Transparent

by Natalie Whipple

  I’m visible. If I look down I’ll see my skin, but I don’t because I feel real already. I am myself—the one I want to be.

  “You’re beautiful,” he says.

  I smile as his lips touch my ear. “How do you know?”

  “Because I can see you, inside and out.”

  My heart warms. As hard as it is for me to believe, it’s true. I can feel it in every cell of my body. “What do you see?”

  Instead of answering, he shakes me. Then the sunrise fades to blackness, and I shoot up from bed, gasping. I’ve had dreams like that before—almost looking in a mirror, seeing a blurry reflection in water, someone just about to tell me. The ones with boys are always the best. I’ll take it over the usual repertoire of nightmares, which always have something to do with Graham dropping me from thousands of feet up. Or Dad leaving. Or getting shot and no one being able to fix it because of my stupid ability.

  “Morning, sleepyhead,” Miles says.

  “Come back in an hour.” I pull my covers over my head, trying to hang on to the last shreds of my dream. I imagine Brady as that boy, would have daydreamed about him all morning if Miles weren’t still shoving me.

  “Fiona, I can’t spend one more second alone down there with them. Don’t be so cruel.”

  I groan. The thought of Graham at my kitchen table replaces all the happy feelings with dread. Seeing him will make the danger real again, and after yesterday’s movie night I really don’t want it to be. I want to pretend that I’m a normal girl in a small town with crazy friends and too much homework.

  “Please.” Miles draws out the word, like I’m killing him by not coming. I glance up, not surprised to see The Pout, complete with lip curled under so his chin looks like a prune. Kills me every time.

  I push the covers down. “Fine. Just let me get dressed.”

  “Of course.” Miles heads for the door. “Let’s go somewhere if we can. I’d rather avoid him when possible.”

  “Definitely.”

  I rummage through my dresser for something easy to take off. This could be a trap. Graham could have backup or surveillance this time. He could be messing with us, and Mom would never recover from that kind of betrayal. She’d never try again.

  I settle on a bright purple halter dress. It has built-in support, so I don’t have to worry about a bra. I grab a pair of flip-flops and leave the rest, though the impulse to accessorize is strong.

  Taking a deep breath, I head downstairs. Noise comes from the kitchen, and I pause a moment before interrupting the conversation.

  “I don’t see what the big deal is.” Graham’s deep voice sends a shiver down my back. It’s all I can do not to run.

  “You don’t exactly have the best track record with Fiona,” Miles says. “Do you honestly expect her to trust you after everything you’ve done?”

  He doesn’t like how Graham treats me, but he can’t change it any more than I can. Graham got away with everything growing up. When Miles tried to stand up for me, he’d get my “flight lesson” instead. That is Graham’s favorite scare tactic—fly a person thousands of feet up, dangle or drop them, and wait until they do what he wants, or splat.

  It wasn’t as bad for Miles, since he’s not afraid of heights, but I hated watching him fall because he tried to protect me. Even if Graham always caught him at the last second, Miles would have bruises from smacking into him at that speed. Sometimes they’d throw punches over it, but Graham always won because he’s bulkier. Miles isn’t a wimp, but he’s thin and agile like Dad.

  Graham laughs. “You two are both acting like babies. If I really wanted them with Dad, they’d have been back a month ago. Isn’t that proof enough?”

  “No. It’s not.” I step onto the gray tile, eyeing Graham.

  Like always, he floats a few inches above the floor. He only touches the ground when he lifts weights, which he has to do to maintain bone mass. Graham has a cellular mutation that makes it so his body can run on hydrogen instead of oxygen. He could only float when he was little, but over time he figured out he could go back and forth between the two elements and manipulate them so he could get speed.

  He’s one of nine in the world with such advanced flying.

  He smiles his trademark smug grin, eyes dark and intense. He looks like Dad with his strong jaw, square shoulders, and an air reeking of confidence. But he has Mom’s auburn hair. “Did you miss me?”

  “Terribly.” I head for the Pop-Tarts in the cupboard, feigning as much indifference as possible.

