Eliot Strange and the Prince of the Resistance

17) Wormy Cherries

"What?" I say, "My mother. Save us all?"

There is no answer from Carli or Jack Taylor because we have arrived at the stand of fruit trees, and they are both distracted by the wormy cherries. The smell of the rotting fruit is sweet and slightly nauseating, but both Carli and Jack Taylor act like they are in a McDonald's drive thru after school.

Jack grabs a decaying cherry off the tree.

"What is this before my eyes? A miracle." He goes on to explain that Mr. Thomas, "Despite his girth and general generosity was not forthcoming with sustenance enough to keep a gnat alive."

Carlie adds that "pickings are slim" back in town. No longer than Carli has been in the south, she talks like she grew up here. It annoys me a little.

I am my usual impatient self even though I am not sure I want to know the truth. "What did you say about my mother?" I ask.

The heat and the smell of the rotten fruit and wanting to know are making me queasy.

"Sorry," says Carli. "We haven't eaten much in days. First things first." She bites a cherry that used to be dark red but now looks like a bruise.

I realize that, despite our dwindling supplies,  I have not been really hungry lately because I forgot what it was like to only think about food. There is nothing I can do to stop Carli and Jack from consuming rotting cherries like they are eating popcorn at a movie. I tell them that they are going to have belly aches and even Steven lies and says, "We have better food at the house." But, nothing stops them. Steven and I watch them, and we understand, though we forgot temporarily, what this feeling is like. The need to fill a hole that can never be quite filled ever again. I feel ashamed of myself for making fun of the refugees earlier this week for stopping at the trees.

Jack and Carli both eat four squishy handfuls of cherries each, and only stop long enough to spit the pits at each other. They put extras in their pockets for "later".

"So good," says Jack Taylor who is completely disarmed by what he calls the "scrumptious delicacy". He disarms me again, and my guard is starting to go down. He seems more human now and less suspicious to me. Can a man who describes a scrawny, squishy cherry as an "orb of sweet, delicious ambrosia of the gods" be all that bad? Can he be dangerous?

Well, maybe, but also he did say my mother may not be the enemy, so there is that too.

When they both seem satisfied and after Steven has offered them some more water, I can wait no longer. "Tell me about my mother."

"Jack Taylor met your mom. He met her before," says Carli.

"Yeah, I know Torin told me. You both met her in Washington. About a year ago at a state dinner." This is old news to me and does not offer anything new that clears my mother.

"Your mother is a spy," says Jack Taylor.

"A spy?" asks Steven. "A spy?"

"A spy," says Jack Taylor.

I guess that the sweet, nauseating rotten fruit or the news of my mom, the spy, has gotten to me, because before I can take one step away, I throw up at the feet of Jack Taylor.

Nothing is said for a moment. I feel so much better that I am not even embarrassed. Carli, who ate too many of those wormy cherries too fast, has always been a reciprocal puker. She starts to make gagging noises, and then she throws up brown chunks of half-chewed cherries on Jack Taylor's shoes.

Jack Taylor, man of impeccable manners, reaches over to hold her hair back. "There, there," he says.

I know he is not the enemy because the enemy does not hold a girl's hair when she's sick.

Two girls throwing up on you is not in any universe funny, but Jack Taylor starts to laugh, and we all join him.

"Wow," says Steven. "You really have a way with the ladies."

"It's my charm and fashion conscious style," says Jack Taylor who has on a dirty T-shirt and holey jeans. "All the ladies insist on vomiting on me. I am irresistible."

"Yes," says Steven who I think might be flirting with a man who is most definitely a tie for the most beautiful man in the world. "I do believe you are irresistible."

Carli who will not be outdone in the area of flirting adds, "Jack Taylor, if I didn't have vomit breath, I would kiss you so big right now."

"There's a shame, beautiful," says Jack as he steps out of his shoes and just leaves them. "Hope you have some others at the house."

"I am sure we can find you another pair," says Steven who I know will die trying.

Even though I am still not sure I want to know all the truth about my mom, I trust Jack Taylor a little more now. If he says she can save us all - how do I not believe him? How can a man who holds a girl's hair when she pukes and forgives her for the vomit on his shoes be all bad? How can he be a liar?

I ask, "But first, Mr. Irresistible, can you tell me about my mom?"