Inquest

by Gladden, DelSheree

  I’m up off the bed doing my best to get in his face before he can finish despite our height difference. “Training? What are you talking about? I train all day at school. I don’t need more of that.”

  “No,” Milo says, staring down at me, “you don’t train at school. You pretend you have no talents at all. You’re getting nothing out of those classes, Libby. Lazaro has already made one attempt on your life, and he’ll undoubtedly make more, if Howe doesn’t kill him for this. But even if he doesn’t, Howe plans on killing you on your eighteenth birthday, something you still have no plan to get out of.”

  “No plan? I’ll change people’s minds, or I’ll disappear. Maybe I’ll just get rid of all the Guardians. Then they won’t kill me.”

  “Plan A isn’t going to work and you know it. Disappearing is a pretty dismal option, too. The Guardians will get every Seeker and Concealer in the world to hunt you down. Going up against the Guardians is by far your best option, but it only proves my point. In order to fight, you need to be trained. You have to be ready for anything. And you can’t do that tripping over things and goofing off at school!”

  “You’re going to lecture me about not taking school seriously? You sleep through class! I get more out of school than you do, Milo,” I snap.

  He barks out a laugh that shocks me back a step. “The only class I don’t have an A in is Perception. What’s your GPA going to be like at the end of the semester?”

  I glance over at Celia for some kind of support, but all she does is shrug. “It’s true.”

  I don’t even know how that’s possible. “Well,” I splutter, “what do you expect me to do? Pass all my classes with flying colors and prove to everyone what a freak I really am?”

  “Of course not, Libby, but I expect you to make up for it. We’re training after school, and that’s the end of it. Don’t argue with me about this. You know I’ll win,” he says.

  That’s a bold statement. I don’t think I like this new Milo very much. “I’ll argue about this all I want, Milo. I’ve been preparing for crap like this my whole life. I don’t need this from you right now. I can handle things.”

  “So you beat up a few Guardians, big deal. It’s not the first time that’s happened. What are you going to do against Seekers, killers who can see your moves before you even make them? How are you going to survive that, Libby?”

  “I…I’ll use my other talents to tip the scales. I’ll beat them,” I argue.

  “How?” he asks, stepping closer to me.

  “I’ll use…I’ll just.” My brain isn’t working. Not with Milo glaring overhead. Curse him for standing so close to me.

  He pushes me even closer to the edge by suddenly softening and bringing his hand up to my cheek. “You don’t know what you’ll do. You don’t know how to kill a Seeker.”

  “Do you?” I ask. Most of my anger has faded from my voice now, despite my wishes.

  “I have some ideas. Ideas we’re going to explore, okay?”

  Bucking against his subduing presence, I shake my head.

  “Libby,” Milo growls lightly, “please stop arguing. I don’t want you getting hurt.”

  Oh, crap. He’s right. He is going to win this fight. How am I supposed to refuse him when he asks like that? My body softens and leans against him. It is answer enough for Milo. I’m wrapped in his warmth, and for a few seconds I have no doubts about his feelings for me.

  “Thank you,” he says. It’s a simple phrase, but the eager edge to his words slips through and makes me wonder why he wants me to start training so much. “Thank you for protecting Celia today, too. I would never forgive myself if something happened to her.”

  “I won’t let anything happen to Celia,” I promise. A little piece of his earlier demands comes drifting back into my mind. “Just so you know, you’re not spending the night here.”

  “Oh really?”

  I duck my head into his chest to cover my traitorous smile. I would love to have him stay. I can’t afford that kind of distraction right now. It’s hard to remember that with Milo holding me, but I say, “You’re not staying.”

  Rubbing his hands back and forth across my back, he steals more of my resolve. “Libby, I know you don’t think I can protect you, but I can. You don’t know what I can do. Let me protect you.”

