by Lucinda Dark
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. McKnight. I’m Terra, we spoke on the phone.” Terra shook their hands before turning to me. “And this is Barbara Steele.”
I shot her a nasty look.
“Hi, Barbara, it’s lovely to meet you. My name’s Elizabeth and this is my husband, Jonathan. It’s been a long time since we’ve seen you.” The woman stuck out her hand.
I stiffened and looked down at it. “Barbie,” I said. I forced my arm to lift. I took the hand she offered, shook it once, and as soon as the tremors hit and my palm grew slick with sweat, I dropped it and backed away. “Nice to meet you, too,” I muttered, forcing an uncomfortable smile.
If Mrs. McKnight noticed my aversion or the way I’d snatched my hand back as fast as I could, she didn’t comment. Instead, she gestured towards the front door as she said, “Why don’t we go inside and get acquainted?”
“I think that’s a lovely idea,” Terra said, nodding for me to go ahead.
With slow movements, I edged past them and entered the house. It was just as big on the inside as it was on the outside. The walls were a cream color, lined in ivory at the base and top. The floors were a dark mahogany hardwood. This house was already far nicer than anything I’d lived in, even when my parents had been alive. A minister and a historian couldn’t afford something like this. I wondered how my godparents had even known my family much less been close enough to be there for my birth.
A wide staircase led up to the second floor. I tilted my head as Mrs. McKnight stopped at my side and directed her gaze towards the top of it. Twin orbs of burning autumn brown reflected cool disinterest. My lips parted as I took in the man at the edge of the top step. Tall, tan, with his hair shorn close to his scalp all around. He looked every inch a bad boy, except instead of the black t-shirt and shitkickers I expected a bad boy to wear, he was dressed in a football uniform of white and navy blue.
Suburbia. Where even the bad boys come with money and a football fetish.
"Maverick, why don't you come and meet Barbie?" Though she phrased it as a question, it was clear that she meant it as something else. An order.
Nonetheless, the guy descended the stairs, scowling my way as he skirted past us. "Can't," he barked over his shoulder as he moved towards the entryway, "I'm late for practice." I didn't miss the look that Mrs. McKnight shot her husband as the front door slammed behind him. Mr. McKnight shook his head.
"Sorry about him," Mrs. McKnight said, drawing Terra's and my attention. "He's been under a lot of pressure this year to bring home the championship. It's only a few weeks away now."
"No worries," Terra replied cheerfully. “Besides, I know how teenagers are.” As if she couldn't help herself, her eyes flicked toward me and I mimicked the same scowl the guy had given me. Her lips twitched in amusement.
“Shall we head into the living room?” Mrs. McKnight asked.
“Lead the way,” Terra replied. I followed as Mrs. McKnight led us into a lavish living room complete with an overstuffed couch and a matching chair and loveseat.
Popping my ass on a single chair so I wouldn’t have to sit next to anyone else, I turned my face to the side and made a slow examination of the rest of the house. An older woman with olive toned skin and graying hair bustled through the open doorway, across the room, and into the kitchen.
Terra and the McKnights began discussing things like weather and the drive. It was just small talk. Assessing talk. Questions that should have already been answered—that probably had already been answered by tests, interviewers, other social workers, emails, and papers that the McKnights likely had to fill out before they had me shipped here. But small talk made them comfortable as they eased into what they were about to do—accept some strange girl into their home.
I sighed, zoning out as I propped an elbow up on the edge of the cushioned seat and let my chin drop to rest in my hand. Exhaustion pulled at my nerves, and somehow, it was even more tiring not letting it show. That little side trip to the church the night before had been worth it, but man was I beat.
My gaze drifted back to the group as Mrs. McKnight reached for the coffee table in front of her and flipped open a book. “—college roommates and you wouldn’t believe the trouble we got into.” My eyes widened as I realized how much of the conversation I’d missed because somehow the subject had turned from nonessential irritating small talk to talking about my parents. And they had pictures.
