“But why?”
Mr. Coxworth sighs and raises his eyebrows at me. And then I know. It was George who turned in Dr. Christiansen and she found out. She got rid of him before he would have a chance to tell me anything more.
“Did you find anything out from him?” I ask.
Mr. Coxworth nods slowly. “Why don’t we have a chat at my house? You can meet me there in a few minutes. Go ahead and stop by your place and make sure everything is in order and then come on over.”
I nod numbly.
My treehouse looks the same as it did when it left, except my garden is one giant weed patch. I try not to look at it as I fly to the front door and step inside my home.
The ceiling and window have been repaired, which is good. The wallpaper has been painted over with a boring beige color to hide the water stains, and the desk is organized. There are no signs of my old computer. A felt-bound journal now sits where the keyboard used to be. I open it and run my finger along the binding. There are only six stitches holding the entire thing together. George would never buy me something so poorly made.
I suddenly don’t want to be in here anymore. Every single piece of furniture, every decoration, was a gift from George. I run back onto the porch and see Jane lugging a huge bag toward me.
“No, don’t!” But it’s too late. She’s already dropped the bag right on top of whatever’s left of my garden.
“Here are your fan letters! Dr. Christiansen decided you should be able to have these. It’s good have you back! Did you have fun in Hawaii?”
“Yeah, it was super fun, Jane,” I say with as much sarcasm as I can manage.
“I’m so jealous. I wish I could have gone. Oh well! Let me know when you’re done, and I can put them somewhere else so they don’t get rained on.” She nods with a satisfied smile and then tromps through the woods.
Incredulous, I shake my head and wait for her to disappear. I’ll check out the letters later. I really want to hear what Mr. Coxworth has to say.
He’s sitting on his rotten dining room chair and sipping tea when I slip under his door. He waves me over, sets his mug between his knees. I settle onto my pincushion as he formulates his thoughts.
“I thought it would be easier to tell you here,” he says with uncharacteristic carefulness. “George turned himself in.”
“What? No.”
He continues. “Apparently he was so guilt-ridden after you were forced to do the show that he went to the politiet and confessed he accidentally caused the deaths of the Thumbelinas. But, of course, Dr. Christiansen is still responsible. After all, she covered it up all this time, and this was her project.”
I stand up. “I don’t believe you. He wouldn’t do that.”
With a sigh, he gestures for me to sit back down. “Lina, I know you were very close, but you need to face the facts.”
“You’re telling me George killed six girls by accident and then lied about it, and you expect me to believe it? No one has protected me the way he has. Not even you.”
His face turns to stone. “That is what happened.”
“I have to go.”
“Suit yourself. I’m sorry to be the one to tell you.”
It doesn’t make any sense. That isn’t the George I know. Nope, not buying it for one second.
With my heart enclosed in steely resolve, I leave Mr. Coxworth’s cottage and shake its dust off my feet.
Chapter 27
I sit cross-legged on my porch, glaring at nothing in particular and shaking head to toe. I don’t believe him. There would have been something about George in the article I read in Hawaii if Mr. Coxworth is telling the truth. He has to be mistaken somehow. Maybe he needs to get his hearing checked again.
I fold my hands together and press them between my calves to keep them from trembling. I imagine George handling tiny baby girls, dropping them. Or would he have squeezed them too hard? I shake the horrifying images from my head. There is no way he could ever kill another person. Not even by accident.
No. I don’t believe it. I won’t.
“Hey, Lina!” It’s Al, leading the rest of the Toms to my house.
I fight down a surge of annoyance. Can’t I get a few minutes to myself? I have no desire to play the part of the gracious hostess right now.
A camera drone snaps off a brittle branch as it flies into the clearing. So that’s why they’re here—this is being filmed.
With a sigh, I unwrap my feet and wave.
“I hear we have fan letters!” Row exclaims as all six of them descend on the bag. I should have known they weren’t all for me. Shrike and Al work on untying the knot while Blue hovers, arms folded, off to the side. The other three come to the porch, and I stand to greet them.
