Read Online The Prince of Two Tribes by Sean Cullen - Free Book Online

had to wait while BLT came down off her sugar high and passed out. She’d slept in his jacket pocket all the way home. He trudged up the steps and reached for the door handle.
    “So, this is where you live?”
    “Whhaa?” Brendan leapt like a scalded cat.
    Charles was sitting in a wicker chair on the front porch. Brendan’s father hadn’t gotten around to taking the chairs down to the basement for the winter. She was curled up, her legs tucked under her, watching him. Her big violet eyes crinkled at the corners as she smiled.
    “It’s a cute little house,” Charlie said. “I like it.”
    “What are you doing here?” Brendan demanded. “This is my family’s house. It’s off limits.”
    “I just wanted to talk to you again. See if you’d changed your mind about being such a stick in the mud.”
    “Well, I haven’t. So buzz off.”
    “You are a very rude boy.”
    For some reason, being called a boy was extremely irritating. He glared at her, summoning his will, and said, slowly and clearly, “Leave me alone.”
    She stiffened. Moving jerkily like a broken puppet or a faulty robot, she stood, tottered across the porch, and stumped down the steps.
    Brendan sighed with relief. He’d done it! He’d Compelled her!
    No sooner had he thought that than she laughed and did a little jig at the bottom of the steps. “Nice try! You’ve got some power, I’ll admit that.” She smiled and curtseyed prettily, holding out the edges of an invisible dress. “I’ll go, then. But I’m not giving up. You can’t get rid of me that easily.” With a little wave and a wink, she headed off up Montrose Avenue.
    Brendan grunted, annoyed and disappointed. He had to admit that he was a little glad his Compulsion hadn’t worked. He didn’t like having that kind of control over other people. After what he’d unwittingly done to Chester … He shuddered at the memory. He pushed the thought from his mind and entered the warmth of the house.
    “Brendan? Is that you?” his mother’s voice called from the kitchen. She stuck her head around the door. “Where have you been? Dmitri and Harold waited for you for an hour.”
    Brendan’s stomach sank. “Oh no! I forgot.” He’d invited his friends over to work on their social studies presentation. It had completely slipped his mind. There’s another reason for your friends to hate you. Shaking his head, he kicked his shoes off and hung his jacket on a hook. He’d have to call them and apologize.
    “Do you want a snack or something?” his mother asked.
    “Not really,” Brendan answered, entering the kitchen. His senses were flooded with the rich scent of fresh bread. His mother was baking, as she did every Saturday afternoon. He ruefully remembered using her baking as a bribe to get the guys to come over. What an idiot.
    Brendan loved her bread, so she made sure she baked plenty to last through the week. She also made muffins and cookies for Delia’s and Brendan’s lunches. She loved to bake: it was her way of unwinding after the week at the office. She was a promotions and events manager at an advertising firm. She was always rushed and under pressure. “Baking takes time. You’re forced to move slowly and carefully. I need that in my life,” she often explained as she churned batter or greased a pan.
    She held out a plate laden with chocolate chip cookies. “You sure?”
    Brendan couldn’t resist. “I guess I could have one.” He plucked a cookie off the plate. It was warm in his fingers, the chocolate melting onto his fingertips. He took a bite and grinned. “Me likey!”
    “Me happy!” his mother answered. They had gone through the ritual since he was a child. She put the plate down on the counter and opened the oven door a crack to check on her bread. Brendan leaned against the counter and savoured his cookie.
    “Everything all right?” his mother asked.
    “Yeah.”
    “You don’t often forget things.”
    “Well, I’ve been a little busy