The familiar voice whispers in my ear, “It’s just us. Don’t scream.” My pulse throbs in my neck.
I turn my head and see two more dark human shapes in my room. I jerk in his arms. “Shh …” Rocks removes his hand but keeps me flush against him. My hand moves to pull at the hem of my cotton nightshirt. Not exactly what I would have chosen to wear if I had known I was going to have two strange boys in my room.
Rocks closes my door before turning on the lamp.
“You remember Jeremiah?” he asks, helping me back under the covers. “This is Ezra, his half brother.”
I get a nod from Jeremiah and try not to stare at his ear. “Nice to meet you, Connie.” Ezra’s voice is low and really deep. It seems at odds with the short boy, fidgeting in the corner of my room. His hair is longer than his brother’s, but I can see they share the same shape nose.
I look to Rocks. He places another pillow under my head and moves his body between me and the lamp. My squint vanishes.
“I wanted to make sure you were okay,” he says. “Your mom didn’t bake by any chance, did she?”
My good eyebrow rises before I can stop myself.
“I promised the boys food if they would leave me here with you.”
“Rocks—”
“Please.”
I nod. Rocks disappears, leaving me staring at the boys. I pull the covers higher. “Did you catch that Camazotz?”
Jeremiah is obviously a talker. He shakes his head.
“He got away,” Ezra confirms. “I’m sorry about that.” He indicates with his hand to his own eye. “It’s not right to attack an aeronaught no matter what.”
Rocks is back loaded with goodies. Two sets of eyes widen and the smiles that follow make my lips automatically lift.
“Promise me you’ll never leave the van without me or one of these two at your side.” There is no room for argument in his tone.
The three boys exit my room to sneak out the front door. It’s not possible to carry that much food and fly at the same time. When Rocks returns, he sits on the edge of my bed and plays with my hand. We don’t speak for a while.
“I had to see you. I’m responsible for this.” One finger lightly brushes my forehead. “I shouldn’t have left you alone. I just don’t know what to think. Why would they attack you? It doesn’t make sense.” His brow is marred by a deep furrow. It’s not often I get to see his forehead with his long hair. “I can’t rule out that this wasn’t someone from my colony who arranged this. I haven’t exactly been popular since they learned we’re friends.”
“Why would the other colonies care?” The pounding inside my head increases. I wince.
“It’s complicated.” The second the word leaves his lips that gorgeous shy smile I love appears, but he continues. “Inter-colony relations are dicey at best. We take a vested interest in who gets voted in as Sire.”
My brain isn’t following why that could have anything to do with me. I frown. Rocks tilts his head to the side. His eyes are sad. “My association with an aeronaught makes the others nervous if I do become Sire one day. If one Camazotz colony gets discovered, it affects us all.”
“Holy sugarplums.”
“But I don’t want you to worry. The others—they don’t live in this area. We don’t have much interaction so I can’t work out how they would connect you to me.” His long leg bounces up and down.
Hateful, despising stares fill my mind including the judgmental glare from the Sire—there are a number of candidates in the running. If they can’t get rid of Rocks, then maybe they can get rid of me.
“Maybe at the carnival,” he says almost to himself. “Can’t be.”
Rocks explains that the carnival in the forest was an invitation from their colony to the others to strengthen bloodlines. New blood. Visiting males and females—a chance to better strengthen and widen the colony’s gene pool. I grab my already upset stomach. This Camazotz dating game is getting worse by the second.
Rocks’ frown deepens when he notices.
“Connie,” he says softly. “About the other day. It’s not what you think—the girls,” he explains. “I want to kick myself for not sitting you down and explaining everything from the start, but … there’s stuff. You know my whole world is a secret, and my survival depends on it, right? There’re lots of reasons we keep to ourselves and avoid the aeronaught world. Apart from the vampire confusion and fear of blood drinking, we avoid mixing because my colony has chosen to live by Camazotz lore—not human morals.” His voice sounds urgent like he’s running out of time.
