I chew the inside of my cheek, fascinated. So assassin and spy weren’t wrong, they just weren’t right. Whatever these Families are is far more complex than that—they’re nothing short of an ancient secret society that quietly pulls the strings behind the scenes all over the world. But the part that I can’t get good with is why my family would put me here with all of these secret society kids. I’m from Pembrook, Connecticut. I drive an old truck with a worn bumper sticker that reads I’M ONLY SPEEDING ’CAUSE I REALLY HAVE TO POOP. And the most mysterious thing about me is whether I’m going to bring lunch to school or walk to the pizza place, for god’s sake.
“Well?” Ash says, and I realize that I’m frowning into the dark branches.
“Right…thanks. That helps. I just…Stupid Conner, trying to make me doubt myself,” I say, and force my face to relax. I press my thumb into my palm.
“Something else you want to ask?” Ash says, watching my hands.
I stop what I’m doing and casually rub my hands together instead. “Tell me whatever you think will keep me from getting punched again.”
His expression turns serious and he nods, like I’m finally asking the right questions. “See, that’s the thing. Layla and I aren’t sure why that happened. You Italians have always bickered among yourselves. I’ll admit that it’s dramatic sometimes, but ultimately you all look out for each other. I tried to ask Matteo, but he wouldn’t say a word. The only thing I can gather is that it was personal and important.”
“But I’ve never even talked to him!” I say, frustrated. Again with the unspoken rules of this place. How could it have been personal when Matteo is a total stranger to me?
“Yeah, but that doesn’t exactly matter. All the members of a Family are entwined whether they want to be or not,” Ash says. “Bears especially.”
The longer I look at him, the more serious I realize he is. I get that he’s saying the Romans are Bears, but what I don’t get is why he’s implying I’m a part of that Family. I mean, the bears were my mom’s favorite in the stuffed animal game we played, but that’s not hard evidence that it has anything to do with me. Is it? My heart starts to race.
When I don’t respond, Ash starts talking again. “All I know is that Matteo radiated frustration. His fists were clenched the entire time Blackwood was talking to him.” Ash pauses and looks off into the trees for a moment. “The interesting thing was, though, I think he respected you.”
I take a breath and attempt to calm myself down. “Why would you think that?”
“Because he lifted his chin,” Ash replies. “Classic sign of deference to an opponent in battle.”
I choose my next words carefully. If Ash thinks I’m flustered, he may start questioning me instead of the other way around. “So besides Matteo, are there any other Families I need to avoid?”