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My throat tightens with widened eyes. Mal only grins, excited about the news. I want to speak about my discomfort with it, but he believes in me to keep my head on straight. I won’t lie and say it doesn't scare me half to death. What if my hands become so sweaty that I slip up and hit the wrong wire?
Then we all die.
My heart beats faster, like a jack rabbit hitting that stupid drum. I dip my head, facing the opposite wall, away from prying eyes to hide my reaction. I close my eyes and breathe. Just like what Scarlette would encourage.
Breathe.
It doesn’t take long for my scattering heart to slow down. I swallow the lump, and switch back, as if nothing happened, and walk over to where Boone kneels in front of a child.
The young girl starts to tear up. “It’s okay, little one.” He speaks softly, the baritone in his voice present, but it’s warm enough to make her sniff and gaze into his eyes like he’s a superhero.
He treads, reaching up to the bomb. She goes rigid like ice.
“My name is Boone. What’s yours?” His hands stay up to show he’s not moving until she’s comfortable enough. Her eyes shift back and forth on his face.
“I’m Scarlet,” she whispers.
I can see him stiffen, and I do too, pretending that name means nothing to me. How ironic.
“Scarlet. That’s a pretty name.” Besides the stiffness that he showed, his voice doesn’t show it.
Her eyes scan his fingers, then back to him. “Thank you. My mom tells me to always say thank you when someone says a nice thing.” Little Scarlet starts to become comfortable, although there are people hovering over her with guns. “And your voice is funny, Mr. Boone.”
I snicker, pursing my lips. I agree with her on that. It is similar to my Scarlette, but different in every way. When he said pretty, he sounded like ‘pree-eh.’ I continue admiring the girl's bravery and the bomb in Boone's fingers.
He nods lightly. “I know. I constantly hear it.” He clicks a wire, and she winces. “Do you know what your name means?” He begins fiddling with the bomb, carefully distracting her again.
Her head shakes.
“It means red, for courage, passion, and joy.”
I contained my reaction. He knowswhat her names mean, and that confirms there is something going on so much deeper than I know. No matter how sweet that is, he’s still on my radar.
Her face twinkles like a star. “Really?”
He nods. “Yes, and you are very brave, Scarlet. What’s your favorite thing to do?” he asks gently. I watch as his fingers lock around a loop that’s made up of live wires.
She doesn’t answer; she sniffs with a stuttering breath. “I-I love playing with my dog. It’s my favorite.” Her voice is small and heartbreaking. I have the urge to hug her once she's out of this chair.
He hums, touching a green wire, his movements measured with care. “I have a dog, too.”
I look up quickly to see her reaction before staring back at Boone’s movements.
“You do?” Her voice raises with some excitement.
“Yes. But he’s massive.”
“I have a small dog. I like big dogs, too.”
He touches the red wire, examining it. “I don’t know. My dog may scare you. He’s taller than I am.”
She giggles. “That’s not possible.” She continues laughing, unaware that Boone has taken out clippers and hovers them around the red wire. I watch his finger roll over the two black buttons.
My chest caves as the scissors slowly close. The sweat forms up my back, the air thins, and we all become stiff with fear.
“Very possible.” He clips the red wire.
Nothing.