Transparent

by Natalie Whipple

  “Done with your good-byes, sweetie?” Dad calls, his voice sickly happy.

  “Miles, get the crate.” I walk over to my father, determined not to lose myself to him again. This time, he’s the one who’ll get played. Once I figure out a plan, at least. “If you’d be kind enough to help put Graham in the truck bed.”

  Dad complies. Graham grunts as we get him in place, but he doesn’t fight. There’s so much blood, and he’s shaking. Sweat beads his face. I hop in the truck bed and pull off my hoodie.

  “What’re you doing?” Graham croaks.

  “What do you think?” I wrap it around his leg and pull tight.

  He winces.

  “Fiona,” Dad calls. “Up front.”

  “But—” Graham needs help. Bad. Because of me.

  “Don’t waste more time on that traitor.” He motions to the cabin. “Now.”

  I watch my friends grow smaller and smaller as I drive away. Tears stream silently down my face as I realize I may never see them again.

  Chapter 36

  Dad wastes no time being his usual self. Since Graham is still bleeding and possibly dying in the back, he’s got the gun pointed at Miles. He knows if I have any plans that’ll snuff them right out. “Take me to Lauren.”

  “Don’t do it, Fi,” Miles says.

  Dad puts the gun to my brother’s temple. “You know, you’re the stupidest one here. I’d practically forgotten about your worthless ass.”

  He scoffs. “Is that supposed to make me feel bad?”

  “Don’t push it.”

  Miles lets off a horrible smell, something like crap mixed with gross perfume. “Maybe you shouldn’t push it.”

  Dad tightens his fingers, and I know he’ll pull the trigger eventually if I don’t do something. It was bad enough watching Graham get that. “I’ll take you to Mom, okay? Just don’t hurt him.”

  He takes the gun away from Miles’s face. “That’s my girl.”

  He probably thinks I’m caving to his presence. I’m not; at least I don’t think so. I’m just buying time to form a plan. If Mom really doesn’t want him back—and I’m pretty sure she’s serious—then that’s one more on our team. I have a feeling Graham might be, too.

  I check the rearview mirror. Graham’s feet bounce and bump back and forth. I can’t stop thinking about when he first showed up, how he grabbed me by the neck and threatened me. He told me not to get mouthy until I could fight back. The delivery was crap, but I think I finally get what he meant, what Miles meant when he said Graham was right.

  I’m a runner. I’ve spent my whole life taking the path of least resistance. Before living in Madison, I never had to face anything. I did what Dad told me to, and when I wasn’t doing that, I numbed myself to the horrible things I’d done. I ran from my problems, not realizing I was on a treadmill. They’ve always been right behind me, waiting for me to slow down so they can destroy me. Never once did I think I could stop altogether, turn around, and fight them. Maybe that’s what happens when you don’t know who you are or what you want.

  But that’s not who I am anymore.

  Dad has no idea what he’s up against, and he won’t as long as I put on the best act of my life.

  When I pull up to the house, I take a deep breath to calm myself—there’s no turning back now.

  “Get your brother,” Dad says to us.

  When we reach the back of the truck, Graham looks dead. I check for a pulse. It’s there, so he must have passed out from the pain. Miles hops into the back of the truck, despite his slight limp. I take Graham’s legs, and we heft him down the path to the front door. For a guy who flies, he’s shockingly heavy.

  Dad bangs on the door, the gun still pointed at us. It seems like an eternity passes without Mom answering. Dad pushes the doorbell twice. Finally, the lock clicks. When Mom sees who’s waiting, her face goes white. She almost shuts the door, but she catches sight of Graham. Then, maybe for the first time ever, she glares at Dad. “What did you do to him?”

  “I was merciful, considering he’s a traitor.” Dad pushes his way in. “Be warned, Lauren, I don’t have much mercy left.”

  Mom ignores him, heading for us instead. “Put Graham on the couch.”

  Dad laughs. “You think I’d let you stay in here with this many escape routes?” He waves the gun. “A windowless room. Now.”

