by Rebecca Sky
‘Thank you, Mrs Turner. Your help means so much.’
‘Of course, it’s what any A.P. would do. We stand up for our own. And listen, don’t come near New York, don’t go to any airports. Just get yourselves somewhere safe. We are on it. Once your mom is free, and your names are cleared, we will let you know. For now, just stay out of sight and out of trouble.’
I can’t help glancing in the rear-view at Marissa, wondering if she’d do for me what Mrs Turner is doing for my ma.
When I don’t reply, Mrs Turner clears her throat. ‘Well, here’s Paisley again, you two should probably keep this short. Even with everything going on, we want to prioritize the rules.’
I bite my lip to keep from saying something I’ll regret and glance again at my A.P., who’s digging through her gold bag for something.
There’s another shuffling and Paisley takes back the phone. ‘Did you hear they arrested some of the Sisters, and the Committee wants us to go to its headquarters?’
‘I heard, yeah. Do you know what’s going on?’
‘Nope. Mom says I don’t have to go to Athens. Not yet anyway. And there’s a protest for the Sisters. Mom and a bunch of the other moms are helping. They’re hoping to make a big enough scene that the police let the Sisters go. We went down earlier to join the picketing and reporters are lining the block filming everything. Thanks to Marissa, a group of enthusiasts are there, upset over the lack of police response to the alien vampires in New York. Everything is off the rails right now. Have you seen the news reports of your mom’s arrest? It’s running on almost every channel.’
‘What? No! I’ll call you back later.’ I hang up, and search for the City News livestream. The video loads and I nearly drop my cell when I see a reporter standing on the street in front of our home.
‘Oh my god, that’s your house,’ Marissa says, leaning forward.
I hold out the cell so we all can see; even Ben turns from looking out the window to watch.
‘… police report states a traffic camera captured a group of women escorting a kidnapped boy into a taxi moments after a suspected jailbreak. The police managed to grab the plate number off the footage and track the vehicle to this house behind me. One of the officers recognized a suspect and an arrest was made. We have no further information on the arrest at this time. Our contact at the hospital came forward with information about the police admitting an elderly man who claims to have been squatting in this house. The background check reveals he is a food delivery driver. He was very disoriented and taken for psychiatric assessment. One can’t help speculating that these women are responsible for the other disappearances. And if so, are the rumours true? Are they vamp—’
I shut it off before I have to watch any more and shove my cell into my pocket.
Marissa sits back hard in the seat and huffs. ‘I play one little prank on a ginger kid and the whole world takes it seriously.’
‘You did a little more than a prank,’ I say.
‘Whatever.’
‘Not whatever.’ I twist to face her. ‘They know about the driver, which means they’ll be looking for this car soon. If not already. We need to find another ride.’
‘We stick to the plan,’ Dad says. ‘We’re going to Nashville.’
I roll my eyes, and am about to argue him, when my phone dings. I smile when I see a message from Paisley.
PAISLEY: Mom says they have your mother in custody as they investigate what happened to the evidence. There doesn’t seem to be any leads on you three, other than Benjamin Blake’s name and the officer’s memories of a video. They don’t even know what you look like. The arresting officer apparently buzzed you out when you escaped the precinct. But he suddenly can’t remember anyone but your mother. So she’s probably got her hand in that. You should be safe now. I’ll let you know if anything changes. Don’t worry, my mom’s on it. She’s determined to get your mom out. Oh, and tell Marissa I’m pissed at her. I can’t turn on the TV without seeing something about the vampire aliens – she made my favourite show go viral! And took my necklace and all. Though the one good thing is, watching news with Mom isn’t boring any more. Gotta go check my blood sugar levels. Talk soon.
I read it out to the car.
‘See, we’re fine,’ Marissa says. ‘And Paisley can suck it.’
‘My ma, not so much.’
‘Rachel is safe,’ Dad says.
Ben doesn’t say anything.
I type a quick reply.
ME: Thank you. Please let us know the second there’s any updates.
ME: I owe you.
Messaging with Paisley leaves me with some relief. We are safe, and hopefully Ma will be safe soon too.
