I rubbed my palms against the rough fabric of my jeans. I wanted to bolt. Something about the way he looked at Haley unsettled me—like she was a kid about to lose her lunch money to the school’s biggest bully.
“Hot date tonight, huh?”
I glanced at Haley, uncertain where this was going. Did she have a date to go to? Then his words clicked. He was asking if I was Haley’s date.
Haley looked ready to burn down the world but held her tongue as she stared at her mom, who was shaking her head and pleading with her eyes for Haley not to respond.
There were layers to this dynamic I didn’t understand, but my presence didn’t seem to be helping. I needed a way out.
I cleared my throat again. “Actually, I’m doing a feature on Haley’s art for the school paper. She said most of her work is here, and I asked if I could come see it.”
Haley’s mom eased forward and took her husband by the arm. “Dave, why don’t you go sit down and I’ll grab you a glass of water?”
He reluctantly allowed Haley’s mom to lead him into the living room.
I looked back to Haley. “Do you mind if I go check out the pieces in your room you mentioned? I don’t want to inconvenience you further.”
Skating away, I waved to Haley’s parents. “So...nice to meet you.” As I passed her, I gave Haley’s mom a tight smile, although part of me wanted to shake her and tell her to GTFO.
After peeking in a few rooms, I found Haley’s and settled myself on a stool next to an easel. The room was tiny but had two giant windows that must light the space like a Hollywood soundstage during the day. Haley wasn’t kidding about her room having all her work in it. Every square inch of wall was covered by canvases and artistic black-and-white prints of the landscape that I recognized from my drive here.
When Haley came in, I shot to my feet, ready to apologize for the lie and ask if I should climb out the window. She held a hand up to silence me and quietly shut the door.
“It’s fine. I’m sorry he was such a dick.”
“What happened?”
“My mom said he had too much to drink at dinner again and they couldn’t make it to the movie. He passed out on the way home but woke up when they got here. I wish he would have just stayed asleep in the car.”
“Should I leave?”
Haley was irritatingly imperious about most things, but this was one area where I wanted to take her direction. There was a lot I didn’t know about alcohol and addiction, but it was a sickness that could implode and bring down everything around it. Regardless of her place in the Red Court, I didn’t want to make this situation worse for her. I couldn’t—wouldn’t—add fuel to that fire.
“He won’t remember, anyway. He’ll be out in fifteen minutes.” Her eyes were distant as she spoke. She was locked away in a place inside herself where no one could reach her. I’d seen April do the same just after her accident; she disappeared, and I had to find a way to get a message to her through the walls she constructed to keep herself safe. It took some time, but she found her way out.
“Can you show me what you’re working on?” I asked Haley.
She seemed to jolt out of a trance and looked around. “Yeah, this is my piece for the Winter Showcase in December.”
Haley walked over to a large canvas with a drop cloth draped over it.
“Yeah? Gideon’s entering a photo. Why is it covered?”
Haley considered me for a moment before pulling the cloth away. I could tell this was a part of herself she guarded closely. “Because it was mocking me. There’s something missing, but I haven’t been able to decide what that is.”
The piece was unresolved smears of black and white paint. I knew nothing about art, not really, but I could almost see what Haley meant. The painting seemed like it was reaching for something, but not quite able to grasp it.
“Your muse abandon you?”
“No, it’s just sometimes I start a piece thinking it’s going to go one way, and then I find out that it’s taking me in a different direction. It develops into something unexpected.”
I nodded.
Haley paused and looked at me with a puzzled expression. “You paint?”
“No, I mean I can relate to the painting. Sometimes I feel like I’m on a path and going one place, only to discover the road has changed somewhere along the way and I’m hurtling toward someplace else. It’s never what I expected.”
“Is it ever?” Haley mused. After another moment, she said, “Thanks for not being weirded out by the date comment. I’m not hiding anything. I just don’t have very many people I’m close enough with to share my relationships.”
I smiled. “Really? I’m surprised you’re not gabbing over girls with good ol’ Dave.”
Haley scoffed and let the drop cloth fall back over her painting.
A blue-and-green piece in the corner of Haley’s room piqued my interest and I walked over to examine it. “Tell me about this one.”
“Just something I had to get out of my head. I saw this green hill cut across a clear sky. It was like a stock photo, it was so perfect, and I wanted a version of it for myself. To remember it.”
The whorls of blue were so thick they held texture and contrasted against the swipes of green. It was almost like I could see through the paint to the memory Haley captured, could sense the movement of the grass in the wind.
“I think this one is my favorite.” I noticed the various writing utensils and stacks of Homecoming nomination forms on a chair. “Should we get to work on the ballots?”
Haley shrugged, slipping back into Red Court mode. “Sure. We need to cast a hundred or so votes for Maura.” She sat on the floor and began divvying up the ballots and pens.
“Doesn’t sound so hard.”
“It’s not, but it is tedious. Max now knows that the Red Court will have a hand in the results. Until it’s done, we don’t want him to know who we’re getting elected. Once it’s over, he won’t have any reason to pipe up. We’ll be writing our nominations in various pen and marker colors with a hundred different handwriting styles.”
