Atone

by Wendi Wilson

“That doesn’t mean anything,” I whisper back. “Boys stare all the time. It doesn’t mean they like me. It just means they like the way I look. There’s a difference.”

  “If you say so,” she relents.

  She doesn’t say anything else, but it’s too late. Despite my lofty and enlightened words, my mind swirls in a million directions.

  Could it be true? Could he like me? Ugh, Lizzie, get it together. But, what if Savanna is right and he does like me?

  I’ve come a long way from hating all Alts based on the ravings of a madman, but I’m not sure if I’m ready to go quite so far in the other direction. To actually date one? To touch him and let him touch me?

  I think of Slade’s touch earlier, when he lifted my chin during his apology. What I felt was anything but disgust. It was… pleasant, to say the least.

  I shake off the thoughts and follow Savanna back downstairs for her big reveal. I’ll think about Slade Madsen, and everything his possible feelings entail, later.

  16

  “So, Lizzie, are you a senior, like Savanna and the boys?”

  “Yes, Ma’am,” I say as I take a bite from the chicken leg in my hand. “This is delicious,” I add after I chew and swallow.

  “Thank you,” Mrs. Madsen says. “Aren’t you missing school? Your friends and family?”

  My eyes slide to Silas, who’s sitting directly across the table from me. I catch him staring and he quickly lowers his gaze. Before his eyelids block his gray orbs from view, I think I see heat swirling in their depths.

  I shake myself, sure I imagined it. I refocus my attention on his mother and answer her question.

  “I am missing school, but my grades are good enough that I’ll graduate, even if I miss the last few weeks. As for friends… I don’t really have any real ones. At least, I didn’t.”

  I can’t stop the smile that lifts the corners of my mouth. I finally feel like I could have some true friends here. Savanna is fiercely loyal to those she considers hers and I find myself wanting to be included in that small group. The Patton boys are growing on me, too.

  As I raise the piece of chicken to my mouth once more, I lift my eyes to look at Silas, but he’s still staring resolutely at his plate. I look over at Slade, who’s sitting next to his brother, and his silver eyes meet mine. His smile is slightly predatory and one hundred percent unrepentant. He’s thoroughly enjoying watching me eat. My face heats with the thought.

  “What about your family?” Mr. Madsen asks, pulling my attention to where he sits at the opposite end of the table from his wife.

  “I miss my little sister, Grace,” I say, sadness creeping into my tone. “She’s only twelve and I worry about her being alone with my parents.”

  “Do you think they’d hurt her?” Silas asks, speaking for the first time since we sat down.

  “No,” I say. Then more firmly, “No. They wouldn’t physically harm her. She’s their daughter. But I do worry about their ideology and how it will affect her, now that I’m not there. I couldn’t stand it, if they twisted her the way they did me.”

  “I’m sure she’ll be fine,” Mrs. Madsen says, stretching out a hand to pat mine.

  I give her a small smile. “Thank you.”

  “Lizzie,” Slade says, drawing my attention back to him, “Silas and I were going to hang out on the back patio for a while after dinner. Do you want to join us?”

  My eyes flit from him to his brother, who is staring at me, his face carefully blank. For some reason, my nerves spike and I get butterflies, almost causing me to decline his invitation. But my alternatives are hanging out alone in the bedroom I’ll be sharing with Savanna or staying downstairs with their parents. They are nice, but our conversation is still stilted and awkward. Besides, I’m braver than that. I can handle these boys and whatever they do to my equilibrium. I hope.

  “Sure,” I reply. “I’d love to.”

  “Great,” Slade says, his smile a mile wide, dimples deeper than the craters on the moon.

  I’m in so much trouble.

  Once we’re all done eating and the boys clear the table, Slade takes my hand and pulls me toward the back door. I look helplessly over my shoulder at Silas, who is glaring at his brother’s back. As soon as the door closes behind us, I pull my hand from Slade’s grasp and cross my arms over my chest.

  “Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea,” I say.

  “What do you mean?” Slade asks, looking crestfallen.

  I nod at Silas and Slade’s eyes scan his brother. He arches a brow and opens his mouth to speak, but Silas beats him to it.

  “You don’t want me here?”

