Jacob hoists himself up to sit on the countertop. “You really killed it today, by the way.”
“What?”
“With the trucks. It was a great move.”
“I do have good ideas every once in a while.”
“This one was a good one. Even Esau said so.”
I mock gratitude. “Thank God. That’s all I’ve ever wanted in the two weeks I’ve known him.”
I keep rummaging. “So, what’s your story? The two of you. You seem like an odd pair when it comes to siblings.”
“We are, that’s for sure.”
“How did Naomi convince you both to join The Red Hand?”
Jacob scoffs. “She didn’t have to try very hard. Esau and I hated our parents so much that we ran away from home. Well, I ran away from home and went back for Esau.”
I lean against the counter and try not to look interested. “That’s right, we talked about that the night we met. We both ran away when we were fifteen.”
He grins. “Yeah, that’s right.”
“So why did you run away?”
He grimaces.
I know that face. It’s the face a person makes when something gets too close to a big hurt. A wound that’s still healing. Or may never heal.
I know what I need to do. It hurts, but this is how I’ll really apologize to Jacob. This will be my penance.
“I ran away because of Scarlet,” I say. “The woman was insane. It was me, her, and her never-ending merry-go-round of lovers from the time I was ten years old. I wasn’t at the house much. All I wanted to do was play music, and the noise of my keyboard or guitar ruined the ambiance she loved to create for her boyfriends.”
Jacob sticks his tongue out in disgust. “Blech.”
“I know, right?” I smile, partially at the mutual repulsion we’re sharing, but also because I know beyond a shadow of a doubt he’s listening. Boys aren’t very good at faking attentiveness, and I’ve been able to catch when Jacob has lost interest during a conversation. He’s focused now, so I keep talking.
“I came home one night, and Scarlet was manic. I don’t know why. I never knew why. She would get angry for a reason only she knew and break stuff. Throw stuff. Say stuff.”
In a fraction of a second, all the most hurtful things she’d ever said flash through my mind.
God, you’re fat. Don’t you care about what you look like?
What are you wearing? Can’t you wear clothes that make you look like a woman and not some virgin who’s going to die alone?
Your music isn’t good. I wanted to be the one to tell you so other people didn’t have to.
No wonder your mother left you here with me.
You’ll be just like me when you get older. I’d bet my life on it. You’ll turn into a little clone of me.
The urge to cry strikes me with a force I wasn’t expecting. A few tears escape. They feel like acid on my face. I wipe them away as quickly as I can. I won’t cry because of Scarlet. She won’t get any more of my tears.
“I, uh, I’m sorry.”
Jacob walks over and hugs me.
I hug him back, and we just stand there for a minute. When we separate, he leans back on the counter behind him. He starts talking before I can apologize for my emotional outburst.
“My mom and dad were denied permits to Mars because they were sick in the head.”
“Wow.”
“Esau and I turned out all right somehow, but we both were denied permits, too. Since we were only one generation away from two people diagnosed with mental disorders, Mars didn’t want us.”
“Yeah, same here. My mom.”
I say it without thinking. I’ve never admitted to anyone my mother was mentally ill. Everyone knew my grandmother was crazy because she wore it on her sleeve. My mother hid her disease and herself from the public’s eye.
Jacob cocks his head in surprise. “Really? What kind?”
I shake my head. “Oh, don’t worry about it. I interrupted you. Keep going.”
“Right. So, Mars didn’t want us, and our parents were sick. Esau and I stayed close out of necessity. He had it doubly bad because of his cleft-pallet. Got picked on at school. We had to look out for each other.”
“How did he look out for you?”
Jacob pauses. Pain covers his face as if he’s experiencing it physically. His mouth opens and closes, but no words come out.
I desperately want to hear what he has to say. I think he wants to share it just as badly but can’t. He looks at me for a brief second, then looks down at the floor. “My dad, he … you have to promise me something, Maverick.”
“Anything.”
“My story is directly connected to Esau’s. He can’t know I told you.”
“You can trust me.”
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a wallet. That itself is intriguing. Who carries a wallet anymore? He opens it, pulls out a paper photograph, and hands it to me.
I can’t remember the last time I held a photo. Before I even look at it, I ask, “Jacob, why do you have this?”
He shrugs. “My parents were old school. They liked paper.”
I look at the photo. It’s of two little boys in front of an apartment complex, arms around each other and smiling. Both have big, bouncy afros, but one has a large scar on his lip.
“Is this you and Esau?”
He smiles. “Yeah. It was the first day of school one year. It’s the oldest picture I have where it’s just the two of us.”
He stops and looks back down at the floor. I let the silence happen, even though it’s uncomfortable. I can tell Jacob is struggling. He takes a deep breath, like he’s about to jump off a high dive.
“My parents hated Esau. They couldn’t understand him. He was so smart. He walked circles around them for as long as I can remember. They didn’t have to keep him in check. Other people did that for them. Esau was beat up most every day by older neighbor kids.”
My insides turn watery. I look down at the picture of tiny Esau and can’t fathom someone hurting him. Even if he was probably ten times as infuriating then as he is now, no one deserves to hurt like that.
