Read Online The New Wild by Holly Brasher - Free Book Online Page A

here. And not because he’d
save me from a bear or mountain lion—they’d probably go after his meaty
bod before mine.
    He stares me up and down, slowly,
and makes a face like he has something bitter in his mouth. He looks like he’s
going to throw up. “You’ll be happy to know my mother’s dead. Has been for
years,” he says finally, looking down. Tears are pooling in the corners of his
eyes.
    “Oh,” I murmur, feeling terrible.
    His head falls down, and he stares
at the ground below his crossed legs.
    “Xander, I’m so sorry. I didn’t
know,” I offer.
    He looks up, staring deep into my
eyes. My heart thuds. Despite everything he’s done, the fact that he’s been
through something similar to what I went through makes me want to reach out and
hug him. I want to tell him I’m an idiot and to forget I said anything, tell
him my father died, too, and I know how it hurts. He leans in closer to me. I
can feel his warm breath on my forehead when he talks.
    “You know what she told my dad
before she died?” he says, his eyes huge and knowing.
    “What?”
    He puts his two hands together and
laces the fingers like a plea. His eyebrows are pressed together. “She said,”
his voice is slow, melancholy, “that she prays, deeply, that…”
    “Yes?”
    “That I get the whole chicken!” he
exclaims, his face erupting in a grin.
    “You asshole!” I shout, pushing
him on his chest.
    He’s laughing hard now, doubled
over and clutching his stomach. I want to kill him.
    “You’re a real dick,” I say. “So
your mom didn’t die?”
    “Fuck no, she’s like immortal ,”
he says. “Death is for losers.”
    He’s so insensitive I’d like to
skin him along with the bird. My whole body is shaking, I’m so angry.
    And the worst thing is Xander’s still
cracking up, paying me no mind. I shake my head and take out the knife. He eyes
me cautiously, worried I’ll snap at any second. I lift the blade and plunge it
into the back of the chicken as hard as I can, slicing it right down the
middle. I hand him a piece of the breast and a wing.
    “Jackie, I’m twice as big as you
are, with twice as big a stomach,” he says, his voice gravelly and cold.
    “You think I give a shit? You’re
lucky I gave you that.”
    He scoffs, but throws the meat
into his mouth immediately. I don’t get a thank-you.
    I don’t say anything or even look
his way, I just start shoving flesh into my mouth. It tastes incredible. The
best chicken I’ve ever had, by far. Better than the buffalo wing sub at
Nightengale’s in Old Town Portland. Even better than what my mom makes when she
actually cooks. Xander finishes his in record time and puts another handful of
sticks on the fire.
    “Have you ever noticed how much it
looks like a human rib cage?” he says out of the blue.
    “What?”
    He points to the two halves of
chicken bones, picks them up, and holds them together.
    “I mean, it looks just like a
person’s.”
    I look at him warily. “Uh, ew?”
    “My aunt and uncle run a poultry
farm outside of Billings, and you know what it’s like?”
    “No,” I say, and something tells
me I don’t want to.
    “Forty rows of birds stacked on
top of each other, shitting on themselves.”
    The thought makes me want to gag.
“You’re kidding me.”
    “And they feed them the remains of
other chickens,” he whispers, like it’s some kind of secret.
    “Please stop.”
    “ And they don’t even grow
feathers, or get to stretch their wings.”
    “Xander, stop talking,” I
say, shooting him a look.
    “It’s just messed up, that’s all,”
he says, and starts throwing pebbles into the fire. They crack against the
rocks. Eventually, he lays his head down and lets his eyes drift shut.
    The sun is nearly set now, and the
sky’s a deep turquoise color, a bit lighter where the sun was in the west. I
tuck into the blanket Deb gave me. It’s pretty warm out, but I can’t sleep
without something to hold on to, especially now.
    My eyes are