I bite the inside of my mouth. His hair flops down. He flicks it back and continues. “I’m not saying we don’t have morals, but we also have an animal instinct that rules us as well. A duck can’t ignore the need to fly south for the winter. A bear can’t decide not to hibernate this year just for fun. Salmon automatically know how to get upstream. It’s nature.”
“I understand.” I’m trying at least.
“Do you? This is really hard to explain. A bat doesn’t know how to get married. I do as a man, but my Camazotz side just wants to protect the colony. It’s what I was designed for long ago. I know I told you I want to be human, but at the same time I have to protect the colony. It’s why I’m so lost.”
I nod. This is part of Rocks, and I have to learn to accept all of him if I want him to ever feel like anything other than a misfit. It starts with me.
A question is hovering in the back of my mind, and if I don’t ask him now, I know it will fester. “Do you have kids?” I blurt out and hold my breath.
“No. No!” He shakes his head. “Although that’s a sore topic with my father.”
“You’re so young. Only nineteen.”
“I'm the freak that stepped out of 1865 remember.” I wish there was some way I could lighten the load that is pressing down on him. “I’m supposed to set an example.”
He’s quiet for a minute or two before meeting my gaze.
“You’re the only girl I have ever trusted. I care about you and admire you so much. I hate seeing you hurt. I …” He swallows. My eyes narrow when I notice the slightest hint of color appear on his cheeks. “I’ve never had sex as a human. Okay? I’ve never wanted to be that intimate before. Those girls aren’t my choice—as a man.”
Before I can stop myself, my hand flies over my mouth. He gives me a little smile and a half shrug. I can’t stop the strangled laugh that escapes. Taking his hand, we both smile. Rocks is dead sexy when he’s embarrassed.
“I hang out with you Connie Phillips because just like at the dance club, when I’m with you, I feel free. You make me believe that my desire to be human is a normal, natural part of me. The other Camazotz have just forgotten that side of themselves.”
I wrap my arms around his neck. He laughs and hugs me back just as fiercely. “Forgive me for being such a jerk?” I say against his chest.
His lips move against the top of my head. “There’s nothing to forgive.”
* * * * *
Monday, I ditch school. I feel fine but when I winced at the kitchen island—remembering I have sport today—Kelly insisted I return to bed. She wrapped me up in two blankets before leaving the phone by my bed to call her if I feel, well, if I feel “any odd feeling at all” according to her.
All weekend, my Parents V2.0 wouldn’t leave my side for a second. I’m a lab experiment they’re monitoring for signs of foam at the mouth or fear of water. Mini was not left alone with me all weekend, which suited me fine since I felt rotten.
My eyebrow has a nice solid scab beneath the stitches so I’m bandage free. I’m waiting in my car for Rocks. Since the attack, he’s visited me late each night, and between visits I know there are aeronaught-friendly Camazotz babysitting me from the trees. His schedule is so busy at the colony that he can’t get away enough and absolutely insists that I can’t go find Josie alone.
I text Tiff to let her know I’m fine even though I’m not coming today. I don’t want my bestie to panic.
Rocks jumps in next to me, smiling. I’m a little disappointed his arms are covered up but he still manages to mesmerize me anyway. I shake my head to clear the spell his animal magnetism puts on me.
Half an hour later, I’m quizzing Rocks on road rules when my phone chimes in the center console. His eyes light up. Even though Rocks is a very proud phone owner, he isn’t a smart phone owner.
“Go on.”
He grabs the phone and reads the text from Tiff. As predicted, my absence sent her into a tailspin of worry. Rabies isn’t a laughing matter but I can’t explain to her how I know I don’t have it. She’s glad I’m resting up.
“Text her back.” I had anticipated a happy grin but get shot with pure ecstasy instead. “Don’t deviate from what I dictate, Mister!” He receives my own version of the evil eye.
Rocks bows his head over the screen and types away. It takes way longer than if I had done it, but I know the punctuation will be perfect and no horrid text spellings will be used.
He carefully places the phone back in the console and grins. When I glance over, both his eyebrows wiggle for a second.
“What?”
He looks out the window, smiling.