  He snorts. “You haven’t changed at all.”

  I bite into the sugary blueberry pastry. He has no idea who I am. “Neither have you.”

  “Hey now.” His face softens, but I don’t let if fool me. “I know things have been rough between us, but I mean it when I say I want to help. I have a plan to make it so Dad will never find you, and you’ll be free to live here forever.”

  It sounds too good to be true, and yet part of me wants to believe it. “And what plan is that?”

  “Can’t tell you, just in case the syndicate does find you.”

  “You just said they wouldn’t.”

  His face tightens. “I really think we can do this, if no one gets too careless.”

  I put my hands on my hips. “You’re talking about me, aren’t you? Well, if you think I’m going to ruin it, you better just tell me what it is now.”

  His smile disappears. So much for his attempts at niceness. “Do yourself a favor, Fifi. Take my charity and don’t ask questions, okay?”

  “You can’t possibly expect me to believe you have a charitable bone in your body. After the trailer park? The campsite in Yellowstone? Portland? C’mon.” I look for the closest exit, knowing I’m already pushing it. “No matter what you think, I’m not that stupid.”

  His eyes flicker with anger. “Yes you are. Don’t make me have to do things the hard way.”

  “Just tell me why you’re doing this! Is it that hard? Give me one good reason—and not some sob story about you caring for us. That didn’t stop you before.”

  His whole body flexes, and he flies in closer. Miles stands between us. “You think taking her flying will help?”

  I try to stop shaking, but it doesn’t work. “I’ll run, and I’ll never come back.”

  “Fiona.” Mom sits at the table, looking frustrated with me, even though Graham’s the one threatening us. “Please, listen. I know it’s hard, but he means well.”

  “They won’t believe anything I say—they’re too stupid to see what’s right in front of them,” Graham says.

  Miles rolls his eyes. “Here’s what I think of that.”

  A rotten-egg scent saturates the kitchen. I cover my nose, which makes my laugh sound funny. Then that makes me laugh harder. Miles has quite the list of awful smells, from skunk to outhouse to grandma perfume. Graham has a tendency to get the worst ones out of him.

  “Turn it off!” Graham waves his hand like that will help.

  “I can’t; I’m too stupid.” Miles folds his arms, an impish grin on his lips.

  “Fine, you’re brilliant. Smarter than all the savants combined!”

  “Don’t forget it.” The room blossoms into a rose garden, then morphs into vanilla, one of his favorite scents to give off. “Fiona’s right. If you want our trust, we deserve a reason at the very least. Especially if you won’t tell us the plan.”

  Graham folds his arms, glancing at Mom before his eyes turn hard. “I can’t give you one. It could risk everything. I don’t care if you trust me—just lay low and don’t mess anything up.”

  Mom stands from the table. “It’s been so long since we’ve all been together. Can’t we just get along? Maybe go out to lunch?”

  We stare at her, Miles with his mouth gaping and Graham with an eyebrow raised. I cram my lips together, trying not to laugh. She has to be kidding, but she’s not cracking a smile. She’s gotten so parental since we left, and it seems to be getting worse.

  “Fiona’s taking m
e to meet her friends. Maybe some other time, Mom,” Miles says. I flick his arm, grateful for the save, at least until I catch Graham’s expression.

  “Friends? What kind of friends?”

  I force down the lump in my throat. Maybe that wasn’t such a good save after all. The last thing I need is Graham finding Bea and Brady. “None of your business.”

  He flies above Miles and me, proving how easy it would be for him to pluck me off the ground. “What did I just say about laying low? Everything here is my business.”

  “You sound a lot like Dad, you know.” I cover my mouth as I realize what I’ve done. I’m not goading Seth—this is Graham. He won’t just roll his eyes.

  “You want to do this the hard way? Fine.” He grabs my neck, right where the halter ties. I work at his strong fingers in a futile attempt to pry them off. Miles’s yells barely register against my pounding heart and burning lungs. It hurts so much I wonder if Graham’s nails have broken through my skin, but I don’t feel blood. At least not yet.