“Hi. Welcome to my house.”
“Thanks!” Row stuffs his hands in his pockets, and my heart beats faster at the sight of him. He has dark circles under his eyes and I’m pretty sure he wore those clothes all last night, but he looks adorable in his sleepiness.
Crane and Perry give each other a look. “I guess we’ll wait down there,” Perry says with a grimace. Before I can stop them, they’re gone.
“Do you want to come in?”
“Yeah, but I can’t. We’re under strict orders to stay where the camera can see us.”
“You look like you didn’t sleep a wink.”
He grins. “That’s because I didn’t. I had a certain blonde-haired beauty on my mind.” He blushes when he says “beauty.”
“Are they letting you guys stay somewhere less prison-like now?”
“I’m not sure yet. I think they’re preparing something for us in the old aviary? I don’t know where that is. All of our stuff is in the dining hall for now.” He rubs his hand up and down his arm and blinks as if he just woke up.
“I wonder how long we’ll be here before we get shipped off to the next place.”
“I’m not sure if we’re going anywhere. You didn’t see Dr. Christiansen almost get denied entry in customs?”
“What? No, I didn’t.”
“Yeah, I didn’t hear everything, but I got the impression that the only reason they allowed her in is because she’s a permanent resident. Something about a court case. I wonder if she’ll have the same trouble if she tries to go to another country.”
He still doesn’t know about the Thumbelinas, and I wonder if I should tell him. A dark shadow passes over us—a drone drawing in for a closer shot.
Yeah, now’s not the time.
“I can’t wait to show you my house!” I exclaim as dramatically as I can. “But let’s go look at our fan mail first!”
Row follows my lead down to the mail pile that the other Toms are already swimming in. Blue sits on the edge, taking it all in, but everyone else is buried to their waists in letters and cards.
“Most of it is for Row and Blue,” Shrike whines. “And Lina.”
“You have one here,” says Perry, handing it to him. “And here’s one for ‘Pixie.’ Geez, our fans can’t even read.”
I hold out my hand. “I’m pretty sure that’s for me. Unless you think anyone would address you guys as ‘pixies.’ No? I didn’t think so.”
I stand on the edge and examine the envelope, my hands shaking. There’s no return address and no name, but only one person in the whole world is allowed to call me “Pixie.” I glance up at the camera drones. One is circling around my house and the others are in front of me and won’t be able to see what I’m reading. I breathe a sigh of relief and slide my hand into the flap to tear it open. Inside, I find a single postcard with a picture of a falcon that is the spitting image of Petunia. Only three words are written on the other side in a scrawl I would recognize anywhere.
Don’t trust anyone.
I lick my lips to force some life into them. My blood’s run cold.
Row sees my terrified face and gently takes the postcard out of my hands. “Hey, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I think it’s…a stupid prank.”
He flips the card over, and his jaw tightens as he reads the inscription. “That’s a bit creepy.” He takes my hand. “Lina, I’m sure it will be fine. No one can get into this place—it’s got better security than a prison.”
Yeah, that’s what I’m afraid of.
I grab the card, kneel down, and stuff it into the bag.
“What are you doing?”
“Protecting the few freedoms we have left,” I whisper.
“We should tell someone.”
“Over my dead body. I do not want to be locked in that room again just because Dr. Christiansen is paranoid.”
He clamps his mouth shut, but the frown remains. He won’t tell. I’m counting on his silence.
We sit in silence as the other guys tear through the letters. Row doesn’t open a single one of the cards addressed to him. When Shrike tries to pressure him into reading them, he only shrugs and says he doesn’t care. Blue seems to have the same level of interest.
I can’t stop thinking about George. Clearly he was the one who turned in Dr. Christiansen, and no one wants me to know why. And now Mr. Coxworth… Why does he have to be involved in this? Why is he trying to turn me against George? I spent hours playing in his cottage, making friends with his mice and the cutout paper dolls of the pop-up books. He paid me in illegal tobacco for my help in his research. How could he possibly be on Dr. Christiansen’s side?