All of the warmth in the room disappeared and ice cold stones fell straight into my stomach as I caught a glimpse of the picture Mrs. McKnight turned Terra’s way. It was my mom. A much younger version of my mom than I’d last seen, but I’d recognize her white-blonde hair anywhere. It was the same as my own.
“Oh, she’s lovely,” Terra said, sounding intrigued. “She looks just like—” Terra’s face lifted and she paused. Something in my expression must have given me away because in the next breath she handed the photo back and changed the subject. “Thank you for showing me these.” Her tone shifted, moving from conversational to all business, and I resisted the urge to thank her as she directed the McKnights’ attention away from my parents. The one subject I couldn’t stand anymore.
“I’ve already contacted the principal at Mav’s school,” Mrs. McKnight replied, shooting me a quick smile. One that I couldn’t find the strength to return. Not when she was still holding the photo of my mom as she slipped it back into the album in her lap. “St. Marion Academy is one of the best schools in the state. They have advanced courses, beta clubs, great sports programs.”
Terra nodded. “That sounds wonderful. I’m sure Barbie will fit right in, won’t you, Barbie?” All eyes fell to me with the question.
I shrugged my response. “I guess so.” St. Marion Academy, I thought. Sounds like a school for rich pricks. “Is it a Catholic school or something?”
“Oh, well no…” Mrs. McKnight trailed off, biting her lip. “It used to be a religious based private school, I think, back in the sixties. It’s no longer like that now. St. Marion focuses primarily on education. It’s got all of the resources a blossoming student might need.” Mrs. McKnight flashed me another mega-watt smile. “New schools always seem scary, but don’t worry, I can take you for your first day. They give you a tour and everything. It’s your junior year, right?”
“Sort of,” I hedged, shifting uncomfortably.
When she frowned, Terra jumped in with an explanation. “It seems that Barbie’s education was primarily … er, what I mean to say is that she was homeschooled. We’ve had her in the school system while she was at the group home—mostly self study. She hasn’t been in a classroom yet. It took a while to determine where she is developmentally—but…” Terra looked back to me.
I sighed. “They had to put me through a bunch of stupid tests to figure out if I’m dumb or smart. Surprise, I’m smart.” I paused. “Enough anyway. I’ve pretty much tested out of most of the upper level classes.”
Terra shot me a look for my tone, but Mrs. McKnight didn’t seem particularly offended. “That’s right, I forgot Delvina went on to become a history professor. She probably had you doing a whole slew of academic work at home. So, would you be considered a senior then? You’ll be in the same grade as Mav.”
I ignored my mother’s name as best I could. “Yeah, technically…” I replied.
“What else did you learn while you were homeschooled?” Mr. McKnight asked, speaking to me for the first time.
I met his soft brown eyes, similar to his son’s. “My dad liked to work out and he taught me and Brandon how to shoot and box,” I said, my tone stilted. “And with boxing, we practiced different martial arts.”
It had been just fun for Brandon and me. Neither of us had ever thought we’d need that training, despite what our parents had claimed. We’d never seen the monsters they had warned us against and for most of our lives, they had been nothing more than shadows in the dark. That was … until those shadows had come into the light. Just for one night. And
when they left again, my whole world had been painted in red.
Mr. McKnight’s lips lifted into a smirk as his wife gasped, drawing me away from my morbid memories and grief stricken thoughts. “Your father gave you a gun?” She sounded absolutely horrified. I wondered what she would do if she knew why he gave me that gun. A gun that now sat somewhere under the burned rubble of my old house.
I shrugged again. “It’s not a big deal.”
Mrs. McKnight obviously didn’t know what to say to that, but from the pallor of her face and the way she kept shaking her head in disbelief, I knew it wouldn’t be likely she’d agree to take me gun shopping. Even though me having a gun would probably have made the both of us safer.