Despite my protests to find a new ride, we drive through the night in the rusty old bucket stopping only for fuel and restroom breaks. I try to sleep, cricked over, using my arm on the window as a pillow. Even though I’m exhausted, sleep never comes. Instead I listen to the sounds that break the silence – a spring’s squeak when someone shifts in their seat, the rattle of the engine, Ben’s deep breaths, Marissa’s quick shallow ones – it’s deafening.
Halfway through the night Marissa stirs. Through the rear-view I watch her slide her head on to Ben’s lap. He wakes, but doesn’t move away like I expect.
It seems odd, considering his circumstances. Then I notice how uncomfortably he sits, stiff and angled away, and his breaths are no longer low and deep. He doesn’t want her that close, but he’s not stopping her either. I turn back to my window, and shut my eyes. It’s the closest I’ll come to rest.
A short way down the road, Dad pulls into a gas station and parks the car. ‘Stay safe here,’ he says, exiting. ‘I’m getting us coffee.’ He locks the car from the outside before heading into the store.
I twist in the chair, back pressed into the dash, about to say good morning when Marissa shoves the seat forward, trapping me between the glovebox and chair-back.
‘Um?’
‘I’m gonna freshen up. Keep an eye on Ben,’ she says, bypassing the broken handle by unrolling then reaching out the window, and opening the door from the other side.
When she closes the door, Ben pulls the chair down for me.
‘Thanks,’ I say, unfolding my body.
‘No prob.’ He half smiles and rests his head on the driver seat’s back, looking up at me through his choppy bangs. He studies my face, finding something there that makes his smile slip into a frown. An awkward silence passes between us. I think of a thousand things to say but none of them seem right.
Ben finds something. ‘I’m sorry about your mom,’ he says. He watches me with his whole body and the car is so stuffy I can’t breathe. I lean to the open window for some air.
After everything we’ve put him through, he cares enough to acknowledge I’m hurting. It doesn’t make sense. ‘Why are you being nice?’
‘Don’t let it go to your head,’ he says, with a halfhearted chuckle. He pauses, and by the way his breathing changes I can sense his walls coming down, and that stupid swishing feeling returns full force. When he next speaks, his voice is soft. ‘I don’t know. Maybe because I’m freaking out over Ammon’s whole alien thing, and being kidnapped, and what your mom did to that man, and … I don’t know what to believe any more. I thought the aliens were a joke, but now …’ He clears his throat. ‘Anyway, you seem the most level-headed and I could use someone to talk to and help me understand all this mess.’
‘Oh.’ Oh? Can’t you think of anything better to say?
‘So, like … what are you?’ He asks it softly, a whisper, but he might as well have screamed it.
A monster – I want to say, but how do you tell someone you’re an offspring of a god? How do you change their world? ‘Maybe we should start with another question.’
He takes a deep breath. ‘Ammon’s disappearances. Were those you, too?’
A part of me feels like I’m back behind prison bars under officer interrogation, the other part of me feels like a broken
and confused girl before an equally broken and confused boy.
‘Yes,’ I say. ‘But not us, others like us.’
‘Are there many others?’
‘Yes.’
He’s silent for a long moment. I count his unsteady breaths as he tries to put this strange puzzle together. Finally, he clears his throat. ‘Am I really going to be OK?’
‘Yes.’ I sit up. ‘I promise you, I won’t let anyone hurt you.’
He lets out an airy laugh. ‘Is it weird that I believe you?’
‘Probably,’ I say with a smile. We’re quiet for a moment, our eyes often meeting. I can’t help feeling guilt for what we’ve done to him. ‘And your family too,’ I say. He sits back, confused. ‘They’re probably worried sick and missing you right now. I’m sorry you got dragged into this.’
He looks away, but the window’s reflection shows me how sad his eyes are. ‘They aren’t,’ he says, ‘but I do miss them.’ He clears his throat and runs his hands over his face before turning back. He’s about to say something more, when his attention redirects and he nods to the windscreen. I glance over my shoulder to see Marissa and Dad – Dad carrying an uncomfortable number of bags and Marissa carrying none. I have so many questions for Ben, so many things I still want to say, but mostly, I want to see the sadness leave his eyes.
