Ice Country(15)

I stare at him, unable to breathe, unable to speak, feeling every prick of his continued laughter in my skin, drawing blood. Final blood.

I drop my head in my hands as he rakes at the pile with greedy fingers.

Time passes painfully slow. Chairs scrape the floor. There are voices, pats on the back, but I barely hear them, barely feel them. Eventually, the voices die down and I’m left in silence. I feel a presence nearby and finally raise my head.

Buff sits next to me, staring off into space. “I—I—” I start to say, but my throat’s too dry and it just comes out as a rasp.

“You had a good hand,” Buff says, turning to look at me. “You did the right thing.”

His words are no comfort. “I lost everything. Silver that wasn’t even ours to lose.” What’s my sister going to think of me now that I’m broker than a lumberjack’s leg trapped under a fallen tree?

“Not everything,” Buff says, pointing to what’s left of his pile of silver. Maybe a hundred sickle. He was the smart one. He played it safe, didn’t take any big risks. “And you still got me as a friend.”

His words only make the loss hurt more. I don’t deserve him as a friend. I don’t deserve anyone. All I’m doing is bringing down pain on everyone I touch. “You should stay away from me,” I say.

Buff shakes his head. “You can’t get rid of me that easily,” he says. “We’re gonna get through this together. We’ll pay back every sickle.”

I feel numb. “How?”

A nasally voice chimes in. “You will pay back every sickle,” the redhead says. “And you’ll do it our way.”

“What the freeze is that supposed to—” I start to say.

“My boss has a job for you. Two months of it and we’ll call things square.”

“What kind of a job?” Buff asks.

“Now you’re working for the king,” she says.





~~~





“I got a job,” I announce proudly. I don’t mention that half of my pay will go to the Chance Hole, at least until I’ve paid off my debts. The funny thing is, I don’t even mind that part of it. I was two seconds away from being broke and jobless—now I’m just broke.

“I thought you already had a job,” Jolie says, cocking her head quizzically. It’s nice having my sister at home, even if she’s only allowed to stay until Wes and I leave. She can’t be alone with my mother.

“Ha! Dazz, having a job—you must be thinking of someone else, Joles,” Wes says with a laugh. My older brother stirs a mug of steaming tea for mother, who’s curled up on our bearskin rug.

I give Joles a look, hoping she’ll get the message to forget about what I said before. “Uh, that didn’t work out. But this one’s different.”

“Did Yo finally convince you to work behind the bar?” Wes says. He always tells me I spend so much time at the pub that I might as well get paid while I’m there. He helps mother to a sitting position and folds her hands around the mug.

I smile, anticipating the look on his face when I tell him who I’ll be working for. “Naw, nothing like that,” I say.

“Tell us,” Jolie says, resting her head on my shoulder.

“I don’t think Wes is interested, but I’ll tell you.” Jolie giggles, sticks her ear close to my mouth so I can tell just her.

“I’m. Working. For. The. King,” I whisper.

Joles pulls back, an awed expression flashing across her face. “Are you joking?” she asks. A fair question, considering how much I joke with her.

I tickle her, drawing a fresh set of giggles. “Stop, stop,” she cries, but I don’t listen, focusing on her stomach, which is her most ticklish spot. She’s squirming and laughing and yelling for me to stop. Finally, I relent and we both gasp for air.

“Are you really working for the king?” she asks, grabbing my hand.

I nod.

“What?” Wes says, suddenly interested in what we’re doing. He finishes wrapping Mother in a blanket and turns to face me. He has a rare day off from the mines today and it’s weird to see him without even a smudge of dirt on his face. Without the dirt, he’s the spitting image of my father, even more so than me. His dark hair is even cropped short with a slight curl at the top, just like Father used to wear it. His strong jawline, freshly shaved cheeks and chin, and tree-bark brown eyes complete the picture. Me, I’ve got two days’ worth of dark stubble and too-long hair that puts the un in unruly. Feeling self-conscious all of a sudden next to my well-groomed brother, I run a hand through my hair like a comb, trying to straighten it.