“Got it, Coach.”
Haley’s cat eyes narrowed to slits, but she didn’t object to the nickname.
I took note of the precautions in our plan. It seemed like Haley had thought of everything. As I filled out nomination forms, I thought about how little I knew about the Red Court, information I’d need to bring it—and its members—down. I sat on the floor and took a gamble at asking Haley another personal question. “Why’d you join the Red Court?”
She stopped working and glanced up at me. “For the favor. I admit it’s not the most inspired reason.”
I didn’t respond, waiting for her to enlighten me.
“The favor. You know?”
The implication that I was missing something obvious poked at a personal sore spot. I wouldn’t have asked unless I didn’t know, and I hated not knowing. “No, I don’t know.”
“It’s the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow? The supersize favor?”
“What?”
“We don’t ask for favors like everyone else because we’re guaranteed the biggest one of all. Before you graduate, you get one very big favor. No debt to pay. It can be anything you want. You write up the assignment and the Queen of Hearts will review and accept. She’s never turned down anyone. I’ve heard that she’ll make suggestions, but whatever you want, you get.” She paused and cocked her head at me. “If you didn’t hear rumors about the favor, then why did you join?”
Shoot. I chewed my lip for a moment. “Control,” I blurted out. “A lot of my life is dictated by other people or activities. It’s nice to be the one pulling the strings.”
Haley squinted at me in appraisal and then went back to her forms. “That’s what my first partner said. She liked the thrill of working behind the scenes. I think the protectio
n aspect must hold a lot of appeal to other members, too.”
I gave a mental sigh of relief. I needed to be more careful. I couldn’t paint myself into any corners with Haley, open any conversations I didn’t have a way out of. I already got the feeling that she sensed something was off about me. Maybe April and I had done too good a job setting me up to be Red Court material. I was honed and sharpened for this role, formed to be exactly what they would need.
“Have you already asked for yours?”
She smiled slyly at me. “Indeed, I have.”
“What is it, then?” Haley’s favor would give me the answer to my biggest question—why was she part of the Red Court?
“That’s for me to know, but it’s going to be epic.” She raised her brows at me. “Start thinking about what you want, Ember. Your senior year will be here before you know it and you’ll need to have your plan all worked out by then.”
I pasted a devious smile onto my face but knew my eyes were still uneasy. “Sure thing.”
For the past two years, there had been only one thing I wanted, and I was getting it. But sometimes, getting exactly what you want feels like the worst thing to ever happen to you.
CHAPTER 11
“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” I exclaimed in chorus with my family and Gideon the next day.
My mom blushed and quickly deflected our attention. “It will be April’s birthday before we know it. How do you think it will feel to be out of your teens, sweetie?”
April’s gaze moved from her phone back to Mom. “What?” Her glazed expression spoke volumes of the toll midterms were taking on her.
Mom’s smile turned brittle. She and April were never very close, but over the last couple of years it seemed like they could never quite sync up, even in casual conversation. “I asked how you think being out of your teens will feel.”
“It’ll probably feel the same.” April’s tone wasn’t sharp, but resigned. “I really need to get back to my budget spreadsheet for the work retreat I’m planning.”
“Of course, let’s cut the cake,” my mom murmured.
It wasn’t that she was a bad mother; she and April were just so different. Our mom was up when the tide was high and left low when it went back out. April was steady, nearly unshakable.
I scrambled to think of something to say when Gideon chimed in. “Just think, April, soon you’ll be able to score us booze.” He winked at my mom.
“Oh, Gideon,” my mom said through a laugh, pulling herself back from the edge of her melancholy. Inexplicably, Gideon was my mother’s favorite human and thus he was invited to every family gathering.
She picked up the cake to carry it into the kitchen and asked Gideon for help slicing it. He shot me a look that said I was both welcome for his help and I would probably be buying him coffee for the next two weeks.
My dad was busy fiddling with his phone, trying to put on some festive music over the portable speaker he’d bought for these exact occasions, so I sidled up next to April.
“Are you ok?” I asked.
“I was on Facebook, and I got a reminder with a photo from Mom’s birthday a few years ago. It was a picture of me and Alec.”
“Oh.” April’s bleak outlook made sense. Alec, the ex-boyfriend, and the most taboo topic.
I remembered that day. We went to Armando’s, our favorite Italian restaurant, and Alec serenaded our mom with an over-the-top version of “Happy Birthday.” April loved it. I gave it a five out of ten.
“I clicked on his profile because I’m an idiot.” Tears were building in her eyes, though I couldn’t tell if she was sad, angry, or both.
“Has he gained twenty pounds and started to lose his hair?”
April laughed. “No, he still looks like Alec. He has a new girlfriend. She goes to his college. I’m happy for him.”
April’s “I’m ok, promise” voice was out in full force. It was full of light, but it was more like the bright light of a tanning bed and just as fake.
“It’s ok to be sad. You’re allowed to be angry or upset.”