  I can’t get air, and when I try it seems to make his grip more painful.

  His eyes somehow find mine, and he smiles. “Look at you, Fifi, standing up for yourself.” My feet leave the ground. I can’t scream, can’t do anything to save myself. “Here’s a tip: Don’t get mouthy until you can fight back.”

  Just when I think I’ll be taking yet another flight lesson, Graham drops me on the floor. Miles rushes over, wrapping around me as I gasp and cough. “Yeah, real trustworthy, jackass.”

  Graham shrugs. “I tried to be nice. I will have your cooperation, one way or another.” He nods to Mom. “Let’s go find you a real job.”

  She throws me a glance of regret before she says, “Okay, but you have to promise me one thing.”

  “What?” he asks.

  “Don’t hurt Fiona like that again. This is hard on all of us, especially her, and that was way out of line, Graham.”

  “Fine,” he says reluctantly.

  Sure, right. Unless I say the wrong thing again.

  He picks her up gently, and she wraps her arms around his neck. I’ll never understand how she can trust him like that, even after all this. Though I can’t ignore that she kind of defended me. It was a weak attempt, sure, but it was the first time I can remember her ever telling Graham what to do.

  Miles and I sit on the floor for a moment without speaking. “You okay?”

  I rub my neck, which burns and throbs. I take in a deep breath. “I don’t think he did permanent damage.”

  He lets out a long sigh. “Someday, we’re gonna get him back, Fi. Him, Dad, the whole syndicate. I promise.”

  Miles always talks big, but I don’t feel like entertaining the dreams right now. “How will we do all that? He could have killed me right there, you know.”

  “I know.” He stands up, and I follow. “He might be an evil syndicate boss in the making, but he has a point. You need to learn how to fight.”

  “You really think karate lessons will stop him from tossing me off a cliff?”

  He shakes his head, a wry smile appearing. “Couldn’t hurt. You could at least kick him in the balls before you go.”

  I shove him. “Thanks.”

  “That wasn’t exactly the kind of fighting I meant, though.”

  “Then what? Fencing?”

  He rolls his eyes. “I think you need to figure it out yourself. In fact, you already are.” He grabs Mom’s keys off the hook on the refrigerator. “C’mon, take me to the coolest place in this sorry excuse for a town.”

  Chapter 16

  There’s not much to do in Madison, but we settle on the community pool. It’s crowded, or at least as crowded as this town gets. Children and parents huddle around the kiddie pool, while teens and adults mob the bigger one. They swim laps, dive from the springboards, and lounge in the water. With the temperature rising every second, I’m more than ready to join them.

  “So how hot is this Bea girl you’ve been hanging out with?” Miles says as we walk to the entrance.

  “She’s my age, you perv.”

  “Psh, that’s only two years’ difference, and she must be smoking if that’s all you have to say.”

  I roll my eyes. Miles has always been popular, almost like he inherited some of Dad’s charm. He was never short on girls in high school, though he’s never been in a serious relationship.

  “Yeah, she’s disgustingly gorgeous, actually.”

  “Excellent. You think she’ll be here?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “I guess I’ll have to hang out with you then.”

  “Oh, you poor thing.” It’s like he never left, and the thought brings me home in a way. We pay at the gate and head in. “I just need to put on some sunscreen. I’ll be right back.”

  “Sure, I’ll see if I can stake out a spot on the grass. I know how you like to keep your tan nice and golden.” His eyes glint with mischief.

  “I am pretty vain.” I head to the bathroom, which is beyond disgusting. The entire floor is wet, and wads of spitball spatter the ceiling. It smells about as bad as Miles’s fart-bomb attack.

  I apply the sunscreen liberally, knowing how bad sunburn hurts even if I can’t see it. When I was little, I’d get it in hopes that it would burn off the invisibility. After the third time I got blisters the size of lemons on my shoulders, I gave up on that. I settled for the knowledge that there’s at least pigment underneath to burn.

