Return of the Trickster Eden Robinson (sight word readers TXT) 📖

Some of your fireflies brought me to their home, he wanted to add. But it was all tied up with Georgina, and Georgina made his thoughts slide around.

His mom and Richie came back from their smoke break holding hands, bumping hips with each other like teenagers. Their food came and Jared picked apart his toast. It was just him and coffee. Coffee and him.

—

They stopped at a nearby mall and hit the first cellphone store they found. His mom bought him and Sarah new phones with the money she’d stolen from the dead coy wolves, not the fanciest models, but certainly not the cheapest. Unlimited plans, massive data. Added waterproof, drop-proof cases and a sparkly stand for Sarah’s.

“Don’t say I never got you nothing,” his mom said.

Sarah squealed, then kissed his mom all over her face until his mom shoved her off.

“Thank you, Maggie,” Sarah said.

“Don’t call us unless it’s an emergency.”

“Got it,” Jared said. “No calling unless something’s eating our faces.”

“That is a radical interpretation of the text, Jared,” Sarah said.

“Fuck, you’re a buzzkill,” his mom said.

“We’re not hunting bunnies, dumb-ass,” Richie said.

“Okay, okay,” Jared said.

But then his mom grabbed him by the back of the neck, pulled him close and rested her forehead against his. “Kill and die for you, bucko.”

And Jared started sobbing in the middle of the cellphone store.

“I don’t want you to die,” Jared said. “I don’t want to live if I’m going to get you killed.”

Alarmed customers scurried away and the clerk who sold them the phones ducked into the backroom.

His mom’s sigh of frustration blew across his face. She gripped his neck tighter.

“Everyone that ever tried to kill me is dead,” she said quietly. “I need you to grow some balls, Jared. Big, angry balls.”

Then, just as suddenly as he’d started crying, he was laughing at that mental picture, his balls bouncing around like Angry Birds. His mom let him go. Richie had moved away from them, pretending to examine a wall of cellphone accessories. Sarah handed him a crumpled Kleenex from her pocket. He blew his nose.

“We’re tough,” his mom said, “we’re dangerous, and we’re going to walk out of here like we own the world.”

“I love you, Mom,” Jared said, fighting tears again.

“Lord fuck a duck,” his mom said. “I am this close to strangling you.”

—

Richie had hit his limit of family drama and sulked in the truck, moodily smoking out the open window while they buzzed Mave’s apartment. His mother stewed on the elevator ride to the second floor, tapping her finger on the pistol case she used for her spare Glock. Sarah nervously fingered the hem of her skirt. Jared took a deep breath, and then another.

“Keep it together,” his mom hissed at him.

Mave stood by the kitchen table wearing a royal-blue dress suit and, under it, a white shirt with a crisp, chin-grazing collar. Hank in his dark-grey security guard uniform and Kota in his usual tight jeans and T-shirt stood in the living room on either side of Justice in her plunging red sundress and black heels. Jared couldn’t meet any of their eyes.

“Maggie,” Mave said.

They hugged.

“I stole three hundred dollars from you, Mave,” Jared said. “I’m sorry. I drank it all up. Sorry. Sorry.”

In the awkward, awkward silence, he watched his mom’s hands turn into fists, her knuckles going white. His mom yanked out her wallet and Mave said she couldn’t accept Maggie’s money and Maggie insisted and when Mave wouldn’t take the twenties, his mom put the cash on the dining room table.

“He’s a mess,” Maggie said. “He’s drinking again. Are you sure you can handle him?”

“Of course,” Mave said. “Family is family. It’s okay, Jared. We’re going to get through this.”

“I don’t know,” Jared said. “It’s all going wrong.”

“I brought my spare Glock and ammo,” his mom said.

“I’m not a big gun fan,” Mave said.

“You’re in danger,” Jared said. “I’m putting you in danger.”

“Jared,” his mom said. Then, to her sister: “He’s right, though. David’s still on the loose and he’s got nothing to lose.”

Lie, Jared thought. His mom had stuck her knife through David’s heart.

(Hiss of hand hitting the deep fryer.)

Screaming and screaming and screaming. You killed my sister. Everyone you love. Your dad died screaming like a fat fucking pig.

Then Jared was running again, down the sidewalk. Past the park. He ran across the grass. Ran to the gravel parking lot expecting to see David’s truck with the half-empty bottle of vodka he’d been careful not to tip over when the coy wolves in human form had come to take him away.

The truck was not there. The truck was gone. Someone grabbed his arm and jerked him so hard he came to a sudden, whirling stop. Hank had him and wouldn’t let go.

“You were right about me, Hank,” Jared said. “I’ve done awful things.”

“I wasn’t right,” Hank said, tightening his grip until it hurt.

(hiss of hand, hiss of hand, hiss of hand)

“I don’t deserve to live,” Jared said.

Hank pulled him into an unexpected hug. Jared fought not to cry, but he failed, he was always failing, always falling apart, and he was embarrassing. He was a weeping mess. He wasn’t worth his dad’s life and he couldn’t make himself stop crying and Hank wouldn’t let him go.

Justice jogged up, her red sundress fluttering. She bent over, panting. A few minutes later Kota pulled up behind her, holding his side. He dropped to the ground, wheezing.

“Holy crap, he’s fast,” Kota said.

“I’ve told you a million times, you can’t just lift weights, Kota,” Justice said. “You need cardio and you need to lay off the smokes.”

“Yes, and we should all prance around in useless heels.”

“Don’t judge my footwear,” Justice said.

“I’m just saying if this was a life-or-death situation, you’d be dead.”

“These are my ass-kicking Louboutins,” Justice said. “Would you like a demonstration?”

“Any time,” Kota said. “Anywhere.”

“Enough,” Hank said to them. He patted Jared’s back. “Let’s get you back to Mave.”

“I don’t know,” Jared said.

“Don’t make me drag you,” Hank said.

—

“He’s not