“Who says I’m angry? I’m fine.”
“Fine” was not a feeling. It was the absence of happiness.
She went over to Dad to help him with his phone and I was left with a familiar hollow feeling in my stomach. As I sat by myself, my mind wandered back to the night of the accident. I was only fourteen, and I’d watched my sister get ready for a party that night. I could still taste the air flavored with April’s favorite gardenia perfume and a hint of texturizing spray. There was no one in the world I looked up to more than her.
That night she snuck out past curfew to meet some friends for a party to celebrate the end of the school year. I saw now that getting her out late, already breaking a rule, was part of the Red Court’s plan. If she was too focused on not getting caught, then she wouldn’t notice that she was being lured into a trap.
From what she told me, someone in her group had the bright idea to pull a prank at the school. The senior prank the year before had been epic, involving leading cows up to the third floor of the high school from a nearby field. (Fun fact: cows go up stairs but won’t go down them. Each cow had to be loaded into the elevator, one by one, to get them down.) They went to the school to hang a banner up in the theater, but when one of them tripped the security alarm, they all scrambled. April never saw who clipped the catwalk’s rigging to her belt loop, ensuring she’d be the only one left to take the blame.
When the security guard found April, she was lying immobilized on the stage. She had been trying desperately to free herself and escape when the rigging failed, and she fell. She broke her femur and fractured her back when she crashed into the set pieces for the spring musical below. After the dust settled from two surgeries, April was left with an incomplete T12 spinal cord injury. She had sensation in her legs but wasn’t able to walk; she’d been a paraplegic since.
Over the years, a single frame from the blur of my memories has haunted me. I wasn’t allowed to see April until she’d come out of her first surgery. I was so anxious to see my sister that I sprinted ahead of my parents to get to her room. When I think of that moment, the antiseptic hospital smell fills my nostrils, turning my stomach. April had been sleeping or not quite out from under the anesthesia, and she was alone in a large, two-person room.
When my eyes landed on April, I skidded to a stop, my sneakers squeaking. She looked so small in the bed, like a doll. In that moment, I’d never felt more helpless. I wanted nothing more than to be the big sister and take April home, away from the hospital and pain.
She stirred when I settled beside her, mumbling something in her sleep that didn’t make sense until much later: what goes around. At the time, I dismissed it as the residual effect of whatever pain medication she was on. Amid the flurry of events after April’s accident, I didn’t devote much brainpower to what she’d said when she was only half-conscious.
There was only so much I could do to help my family at the time, and I tried making meals and cleaning the house while my parents were occupied. Not that anything I did seemed to ease the stress of the situation. As the weeks bled on, April’s pain—physical and emotional—fed the helplessness until I was drowning in it.
Gideon breezed back into the dining room and sat next to me. “Your aunt just called. Your mom said it would be at least five more minutes before we can eat. Whoever decided that red velvet should be a cake flavor should be forced to consume all the food coloring that has ever been used to dye a perfectly good cake red.”
I barked out a laugh. “And not like a nice red, either. It’s an unsettling shade of crimson. It’s probably a vampire’s favorite cake.”
“Maybe it’s the Queen of Hearts’s fave?”
Gideon was called back into the kitchen and I mulled over his comment. I didn’t want to think of the Queen of Hearts having a favorite anything. That made her sound so...
normal.
The quiet of the room closed back in around me, shrouding me in memories. It hadn’t been until the end of the following summer, after she’d left the inpatient rehab program, that April told me the whole story. How she hadn’t known she was a target of the Red Court until a playing card floated down from the theater catwalk when the security guard had left her to get help. She was barely conscious, but the card, a Joker, had almost landed on top of her. She picked it up and examined it and saw her name written on the back. It was then she knew she’d been set up.
April’s story was all it took for me to pick up the mantle of the Red Court’s destruction. Her words from the hospital floated back to me, the fog of confusion lifting away.
“What goes around,” I had murmured to her when she was finished.
“What did you say?” April asked. She looked shaken and her pale complexion turned waxen.
“It was something you said after your surgery before you were really awake. What goes around. You were talking about getting revenge, right? You want to get rid of the Red Court for good.”
April bit back tears and nodded. “The Red Court has done terrible things. You have no idea how much they’ve done.” She shuddered a deep breath, steadying herself. “They’re going to keep doing terrible things until someone stops them.”
That was when my helplessness found a new outlet: revenge. As April found her equilibrium, I began to plot. At my coaxing, she told me how the Red Court exposed your worst secrets, how students entered into bargains for favors and ended up owing a debt that could never be repaid.
“How can I stop them?” I’d asked her.
By then she’d grown reluctant at my obsession with the Red Court. April couldn’t have known that my early questions were building blocks to a much larger plot. She was making progress at therapy and was doing well in school. But every time I thought about abandoning my plot, a cold feeling of dread would settle into my stomach. I wanted them to suffer, craved it.
“You’d have to find the Queen of Hearts. She’s the only one who knows who everyone else is.”
These Vengeful Hearts Page 7