  I put it on in the bathroom because I tend to draw attention. For a moment the white coats my body like paint, and people try to catch a glimpse of what’s there. I imagine it’s the closest I could ever feel to naked. The sunscreen absorbs, and I’m left as a cute red-and-white polka-dot one-piece with a little skirt. I would love to wear a bikini, but I’ve learned that’s the best way to get accidentally pummeled in the water. The casino pool was a battlefield filled with kids hopped up on buffet desserts.

  When I get back outside, I can’t find Miles. He couldn’t have picked up a girl that fast. Well, maybe he could. I push through a group of purple people, trying to get up to the hill for a better view. Still no sign of him.

  Then I notice four boys with black hair who couldn’t be anyone but Bea’s brothers. I spot Bea right after, though I hardly recognize her with flat, wet hair. She totally pulls off the skimpy white bikini, which makes me a little jealous.

  Miles is nowhere, so I head toward Bea. She spots me and waves. “Fiona! Wow, that suit is adorable!”

  “Thanks.” Adorable is sad in comparison to her, but I guess I should take what I can get. “I didn’t realize you’d be here.”

  “Oh yeah, we come here all the time. ’Cept Sundays—Mom would never let us break the Sabbath.” She points to her brothers, who are huddled around someone, as she talks.

  “So you weren’t looking at our sister?” Joey says.

  “Poor soul.” Bea sighs. “He just said hi to me, but that’s all it takes to get them going.”

  “I … uh … yeah I was, but I didn’t mean …”

  I know that voice.

  “Wait! That’s my brother. Don’t hurt him!” I push through The Pack and take Miles by the hand. He lets out a relieved breath, probably one second from releasing some nasty smell. “I’m sure he just recognized Bea—I told him about the friends I made. That’s all.”

  “I don’t know,” Carlos says, eyeing him. “He had that look. I know that look well.”

  “Tell them you didn’t mean anything, Miles.”

  “I just said hi.” He shrugs, and I hold in my groan. Of course he was hitting on her. “It’s not every day my sister makes friends, if you know what I mean.”

  “Are you gonna be trouble?” Hector asks. It’s then I realize they think he’s in the O’Connell syndicate. Of course they think that—he’s related to me. I wish I could blame them, but I’m honestly glad they’re watching their backs.

  “No. I’m basically disowned.” Miles releases a sweet cinnamon scent. “You think my dad has any
use for a guy who can smell like a bakery?” He switches to a sticky-mango smell. “Or perhaps a fruit stand? Maybe if he owned a smoothie store.”

  The guys try to restrain their smiles, but eventually they laugh. “Well, if you’re not gonna scandalize Trixy, I guess you can hang with us.” Joey holds out his hand.

  “Deal.” Miles shakes it. “And you are?”

  Bea points to each as she talks. “Joey, Tony, Hector, and Carlos, but you don’t need to remember their names—they all answer to ‘dumbass.’”

  “Funny, funny. At least we don’t answer to ‘screaming banshee.’” Carlos ruffles her hair, and then runs when she tries to swat him.

  We decide to play Marco Polo, and I never get tagged, even when Carlos opens his eyes just to go after me. Miles slips into the group easily, like he does with most people. All he has to do is flash a smile, drop a clever joke about his lame ability, and everyone seems to trust him. I might be jealous if he were anyone else.

  Once the boys suggest racing laps, Bea groans. “You’re wearing me out. Fiona, let’s get a drink or something.”

  “Sure.” I hate getting out of the pool, since the water sticks to my skin just enough to give me a glistening outline. People stare as I pass, and even Bea sneaks a few glances. I follow her to the small concession stand, and she buys me a grape slushie though I tell her she doesn’t have to. Then we lie on our towels and dry out in the sun.

  “Miles is a cutie,” Bea says. “I almost wish my brothers hadn’t interrupted.”

  I sigh. “He’s subtler than Carlos, but he’s still a total flirt.”

  She laughs. “In the right way, though. Carlos has no filter at all.”

  I’ve never talked about my brother like this, and I’m not sure how I’m supposed to feel about Bea eyeing him. She’s already tangled up in this enough. “So … where are Brady and Seth? I thought you guys were joined at the hip or something.”