Three
Barbie
“Oh dear, is that the time?” Terra stood abruptly. “I’m so sorry, Mr. and Mrs. McKnight—”
“Please,” Mrs. McKnight waved away her concern, “call me Beth.”
“Well, thank you so much for having me, Beth,” Terra said, “but I really must be going. I have to return the rental and catch my flight to—oh geez, has my watch stopped working?” Terra stopped and tapped against the screen of her techno-watch. It flickered for a moment before the screen went black. Her eyes widened.
I smirked. As much as it pained me to even silently admit it—her issues with technology were not always entirely her fault. In fact, I wouldn’t have been surprised to find out she’d been cursed. Nothing ever seemed to work right for her.
“What time is it?” Terra whirled around and when she spotted a grandfather clock against the far back wall, her gasp choked in her throat. “I’m going to miss the flight!” Terra cried.
In almost no time at all, Terra had bustled towards the front door, her keys in hand as Mr. McKnight followed her out. I trailed after them absently and he helped me unload my bags—a worn backpack one of the older kids in my group home had given me and a black trash bag for the rest. It was only when I had the bag in my grasp that it truly hit me. I almost didn’t realize what was happening until it was too late.
A tight feeling settled in my chest. Terra had been my one constant since my parents had died. Everyone else’s faces had passed in and out, some staying days, some weeks, some even months, but none of them were as familiar as she was. And now she was leaving me on the doorstep of virtual strangers. I peeked up at Mr. McKnight as he walked back up the path with me. He was an average sized man, quiet, with soft brown eyes and a scruffy beard. He grunted as he reached for my backpack, but I held onto it. I didn’t want to risk him finding the things I had in there.
Our gazes met and he nodded once, as if to tell me it was alright. I shook my head and with a sigh, he released it and continued into the house as his wife came out onto the porch. Mrs. McKnight put an arm around my back as she waved to Terra. My social worker paused, lifting her eyes to meet mine through the windshield. Something passed between us then. An understanding. I had her card in my backpack. I had her contact information and before we’d even gotten in the car to come here, she had told me that, no matter what, I was always welcome to call her if I was in trouble.
I nodded, letting her know I was going to be okay. If it was a lie or not, I wasn’t sure. But it was the hope for now.
Terra Rhodes reversed out of the McKnight’s driveway, and I winced when she nearly clipped their mailbox. But, thankfully, she swerved and avoided it at the last minute. I snorted. I’d bet anything in the world that she was cursing an embarrassed blue streak right about now. The sun began to set in the distance as the red glow of her taillights faded down the road.
It was always the plan for her to leave me behind, but for some reason, my chest ached with hollowness as if I were merely an empty trash bag blowing in the wind. Lost and bereft. I didn't want to admit that I was scared. That I hated the idea of being left here with these strangers. Alone. The truth was, whether I was left there or put in another group home somewhere else, I would always be alone. No one else knew what I knew and it was probably a hell of a lot better that way. If they knew, the world might literally turn into a bloodbath.
"Hey," Mrs. McKnight's voice filtered into my mind and I turned, glancing up at her pretty, smiling face as I stuffed my emotions down into a dark hole and covered them up with a placid smile. "Dinner should be ready soon. I think we’re having Chicken Cordon Bleu tonight. It's one of Jon’s favorites. I hope you like it.”
I knew she was trying to be nice, but I honestly didn't know what else to say except the truth. "I don't know," I said. "I've never had it."
"Oh, well, trying something new is always nice." She tried to sound enthusiastic, but I could sense the awkwardness by the strained, tightness of her voice. She reached for the front door and pushed it open further.
"Yeah," I lied, following her back into the house. She stepped to the side and let me enter. Something new wasn't always nice. Sometimes, something new was the result of losing something precious. But I didn't say that.
Mrs. McKnight took me up to the second floor, which was just as expansive as the first. It was bigger on the inside than what it had appeared from the front. As we walked, Mrs. McKnight prattled on, informing me that there were two separate home offices, a game room, and a formal dining room.
