of his stomach roiled and pushed up his throat as he cupped his hands over his mouth, ran to a tree, and retched.
Half an hour later, Corrine had gutted, skinned, washed, and cut the rabbit into pieces. She set up the space outside in the back, strategically arranging six bricks on the ground to place her dented metal pot to make stew. Once it was set up, she placed some twigs and dried leaves between the bricks, put a lid on the pot, and went looking for her cousin.
Andy had taken a moment to calm his nerves after the retching had stopped. He leaned against the hut and stared at the woods for a while before pulling out his water bottle to rinse his mouth. Although he had been starving a few moments ago, his appetite was now completely gone.
“Hi,” Corrine said. She was standing next to him with fingers linked behind her back. “Want to help me peel some onions and stuff?”
“No, I don’t. I’m going back.”
Corrine crouched on the ground next to Andy and he fought the urge to get up and run. “Look,” she said in a soothing voice. “I know it looked barbaric, the way I killed the rabbit. But I promise you, it’s the most humane way to do it. The extreme force to the skull and brain killed the rabbit instantly on the first hit. It felt no pain whatsoever.”
“It doesn’t matter, Corrine.” His voice was low, resigned. “You didn’t have to kill it. But you did. For sport. We have all this food from your mom, and you refuse to eat it out of spite. And then you went ahead and killed a poor rabbit. I thought you’d changed, but you’re as mean and evil as you’ve always been.”
“Oh what are you, Andy? Five? I mean, you do eat beef and chicken in that fancy mansion of yours, don’t you? It’s not like you’re a vegetarian. Or did you think animals drop to the ground and die automatically every time someone approaches to buy them for dinner?” Corrine’s eyes were bulging and her lips thin. “All you rich folks are the same. Getting all self-righteous when the things you do in private are way more vile. Don’t think I haven’t noticed your father’s leather shoes. So quit preaching at me.”
Andy thought about Corrine’s words for a moment. She sounded pretty smart for a school dropout. And maybe she had a point. But he still couldn’t fathom bludgeoning an animal to death without a trace of compassion. He shook his head.
“And I have changed, Andy,” she went on, glaring at him. “My parents have changed too. This whole fucking town has changed. I could write a whole goddamn book about it. Maybe someday, when you actually trust me and don’t think I’m crazy like the rest of this town, I'll tell you all about it. But until then, you’ll have to earn my trust, and you’re not going to get there by being a sanctimonious prick.” She stood. “Now, I’m going to make lunch. You can either help me cut some vegetables or you can go home. But if you go home, don’t bother looking for me again. ’Cause I won’t have any business talking to you.” She walked away.
Andy didn’t know what to think. His feelings ran the gamut from disgust to guilt. All he had ever seen was Corrine consistently treating others without a shred of empathy. The Corrine he had known as a child was fearless, cruel, and indifferent, and she was no further from that now. But he was certain the root of her problems lay somewhere else. At the moment, he was the only one Corrine would speak openly to. If he played this right, she might actually share with him her reasons for behaving the way she did. And the real reason she dropped out of school. But if he didn’t, chances were she’d kick him out and never speak to him or anyone else again. And he would have failed Aunt Magda.
There was only one option. He rose, walked back into the hut, and exited through the back. Corrine was crouching on the ground, blowing air into her makeshift stove.
“What would you like me to do?” he asked.
The fire finally
Half an hour later, Corrine had gutted, skinned, washed, and cut the rabbit into pieces. She set up the space outside in the back, strategically arranging six bricks on the ground to place her dented metal pot to make stew. Once it was set up, she placed some twigs and dried leaves between the bricks, put a lid on the pot, and went looking for her cousin.
Andy had taken a moment to calm his nerves after the retching had stopped. He leaned against the hut and stared at the woods for a while before pulling out his water bottle to rinse his mouth. Although he had been starving a few moments ago, his appetite was now completely gone.
“Hi,” Corrine said. She was standing next to him with fingers linked behind her back. “Want to help me peel some onions and stuff?”
“No, I don’t. I’m going back.”
Corrine crouched on the ground next to Andy and he fought the urge to get up and run. “Look,” she said in a soothing voice. “I know it looked barbaric, the way I killed the rabbit. But I promise you, it’s the most humane way to do it. The extreme force to the skull and brain killed the rabbit instantly on the first hit. It felt no pain whatsoever.”
“It doesn’t matter, Corrine.” His voice was low, resigned. “You didn’t have to kill it. But you did. For sport. We have all this food from your mom, and you refuse to eat it out of spite. And then you went ahead and killed a poor rabbit. I thought you’d changed, but you’re as mean and evil as you’ve always been.”
“Oh what are you, Andy? Five? I mean, you do eat beef and chicken in that fancy mansion of yours, don’t you? It’s not like you’re a vegetarian. Or did you think animals drop to the ground and die automatically every time someone approaches to buy them for dinner?” Corrine’s eyes were bulging and her lips thin. “All you rich folks are the same. Getting all self-righteous when the things you do in private are way more vile. Don’t think I haven’t noticed your father’s leather shoes. So quit preaching at me.”
Andy thought about Corrine’s words for a moment. She sounded pretty smart for a school dropout. And maybe she had a point. But he still couldn’t fathom bludgeoning an animal to death without a trace of compassion. He shook his head.
“And I have changed, Andy,” she went on, glaring at him. “My parents have changed too. This whole fucking town has changed. I could write a whole goddamn book about it. Maybe someday, when you actually trust me and don’t think I’m crazy like the rest of this town, I'll tell you all about it. But until then, you’ll have to earn my trust, and you’re not going to get there by being a sanctimonious prick.” She stood. “Now, I’m going to make lunch. You can either help me cut some vegetables or you can go home. But if you go home, don’t bother looking for me again. ’Cause I won’t have any business talking to you.” She walked away.
Andy didn’t know what to think. His feelings ran the gamut from disgust to guilt. All he had ever seen was Corrine consistently treating others without a shred of empathy. The Corrine he had known as a child was fearless, cruel, and indifferent, and she was no further from that now. But he was certain the root of her problems lay somewhere else. At the moment, he was the only one Corrine would speak openly to. If he played this right, she might actually share with him her reasons for behaving the way she did. And the real reason she dropped out of school. But if he didn’t, chances were she’d kick him out and never speak to him or anyone else again. And he would have failed Aunt Magda.
There was only one option. He rose, walked back into the hut, and exited through the back. Corrine was crouching on the ground, blowing air into her makeshift stove.
“What would you like me to do?” he asked.
The fire finally
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