She scrubbed herself as dry as she could and pulled on fresh clothes. Arlo was so much bigger than her that she was sure she looked ridiculous—but at least she was warm. His woolen sweater enveloped her like a hug, warming her inside and out—
Oh, stop it, she told herself, and climbed back onto deck.
She was greeted by the smell of frying butter, and three pairs of nervous eyes. Kenna and Dylan both looked like they’d had a rug pulled out from under their feet, but Tally’s main concern seemed to be whatever was happening over the small gas cooker.
Arlo was turned away, his attention all on the stove.
“I brought you up a sweater,” Jacqueline said awkwardly, holding it out. “You’re only in your shirt—I thought you might be cold…”
He paused before he took it. “Thanks.”
Then he stripped off his wet shirt. Jacqueline closed her eyes. Oh lord.
“Shifters don’t feel the cold, actually. We’re really really tough.”
Jacqueline opened her eyes to find Dylan grinning at her. His older sister, not so much. When Kenna saw her looking, she scowled and looked away.
“That’s very interesting.” Jacqueline sat down opposite them.
Despite what Dylan had just told her, she was pleased to see that while she was downstairs, someone had wrestled some clothes onto Tally, and all the children were in shoes and warm coats. She wriggled her bare toes and tucked them into the bottom of her over-long borrowed pants.
“Is that what you are? Shifters?”
“Yeah.” Dylan sighed dramatically and leaned against his sister, who hunched down into her collar. “Don’t be like that, Kenna, Mr. Hammond said we could tell her!”
“Not everything!” Kenna met Jacqueline’s eye and then glared and stared at her hands.
She can’t be more than twelve or thirteen, Jaqueline thought. What is going on here? Where are their parents?
And why do I keep feeling like I’m missing half the conversation?
Butter hissed as Arlo laid fish fillets in the pan. “There’s bread and butter,” he said over his shoulder. “Any of you want to—”
“Dylan will,” Kenna said quickly, elbowing her brother.
“Hey!”
They certainly act like normal kids, Jacqueline thought as the two squabbled over who would cut and butter the bread. Her heart ached a little, but she ignored it. Not the most important issue here, Jacqueline.
By the time the fish was cooked, Jacqueline’s stomach was rumbling. She’d planned to eat at the Spring Fling, but that hadn’t happened—and she hadn’t planned to jump headfirst into the ocean. Almost dying had an invigorating effect on the appetite, apparently.
Dylan and Arlo got a system going: Dylan handed Arlo a plate of bread and butter, Arlo put fish on top, and Dylan passed them out.
Tally’s eyes were as big as saucers as she watched the plates go around. When Dylan put one in front of her, she leaped in with both hands.
“This looks delicious. Thank you,” Jacqueline said to Dylan as he passed her a steaming plate.
The fish was melt-in-your-mouth delicate. Jacqueline closed her eyes as she took her first bite. The salted butter and fresh bread were better than any restaurant meal she’d ever had.
“Oh, man,” she murmured, and wiped a smear of butter off her chin. “This is…”
“It’s not much.” Arlo’s voice was rough. “I wasn’t expecting guests.”
“I think this is the best thing I’ve ever eaten,” Jacqueline said honestly, and took another bite.
Arlo’s eyes burned into hers, and when he looked away, she was sure his cheeks were pink. “Good,” he muttered.
Warmth bloomed inside her chest. Maybe he didn’t resent her being here so much, after all. Except he kept wincing like he was in pain.