  “No,” I shout. “I mean yes, I mean no.” I growl in my throat and shake my head. “I just meant you don’t seem to like being around me very much.”

  His head jerks back and his eyes widen. “What makes you think that?”

  “It’s just…” My eyes flick to Slade, begging for help before they refocus on Silas. “Well, honestly, you looked really angry as we walked out here. Like you were pissed Slade suggested it. And let’s face it, you’ve barely looked at me, much less spoken to me all afternoon.”

  “Oh, he’s looked at you,” Slade says, laughing.

  Silas’s fist strikes out, connecting with his brother’s midsection, making Slade bend over with a groan. I gasp, readying myself to step back out of the line of fire, but Slade’s chuckle stops me.

  “Okay, okay,” he says, rubbing his stomach. “I’ll shut up.”

  “I want to be here,” Silas mumbles.

  “Then why do you look so angry?”

  “He can’t help it. That’s his normal face,” Slade quips, blocking his stomach with his arms as Silas tries to punch him again.

  “I’m not mad,” Silas clarifies after Slade backs out of his reach.

  But he is still not smiling.

  “If you say so,” I murmur, walking toward the large outdoor couch.

  I plop down in the center, assuming the boys will take the two chairs situated across the low table from it. My nerves flare as Slade slides onto the cushion to my left. My eyes follow Silas as he walks around the table. He bypasses the two chairs I noticed and sits directly on my right.

  I’m a hot mess, sandwiched between these two boys, and my internal temperature spikes. I shiver, not from the cold but from brush of Silas’s arm against mine. He notices.

  “Are you cold?” he asks, leaning forward. “I can get you a jacket.”

  “No, I’m fine,” I say, but another shiver runs through me as Slade tugs at one of my curls.

  I pull away, causing him to lose his grip on my hair and shoot him a stern look. He grins at me, unrepentant, as Silas jumps from his seat and heads inside.

  “I just wanted to feel it,” Slade says, holding up his hands in surrender. “It’s just as soft and silky as it looks.”

  Before I can question where Silas went, he’s back, a turquoise hoodie in his hands. He rounds the table and takes his seat next to me, handing over the bulky sweatshirt.

  “I hope this is okay,” he says.

  I thank him and pull the hoodie over my head. The smell of his cologne envelops me, and I am half tempted to keep my head inside. Forever. I breathe in the woodsy scent one last time before pulling it down so my head pops through. I smooth my hair and look over at Silas.

  He’s smiling, his eyes roaming over me. My heart picks up its beat. Silas smiling is a sight to behold.

  “Thank you.” I manage to sound somewhat normal.

  “It looks good on you,” he says, his eyes moving up to meet mine.

  Slade clears his throat, drawing my attention. He jabs his thumb into his chest and says, “Still here.”

  A nervous laugh titters out of me and I flinch. I have never had trouble talking to boys before, even the ones I thought I might like. I’m usually pretty confident, and these nerves are a new experience.

  Maybe it’s because there are two of them. Maybe it’s because they’re sitting so close. Maybe it’s
because they’re Alts, and today at the mall was really the first time I’ve ever hung out with their kind.

  I shake my head to clear it. It was reflexive for my brain to separate normal people and Alts into “us” and “them” after so many years with the Purists. I’ll extinguish that automatic response, eventually.

  “So, Lizzie,” Slade says, pulling me from my thoughts, “tell us about yourself.”

  I bark out a laugh, my nerves forgotten. “What is this? A job interview?”

  Slade’s lips turn down and Silas chuckles. I get the feeling he loves Slade’s discomfort. Sibling rivalry is alive and well in the Madsen house.

  “Let’s play a game,” Silas says.

  My breathing grows rough as I imagine spinning bottles and seven minutes locked in a dark closet. I clear my throat twice before I can speak.

  “What kind of game?” I ask.

  “Something we used to play with the Pattons,” Silas says, and my body relaxes. They wouldn’t have played those games with the boys.

  Slade must sense the tension easing out of me, because he leans in and whispers, “What kind of game were you imagining?”

  My body freezes and Silas’s arm snakes behind me to smack Slade across the back of his head. “Stop it, you ass,” Silas says, “or she’s going to leave.”

