Page 12 of Torn
I let out a laugh. “Now, that would suck.”
She takes out her earbuds and shoves them into her pocket. “You have no idea.”
Poor Jason. That kid doesn’t have a chance with her. Kenzi’s going to be a hard girl for a guy to snag, and I kinda like that. She deserves to have someone work to get her love and respect.
Kenzi has been helping me set up the cameras and the feeding traps for as long as I can remember. When she was younger, she used to beg to go. After about a hundred tantrums, Ember agreed to let her come with me. I never minded having her come along because she’s always fun to have around and she soaks up everything like a sponge. I’ve never met a kid as smart as her, or one who was so content hanging around with her parents and their third wheel. Aka me.
She sighs and looks out the window as we drive. “This dog is getting on my last nerve. What’s it been… a month we’ve been offering food to him? What’s his deal? There are people starving out in the world and he’s turning away fresh chicken and beef.”
“He’s not ready yet. That’s all.”
“Maybe we should start feeding people. At least they’ll be grateful. Don’t get me wrong, I love dogs, and I want to help him, butdamn. Right?”
“We’re not doing this just to feed him, Kenz. We’re trying to save him, get him out of the woods and hopefully into a good home before he becomes completely feral or dies out there.”
She blows her hair out of her face. “I know. I’m just frustrated with him. I want him to just get in that cage already. He’s wasting a lot of good food. Isn’t he hungry? He must be. What’s he eating out there?”
I shrug, but I’m intrigued by her intense interest. “Maybe squirrels and other rodents.”
“Like rabbits?” she asks in horror.
“Maybe…”
She looks like she’s going to start to cry. “He better not be eating rabbits, Tor. Or we’re gonna leave his ass out there.”
“Rabbits are fast. I doubt he could catch one,” I lie. “Maybe he’s a vegetarian.”
Giggling, she turns up the radio. “You’re such a nut sometimes.”
It takes us about fifteen minutes to get to the dirt road that leads us halfway to the river; then we have to park the truck and walk the rest of the way. I grab the small cooler filled with fresh meat from the back seat and she grabs her backpack and we hike about a quarter mile to the first cage. We put on disposable gloves to remove the old meat and put it in a trash bag and then refill the cage. I check the hidden night-vision camera to make sure it’s still working while she takes a small box wrapped in brown paper out of her backpack and puts it on top of the cage.
“A book. I think he’ll like it,” she says when she notices me watching her. Nodding, I reach out and grab her hand while weclimb over a fallen tree to get to the next cage. Kenzi likes to leave gifts for Ty for when he checks the cages. She leaves him books, CDs, little statues. I’ve seen him on the recorded feeds when he finds them. He holds whatever it is in his hands for a long time, just staring at it, sometimes gliding his fingers over it, before he shoves it in his coat pocket. I don’t have to show her what I see on camera for her to know he appreciates it, because she doesn’t care about that part. She just wants to give. Even though she hasn’t seen him in a very long time, it means a lot to me that she’s never forgotten him.
My two best friends gave me my third best friend. Kenzi is the greatest parts of her parents combined. She’s got Asher’s philosophicalI-want-to-fix-everyoneoutlook and Ember’s happy, free, no-bullshit spirit.
Lately I’ve been wondering how she sees me. Now that she’s older, I’m sure I don’t come off as the hero who wipes tears and brings home bunnies like when she was little, and I kinda miss that. It was a cool feeling to have this little person view me as the one who made everything better for them.
After we check the second cage, we make our way up the trail a ways to sit on a big rock next to the river, where we watch the water for a few minutes before she pulls a penny out of her pocket and grins at me before tossing it into the water. This has become a little tradition with us—making wishes.
“What did you wish for?” I ask her.
“Direction.”
I narrow my eyes at her in confusion. “Direction? For what?”
“My future.”
My fingers twirl my own penny between my thumb and forefinger. I can’t throw mine until we talk about hers. That’s the rule.
“I’m not sure what I should be doing, Tor.”
“That’s simple, Angelcake. Do whatever you want to do.”
“But it’s not that simple. I don’t think I want to go to college.”
“So don’t. Your parents have never cared if you went to college or not. That’s not important to them; they just want you to be happy.”
She chews her lip. “I know. Dad says I can do whatever will make me happiest and give mepeace of mindas he calls it.”