  I can’t resist the gentle tone of his voice. My head comes off his chest and I catch his gaze right away. He hides from me so often. The precious few moments he really lets me in are amazing. All I can do is breathe, and even that’s not coming too easily at the moment. My skin is very nearly vibrating with desire to always be near him. I don’t even care if it’s leaking through my emotional shield. I want him to know how much I care about him, how crushed I would be if I lost him.

  One, two, then three breathless seconds pass before his head tilts down. Thought abandons me all together. I’m not even sure if I’m breathing anymore. His lips touching mine are the only thing I care about. I want to reach up to him, but I’m afraid of pushing him away. I can feel his breath washing over my skin, and then he turns away muttering about his sister being here.

  I had completely forgotten about her. Again.

  “Don’t let me stop you,” Celia says happily. “I don’t mind.”

  “I do,” Milo says.

  She rolls her eyes and glides across the carpet to punch her brother in the arm. “You’re such a dork, Milo.”

  He swats her leg before she can get away. “Get in the car, you little twit.”

  “You’re kicking me out? That means you’ll have to leave Libby alone. You’re not going to abandon her are you? What will she ever do without you?” Celia drawls.

  “Get in the car.”

  She folds her arms and takes on a positively adorable stance that I think she means to be hostile. “No.”

  “I’m not kicking you out, Celia.”

  “Then why do I have to get in the car?”

  Grabbing her shoulders, he turns her toward the door and gives her a little push. “Because it’s dinner time and I’m taking you two out to eat. Now go.”

  “Well, why didn’t you say that in the first place?” she says. “Let’s go.”

  She bounds out the door like a little bunny. Milo shakes his head at her, but he’s smiling when he turns back to me. When his fingers reach out for mine I take them without hesitation. Our hands slide together perfectly. “You too,” Milo says. “Let’s go. I’m taking both of my girls to dinner.”

  His girls. I really like the sound of that.

  Chapter 17

  Disturbance

  Hot rollers shouldn’t make people cry. People, what a laugh. I’m the only person in the world that cries at the sight of hot rollers. All I have managed to do so far is plug them in. As soon as the little red indicator light turned on, I burst into tears. Worked more than they have been in maybe —thanks to Milo’s new training regimen—my muscles protest being curled up in a ball as I sit on top of the toilet. Tears splash down on my bare knees. My fingers fumble to grab my phone off the counter. Celia’s number flashes across the screen and it’s ringing a second later.

  “Hey, Libby,” she answers happily.

  “Celia, I can’t do this.”

  Her sigh whispers across the line. After spending most of the week together, plus everything Milo has already told her about me, she doesn’t even have to ask what I’m talking about. “Yes, you can, Libby.”

  “I’m sitting in my bathroom crying my eyes out. I can’t do it. I can’t curl my hair.”

  “I think you’ll feel better once you just do it. Whatever it is that’s holding you back, it’s time to move on,” Celia says.

  I shudder out a painful breath. Move on. I don’t know if that’s possible. “Celia, you just don’t understand,” I begin.

  “Well, of course I don’t,” she interrupts, “because you won’t tell me!”

  And I’m not going to. My silence reinforces that.

  “Do you know where I am right now?” sh
e asks.

  “No.” I wish she and Milo were both here with me.

  “I am sitting in a chair at the barber’s watching Milo get his shaggy mop cut off.”

  My chest tightens with excitement and guilt. “He’s really doing it? How does it look?”

  Celia snorts. “It’s looks terrible,” she says, “but that’s only because they just started.”

  I can’t wait to see him with short hair. I’ve spent the last two weeks trying to imagine it.

  “Libby,” Celia says softly, “I’ve begged him, and my parents have threatened him to cut his hair. He didn’t care. Nothing we said to him mattered. He’s doing this for you because you asked him to, and because he wants to see you overcome whatever this thing is with your hair. Nobody else could push him to change like you have. And that’s saying a lot since I’m here, too. We both know how much he loves me.”

  I laugh at her blatant confidence in her brother’s love. Most girls her age are embarrassed by their families and do everything they can to pretend they don’t exist. Not Celia. She is happy to tell anyone who’ll listen how much Milo means to her.

