Memories flooded back so fast that Reg was unable to sort them out. They were fragmented and confused, all mixed together.
“When I was a child,” she said, trying to sift through the memories. “You were there.”
Julian nodded his agreement. “We were together,” he said with a dreamy smile, “when we lived with the Newburgs.”
“We were not together,” Reg said, not wanting the others to think that they had been romantically involved. “We were both in foster care with them.”
With the memories flooding her brain, her need to feed was starting to pass, the hunger gradually lessening. Julian was still making cow eyes at her, charmed by whatever happened when she touched him. It was incredibly irritating.
“We were in foster care,” she repeated, raising her voice as if that would help him to process what she said better. “What happened?”
“I didn’t do anything,” Julian said in a slightly petulant tone. “It wasn’t my fault.”
Of course it was. He had been older than Reg. He had tormented her to no end. Whatever had happened had definitely been his fault.
“You’re lying.”
“It wasn’t me.”
Did he remember what had happened, or was he just generally denying that he could have done anything wrong?
“Julian.”
“What?”
“Look at me.”
He didn’t at first, unfocused, staring off into the distance. Reg shook his shoulder.
“Wake up. Forget everything else. Look at me. At my eyes. I want to know what happened.”
Eventually, Julian was able to draw his eyes back over to Reg. He looked reluctantly at her. Reg looked at his eyes, still vague, and tried to enter into his thoughts. If he had memories of what had happened, she wanted to share them. Put them together with the bits and pieces she could recall and build a full picture.
“Let me in,” she urged.
It was against the rules to force anyone to connect. But Julian wanted to, didn’t he? He wanted to remember what had happened just as badly as Reg did. If he allowed her into his thoughts, there would be no need for force.
“This is just…” Julian’s voice faded out. Reg felt her way through as his barriers dropped.
“Yes. Let me see.”
She explored, trying to understand how his brain worked. She had connected with other minds in the past, especially since she had moved to Black Sands. But Julian was different. Things seemed fractured and unconnected. There were orphaned memories that didn’t flow into each other or didn’t have any emotions attached. It was a noisy, chaotic place. Usually, when Reg went from her mind into someone else’s, she found it peaceful, momentarily leaving the clamoring voices of her own mind behind. But it wasn’t like that with Julian. He didn’t hear the voices that she did, but things were unsettled, in a constant state of reprocessing and hyper-vigilance. She wanted to raise her hands and make everything stop and be still.
When we lived together, Reg prompted mentally. In foster care with the Newburgs.
A lot of mental indexing. Scene after scene of their time together in the Newburg home. Reg hadn’t been able to remember it very clearly. Sorting through his memories was like watching long-forgotten family vacations in a slide show. It was disconcerting to see herself as a child from the outside. She’d had that experience before when Weston and Harrison had taken her back through time to when she was four.
But seeing herself through Julian’s eyes was different again. Her view was filtered through his perception. Everything seemed darker and a little fuzzy at the edges. As if his memories were faded film. He had watched her a lot—more than she had ever known.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Julian had arrived at the Newburgs’ home on a chilly spring morning. While the social worker talked about how nice it was that the weather was warming up and the snow was melting, Julian saw only the dirty remnants of snow revealing the mud and layers of dead, decaying leaves that had remained hidden during the long freeze.
The Newburgs had several children. Julian was fourteen and there were a couple of kids just a little younger than he was already in the home. Julian was irritated by them before they even opened their mouths. They looked so… boring and bland and stupid. A lot of the foster kids that he’d run into were stupid. He didn’t know why. Maybe they were brain damaged by alcohol or drugs they had been exposed to before they were even born. Maybe from being beaten by their parents or Johns or gangs on the street. Maybe it was because they rarely went to school, and when they did, they didn’t pay any attention or bother to do the classwork or the homework. Whatever it was, he hated encountering the same boring, stupid brains over and over again as he was moved from one home to the next.
And then he’d seen Reg.
When she had been a child, Reg’s hair had not been braided in the tiny box braids that she sported as a medium. Her shoulder-length red hair was always frizzed, tangled, or greasy, depending on how long it had been since someone last forced her to wash it and brush it into some order.
She was eleven. Her skin was as pale as snow and her eyes were enormous. She looked like a wraith. Or a witch.
Reg played on the floor with several toy cars, dollhouse furniture, and Smurfs. She was talking quietly to herself, describing the little scene she was laying out, the characters asking questions of each other, or occasionally growling at someone and swiping her hand through part of the scene to wipe it out.
“Who is that?” Julian asked Mrs. Newburg.
Mrs. Newburg’s lips pressed tightly together. That look that foster parents and social workers always gave Julian when he asked a question he shouldn’t have or that they didn’t want to answer. Julian didn’t see why it should be wrong for him to ask the name of one of the other foster children, so he had to assume it was because Mrs. Newburg didn’t like the girl or didn’t like to talk about her.
“That’s Reg,” she said eventually, her lip curling in distaste. “Reg. Reg! Regina!”
