"Hey Val, look at this." Valentine's older brother, Peter, was sitting across from her at the kitchen table. She knew he was waiting for her to look up from the book she was reading so she didn't. He let out a huffed breath of irritation.
"Val, c'mon look." He intoned the demand with mock pleading and she could feel his eyes staring intently at her. She slowly drug her eyes away from the book meeting his gaze with a look that clearly said I heard you the first time but ignored you.
"You're a brat, you know?" Peter hissed. But before she could interrupt with a jibe of her own he held up half of the clementine he'd been eating.
"Looks like a pair of tiny lungs, don't you think?" He wasn't looking at her anymore; instead his brow was furrowed with an intensity that Valentine thought was out of place in relation to a stupid little orange. He should know she thought. Vivid images of the flayed squirrels in the forest leapt into her mind. Yes, it did look like tiny lungs. Complete with veins and bronchial tubes. Valentine couldn't suppress the shudder that crept through her. She should have tried because Peter saw it and his concentrated attention on the orange disappeared and was replaced with a mischievous grin.
"What's the matter, Val? Don't like disemboweled organs?" His taunt was childish and she knew she should ignore him. It was too late for that though. Peter was already under her skin. Once that happened it was almost as if he played out both sides of their conversations, like she was some helpless marionette attached to strings that Peter controlled. It was a dangerous game because in his one hand were her strings and in his other was a pair of shears. And Peter was always poised to cut the strings.
"It's cold in here." It was a weak lie but she found herself at a loss for anything more convincing so she emphasized it with as insubordinate of a glare as she could muster.
"It's August and we live in North Carolina." Peter leaned back in his chair and smashed the orange into his mouth making sure most of it squished back out. Val closed her book, slapping it shut with one hand and pushing herself away from the table with the other.
"You're disgusting. Mom and Dad are going to be so mad when I tell them you've been killing tiny animals in the forest. Tell me Peter, were they alive when you eviscerated them?" Peter's face grew serious. No, more than that it became dark and dangerous. She took a step back from the table as he leaned forward placing both hands on the table.
"You won't tell them." His voice was low and it reminded her of how he spoke to Ender. There was death in that voice. "You want to know why?" No, she thought. She managed to keep herself from shaking her head. It would only let Peter know that he was in control.
"Because I've only been practicing on the squirrels. I think I'm ready to try something a bit bigger." He reached out and snatched another orange from the bowl in the middle of the table. He examined it carefully, pretending to not pay any attention to her. She thought of storming off and telling Mother and Father. Or at least of rushing to her room and slamming the door. But once she had decided to move she found that her feet were rooted to the spot where she stood and she couldn't tear her eyes away from Peter, still turning the orange over in his hand. To anyone else his entire demeanor would look casual. He just sat there, one hand shoved in his jeans pocket. Val wasn't fooled though. Peter was still threatening her. Daring her to turn her back on him. Which was exactly what she almost did. But at that moment her gut was winning the screaming match between it, the flight instinct, and her rapidly beating heart. Valentine's instincts were sharp. Sharper than Peter's, and probably Ender's too. The fact that she was conflicted at all was proof that Peter's threats were far from empty.
So she stood there. After a moment she realized that every muscle in her body was clenched so she focused her breath and systematically relaxed each one. Peter was still putting on a show of indifference to her presence. He had flopped back in the chair and was meticulously picking every last fiber from the now peeled orange. Without taking her eyes of him she slid back into her own chair. Only then did he finally acknowledge her.
"I bet little Ender doesn't get these up in space." He popped a segment into his mouth, without the dramatic effect this time. It was as if the previous five minutes had never happened. Part of the play thought Valentine. He wants me to think he's moved on already and forgotten about the fact that I know what he's been doing in the woods, about his little science experiments. But Peter had already promised both her and Ender that he never forgot. Anything. Ever. And she believed him. He was too methodical for that. He had filed away this incident and was already plotting a way to use it to his advantage. Though, she couldn't imagine what that might be. Thank goodness I can't, she said silently. The day I start being able to imagine what's going on in Peter's mind is the day I might as well join forces with him. She was taken aback by that thought. Forces? What did she think they were besides children? It made them sound like characters in a comic book. Oh, but this is anything but comical she thought.
"You never answered my question." When he glanced up at her she made sure she was looking away, mirroring his indifferent attitude. For once Peter didn't feign confusion.
"Of course. Well, some of them were at any rate. It wouldn't have been much of an experiment if I hadn't tried various methods and approaches." He went back to work cleaning the orange segments. Valentine wanted to scream at him to just eat the damn thing but instead she only nodded slightly. From her peripheral vision she saw Peter's eyes flick back up to her face. He grinned wolfishly and Valentine cursed silently. She didn't know how she knew it but something in Peter's grin told her that he had gleaned something from that almost imperceptible nod. Something that he viewed as leverage no doubt. She would need to remember in the future to not give anything up, no emotion or physical response, to Peter's calculating and watchful eyes.
Valentine was just about to leave the table when Mother came into the kitchen breaking the tension that was drawn between herself and Peter. Peter smiled winningly at Mother who, for a fleeting moment, looked as if she wasn't sure she liked the implications of that smile. That's right, Mother. He is the monster you think you see from time to time. Well, I see that monster all the time. Mother's face softened as Peter got up from the table, kissed her on the cheek then grabbed his school bag off the back of one of the chairs.
"Better hurry, Val. You'll be late for class." As he walked behind her he let one hand rest briefly on her shoulder. She let her eyes close since her face was hidden from him and controlled the overwhelming urge to wrench herself away from his touch. Peter had moved past her now, his hand gone from her shoulder and she turned in the chair pulling open her own pack. She shoved the book she had been reading into one of the pouches and hefted the pack onto one shoulder. She reached for an orange then stopped with her hand hovering over the bowl. A flurry of thoughts raced through her mind. Tiny lungs. Peter is sick. Of course they were alive. I'm not Peter's puppet. And then, Ender doesn't get these in space. She withdrew her hand and decided she'd never eat a clementine ever again.