Jacob continues. “My dad said since Esau’s face was already messed up, it didn’t matter if someone messed it up more. Me, though … my pretty face needed corrected by him.”
He takes another deep breath. “He hit me every day since I can remember. Sometimes it got bad. Broken bones bad.”
It feels like someone punched me in the stomach. No, like someone reached inside me and is tearing out my insides.
“While Dad was hitting, Mom was screaming. She screamed all the time. No one escaped her tantrums. Not even Dad. She hated all of us. Constantly punishing us for existing. We were garbage. She reminded us daily that she wished we were dead.”
He looks up but through me, almost as if he’s forgotten I’m here. His face is awash with tears, and his eyes are red. He’s been silent about his crying up until this point, just like me. But now, as he tries to speak, his words get caught in his throat. All that comes out is a groan.
I reach over, grab his hand, and let out my own sob. I pull him down off the counter and hug him. He returns the hug, and we both stand in the kitchen bawling for God knows how long.
“I’m so sorry,” I manage to sputter.
Jacob tries to say something but can’t.
So we cry. We stand there for a long time, the warmth of my breath getting caught in the cocoon of his shoulder and surrounding my face.
I pull away before snot ends up on everything. I grab a paper towel and offer one to him. He takes it, and we both blow our noses.
I start to giggle. “We’re so gross right now.”
He laughs back, then pulls me into another embrace. “Thank you.”
“Thank you right back.”
“Not a word to Esau. He’d be mortified.”
“Never.”
He pulls away. “Esau was there for me. Through all of it, he kept me from losing my m
ind. He was my big brother. My rock.” He sniffs. “It’s weird. Even after all my parents did to us, I still can’t hate them.”
I recoil. “Really? Why?”
“They were sick, Maverick. Neither of them was well.”
“I don’t care. Regardless, you do right by your children. You get help if you can’t handle taking care of them. Hell, give them up if you have to. But don’t hurt them.”
“Like your mom did?”
I glare at him but choose to let it go. “Yeah, like my mom. She left me with someone crazier than she was, but Scarlet was all my mother had. I have no attachment to my mother. I don’t love her, but at least I don’t hate her. She tried to do right by me, she just didn’t quite get there.”
“Let’s agree to disagree. I think we both come from impossible situations where so many people are at fault that you can’t blame any one of them fully.”
“I can do that. Thanks for sharing.”
“Thanks for listening.”
“You wanna go watch a movie?”
“Yeah.”
We settle in without popcorn and flip through old movies I think Jacob needs to see. But just as we start to whittle down the choices, a blurp comes from the Net Mirror, and a notification pops up in the corner. It’s a message from Amina. She must have contacted Norah and worked out a way to get me messages.
Get to the senator’s now, the message reads. He wants to speak with you. Then it’s my turn.
Chapter 13
I walk into the room with the weird mural again. It’s the middle of the night, but the senator insisted on speaking with me and Norah before my interviews the next day. So much for being well-rested.
Greenstreet is nursing a glass, leaning against the wet bar, and staring at the floor in front of him. He barely lifts his head when we enter.
Mika’s with me. So is Norah. We all glide in without a sound. Norah and I take our spots on the leather sofa, and Mika posts by the door.
No one says a word. We stare at the senator. He’s looking at the floor. After what seems like an eternity, he asks, “Why didn’t you tell me I was going to be involved in this little charity stunt you pulled?”
Norah turns and nods to me. I’ve been permitted to speak.
“If I had, would you have agreed to be a part of it?”
He doesn’t answer.
“Don was a smart man,” I continue. “He knew you wouldn’t approve because it would upset the wealthy, so that’s why we did it without you.”
“Don was smart? Or you’re smart?”
I gesture to Norah. “We’re only fulfilling Don’s wishes. Believe me, there are easier ways to make an impression than delivering a hundred truckloads of resources. But he believed it would help your chances with the VP race.”
Greenstreet stares, then takes a sip of whatever is in his glass. “It was risky. You both are lucky it worked. There aren’t any more surprises, are there?”
I open my mouth to make some cute comment about keeping him on his toes, but Norah beats me to it. “No, Michael. No more surprises.”
Greenstreet’s smile widens. “Wow. A definitive answer from the lawyer. I’m content with that. Both of you have a nice evening. Mav, I’ll see you tomorrow at the meeting.”
He stands and leaves. As he walks out the door, Amina walks in. She nods to the senator, then to Norah. “Norah, I need a moment of Maverick’s time.”
Norah stands. “Take all the time you need. Isaac will escort her home.”
For a split second, I wonder who the hell Isaac is. Then I remember Mika gets a code name.
Norah stands and leaves without speaking. Amina walks over to me, sets her glass tablet on the coffee table, and sits down on the couch.
“Would you mind locking the door, Isaac?”
Mika looks at me. I nod, and he locks the door. Amina still hasn’t taken her eyes off me.
“What’s going on?” she asks.
“What do you mean?”