  “Libby, do you want to go to the dance with Milo tonight?”

  “Yes,” I say quickly.

  “Then you have to curl your hair.”

  “I know.” Faced with the choice of holding onto my familiar pain a little longer, and hurting Milo and missing the dance, my resolves begins to sharpen.

  “He bought a suit,” Celia adds, her singsong voice trying to entice me even more. “I saw him try it on last night. You’re going to like it. He hasn’t worn a suit in a long time, Libby.”

  A suit. No more baggy clothes that hide his body.

  “And if it makes you feel any better,” Celia says, “Milo isn’t having much fun either.” I can hear Milo growl in the background. Celia laughs. “I can’t decide whether he’s going to break the arms of the chair off with how tight he’s gripping them, or just throw up on the barber. I’m leaning toward breaking the chair, but it’s a close call.”

  “Shut up, Celia,” Milo’s muffled voice rumbles.

  We both laugh, though I can certainly sympathize with him.

  “Libby, you can do this,” Celia says.

  I close my eyes, and say, “I can do this.”

  “Send me a pic when you’re ready. I promise not to show Milo.”

  “Hey,” Milo argues.

  “He’s delusional,” Celia says. “Good luck, Libby. I’ll talk to you later.”

  “Bye, Celia.”

  I set the phone back down and flip open the lid of the hot rollers. The light has flicked off, letting me know they are hot enough to use now. It’s been more than five years. Five long years since I’ve seen my hair in any other style than plain and straight. I have missed the twisted bounce of dozens of ringlets tickling my neck. I have missed twirling the curls around my fingers. More than anything, I’ve missed twirling his curls around my fingers. A hiccup of wrenching pain escapes me. I yank a curler out of the box, burning my fingers, and spin it into my hair before I think better of it. One after another, I roll and pin each one in place. My fingertips sting and my eyes are bleary by the time I finish. But I do it.

  When the tray is empty my head feels like it’s ten pounds heavier, but I’ve finally done it.

  I brush my teeth and put on my makeup in a state of shocked disbelief. Somehow I remember everything Celia told me to do with the new makeup. The eye shadow is more sparkly than what I usually wear. It looks like I am dusting my lids with crushed diamonds. They almost seem to glow next to my dark eyebrows. I can barely see the blush when I put it on, but somehow it brightens my whole face. I apply the lip stain more carefully than I usually would, given that it won’t come off for hours once it’s on. I press my finger to my berry tinted lips experimentally and am surprised to find out Celia was right about it not smearing off.

  Remembering her reason for choosing the lipstick deepens the blush in my cheeks. She wouldn’t mind seeing a few lipstick prints on her brother, but she knew that if her parents saw them, they’d start asking questions. My whole face flushes as I try not to think about all the places I would like to leave lipstick on Milo’s skin.

  Done with my makeup, I take a deep breath and slip my dress off the hanger. Its silky grey color is a perfect match for Milo’s eyes. It glides on like a rain cloud, brushing its cool wisps against my skin and making me shiver. The neckline plunges down more deeply than my usual t-shirts, but not low enough to show too much. The back, however, leaves my skin bare most of the way down my spine. The fabric presses against me tightly from my chest to my hips, where it loosens and drifts down to my toes like a hovering mist. My strappy black heels complete the look.

  Now all I have left to do is take out the curlers.

  Panic bites at me, but I refuse to let it take over again. The click of my heels against the tiled bathroom floor is the only sound in the room. My fingers fumble the first curler and it goes spinning out of my hair and clattering to the floor. I leave it. My eyes are glued to the loose ringlet quivering against my face. I watch it until it settles, as if it might spring into life and strangle me at any moment. A full minute passes before I can touch the next curler and gently remove it. The process takes twice as long as putting them in, but the results are worth the wait. A halo of curls frames my face, and I gasp.

  I have to blink rapidly to keep a fresh batch of tears from ruining my makeup. My dad would love it if he could see me tonight. He would crinkle his nose and tell me to shake my head until my curls were as wild as his. I would laugh and giggle and throw myself into his arms. He would love it.