Josie Hendersen’s house is on an extra wide block of land surrounded by trees. I pull up outside her place and just stare. Mom V1.0 cannot call this place home. The white paint is peeling off the wooden boards. The two-story house could use an urgent dose of TLC. A bucket load of money wouldn’t even come close to turning it into the home I’d dreamed about. House-proud, baking Josie can’t live here. Being confronted with reality I wonder why my mind had painted the perfect picture. This is a woman who gave away her baby. This is not a fairy tale with a happy ending. I’m not sure I want to get out of the car. Maybe the parents I’ve given myself in my imagination are the better ones to keep.
Rocks takes my hand. “You don’t have to do this, Beans.”
I try to smile.
There’s a beat-up, faded green sedan parked under the crooked carport. The lawn could use a mow. It’s now or never.
Rocks stands a little ways from the door, behind me. We wait an eternity for her to answer. When the wooden door swings back, I can’t make out her face clearly enough through the heavy screen. She pushes open the screen door.
My hands fist at my side. I clench my teeth. An urge to touch my own living flesh and blood surges through me. This is where I came from. I must not hug her—unless she initiates it first. I drink in every minuscule detail about my mother.
There is no mistaking the fact that she is my flesh and blood. I get the first ever glimpse of how I’ll age. I scan her up and down, trying not to miss any detail. Her hair is less gold since it’s tinged with the first signs of grey. It’s shoulder length and her skin is makeup free. Her denim shorts and baggy t-shirt are not the pretty floral dress I’d imagined. Her feet are bare, and the glossy red nails call to me.
Josie’s eyes move from me to Rocks and back again. She frowns and squints—the same way I do even though I have perfect vision. I can’t even imagine what she’s seeing standing on her doorstep—the giant Goth boy and the tiny golden girl. We sure do make a pair.
“Can I help—” she gasps. Her hand covers her mouth. “Oh, no.”
The elevator momentarily skyrockets at the fact my birth mother recognizes me, but then it plummets to a record low. “Oh, no” weren’t the words my vivid imagination had convinced me she would say. There’s definitely not going to be any hugging.
“I told you not to look for me.” The fact that she hasn’t slammed the door shut I’m taking as a positive sign.
“Mom?” The word feels wrong and doesn’t fit the way I thought it might. I’ve hardly used it in the last three months, but my brain is refusing to label this woman as such.
“No, call me Josie,” she says in firm tone. She allows us to enter.
The furnishings are rough and plain. Old furniture, threadbare carpet, and peeling seventies wallpaper are all that I can focus on. The shallow side of me is glad this isn’t my home. I wince when the thought crosses my mind, but it’s the truth and it’s about time I started telling the truth—even if it’s just to myself.
“I came to find out who you are, why you put me up for adoption, and who my father is. What’s with the warning?”
Rocks and I are seated squashed together on a large armchair. It was this or he’d have to stand, and I need him close. Josie is perched on the very edge of her chair, nursing a chipped coffee mug. There are no baked goods on offer—in fact, no food at all.
“Contessa—”
“Did you name me?”
She nods. “I kept you for six months before …” Her voice fades.
So the story of the burst water pipe soaking my baby photos was the first lie of many. “Why give me up then?”
She swirls the coffee around before taking a sip. “You shouldn’t be here. You might think you want to know who your father is, but I assure you—you don’t. You’re better off without him in your life, as am I. I won’t tell you anything so ask a question I can answer while you have the only chance you’re going to get.”
My heart is thundering in my chest. The door I thought was opening is sliding shut, and there’s not a damn thing I can do to stop it. Every angle I try is blocked. She’s tightlipped about my family tree and every detail of her life.
“Fine. Are there any hereditary diseases I should know about?” I huff.
Rocks extricates himself from the chair. I grab his arm. “Just going to smoke,” he explains to Josie, pulling himself free and leaving without acknowledging me.
“I’m sorry, Contessa. But this is for your own good.” She smiles, but her eyes seem sad. “You’ve grown into such a pretty, young woman.” It’s the first time the tension leaves her slender frame. I wonder whom she sees before her.