Her jaw clenches. A rage erupts in her eyes that I’ve only seen a couple of times before and never directed at me. “Don’t do that. Don’t shut me out. What’s going on?”
I throw my hands in the air and collapse into the sofa. “I chose the word ‘complicated’ to describe my situation for a reason, Amina.”
She crosses her arms. “After all this time working together, I deserved honesty.”
I sigh, close my eyes, and lean forward. “Amina, believe me, I want to tell you more. But there’s nowhere we can go where someone isn’t listening.”
Amina throws her head back and gives a short burst of sarcastic laughter. “Open your eyes, Mav. Why do you think Greenstreet brings you to this room every time you’ve come here after Don’s death? It’s a dark room. No microphones. No video.”
A shot of excitement arcs through my body. “You’re joking.”
Amina’s condescending smile disappears. “Wait, why are you afraid of microphones? I’ve heard you curse the senator’s name every day since you started working here. What have you got to be scared about?”
I glance at Mika. He’s looking at me the same way a cop looks at a jumper who’s standing on the side of a bridge.
I take the leap. I hope I’m not wrong about Amina.
“I’m trying to stop him, Amina.”
Her eyes widen, and she gets very still.
I keep talking. “He can’t get elected. You know that better than anyone. You’ve seen firsthand what he does to people so he can control them. No one will keep him in check. He threatened to deafen me so I wouldn’t work for anyone else, for God’s sake. He threatened to imprison your father if you ever changed jobs. Imagine what he’ll do if he has the power to run the whole show down here.”
She still hasn’t moved. Still hasn’t taken a breath that I can tell.
“Amina, there’s more I can’t tell you. Lots more. And I’m not asking you to join me. All I need is the location of a room here in the mansion. You give me that, and I’ll never ask for anything from you ever again.”
Something I say brings her back to reality. She shakes her head like she’s concussed and trying to form a thought. “A room?”
“It’s the room that talks to Mars. Do you know what I’m talking about?”
The tiniest of smiles appears on her face, and she fights it into submission. Without breaking eye contact, she points to the mural. “You’re close enough to touch it.”
I start to get up, but Amina grabs my arm and jerks me back down. “You can’t go in there, Mav. This room might not have cameras, but that one does.”
I wave her off. “Please. I have no intention of going in. All I need to know is where it is.”
Amina still hasn’t let go of me; her chestnut colored fingers are wrapped around my wrist. She covers her mouth with the other one. Her eyes dart every which way. A full ten seconds later, she lets go of me and reaches over to pick her tablet up from the coffee table.
She taps the glass a few times. “If you’re going to do this, do it right.”
She sets the tablet down on the table and takes me by the shoulders. “You stole that from me. I will realize it’s gone when I get to my office in ten minutes. I’ll come back for it. It had better still be here, and you had better be gone.”
She stands up, rounds the corner of the couch, and walks out.
Before she’s five feet away from me, I pick the tablet up and scan the screen.
It’s a crystal-clear video feed of a huge room that resembles something out of a spy movie. One wall is a giant screen of Earth. Hundreds of graphs, dialogue boxes, timers, and maps fill another. Glass consoles face it, curving to make wide arcs that stretch from one side of the room to the other like a colorless rainbow. Chairs sit each console, but no bodies fill them.
I try to steady my breathing, but it’s not working. I know this is enough. I’ve found what Norah and the others need, but I can’t help myself. I zoom in on the big screen with Earth rotating in its middle. A haze surrounds
it. I’m assuming it’s the atmosphere. The moon sits in its ancient orbit, moving at an imperceptibly slow pace.
Beyond that, a flock of dots sit clustered in space. Five of them are glowing red, the rest are a deep shade of gray. They aren’t moving. Nothing else appears on the screen.
I look closer and see each red dot has a label next to it. I zoom the feed in further, trying to read them. They’re blurry, but I can make out a few.
ZEUS. POSEIDON.
I can’t read the other three, but I bet they say HERA, ATHENA, and HERMES. The names of the five ships that shuttled thousands of people to Mars decades ago. Names synonymous with the historical mission to inhabit Mars. Names that appeared just as often in my U.S. history lessons as they do in a Greek mythology textbook.
A dozen reasons why all these ships are docked outside the moon’s orbit dash through my mind, but it doesn’t matter if any of them are right. Now I know why Norah wants to talk with the people on Mars. If any of my guesses are correct, they’re not even on the red planet anymore.
They’re hovering on the other side of the moon.
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Acknowledgments
Readers, you are why I do what I do. Thank you for supporting me as an author and for following Mav on her crazy journey. Special thanks goes out to all my friends and family who purchased Numbered and helped me get my footing as a first-time author. Your constant encouragement and support is what got Cornered across the finish line.
Victoria and Roman, I hope you both are bragging to others about how much you helped with this project. Your edits and suggestions were spot on every time.
To Laura of Designs by Laura, I’ve had people tell me they bought Numbered based on the cover alone. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your kindness and patience with me as we’ve figured out cover design. (Barcodes!)
Cornered: Episode Two of the Sister Planets Series Page 8