Aj Blackbird's Arc

Chapter 6 of 7

The rent was paid, but the flat was cold and the cupboards were bare. Aj sat on the floor with her three cats and counted what was left. Nothing. Will's clean money had gone to the landlord, every coin. Now there was no food for her, and no food for the cats. The stripecat pawed at an empty bowl. Aj's stomach growled. Six days stretched ahead with nothing to eat. Will came that evening with a paper bag. He set it on the counter. "From the store," he said. His face stayed flat, but his eyes went blue. "Bread. A tin of soup. Cat food." He would not meet her gaze. "The store shelves are full for customers. But I can't take stock without paying for it. This is all I could spare." Aj opened the bag. One loaf. One tin. One small box of cat food. Not enough for two days. She felt tears rise and pushed them down. "We're not begging from anyone," she said. "Not you. Not my mother. Never again." Will knelt beside her. "Then we find another way." Aj went to the closet. She pulled out an old cardboard box, the last thing she had carried from her mother's house. Under folded scarves she found a small black safe, cold and heavy in her hands. A tiny keyhole sat in its center. She had forgotten it. She had never known what was inside. "It was in my things," Aj said. "Mother packed it. I never opened it." Her hands shook. "She always gives with strings. But she doesn't know I have this." Will found a thin nail. He worked the lock while the cats watched. The keyhole was small and old. After a long minute, the catch clicked. The door swung open. Inside sat a worn leather wallet, its folds soft with age. Aj lifted it. She opened the flap. Bills. Real bills, thick and green. She counted with trembling fingers. Five hundred dollars. "It's ours," she whispered. "Not a loan. Not a favor." She held the wallet to her chest. "We can eat. The cats can eat. For weeks." Will's eyes turned green, then soft. "You found it. Not me." But Aj went still. The wallet was old. The safe had come from her mother's house. Her mother had packed it. Her mother, who used documents and names to trap people. Aj turned the wallet over. A faded mark was pressed into the leather, a small bank seal. Her throat tightened. This money had not been meant for her. It had been hidden. And if it came from her mother's house, then someone would come looking for it. "We eat first," Aj said quietly. "Then we find out whose money this really is." The cats circled her feet, hungry no longer. But a new weight had entered the flat, and Aj knew it would not leave quietly.