Marissa yanks open the door and I offer her the front seat. She chooses the back, with Ben. They pile in, stuffing Marissa’s purchases into every last spare space. Ben’s more engaged now, starting conversations, helping with directions. Though he never fully seems as relaxed as he did back at the house, before he knew what we’re capable of.
We follow the big lit-up highway signs shaped like giant yellow arrows – I hate every one we pass – and fifteen hours after we left New York we’re in Nashville, pulling up to a double-wide mobile, decorated with scrolling shutters and light yellow paint.
Being far away from the school, and the troubles with the police, almost gives me the breathing room to be excited about meeting my aunt. Almost. If Ma were here, I’d be ecstatic.
We grab our things, leaving most of the stuff in the car, and follow my dad to the front door. There’s a note taped to the handle, with turquoise loopy writing that reads, ‘Gone to the store, let yourself in. xo – Joyce.’
The inside is decorated in a vintage style, with light blue appliances and black and white checkered floors. It’s cluttered with pawnshop treasures, and smells of coffee and baked bread, not spices. I wonder if this is how most American homes smell. And in this moment, standing in a strange house, with strange smells, my entire body aches to return to the cumin and masala chai and perfumed scent that is my home. All of me aches for my mother.
Joyce leans back in her chair and sips her coffee. If someone were to see us side by side, they wouldn’t think we’re family. Joyce has faded bleached blonde hair, backcombed high on her head, vampire-pale skin, and she’s wearing a blue plaid shirt and acid-washed jeans that are bejewelled down the sides and around the pockets.
I can’t help wondering how much Joyce knows about us. Did the family keep the Hedoness secret from her, like they kept her existence from me?
Joyce sets down her I Love Lucy mug. ‘I have to say it was a surprise to hear from your father after all these years.’ Her southern accent makes it sound like she’s singing.
‘I’m just happy I finally get to meet you,’ I say.
‘Me too. It’s such a pleasure having you here, and your guests. It’s a shame your mother couldn’t make it, though. I was looking forward to reconnecting with Priya. Send her my love, won’t you, sweetheart.’
‘I will.’ I force a smile, shoving down the anxiety and fear and worry.
‘Your father looks so much like my Tommy.’ The glimmer in her eyes seems to fade. ‘It sure brings back memories.’ Joyce’s smile is warm and caring. I like my new aunt. ‘I can’t wait for you to meet my Kyle,’ she says. ‘You two will get along smashingly.’
‘Kyle?’ Maybe Joyce remarried.
‘Your cousin,’ she says, as if it’s something I should’ve known.
‘My cousin. Right, yes,’ I quickly add. ‘I’m looking forward to it.’ And I am. My family is growing by the second.
‘Look at you, Rachel, my, how you’ve grown.’ She leans across the polished chrome dining table to squeeze my hand. As soon as our skin touches, there’s a shock. ‘Static one, you are.’ She flinches back and laughs. ‘Your father sent me a picture of you when you were just a babe. I’ve often wondered what you grew up to look like. You’re quite pretty – must get that from your mother.’
‘He sent you a picture?’ All along my aunt knew about me, even thought about me once in a while. And Dad sent the picture? A stray tear threatens to escape. I rub my eye before she notices.
‘It’s over there.’
I glance to where she points, and sure enough, a small gold-framed baby picture of me on my dad’s lap hangs beside various other family portraits. I go to it, and gently run my fingers over the image.
‘That’s grandma Rachel in the photo above.’
‘Grandma Rachel?’ I glance up at the photograph of a curly red-haired woman with a cheerful smile.
‘Your father’s mother. They named you after her,’ she says, unsure why I don’t know this. It becomes near impossible to hold tears back. I had no clue that I was named after someone who meant a lot to my father.
Aunt Joyce slaps the kitchen table. ‘When Kyle gets back from baseball practice, I’ll have him take you and your two friends out. Show you the town. There’s a ton to do in Nashville.’
For the first time in my life, I’m beginning to feel normal-ish – I have a cousin and an aunt, a paternal grandmother I’m named after. Everything in me wants to go with Kyle and enjoy a typical teenage night on the town, but then I remember our current predicament.