  Mom doesn’t move, as if she wants to fight back, but then she heads for the laundry room. Still, it gives me hope. If Graham weren’t shot, if Miles didn’t have a black eye, she would have fought back. Maybe her kids really do come first.

  Dad shoves us in there with a grin. “I’m calling for an escort. Then we can have a little family reunion.”

  After he shuts the door, I hear something shoved in front of it. Probably a chair, since his muffled voice sounds nearby.

  “How did he find us?” Mom whispers through tears. She strokes Graham’s hair, all her strength replaced by fear.

  “It’s my fault.” As hard as it is to say, it’s true. I didn’t trust Graham, and now we’re paying for it. “We don’t have time to talk about it—we need to get out.”

  Mom sighs. “You think?”

  “I’m not kidding.” I crouch down and check Graham’s breathing. When will he wake up? He has to at some point. I refuse to think he’s lost too much blood. “Dad has us all thinking he’s stronger than us, but we can do this. We’re some of the most feared thugs in the world.”

  Miles smiles like he was waiting for me to say that. “I was starting to think it would never happen, but it’s time to implement The Plan.”

  I tilt my head. “The Plan?”

  He nods. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this chance.”

  “Miles, what are you talking about?” Mom asks.

  He rolls his eyes. “Haven’t you ever noticed that Dad’s never touched me? I’ve never gotten close enough to smell his cologne. The ride here? First time he’s ever sat next to me.”

  Mom frowns. “He’s touched you… .”

  Miles gives her a flat look. “When? Does he even know my name? Because I haven’t heard him say it since I was maybe six, and even then I’m pretty sure it was a lucky guess. I’m just “That Worthless Boy.” In fact, that’s probably what he has written next to my phone number, for the few times he’s called looking for you guys.”

  She opens her mouth, but it seems she can’t remember a single time. “Miles, I …”

  “Nah, don’t apologize. As a kid it used to eat me away inside, but I figured out pretty quick that being neglected by him was a good thing.” His smile turns wicked. “It’s payback time now. Just you wait and see.”

  He talks like it’s all a joke, but I wonder if he means it. I’d never thought much about what it was like to be Miles in our family. He’s like the ultimate middle child. All of us were powerful and important to Dad, and he didn’t get so much as a pat on the back or a hug from his father his whole life. And not because Dad wasn’t around, but because he just didn’t care. No matter what Miles says, that has to hurt.

  I walk over and hug him. “I love you the most.”

  He lets out a small laugh. “I know, and that’s why—”

  Graham groans. We hover over him as we wait to see if he’ll come to. His eyes flutter open, and he startles when he realizes where he is.

  Mom puts a finger to her lips. “Dad’s right outside the door.”

  “What happened?” His voice is strained.

  “Dad shot you,” Miles says.

  “And now we’re trapped in the laundry room?”

  “Yup.”

  Graham tries to sit up, but opts to put his head back on the floor. “You should have listened to me, Fiona. You ruined everything. You could have been safe here—all you had to do was trust me.”

  “Shut up.” I don’t need to be reminded. The pit in my stomach is enough to do that. “You could have told us Dad was trying to kill us. You could have trusted us, too, and you didn’t. You decided
to act like a dictator instead, so stop preaching like you’re some kind of saint.”

  Mom’s eyes water. “What are you talking about? He’s trying to kill us?”

  Graham points at her. “Right there. That’s why I couldn’t tell. Unlike you, I prefer not to cause Mom pain. She’s been through enough.”

  “We all have!” I stop, realizing my voice is too loud. The silence overcomes us as we listen. Dad’s still talking. “Look, we don’t have time for this. I just need to know one thing.”

  Graham pinches the bridge of his nose, either in pain or annoyed with me. Probably both. “And that would be?”

  “Why did you do it? All this—why would you plan this elaborate escape for us?”

  He looks away, his mouth forming a tight line. And then, ever so slightly, he bites his lip. “I know you think I’m the bad guy, but all I’ve ever done is make sure you and Mom survive. You know what Dad told me that first day he came for me?”

  “What?” I ask.

  “He said he could make Mom kill herself. He said he could convince you to jump off a building. He said he could make you violently murder people, or use your bodies in ways I can’t even repeat. He said if I didn’t do what he said, you guys would pay the price. It would be my fault.”

