TPCF 70

CHAPTER 70……………………..

Rutger wasn’t really trying to fight Trey for Anita’s sake. He was already in a foul mood thanks to his foster father, Baylan, and seeing Anita trembling beside him just irritated him further. Remembering what his father had taught him as a child, Rutger clenched his fist and stretched one foot forward.

Conveniently, the target had enough meat on him to make a decent punching bag.

Trey, realizing Rutger meant to fight him, narrowed his beady little eyes. Anita, thinking those eyes looked just like a mole poking its head out of the ground, fidgeted nervously. If Rutger got hurt because of her, she wouldn’t be able to face the Baylans, so she was already planning to smash a book over Trey’s head at the right moment.

While Rutger and Trey glared fiercely at each other and took their stances, Anita was caught up in a trivial dilemma. Trey was about a handspan taller than she was—wouldn’t it be hard to bring a book down on his head? Should she jump up and whack him? That would probably make the blow land harder, anyway.

At last, Trey struck first. His fist shot straight toward Rutger’s stomach—but Rutger sidestepped easily, and Trey’s punch went sailing off target. The force of the swing pulled his whole body forward, leaving him stumbling. Rutger seized the chance to hook Trey’s legs.

With a loud thud, Trey crashed face-first to the ground. Anita winced. There must be all kinds of germs in that dirt.

Rutger, not the type to show respect to an opponent, raised his foot to kick the fallen Trey. Anita secretly hated Trey too, so she was ready to overlook the foul play. Rutger stepped back like a soccer player preparing for a shot—when suddenly, a shrill voice rang out in the distance.

“Trey! My son!”

A woman in a bathrobe and slippers came running, her hair streaked with dye dripping yellow liquid onto the grass as she sprinted.

“You kids! Stop right there!”

Anita, pale-faced, grabbed Rutger’s collar. He kept nudging Trey with his foot, still scowling, unfazed by Mrs. Raven’s shouting.

“Let’s go, hurry!”

“Why?”

“Do you want to get grounded? If Mrs. Raven comes to our house, she’ll beg my parents to ban us from going out!”

Anita blurted it out in one breath. Swept up in her urgency, Rutger found himself running alongside her before he even realized it.

“Oh, my poor boy… are you alright? Should we go to the hospital?”

The woman stood beside her fallen son, wringing her hands in distress. But to Anita, Trey didn’t look injured at all. He’d simply lost his balance after flailing his fist and ended up sprawled out like an idiot.

Glancing back, Anita and Rutger sprinted down the empty road. They didn’t stop until Trey’s house was far out of sight, at which point they collapsed, panting for breath.

“I… I really… ha…”

Anita wiped the sweat from her forehead, struggling to speak. Rutger ignored her half-formed words, listening only to his own steady breathing.

“Damn neighborhood,” he muttered irritably, brushing off his hands.

Anita’s eyes widened at his words. Her lips parted.

“If you knew the history of this town, you wouldn’t say that. The statue in the square—”

“Not interested.”

Rutger cut her off flatly. He already had a sense of what Anita was like—she was the type who belonged in a library, or else guiding tourists through historical sites with boring explanations about monuments.

She was the total opposite of him. Like most boys his age, Rutger would rather be kicking a ball around than reading in some stuffy room.

“So where even are we now?” he asked.

Anita looked around, her face brightening.

“Oh, I know this place! If we go down that alley for about two minutes, we’ll reach the shopping street.”

She explained that their street wasn’t far past the shops, and led Rutger onward. Evening was falling, but the glow from storefronts and streetlamps lit the way.

“Sometimes I take walks at night with my parents. That’s my favorite time. Isn’t it amazing? The sun’s gone, but there’s still light everywhere.”

“Yeah, that’s… great.”

Anita hugged a thick book under her arm as if it weighed nothing.

“Give it to me,” Rutger said.

“Huh?”

“The book. Hand it over. I’ll carry it.”

“It’s fine…”

Her voice trailed off in refusal, but Rutger ignored her and held out his hand. Anita’s arm really was sore, though, so instead of handing him the book right away, she pulled a few bills from her pocket.

Once she gave Rutger the book, she told him, “Wait here a minute.”

She stepped into a shop strung with pretty lightbulbs. The young man at the counter greeted her.

“Well, if it isn’t Anita! Last time I saw you, you were swaddled up like a baby. Now you’re walking around on your own.”

“It hasn’t been that long. Oh, do you have lemon pie?”

“Of course. How many slices?”

“Two, please.”

He wrapped the slices neatly with a ribboned box, which Anita carried out of the shop.

“Rutger, let’s go.”

Rutger turned at her voice, the book tucked under his arm. For a moment Anita froze—under the warm lights of the shopping street, his green eyes gleamed like a calm emerald lake. The way his gaze shifted color with the light always left her awestruck.

As she stood staring, Rutger frowned, wondering what was wrong this time.

“Anita Rodel.”

“Oh—sorry. Let’s go.”

She shook herself out of it, answering awkwardly as she walked toward him. Rutger didn’t pay the box in her hand any mind, never imagining she’d bought it for him.

They walked side by side until their street came into view—and immediately noticed the commotion. About ten adults were gathered outside, voices raised. Narrowing her eyes to get a better look, Anita muttered,

“…We’re screwed.”

“What?”

Rutger followed her gaze and sighed. A policeman stood among the crowd, wearing a crisp white shirt, a baton at his hip, and a cap on his head.

No doubt the adults had reported them missing. Anita looked on the verge of tears, while Rutger briefly considered bolting.

But as he turned to do so, Anita grabbed his sleeve.

“Are you out of your mind? We’ll just get scolded. If you run now, it’ll turn into a huge mess.”

So the two of them obediently headed home. Someone shouted in relief at seeing the missing children return, and the adults turned stern, reproachful eyes on them. Anita hid her face behind her book in shame, but Rutger stood tall, annoyingly unfazed.