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22
Give 'Em The Ol' Razzle Dazzle
I sat at the table, drumming my fingers numbly against the shiny mahogany while Mags sat silently beside me. Annie was supposed to show at any moment now, with Troy. There was a lot of funny looking food stacked around on silver platters, but I couldn't smell any of them. only one thing was on my mind, circling, spinning, suffocating.
I had to get Annie home, I wasn't going to stop until it was over.
Every once and a while, a nagging thought knifed its way into my schemes. Pearl's words specifically; When the time comes, kill her...Let her go out fast before she had to witness too much...
Because we both know she's not going to make it out alive.
No. It wasn't going to happen. I wouldn't let it.
Troy came in first, his jaw set in silent determination. How old was he? Seventeen? Eighteen? All I could think about was the fact that I couldn't help him come home and help Annie at the same time.
"Hey," he said curtly, sitting across from Mags. He looked nice enough, he even threw Mags a polite smile before grabbing a buttered roll. I nodded to him but that's the best I could manage, I couldn't meet his eyes.
Annie came walking in next, her steps selected carefully like she was walking on black ice. I watched her come in and sit, but she didn't look at me. Her face was red and her eyes were puffy, I knew she'd been crying. Garcia followed shortly after, tittering away about something trivial, probably the importance of nail beds. Did she know? Was she part of this whole set up?
"Alright my little ducklings," Garcia rang as she took her seat, "dinner is served, let's not sit here with our stomach's rumbling."
She dug in, taking the perfect amounts of everything in every color. Mags had an eye for food-developed over the years no doubt-and selected the most wholesome and natural looking items. Troy looked at a loss once the whole setting had been provided.
"Just go for it," I told him good-naturedly, "we don't judge."
That's all the invitation he needed. Before most of us had finished our starting bread, he had created a landscape of potatoes, meets, sauces, and noodles as high as his plate would allow. Annie sat unmoving, staring blankly ahead at the table.
Two weeks. For two weeks she stared at a wall.
"Annie," I said, trying to snap her out of it, "You should eat something."
Her head picked up a little at being addressed. Garcia's interest had been peaked, I could tell the way she was glancing between Annie and her empty plate.
"Oh, don't be nonsensical young lady," she blithered on, ladling her choice dishes onto her plate, "You can't say you don't like it until you try it." Annie didn't move, but her eyes were now studying the foreign food in front of her. Garcia pursed her red lips impatiently. "It's rude not to eat, dear."
I was going to protest Garcia's insistent nagging, but something about being pecked at brought Annie back to life. "Sorry," she said quietly, and picked up her fork like she wasn't quite equipped to use it. Troy was watching her, but there was nothing cynical in it from what I could tell. He just looked politely curious, not like he was sizing her up. But I still couldn't shake the thought. Troy was an enemy here.
At least for me.
"Try the rice first," he suggested, poking a grain of it that had fallen off her plate, "It's the easiest to stomach."
