Page 55 of Ransom
"What," I said. My voice came out level. That took work.
"Nothing." His mouth twitched. "You get used to him."
"Do you?"
"No. You just stop jumping."
Sierra snorted from the stove.
The back door opened again, this time the one that led to the yard, and voices spilled into the kitchen. Ten or twelve young voices, loud and layered over each other, came in dusty and sweaty, like they'd already been up and working for hours. Boots hit the hardwood and chairs scraped, and somebody laughed at something somebody else said.
They stopped short in the doorway.
The tall one in front had dark hair pulled back in a ponytail and a scar that ran from his temple to his jaw. He looked at Ransom's face and stopped walking. The kid behind him walked into his back.
"Holy..."
"Mateo," Sierra said from the stove, not turning. "Whatever word you were about to say, don't."
"I wasn't gonna." He had been. He was still staring at Ransom. "Who got you?"
"I fell."
"Off what, a building?"
"Drop it."
Behind Mateo, the kid he'd walked into was already grinning. He had his phone out, low at his hip, thumbs already moving. "Was it Rex's guys? Tell me it was Rex's guys."
"I said drop it."
"It was Rex's guys."
A phone buzzed on the bench beside Mateo. Then another, two seats down. Then a third, somewhere in the back of the pack. The kid behind Mateo bit his lip to keep from laughing and didn't quite manage it. Down the table, a tall kid with a sunburn glanced at his screen, looked up at Ransom's face, looked back at his screen, and his shoulders started shaking.
Ransom's own phone buzzed once against the wood of the table. He didn't look at it.
"Phones," Sierra said from the stove, without turning.
"Sierra—"
"Bowl by the door. You know the rule."
There was a collective groan, and a slow shuffle of boys getting up and dropping phones into a wooden bowl on the sideboard like coins into a collection plate. The kid with the grin was the last to surrender his, and he held it to his chest a beat longer than the rest before letting it go.
"Cruz," Sierra said.
"I'm goin', I'm goin'."
The phones piled up. The bowl filled. Somebody's was still buzzing at the bottom of the stack when Cruz dropped his on top and the whole pile gave a muffled, communal rattle, like a nest of something underground.
Mateo turned to me with his hand already out. "Mateo. You're the Ranger. You let him throw the first punch?"
I shook his hand. "Winston. And hard to stop him when he puts his mind to doin' something."
"Which one'd you hit?"
A short silence before Ransom answered, staring straight at Rafe. "Otis."