“We mostly just eat at the breakfast nook, though,” Mrs. McKnight said as she passed through the hallway at the top of the stairs, stopping every so often to gesture and tell me which rooms were what. “That’s the library,” she said, causing my eyes to bulge.
They had a fucking library in their house? I thought. What was this? Beauty and the Beast? Then I recalled their son. I was no princess, but I suppose he was pretty beastly.
“Bathroom number two. The first is on the first floor,” she announced. “This is mine and Jon’s room.” She popped the door open. It was as big as it was neat—as if someone had gone over it with a fine-toothed comb, looking for any hint of clutter or dust and removed it immediately. “We also keep a couple of guest bedrooms.” She gestured to a pair of closed doors. “For when family comes to visit, or for when Mav has friends stay the night. Jon and I go into the city every other weekend for some us time.” She sent me a bashful smile. “Keeps our marriage fresh, you know?” She paused, a pretty pink blush rising to her cheeks. “Anyway…” she continued on.
Even as I tried to memorize the path we took, the twists and turns and stairs and doors transformed the unfamiliar house into a labyrinth for an outsider like myself. I visually sought out any possible emergency exits, filing them away for the unfortunate—and hopefully unlikely—chance that I might need them. Doors leading into unknown rooms. Windows in the hallways—all possibilities.
We turned down another side hallway and stopped before two doors, each across from the other. One door was closed and the second hung open. It was that second one that caught my attention as I stepped into the doorway. Despite the fact that I could feel Mrs. McKnight’s gaze on my face, I gaped. I knew she was assessing my reaction. It was … pink. A whole lotta pink.
“What do you think?” she asked hesitantly.
“It’s … pretty,” I said—for lack of a better word. I hated to admit it. It was better than my room at my parents’ had been, and I frowned when I spotted my black trash bag full of shit on the bed. “So, I guess this is where I’ll be bunking down.” It wasn’t a question, but she nodded as if it had been.
“Yes, it is. I thought you’d like the view from this one,” she said, gesturing to the windows covered in gauzy curtains on either side of the bed. The big, queen sized bed with a pink coverlet and a white metal base and headboard.
I hesitated, but my curiosity was too much to contain. I moved into the room, dropping my backpack next to the trash bag as I stood in front of one of the windows and slid the curtains to the side.
The window looked out over their perfectly average backyard. There was an in-ground pool next to a stone patio, crisp green grass, and a shed set further back and half hidden by a few overgrown bushes. I knew t
hat wasn’t the view she was talking about though. It was the sight far beyond the yard that made my breath catch in my chest. There were sparse trees to disrupt the image. Instead, they seemed to frame the visage of the valley beyond. An actual motherfucking valley.
The house, I hadn’t realized, was built into a hill—more like a veritable mountain, it seemed. Below, I could make out several more homes and my eyes widened. If I thought the McKnight’s home was lavish, the homes in the valley appeared to be ten times as opulent. They weren’t houses at all. They were mansions.
“I think you can see the school from here,” Mrs. McKnight said as she stepped up to my back. I stiffened at the feel of her reaching past to take the curtain from my grasp with one hand as she pointed with the other. “There it is.”
Forcing myself to relax, I followed the direction of her finger. The building she pointed to didn’t look like much of a school. It looked like a miniature castle. At least three stories high, with rows of windows that spanned each level, the red brick building looked like it belonged in Victorian England. There was even a clock tower.
“Can you see the stadium behind it?” Mrs. McKnight shifted her finger. “It’s newer,” she explained. “They only built it in the last thirty years or so.”
I could vaguely make out what looked to be stadium lights not far beyond the monstrosity that was the school. Her hand dropped away and I couldn’t help the sigh of relief I let out when she took a step back. I turned to face her, coming to a halt at the soft sheen of unshed tears in her eyes.