The girl didn’t look up, completely engaged with her game. Mrs. Newburg marched over to her and grabbed her arm, yanking her to her feet.
Reg squealed a protest and tried to writhe away. Mrs. Newburg kept a tight hold on her.
“Reg. You stop that now. Listen to me. I’m talking to you.”
“I was playing with Odette!”
“You were not paying any attention to me. I was talking to you.”
“Didn’t hear you,” Reg pouted.
“You need to listen to me. Or you’re just going to end up in more trouble.” Mrs. Newburg gave Reg’s arm another shake. “Do you want to be in more trouble?”
“No.”
“This is our new foster child.” She shook Reg again, still trying to get her full attention. Reg was looking down at her toys, her body reaching and drooping toward them, hoping that Mrs. Newburg would give up and let her go so she could continue with her game. “Look! Pay attention! This is Julian.”
Julian waited. Reg’s eyes eventually moved from her toys to him. She looked him over and shrugged her thin shoulders.
“Hi.”
“Hi,” Julian greeted. He felt something different around Reg. Not that same stupidly boring crap that he got from most of the other foster kids. There was something very alive about Reg. Her eyes sparkled with intelligence and curiosity. “What are you playing?”
“I’m playing with Odette.” She repeated what she had said a moment ago.
Julian looked around. There didn’t appear to be any other children in the near vicinity. Another little girl might have gone to the bathroom or been sent to clean her room or go run an errand.
Mrs. Newburg shook her head angrily at Reg. “Quit making up nonsense. Now you need to get your stuff picked up. You have chores to do before supper and you’re not going to get to eat if you don’t get them done.”
“We just got everything set up.”
“And now it’s time to put them away. You’ve had hours to play
. Now it’s time to get to work.”
She released Reg’s arm. Reg returned to her place on the floor, painstakingly setting up more doll furniture and Smurfs.
Mrs. Newburg had apparently finished showing Julian around. She left without a word to him, leaving him alone with Reg.
Julian crouched down to look at the scene Reg had set up. “What are you playing?”
“Me and Odette are playing. Go away.”
“Missus said you have to clean up.”
“I don’t have to.”
“She said you have to clean up and do your chores before dinner.”
“I don’t want to.”
Julian grinned at her defiance. He could understand the sentiment. Grown-ups were always telling him to do this or do that. He wished he were grown up so that he could do whatever he wanted to.
Julian picked up one of the Smurfs to look at it. Reg squealed.
“No! Put that back. I need him over there,” she pointed to the spot Julian had picked it up from.
“You have lots of Smurfs. I don’t have any. I think I’m going to keep this one,” Julian ventured, goading her to see how she would react.
“You can’t! That’s mine!”
“This is yours?” Julian repeated. He recognized Reg as the type of child who likely got moved from one home to another every few months. And a kid like that didn’t have very many possessions. She’d have to leave everything behind when she went to a new home, and just take the clothes on her back and maybe a few other clothes that would fit in a plastic shopping bag to hold her over until the next foster parent could get everything she needed. Not much room for toys or collections. “I bet it isn’t. I bet it’s Odette’s.”
Reg’s eyes snapped to Julian’s face. She didn’t have to be coached into making eye contact this time. She stared into Julian’s eyes as if trying to read him. “You see Odette too?”
Julian raised his eyebrows. So she had an invisible friend. Someone she’d made up so she would have someone to play with. No wonder Mrs. Newburg had said she was talking nonsense. There was no Odette.
“Sure, I see Odette,” Julian said, playing along. “She’s right there, isn’t she?” He nodded toward the toys Reg had set up as if there were another child there.
Reg’s eyes widened. She looked at the toys and then back at Julian. “Really?”
Julian snickered. “Not really, you moron. There’s no one there. You’re a freak.”
Her face tightened into a mask. “I’m not a freak.” She clenched her teeth, not saying anything else, even though Julian could tell that she wanted to.
He was going to have fun with her. Reg was going to be a ton of fun to wind up; he could tell that already.
“Well, freak, it’s time to clean up your toys. Do all of these go into the bin?” He indicated a box standing nearby that was partially filled with small toys that had seen better days.
Reg turned her back to him, ignoring the question. She continued to set up the figures, her voice a sing-song as she talked about what she was doing.
Julian knelt beside her and started scooping up toys and putting them into the toy box. Reg protested, grabbing at his hands and arms to stop him.
“No! No, I’m playing with those. You can’t take them away.”
“Missus said if you don’t put them away and do your chores, you don’t get to eat. You don’t want that, do you?”
“I just want to play for a few more minutes. Then I’ll clean up.”
“You won’t get done in time if you don’t get started now.” Julian grabbed a couple more handfuls of toys and dropped them into the bin.
“Stop!” Reg screeched and hit his arm.
Julian just kept going.
“Stop!” Reg picked up one of the bits of doll furniture and hit Julian with it. The pointy little legs of the table scratched his arm and it stung.
“Ouch. Don’t you know you’re not allowed to hit?” Julian pulled the small table from her hand and tossed it into the bin.
