn’t even occurred to me that he might want to flip through the novels or be interested in our nicknacks.

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  How stupid can I be? Even kids need to kill time.

  My breath finally becomes even. “Well, in the future, don’t feed the animals without talking to me.”

  He puts the apple slices back in the sack in the wall and wipes a hand on his pants. “How long will that be?”

  “Come on.” I gesture for him to follow me. “We got work to do.”

  The kid snorts softly, almost inaudibly, but walks behind me quietly as I lead him back to the house.

  “First thing” I jerk my chin, indicating the lush pines. “–stay out of the woods.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you will die painfully.” Better to keep the details vague. I can’t have him babbling about my traps when I get rid of him.

  “Fine.” He grunts, though not rudely.

  “Do you have other clothes?” I side eye his now grimy orange hoody, the pits dark and layered in sweat, old and new.

  He flexes his hand, it twitches as though he was going to rub the shorter arm. “I don’t wear them.”

  “Yes well” I climb the stairs, taking an exaggerated skip over the broken board. “–you don’t need to hide while you’re here. That arm needs sunlight, kid.”

  “Benji.”

  “Huh?” I turn, my brows furrowed together.

  “My name.” He walks past me and waits in the entrance. “It’s not kid or Isiah. It’s Benji.”

  I give a slight nod “Okay, go get your grimiest clothes. No shorts. You’d regret it.”

  ***

  “Wouldn’t it be easier to just cook the bird?” The kid scrubs a large chunk of manure off one of Penelope’s favorite beams. The aforementioned bird roosts a little higher than usual, clucking in annoyance and squawking at the mere suggestion.

  “Shush, he didn’t mean it.” I rub my knuckle gently up and down her speckled neck and glare at Benji. “It’s not polite to talk about eating someone in their own home.”

  “Fine.” He rolls his eyes and goes back to scrubbing more aggressively than needed. He’ll wear out the wire brush if he keeps going like that. “But why not?”

  The smell of chicken crap is slowly fading with each brush of vinegar and water. It’ll still linger in my nostrils for days. Serves me right for leaving her like this.

  “Firstly, I don’t eat family.” Sure, Penelope is a hot head and I’m pretty sure the muck we’re raking out has more brain cells, but I love her all the same.

  “And second?” He finally finishes clearing her perch and moves to clean her nest.

  Penelope starts exploding, her black and white feathers becoming impossibly large and her clucking erratic at best.

  I grip the boy’s arm. “I’ll get her bed. No reason to get your eyes pecked out.”

  The wood groans as I step around him and Penelope slowly settles.

  “What’s the second reason?” He looks for something to scrub, scrunching his nose when he finds another dried patch.

  “It would be short sighted.” I rubbed her neck again. “I can get a lot more meals from her eggs and the investment is pretty cheap.”

  Just a little love and some veggies.

  “That’s all you get out of cleaning her crap?” He stops scrubbing and glowers at me.

  “She also eats a lot of bugs.” I blow Penelope a kiss before turning back to my guest. “And that muck is pretty good for the garden.”

  His look turns pensive. “You never answered me.”

  “I just–”

  “How long I’m staying here.” Benji looks up at me, his eyes wide. “You clearly don’t want me.”

  The matter of fact tone is so at odds with his expression, I’m not entirely sure what to make of it.

  “If you could leave, where would you go?” I go back to raking the bottom of the coop, scooping the waste into a rusted bucket just outside the door. I can’t let the brat wander around but it’s only been a day and I have no ideas.

  His silence holds a weight and I finally look up. He finally looks at me, shaking his head, “Anywhere. Just away.”

  I force myself to keep looking down, nor sure I can take whatever expression I might find on his face. “This is temporary.”

  “But you don’t know what to do with me.”

  “It’s temporary,” I reaffirm, looking up again.

  Those blue eyes are swarming with confusion.

  “We’ll figure something out.”

  He stares at me for a long time. “Like what?”

  I walk out of the coop grabbing the bucket to head towards the compost. “Let’s get washed up. We got laundry and dinner to prep.”