"You know I didn't know I was adopted till your letter."
Her head drops onto her chest; her eyes squeeze closed. "Oh. What did your parents say?"
"They don't know."
She stands up. “Right, you’re going. Now. They don’t know you’re here, do they?”
“But, I want—”
“You need to forget me and that letter. I mean it, Contessa.” She heads to the front door. “Burn it and move on.”
“I want answers, damn you!” I yell. “For three months, I’ve been a raging, confused mess. I’ve been a complete bitch to my parents while trying to find out who I am, and after fifteen minutes of your precious time, you’re kicking me out. That’s it? We’re done?”
She stands still as a statue by the door, not one single emotion showing on her face.
“Why write to me then?” I can feel tears filling my eyes, but I won’t show her how much this hurts.
“Since you’re an adult now, I wanted to cut you off before you began your search. I see it was a mistake.” She gestures for me to leave.
“This is bullshit!” I grab my bag and stop just over the threshold. “You’re such a disappointment.”
“Forget about me,” she says, locking the door.
Through my tears, I make out Rocks leaning against my car and head that way.
I want to destroy something. Anything. “Fudge. Fudge!” If her garden was the manicured picture I had imagined, I’d be squashing and stomping across her flowerbed. But all that lives here are a tangle of weeds. This was supposed to give me answers. The emotions that have been added to the tidal pool inside are violent and disillusioned ones.
“Since when do you smoke?” I snap. Stopping, I let the air whoosh from my lungs. “I’m sorry. This is about her.” I swipe at the falling tears. “I’m just—ugh! I’m no closer to knowing. But that woman” —I point over my shoulder— “is not my mom.”
Rocks steps up next to me. Two fingertips slide up my spine from waist to shoulder. At the top, his fingers fold over and he glides them back down. The knot in my neck fades. “Get in. It’s not over yet.” He glances back at the house.
&nbs
p; Rocks insists we move before explaining what he’s talking about. He keeps looking at the house, and I realize that guilt is a new look on him. I turn the car around and drive a couple of blocks before he asks me to pull over.
He lifts a hip and pulls something from his back pocket—a tattered, old Polaroid. The couple, standing together, are obviously at the beach. Turquoise ocean meets a vibrant sky behind their heads. The woman is a very young Josie Hendersen. The man has his arm slung around her shoulders and a smile that doesn’t show his teeth. But that’s not what grabs my attention; it’s the tiny baby in her arms.
“How?” I can’t form a sentence. My eyes are filling with tears once more.
“I stole it.” He bites his lip. “I don’t smoke. I noticed humans at the club always go outside so … I flipped and went snooping upstairs. I could sense she wasn’t going to help you. It was on her mirror.” He admits. “It might not be your dad, but—”
“It’s the only lead we’ve got.” I finish for him. My blood is pounding and I can’t look at him. He was a bat—just moments ago. I touch my eyebrow and shiver before starting the car. Rocks watches me.
Guilt doesn’t suit him. “You just borrowed it. That’s not stealing.”
“Turn it over.”
On the back written in faint pencil is the best clue we’ve got.
Forever, my Love.
E.A.
11.
Halloween
The thought of driving home on an empty stomach after meeting the epic failure that is Mom V1.0 is too much for me to bear. Lunch is my treat—pizza and a hot fudge sundae. Rocks has been curious about hot fudge sundaes for a while since it’s one of my favorite non-cuss phrases. Hot fudge sundaes are his new favorite.
Back in my room, we have a few hours to kill before I need to see the doctor. Mini is staying longer at the center thanks to Kelly. My anger toward Kelly has fizzled since laying eyes on Josie. I feel like a deflated balloon, and that’s not how I thought I would feel after coming face to face with my own flesh and blood. The more I compare the mother I imagined to Josie, the more I realize I invented a blonde version of Kelly. Kelly is the floral-dress wearing, house-proud, gardening, bake queen. The mother I dreamed of is the mother the universe gave me. As much as I want to tell her this, I’m going to hold off until I track down E.A.
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