Chatty Town

Chapter Nine : Smells Like Betrayal

"I know it's not much, but it's home– and it's more than what any of us had after losing our families." Dempsey finishes narrating the house tour as I walk into his bedroom.

It's a small room tucked in a corner on the top floor of Jay's Auto shop. There's a bed, just big enough for two, in the middle of the room with night stands on either side. There's vinyl records and posters on the wall, some of them are falling down but– by the look of the rest of the room– I don't think anyone cares.
"Come on, Dempsey! Wren's starting the book!" Zeph peeks into the doorway and then dashes back to the living room.
Dempsey looks down shaking his head as a smile forms on his lips, "You really made his year with that book."
I tug at my sleeves and avoid eye contact, "Yeah, well, it's not mine so just make sure he takes care of it."

Dempsey opens the bedroom door wider and reaches his arm out to me, "Don't worry. It's in good hands."

We gather around the floor– in a circle– of the open kitchen that blends into the living room. All the windows up here are boarded up- with sheets and blankets covering the windows.

Dempsey says it's to keep the Chatties from knowing how many are in here and where.

There's a single oil lamp in the middle of us and Wren begins reading from the book. "This is a story to inspire hope for those who have no reason to hope. For those who have wrestled with themselves over countless sleepless nights, battling the words of adults with your inner truth, I give you my story."

Zeph wiggles a little more into his sleeping bag as he holds a limp toy stuffed bear.

Wren continues, "Our story starts on the day of my 16th birthday, when my mother gave me the– much to my dismay– long awaited talk of the birds and the bees. She sat me down in our tiny kitchen and she spoke for what felt like hours– but she'd say it was only ten weasley minutes."

Dempsey sits down next to me and hands me a cup of water and he leans in close, his mouth just inches from my ear, "Here. We boiled it earlier this afternoon."

I take the cup, thinking it was weird how close he got to me just to say that.

...

I've stopped listening to the words long ago, now I'm just admiring Wren's voice and as Wren gets to the end of the third chapter I watch as Zeph catches himself falling asleep. His sleepy eyes with determination to hear the full story in one night.

I wonder to myself what his story is. He looks so young, younger than Olsen. He couldn't be any older than 13, yet he's here with no parents. What happened to them?

Wren gets to the last line of the chapter and slowly closes the book and Zeph wakes up at the sound of her silence.
"N-no! I'm awake, keep going." His slurred speech is clearly on the prosecution team of his case. Wren stands to her feet leaving the book next to Zeph and she walks away saying behind her, "You need to rest, booger. We'll read more tomorrow."

Dempsey stands up along with everyone else who's not already in their sleeping bags in the living room and he extends his hand to me to help me to my feet. I question his motives as I study his hand and Zeph pulls my attention.
"Thanks for the book, Rowan. I can't wait to get to the end." His brown eyes are so big with his heavy lids, I couldn't imagine anyone leaving him behind by choice. I nod at him, "You're welcome, Zeph."
He closes his eyes and I try to get up without Dempsey's help, but I soon realize how weak my right arm is from the bullet and Dempsey stops waiting for my acceptance and he grabs me by my left arm, yanking me upwards with ease.
"And it's Zephyr, b–by the way." Zeph's interrupted by a yawn and Dempsey reaches down and grabs the oil lamp and shakes his hand though Zeph's hair whilst whispering, "Good night, little man."