Is anyone who I think they are? I poke at my kneecap. Am I still my old self or have I changed beyond recognition since I’ve started this show? I thought I was doing this to ensure Jack’s safety, but I’m not sure anymore. Is it right to trade my own free will for the safety of someone else if it allows a perpetrator to keep on victimizing even more people?
I don’t know. I have no idea what I can be sure of anymore.
A hand on my shoulder. “Lina? Are you listening?”
“What?”
“She’s asking what you want for dinner,” says Blue.
“She” is a young woman in catering get-up, holding a tablet at the ready. I would much rather eat food cooked in my own kitchen, but I imagine I don’t have much of a choice here.
“What are my options?”
“Vegetarian or vegan?”
I should have guessed. “Vegetarian.”
“Thank you. And what will you have?” She collects the Toms’ preferences before heading off to the kitchen.
“What was that for anyway?” I ask.
“She said something about a banquet.”
Huh. Banquets are infrequent around here. Yet again, nothing is normal lately. I shrug it off and excuse myself to get ready. I need a long, hot bath and some room to think.
With both hands, I crank the wheel above my tub that opens the faucet. Hot water pours down, filling the bath almost instantly. I turn the wheel back to “off” and slip out of my clothes before sinking into the tub. I didn’t bother to light the votive stub in the corner. Instead, all of the lights are off. The last of the sunlight leaks through the crack in the curtains and spills onto the floor in a weak line of orange.
I slide down until my wing joints hit the top of the tub. I wish I could go all the way down until my chin touches the water like I’ve seen women do in movies, but that’s a physical impossibility. I lean forward and submerge my face and head instead. The heat eddies across my skin in delicious little currents. When my skin feels as though it will start melting off, I pull my head out of the water and breathe deep.
I hold up my hand and count the things I’ve discovered on my fingers.
I know Dr. Christiansen has a court appearance in just under a month.
I know she had something to do with the deaths of six girls.
I know George turned her in and Mr. Coxworth is trying to keep me from finding out any more information about the case.
And I know Dr. Christiansen is working on something else, something new, and she needs money. Is it another sort of human mutant? Maybe something with accelerated growth so the other Toms can have girlfriends their own size.
I shake my head. That can’t be it. She wouldn’t put so much time and energy into something so six teenaged guys won’t be lonely. That’s not who she is.
My arms and legs are starting to look pruney, so I hop out of the tub with questions still on my mind. Where is George now? And what exactly did he mean by not trusting anyone? Is there no one at all in the entire compound who is honest?
Row’s face pops out of the background of my confused thoughts, and the relief is instant. Blue is another possibility, but he’s always so cryptic and distant. I’d hardly think of him as reliable. But Row I can trust.
I nod my head emphatically at no one in particular and then laugh at my own antics. I towel myself off and throw on a bathrobe.
Someone knocks on the front door and nearly knocks it in.
“Lina?” asks a muffled voice. I open it slowly in case it’s a man, but it’s Susanna. “I’m supposed to get you for hair and makeup. Oh good, you had a chance to take a bath and relax. I was worried you might not.”
“Yeah, I’m all clean now and sort of relaxed. What time is it?”
“5:30. The banquet is in an hour, so we need to hurry.”
“All right, I’ll be out in a minute.” To myself, I grumble, Geez, what’s the rush? Couldn’t they have waited until everyone’s not so jet-lagged and exhausted? I comb my hair and throw on a button-up dress. I’m still damp and sweaty from my bath and my hair is soaked, but I’m ready.
Back in my former cell, Susanna, Tina, and the rest of the fashion minions transform me into a painted doll. As Susanna puts the final touches on my makeup, I glance up through her looking glass at her distorted face.
“What’s this banquet for anyway?”
“I heard it’s for some employee’s anniversary.”