“Stop it! Don’t touch my stuff!”
Julian used his powers to pull more of the small toys into his hands and he dumped them into the box. Reg looked at him, her eyes wide.
“Hey!”
He didn’t mind using magic in front of her. She had an imaginary friend. He suspected she told the Newburg’s about a lot of other “nonsense.” No one would believe her if she told them what she had seen. Adults who didn’t practice magic themselves didn’t even believe that it existed. Even if the most stable foster child were to tell them that Julian moved things without using his hands, they would laugh and tell him to quit making things up.
Reg tried to pull toys out of Julian’s hands. When he wouldn’t release them, she grabbed the bin and pulled it toward her to retrieve the toys that she “needed” out of it. Julian grabbed the other side of the container and pulled it away from her.
“Give it!” Reg insisted through clenched teeth.
Julian tried to hold on to it, but even with his physical strength and magic put together, he was having trouble keeping a grip on it. That feisty little redhead was strong! After calculating for a moment, Julian released his grip on the bin and Reg toppled over backward, the toys showering everywhere.
Reg screamed and threw herself at Julian, pounding him with her fists, knocking him from his knees to the floor.
It was at that moment that Mrs. Newburg returned, disturbed by the noise of their altercation.
“Julian! Reg! Cut it out. What’s gotten into you? Stop it now!” She waded into the fray and pulled the two of them apart, grabbing ears to pull them off of each other, and then shoving their heads back together so that they clonked against each other in the middle.
“Ow!” Julian protested. He rubbed the spot on his forehead where they had connected. “She attacked me! Why are you punishing me?”
“It takes two to fight. I don’t know what’s going on in here, but you know it’s time to clean up. Reg… look at this mess! I said it’s time to clean up.”
“I didn’t do it! It was him!” Reg pointed her finger at Julian.
“Who?”
“Him!” Reg pointed again, furious.
“You’d better learn names if you’re going to start blaming things on other kids.”
“Him,” Reg repeated.
“Julian.”
“Julian took my toys away and he made me spill them all over.”
“They aren’t your toys, are they?” Mrs. Newburg countered, confirming Julian’s guess. “Those toys belong to me, and if they are going to cause problems, then I will take them away and you won’t have any toys to play with. How does that sound?”
“Julian spilled them.”
“No, Julian did not. Now the two of you…” She looked at Julian. “You go to the kitchen and find the plates and cutlery and set the table. Put a plate at each place there is a chair. You can do that, right?”
Julian nodded. What was he, six? He knew how to set the table the right way. And he certainly knew how to put a plate at each place setting.
He got to his feet slowly, his head a little dizzy from the collision with Reg’s. She was one tough cookie. She hadn’t even cried out.
“And Reg, it’s time to put these toys away. And you’ll do it now unless you want to lose them for two weeks. How would you like to just sit on your bed for two whole weeks?”
“That’s not fair.”
“Life isn’t fair. Get them picked up.”
“But Julian dumped them.”
“And you are better at picking up toys than he is, aren’t you?”
Reg’s face brightened slightly at this. She grabbed hold of the offered compliment immediately. “I can pick them up faster than he can,” she bragged.
Julian wanted to go back and teach her a lesson. He was older than she was and he could do anything better than she could.
But it was his first day at the Newburgs’, and he didn’t know the lay of the land yet. He would have to wait an
other day to teach Reg a lesson.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Reg could barely remember the incident herself. It didn’t stand out among her other memories. Children had come and gone in all of the families that she had stayed with. She couldn’t count them all, let alone name them. She couldn’t have remembered half of them. But apparently, she had made an impression on Julian.
She flipped through the memories, trying to put them in some kind of order.
She saw herself walking home and into an empty house. Mr. and Mrs. Newburg were both gone to some foster parent training thing. The older children were supposed to be taking care of the younger. The other children were still at school, taking part in extra tutoring or after-school activities. Neither Julian nor Reg had tutoring or was interested in participating in anything.
Julian followed Reg without her being aware of his presence. When he arrived home, he took a look around the house to confirm that they were alone. Reg was already climbing up on the counter in the kitchen to reach the cookie tin. It was supposed to be far above anyone’s head, but Reg was a little monkey. Climbing up on the counter, extending her reach with a wooden spoon, and jumping, she was able to knock the tin off of the top of the cabinets and catch it deftly in her hands.
Julian watched her get a cookie out. Reg startled and her eyes narrowed at him when she realized that he had caught her at it.
“You can have one if you put it back up for me,” she suggested.
Julian took the tin from her and took a handful of cookies out for himself. “I don’t need your permission.”
“She’ll notice if you take that many.”
“I’ll tell her you took them.”
Reg’s mouth pressed together into a long, thin line. For someone so young, she looked like a disapproving old woman. “I’ll say that you did,” she countered.
“She already knows that everything that comes out of your mouth is a lie.”
She blinked and didn’t answer.
“You could just throw them back up there,” Julian said.
Reg looked at the height and angle and shook her head.
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