Kids These Days

Chapter 38: Becca

"A coyote? Really?"

"Yeah, I have the worst luck."

The morning sun is rising above the hills as Ronan and I run back to the ranch together. (It didn't feel right leaving him to fend for himself with only one working arm.) I set the pace at an easy jog, then speed up a bit as we settle into a good rhythm.

"You're in decent shape for someone who claims not to care about sports," I remark, as we jog around a patch of prickly cholla. "Do you play for your school?"

"Nah," Ronan says dismissively. He shakes a sweaty strand of hair out of his eyes. Even though he looks fairly calm for someone who just confronted a large carnivore, I can hear the tension in his voice, like a rubber band pulled taut. Ready to snap. "What's the point? I'm trying to get out of that place as soon as possible."

"Well, you could probably get a sports scholarship if you put in some effort."

This makes him scoff. "I'm not wasting my time on college. Useless bullshit. Now, are you going to keep chiding me like my guidance counselor, or are we going to run?"

"Are you going to stop being a little shit, or should I leave you here to get eaten by another coyote?"

We glare at each other for a few seconds. Eventually, I relent, reluctantly adding, "I don't know if I'm going to college, either. I'm worried about leaving my grandmother alone."

"At least you have a back-up plan." He glances over at me, hastily, as if he's given too much away, and asks, "Do you think Finn is okay?"

"I think he needs some space. The kraken is a touchy subject for him."

"Not to be unsympathetic towards his plight, or anything, but I doubt that running a half-marathon is the solution to his problems. Knowing him, he'll probably sprint head-first into another ghost..."

"C'mon, cut him some slack. I'm pretty sure the last person who interrogated him about the kraken was Owen, and you remember how well that went."

Ronan scowls at me. "I wasn't interrogating him."

"Really? 'Tell me or I'll figure it out myself'? Those are fighting words, Lockwood."

"I know when people are lying to me," he insists. He wipes a sheen of sweat off his forehead, smudging it with dirt. "It's no different when they lie to themselves."

"Just be careful what you say to him. He listens to you more than you think."

"Is that supposed to mean something to me?"

"Please, for once, use your brain. I know you have one."

His expression goes blank for a moment. Then it abruptly turns angry. "What do you know, Becca? Seriously, what the hell do you know?"

"Oh, nothing. I'm just the psychic who saved your life. Repeatedly. You're welcome, by the way! I could've let you bleed out in the backseat of that car, but I didn't!"

We reach a rocky downhill, and Ronan slows to a walk, his sling pressed defensively against his chest. "Fuckin' ridiculous, the shit I have to put up with..."

I jog past him, rolling my eyes. "Having friends who like you isn't the end of the world, you know."

"Yes, it fucking is! It's the goddamn apocalypse!"

When I don't respond to this (because it's ridiculous), Ronan hurries to catch up with me, his face flushed pink with consternation. "You of all people should understand. You know what he's like."

"Stubborn?" I offer.

"Breakable," he says, with a pained grimace.

The sun is beating down on us in all its fury now. I can feel the sweat gliding between my shoulder blades. "Finn's been through a lot. We all have."