Exiled: Kenly's Story (A Talented Novel) (13 page)

“
Have a sit, why don’t you?
You’re unsettling, bouncing back and forth that way,” James
said.

I suddenly became all too aware that I’d
been shifting back and forth on my feet. Again, my first instinct
was to remain standing, simply to spite him.

Really, Kenly? You’re going to stand here
all awkwardly just because he suggested you sit?

My next quandary came in my choice of seats:
the futon, where James was sitting in the middle of the lumpy
cushion, or the road car chairs, which looked unstable. One thing
that the Creation Drug had not improved was my coordination, and
falling on my butt in front of James was an embarrassment I was
determined to avoid.

Stop being so damned juvenile. Sit next to
him. Show him that he doesn’t intimidate you.

When I started for the futon, James shifted
over to one side, angling his body to face me. Pulling my legs up
to fold them beneath me, I realized how ridiculous I must look
wearing polka-dot pajamas that belonged on a five-year old.
Self-consciously I hugged my knees to my chest and tried to make
myself as small as possible.

“
Why are you out here
anyway? Don’t you have a bed in there?” I quickly asked, pointing
to the closed bedroom door that wasn’t mine.

James cocked an eyebrow. “With Riley and
Willa? No thanks. I’ll take this old futon any night over listening
to the two of snogging and then some. Don’t change the subject.
Admit it. You’re one of the Created.”

I said nothing, squared my jaw, and refused
to let the smug British boy know that he’d rattled me.

“
Come on, Miss America.
Give us a bit of respect here. We’re taking a rather large risk by
letting you into our lives. At least let us know how deep the shite
we’ve stepped in is.”

I cringed, hating that he had a point. My
presence did put them in danger.

“
The Poachers, UNITED, both
are offering big rewards for Created.” James leaned against the arm
of the futon, head resting in his threaded fingers. “Not to mention
the gangs. I wager they’d make a leader out of anyone who bagged
one of your lot.”

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