  It feels like there’s a cue ball in my throat. All these years … “So you did what he said for us.”

  “Someone has to do the dirty work, and I’d rather it be me than you.” He pauses, turns his head so I can’t see his face. “Dad told me he thought it was time you became an assassin like he’s always wanted. And then came this China mission. I couldn’t let it happen. Killing people … it messes you up beyond repair. I know. There was only one way to stop it—I had to get you out.”

  It’s not an act. Not because I wish for it, but because he would have looked at my face if it were a lie. That’s the secret about criminals. They can lie right to your face. They can look like they believe it completely. But it’s the truth that makes them turn away, ashamed.

  I don’t know what this means for Graham and me, but for once I don’t completely hate him. That’s something. “So you’re in?”

  He looks back, quizzical. “In?”

  “We’re bust—” Miles stops when the doorknob turns.

  Dad comes in with his chair and sets it in front of the door. He holds his gun casually, like he’s not threatening his own children. “You’ve been very problematic. We won’t all fit on the chopper, so I had to organize a full road escort through Juan’s territory. You’ll have to pay me back for all the trouble.”

  And then, out of nowhere, Miles throws himself on Dad.

  Chapter 37

  “It’s my fault!” Miles wraps his arms around Dad, burrowing into his neck. My mouth hangs open, and Mom wavers between him and Graham as if she can’t figure out who will die first. Dad has never looked so surprised, but that doesn’t stop him from raising the gun to Miles’s head. “I’m the one who kept telling Fiona she could escape. I just wanted her to have a normal life. Don’t hurt them. Please.”

  “Get off me,” Dad growls.

  “Not until you promise.” Miles sucks in air, like he’s scared and trying to keep in tears. “Take it out on me. I don’t care what you do, but it’s not their fault.”

  “Such a sweet story.” Dad tries to shove Miles away, but Miles clings to his jacket, looking absolutely pathetic. “Except that doesn’t explain Graham.”

  Miles takes in a deep breath, sighing it out. “I tricked him. I told him about the Radiasure, but wouldn’t give him a location until he agreed to bring Mom and Fiona for the job. I was going to take them away, but he figured it out. He’s been trying to get them back ever since.”

  Dad’s eyes narrow. It sounds semi-plausible, and for a second I think he might believe it. Then his finger goes to the trigger. “Get off.”

  “I … I just wanted you to notice me. I thought if I could be smart enough, maybe you’d see I’m useful.” Miles drops to the floor, groveling at Dad’s feet like a slave. It makes my blood boil. What the hell is he doing? He’s never sought Dad’s approval before.

  Dad scoffs. “You’re worthless and a fool.”

  Miles purses his lips. Without another word he slinks back next to me, burying his head in his lap. His ears rise slightly, which makes me think he might be smiling.

  Smiling? It clicks, and I stifle my gasp. He was getting his scent! Why hadn’t I thought of it before? If Miles could imitate Dad’s smell—even strengthen it—then maybe it would sway Mom and me to him instead of Dad. Miles usually has to practice a scent to get it right, but hopefully it’ll at least buy us time.

  My brother is a genius.

  “Lauren, baby, c’mere,” Dad says in his smooth way.

  Mom tenses. “No.”

  He smiles. “But I missed you. It’s been so long since I held you.”

  “Forget it, Jonas.” She busies herself with caring for Graham, grabbing a washcloth and wetting it in the sink. “It’s never happening again.”

  “We’ll see.” Dad leans into his chair, satisfied with the answer. He knows “never” isn’t an option. He can see as well as I can that her hands shake.

  That’s the thing about Dad. He doesn’t like to use force. Not with women. He likes watching them break down. He revels in how determined they are to resist, how his presence slowly chips away their resolve. He doesn’t have to push; all he has to do is wait. It doesn’t help that he’s so good-looking. He’s pale, but in a good way, with smooth skin and dark, dark eyes. Eyes that capture your attention and never let go.

  I shake my head, realizing my ridiculous thoughts. I hope Miles can nail that scent, because my resistance is already fading.