I frown. “Who?”
“I’m not sure. I didn’t really care enough to pay attention. Everybody blends together after a while here.” She flicks her brush across the apples of my cheeks and smiles. “Everyone except you and a few other people.”
“Why thanks. It’s so comforting to know I stand out from boring people.”
She purses her lips but says nothing. Her brusque brush movements are enough to clue me in that something is wrong.
“What?”
She raises an eyebrow as if to ask me “what?” right back.
“You look upset.”
A muscle twitches near her mouth, but she stays quiet for an uncomfortable minute.
“You don’t know how to take a compliment, Lina. You’re so…prickly sometimes.”
I’m taken aback, but her words ring true. “I’m sorry.”
She shrugs and says it’s okay, but she still looks annoyed. Susanna holds a mirror so I can inspect my makeup. “You look beautiful.”
My heart feels too heavy now to accept I am attractive as a human being, but keeping her comment in mind, I say nothing except, “Thank you. You did a great job.”
She smiles in reply, but her eyes remain flat and listless. “Off you go. Get some clothes on.”
My stylist takes over and dresses me in a light blue wrap dress with silver accents. I swivel side to side, and the skirt swishes along with me.
“I like it,” I say, pleasantly surprised. As I twirl around, I catch Susanna watching me with serious eyes.
“You look nice,” she says with little enthusiasm. “You’d better get going. Eat lots of good food for me.”
I hesitate, but after searching her tanned face for some sign that the tension has dissipated and finding nothing, I head off for the banquet. Tonight, the door to my old bedroom is wide open. The hallway is fully illuminated, and I fly out of the building without the slightest trouble.
I rub my arms to chase away the chill from the autumn night. It’s not even 6:30, but darkness has already fallen and the road to the dining hall is far too quiet. One lonely lamppost illuminates my frosty breaths. Winter will be here soon.
The warm
th and light of the dining hall draws me closer, breaking through the barren trees and falling full on my face as I approach. A banner hangs above the front doors, proclaiming, “Congratulations, Dr. Coxworth!”
So that’s who this is all for.
Wait a minute. Doctor? Since when?!
A couple of waiting photographers see me and start snapping pictures. I wave and pose, then they open the doors for me and I find my place next to the Toms at the head table. Row’s saved a seat for me, and I slide in next to him. He’s looking dapper in a dark green button-up shirt and khaki pants. Blue, as usual, keeps his title of “Sexiest Tom” with a wide-cuffed cerulean blue shirt. He’s got one extra button unbuttoned, and his hair is a tousled mop of bluish black. Al’s dark skin looks even richer against his bright white shirt. The other guys are looking pretty standard, but handsome.
“Hey, gorgeous,” Row says, draping his arm around my shoulders.
I exhale for what seems like the first time today. He seems to carry a bubble of “safe” around him wherever he goes, and it would be nice to stay inside it for a while.
Shrike clears his throat and glares into his water glass, but I ignore him.
“You’re looking great,” I say to Row. “Everyone does.” He gives me a squeeze, and I melt against him.
“Are you feeling better?”
“A little. Thanks. I think I could sleep forever.”
He laughs. “You and me both.”
He rubs my shoulder with his thumb, and I’m momentarily tongue-tied. I scan the room to see who is here, but I only see Lilliput employees and a couple of people from the film crew. It’s a small gathering. I catch Dr. Christiansen’s eye. She’s watching me with a smug expression on her face. I whip my head away and lean forward so I’m no longer in her line of sight.
Dinner is served. As the last bits of food are scraped from our plates and napkins are folded, Dr. Christiansen takes the stage.
“Welcome and thank you for being here to honor an employee who has outlasted all of the others. Dr. Coxworth has graciously lent us his mind and scientific prowess for these past twenty years. He was one of Lilliput’s first researchers, and it was his breakthrough findings that allowed us to create Lina and the Toms. We hope to have him with us for many more years. Please welcome Dr. Coxworth.”
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