  I think Milo will too.

  A while later, his knock sounds at the door. It seems to take forever to walk across the small room to the door. Never was I this nervous to open the door for Lance. I was always excited, sure, but I am positively trembling now. Although if it were Lance on the other side of the door tonight, I don’t know that I could even open it. He knows why I refused to curl my hair—well, some of it. He would know exactly how big of a deal this was for me.

  My hand touches the door knob, and I have to pause and take a deep breath. It doesn’t work. Taking a different approach, I tap my Naturalism and calm my quivering body. The butterflies banging around in my stomach don’t lessen in the least, but my hand does stop shaking. I turn the handle and pull the door open slowly.

  And…oh my.

  His hair is the first thing I notice. Cropped short on the sides so I can see his ears—they’re adorable—but still long enough on top to be swept up in a loose riot. I guess he couldn’t part with all the shagginess. I would be a fool to want him to. He looks amazing. Forcing my eyes away from his hair, I’m eager to take in this new suit of his. Celia was right. I think Milo should have to wear suits every day. His midnight blue shirt is actually fitted. For the first time I can really see his waistline. The black suit and grey tie he’s wearing set off his newly revealed physique even more. Shoulders, Milo actually has shoulders. My eyes travel down the length of him and back up.

  I should say something, stop staring at him like a mackerel, but all that comes out is a strangled, “Wow.”

  Milo’s hand moves up to his head self-consciously. “That’s what my parents said, too.”

  “Well,” I say, “you look incredible.”

  “You think so? I feel really weird. My hair’s gone, my clothes feel too tight. I feel like everyone is looking at me even when there’s no one around,” he says.

  My hands glide around his waist and pull him close to me. “I hate to break it to you, Milo, but everyone is definitely going to be looking at you tonight.”

  He shakes his head. “No, they won’t. Not with you there. I’m just background compared to you. You look beautiful, Libby.” He pushes me back just far enough so he can see my dress. “I’ll have to tell Celia she was wrong about the dress, though.”

  “What did she say?” I ask.

  “That you looked hot in i
t,” he says with all sincerity.

  I don’t take him serious for a minute. “And you don’t agree?” My tone is teasing, and wins me a devilish grin from him.

  “No, I don’t. You don’t look hot, you look gorgeous.”

  I smile and pull back against him. “Thanks.”

  “And, Libby?” he says as his hands stray to my hair. “I love your curls. They’re even better than the dress.”

  If I speak I might start crying again, so I just hug him even more tightly. We stay locked in each other’s arms for several minutes before Milo pulls back. “We better go if we want to make our reservations.”

  For a moment, I honestly have to consider whether or not I actually want to make our dinner reservations. Staying here with Milo, alone, that sounds a lot more appetizing. I can only see his chest so well with his suit coat on. And I’d love to run my fingers through his hair. My eyes drift up to his curls. I catch Milo staring at me, the same expression I’m sure I have on my own face playing on his. I blush and wonder if he’s thinking the same thing I am.

  “Yeah,” he says, “we better go. Now.”

  “Good idea.”

  Dinner rushes by without stopping. It’s over before I can even catch my breath. I’m sure the food was delicious, but my mind was too captivated with watching Milo that I barely even tasted anything. I think he might have been having the same problem. The only thing I really notice is that we’re the only high school aged couple in the restaurant. Odd, given the occasion, but then I realize that Milo must have picked this place specifically to avoid having to eat around the people neither one of us really want to see.

  We hardly talk at all as we drive to the school. The parking lot is filled when we arrive, with a few straggling news vans parked outside the gates. We slip by unnoticed and pull into the parking lot. By the looks of it, the entire school has shown up. I spot Lance’s car halfway down the first aisle. Great. Isn’t there a football game or something he should be at? If Milo notices, he doesn’t give any indication of it. Not that it matters. We’ll run into him soon enough, I’m sure.