‘I’m not sure that’s a good idea. We just got here. We should probably stay in.’ I force a smile and return to my seat across from Joyce at the kitchen table.
‘You have nothing to worry about,’ Joyce says, refilling her coffee. ‘My Kyle knows his way around town. He’ll take good care of you.’
With Marissa, anything could go wrong. But Paisley did say the police have no idea who we are. So even if they are looking for us, they wouldn’t know who to look for, let alone where to look. And I’d so like to get to know my only cousin. A fun night out sounds like just the distraction I need right now, so given there’s nothing I can do until I hear back from Paisley and her ma, surely it wouldn’t hurt to go while I wait, would it?
‘All right, that would be nice,’ I say, instantly second-guessing my decision.
‘Oh good.’ Joyce clasps her hands and stands. ‘Why don’t you go tell your friends while I make some ice tea.’
I hug her, then head towards the attached garage where Marissa and the guys are assembling Joyce’s bunk beds. We plan on staying here until Ma’s free. Hopefully that’s sooner rather than later. At least that’s what I’m doing. I don’t know if Ma’s original plan goes any further than that. Dad hasn’t hinted at anything beyond coming here.
‘Hey,’ I say, pushing through the door to find Marissa leaning on a freezer-chest, ogling Ben, who’s busy laying out the wood panels.
She glances up when I enter, crinkling her brow. ‘What’s with the smile?’
‘Freedom,’ I say, which makes her more confused. ‘My cousin’s going to take us out tonight.’ I can’t remember the last time I felt this normal; visiting family, hanging out with my friends and a cousin – this sort of stuff doesn’t happen in my life.
‘You have a cousin?’
‘Yeah, I guess I do.’
Bored with our conversation, Marissa skips over to Ben. He whispers something that leaves her giggling in a voice so high-pitched it makes me wince.
Ben flashes an awkward grin and runs his hand through his hair. ‘Can you hand me a hammer, Riss?’
I roll my eyes as she rushes over to th
e toolbox in a flurry of heel clicks. Although it’s a small task, she acts like he needs her, like he can’t survive without her help.
‘Here you go.’ Marissa presses her body against Ben’s as she hands him the tool.
He offers a half version of his grin. ‘Thanks.’
Their whole exchange is making me nauseated. I walk over to Dad in the far corner. He’s diligently sorting the bunk bed panels and stacking pieces together, tears streaming down his face as he cries quietly to himself.
I don’t dare ask him what’s wrong. I know the answer. I just miss your ma so much.
‘Man, it’s hot in here,’ Ben says from behind me.
‘Let me help you with that,’ Marissa replies.
My curiosity gets the better of me, so I look as Marissa grabs the edge of his shirt and tries to pull it off. It’s the most desperate and ridiculous thing I’ve ever seen her do. I want to manifest something witty or sharp to say, but I’m stunned stupid by Ben’s athletic body. It’s like I’ve never seen a hot guy before.
He pulls down his shirt. ‘I was hinting for a glass of ice-water or something.’
Ben leaves Marissa and walks over to the wood pile, sidestepping my dad, who is oblivious to the fact that there are others in the room.
Marissa catches my frown. ‘He was hot.’ She shrugs.
Ben glances over his shoulder, acknowledging me with a genuine smile as he heads to Dad. I’m not sure what my dad was like before he met Ma, but in his current state he couldn’t be more different from Ben. Dad crying into his work gloves, and Ben managing to wrap Marissa around his little finger. Something about seeing the pair of them, side by side, has me frozen, staring, worried that after everything Ben will end up just like him.
I step back. I don’t know what I’m thinking, or why I feel the sudden urge to join Dad on Team Cry. All I know is that the happiness I felt moments ago is replaced with an overwhelming defeat, by Ben and Marissa and Dad and, well, everything. I rush out of the garage, shutting the door behind me and leaning against it for support. It’s as if I’m still in there with them – I hear everything, every shuffle of their feet on cement, every awkward breath, the sound of Dad sorting piles of wood.