  Think of Seth. He cares about me, knows me. Dad doesn’t know me. He turns me into a tool, a monster. But I don’t want to be that person anymore. I want to be a person who trusts her friends. A person who can love. A person who is comfortable in her own invisible skin. If I want that, then I have to make it happen.

  Dad looks at his watch. “We have a little time until our ride gets here. Get cozy.”

  I force myself to say, “Sure thing.”

  He smiles, proving how easy it’ll be to fool him. “You have anything soft in here?”

  “Maybe some towels.” I open the dryer, glad to find the last load there. I toss him one, and he makes it into a pillow.

  “Thanks, sweetie.”

  “No problem.” Handing out the other ones, I tell myself I’m playing a game. I’m not doing this because of his ability. I’m tricking him.

  I wish I had more confidence in my own mental state.

  Time passes in silence. It must be really late by now, because I can feel the tug of sleep in the back of my head. I fight it, knowing this could be the moment. If Dad lets his guard down, it could be our only chance.

  I’m the only one awake, though. Miles snores next to me, wedged awkwardly in the corner. Graham is long gone, wincing every now and then from the bullet in his leg. Even Mom has dozed off. My eyelids feel swollen, heavy, but I keep forcing them back open. Dad’s not sleeping. He’s watching us, gun at the ready. But he must be tired. How can he look so alert?

  And then, sweet miracle, he yawns. I pounce on the situation. “There’s some Coke in the fridge, Dad, if you’re getting tired.”

  He perks up, seeming pleased by the honey I put in my voice. “Fiona?”

  “Yeah, Dad? Is something wrong?” I stand up and come closer. I can feel his anticipation, as if he’s finally got it how he likes.

  “Make sure they don’t go anywhere. I’ll be right back.” He stands. “Right back.”

  “Of course, no problem.” My heart stops. I didn’t think it’d be that easy. Or is it? Is this some kind of test? I try to read his face, but I can’t tell.

  He opens the door and pats the chair. “Sit here, hon.”

  “Okay.” When he shuts the door, I take the seat. My legs bounce as I try to figure out what to do. I don’t
have more than a minute. Probably less. And I’m wasting time already.

  “Fiona.”

  I about fall out of the chair at Miles’s voice. He’s awake, and so are Mom and Graham. “Wait, were you all faking?”

  “Of course,” Graham says.

  “Huh.” So my family really is a bunch of con artists.

  Miles comes closer, scrutinizing me like he can see my face. “Fi … are you still with us?”

  “Yeah. I was faking.” I kick him. “Stop looking at me like that. It’s creepy. Have you been trying to mimic his scent, or was that embarrassing display for real?”

  He smiles. “Glad you caught on.”

  “I think it’s working, whatever you did,” Mom says. “I still can’t stand looking at your father.”

  Miles bunches his lips. “It took some retooling, but I think I have most of it. Here, let me ramp it up to make sure.”

  The room fills with this intense, musky scent, kind of like a bad version of cologne. With sweat. It doesn’t smell very good. Maybe he has it wrong. “That’s it?”

  “Yeah.” He puts his hand on my shoulder, searches for my eyes. I’d forgotten how intense his stare could be, since he’s usually laid-back. Strangely, it looks good on him, that smoldering look. Even if he’s my brother, he’s pretty hot. “Kiss me, Fiona.” I lean in before I can think, but Miles pulls back. “Oh gross, it worked!”

  I cover my mouth as the scent wanes. I should not be blushing this much over my own brother. “Miles!”

  Dad’s knock makes us all jump. “Fiona? Everything okay in there?”

  I get the door, trying to steady myself. “It’s nothing. Miles was just being stupid.”

  By the time he comes in, Graham and Mom are back to fake sleeping. Miles has a defiant look on his face, but he doesn’t say more. I can’t help but feel a glimmer of hope. Miles pulled it off. With Mom and me safe, we at least have some time. What would Dad do if he knew that someone could beat him at his own game? Might be better at it than he is?

  “Here, sweetie, I got you one, too.” Dad holds out a Coke, his smile all charm.