Chapter 6 Garbage

Vaughn

“I HAVE TO DO WHAT?” I yelled. “What the fuck!”

“I know,” Julia said, crossing her arms. “One hundred bags is a lot. She cleared us out completely. I have no idea why she wants that much. It’s weird.”

I shook my head in anger while digging through old tools to find the trolley that had not been used in years. “One hundred fucking bags? What does she think she’s got, a damn elephant?”

Julia snickered. “That’s not even the worst part. When I told her a chicken’s lifespan is seven years, she looked like she wanted to buy more.”

“Hah.” I laughed sharply as I wheeled the trolley toward the feed stack. That girl was the weirdest damn thing I had ever met. I had known her two days and already she had slept on a wharf, wandered into my house at six in the morning, trailed water everywhere, bought the runt of the litter, and now ordered one hundred bags of feed for one scrawny chick. One bag would last that thing a month.

I started loading the feed while Julia filled out the order forms. I would have to bring more next time, since she needed stock for the shop too.

“I should warn you,” Julia said. “She’s strange. She sat on the filthy floor for twelve minutes waiting for a bird to choose her. The chicks were terrified.”

“City girls,” I muttered. I knew exactly how this would end. I had seen plenty of them. They could not work. They sure as hell could not run a farm alone. I gave her a month, maybe less.

As I threw the ninety-ninth bag onto the trolley, I added, “Honestly, I’m glad she ordered that much.”

Julia looked up. “Why?”

“At least I know she won’t starve the bird.”

Julia laughed, and I immediately regretted making her laugh. I never knew what to do when people reacted like that.

I shoved the barn doors open and rolled the load inside, hoping to dump it fast and leave without seeing her.

No such luck.

She was curled up on a bale of hay, fast asleep, with the chick nestled in her tangled dark hair. Twigs and grass were woven through it like a nest.

I shook my head. Only an idiot would buy a chick instead of a full-grown chicken.

I dumped the feed bags loudly into the corner, not caring if I woke her. How the hell was she always sleeping? She would never get anything done like this.

Still, I had to admit her fields looked decent.

Knowing how to plant did not mean knowing how to profit, though. And that was where she would fail.

After twenty minutes, only two bags remained.

She still had not moved.

I scowled. “I need her to sign the shipment papers.”

“Hey,” I barked.

Nothing.

I grabbed the last bag and walked over, slamming it down hard enough to shake dust into the air.

“What the hell!” she snapped, jerking upright and clutching the chick protectively. Her dark eyes locked onto mine. “You!”

I hated how intensely she looked at me. I pulled my hat lower.

“There’s a reason people sleep at night,” I said.

She shrugged, distracted by the feed. “I forgot the time,” she muttered. Then she focused again. “Is that all one hundred bags?”

I nodded.

“Do you have more?” she asked, worried.

“That’s plenty,” I said. “It’ll last a year or two.”

“A chicken lives for seven,” she replied.

I shoved the papers and pen at her. When she signed, I turned to leave.

“Wait,” she called. “I don’t know what to do with it.”

I stopped. “With what?”

“The chicken.”

“Feed it. Talk to it. Keep it alive.”

“How much do I feed it?”

“Flip the bag. Instructions are on the back.”

She actually read them. Then she sat cross-legged, placed the chick on her thigh, and fed it grain one piece at a time.

What the hell.

“Why are you doing that?” I asked.

“Because it’s hungry.”

“It’s a chicken,” I snapped. “Throw the feed on the ground.”

She glared at me. “How would you like it if someone threw your food on the floor?”

“I’d rather that than be hand-fed by some city girl.”

She stood, stuffing feed into her pocket. “You’re an asshole, just like everyone else on this island.”

She stormed toward the door.

I shoved my hands into my pockets and felt paper. “Damn it. I need you to fill this out.”

I handed her the form. “Sale contract. Julia forgot.”

“The name?” she asked. “Like the chick’s name?”

“Yes.”

She stared. “People name chickens? That’s weird.”

I scoffed. “You sleep on hay bales, feed chicks grain by grain, and you think naming it is weird?”

She blinked. “You’re the strangest person I’ve ever met.”

“Write the damn name.”

She scribbled and shoved the paper at me. “Her name is Bow.”

She pushed past me, locking the coop. The chick perched on her shoulder.

“You know the chicken’s on your shoulder, right?” I said.

“Do you think I’m stupid?” she shot back. “She’s not sleeping alone.”

I hoped it shit in her bed.

She paused at her orange door and glanced back. The sunset caught her eyes, deep blue and black like sapphires.

“Thanks,” she said quietly. “I’ll let you know when I want more animals.”

She shut the door.

Later, Julia greeted me from the sofa. “How was it?”

“Weird as hell,” I muttered.

She nodded. “Everyone’s making fun of her. She went to the cafe barefoot yesterday and—”

Of course she was the joke of the island.

I could not wait to get back to the city.

Mollie

I crawled into bed beside the little yellow fluff curled on my pillow. “You’re ridiculously adorable,” I whispered.

The silence wrapped around me. No traffic. No shouting. Just wind through grass, water rushing nearby, pine drifting through the open window, and distant waves. Every so often, an owl or something else called out.

I smiled. I loved it here.

My old life could burn.

I noticed glittery makeup left on the dresser and grimaced. I might look plain now, raw and bare, but I loved it. I felt new. Reborn.

“Bow,” I whispered, smiling darkly. “We’re having a bonfire tomorrow.”

I closed my eyes.

“I’ve got some garbage to burn.”