  Slade’s grin is unrepentant, but he stops talking. Silas pulls his arm back, leaving me feeling somewhat bereft. I swallow down my disappointment. The feeling is ludicrous, anyway.

  “We take turns,” Silas explains, making my heart skip a beat, “asking each other questions.”

  I release the breath I’d been holding and fight the urge to giggle. Silas saying they take turns caused a few wayward visions to flash through my mind, none of them respectable. And none of them unpleasant.

  Slade leans forward, catching my eye as he smirks, like he knows exactly what I was thinking. But, thankfully, he doesn’t mention it.

  “Anything goes,” he says, clarifying Silas’s explanation of the game. “You can ask whatever you want, and we have to answer.”

  “And the same goes for you,” Silas adds, drawing my attention to him. “We can ask you anything and you have to tell the truth.”

  “I don’t know,” I say, uncertainty shooting through me.

  “Come on, Liz. It’ll be fun,” Slade begs.

  I’ve always hated it when people call me Liz, but hearing it from his lips, in his voice… I don’t know. It doesn’t bother me as much. I actually kind of like it.

  “Okay,” I say. “I’m game.”

  “Yes,” Slade growls with satisfaction, rubbing his hands together. “I’ll go first.”

  I turn to glance at Silas, whose mouth is open as if he wants to protest. He snaps it shut and nods grudgingly at his brother.

  “Okay, let’s see,” Slade says, pulling my gaze back to him.

  I hold my breath, waiting for whatever personal or highly inappropriate question he might pose. No matter what is, I’ll answer. I agreed to this game and I won’t go back on my word.

  A sly grin forms on Slade’s face as he asks his question, slowly enunciating each word. “What is your favorite… color?”

  My breath blows out on a big whoosh and Slade laughs. He knew what he was doing. He intentionally made his question sound suggestive, just to mess with me. I shake my head with a smile. Incorrigible.

  “It’s blue,” I answer.

  “Oh, thank God,” Slade says. “If you had said pink, we might have to stop being friends.”

  “Is it my turn?”

  “Yes,” Silas chimes in. “You get to ask Slade something then it’s my turn to ask you.”

  I nod in understanding. “Hmm,” I say, pondering my question. “How old were you when you lost your… first tooth?”

  Slade’s face flashes red then back to normal as I finish speaking. I laugh, leaning against the back of the couch. He thought I was going to ask about his virginity— just as I intended. His reaction, though, is a little telling. Maybe I should consider asking him about it.

  “I have no idea,” he answers. “Five, maybe?”

  “Do you have a boyfriend?” Silas asks before I can respond to Slade.

  Talk about cutting right to the chase.

  “No,” I say, wondering why Silas would ask me that. I’d expect it from flirty Slade, but not him.

  I decide to use my turn to find out. “Why did you ask me that question?”

  A blush infuses his cheeks and Slade chuckles. I turn to look at him and he smiles at me before nodding back toward his brother. I look back at Silas, who’s now staring at his lap. As I open my mouth to take my question back, he answers.

  “I just wanted to know,” he says.

  “Obviously,” Slade mutters before adding, “It’s my turn.”

  “Why did you turn your back on your church and your hatred of Alts? I mean, I’m glad you did. It was the right thing to do. I just want to know why.”

  “There were several reasons actually,” I said, leaning heavily against the back of the couch and staring up at the evening sky. “I got to know Savanna a little better and found that I actually liked her. I realized that what we… I mean, the followers of Brother Earl were doing was hateful and extremely prejudiced. My ancestors were treated like lesser humans because of the color of their skin, their DNA, and that’s just how I was acting toward Alts. But the last straw, the part that made me cut ties altogether, was the wording Brother Earl used when I last heard him speak. He said Alts should all be destroyed. As in killed. I couldn’t do it anymore and once I overheard my parents talking about using Savanna’s parents to get to her, I packed a bag and left.”

  “Do you regret it?” Slade whispers, drawing my gaze back to him.

  “That’s two questions,” I respond, smiling. “And no. Not even for a minute.”

  17

  We’d ended the game after that by tacit agreement, no one asking another question. After heading inside, we were trying to decide on a show to watch when Savanna and the Pattons busted through the door, whispering for us to meet them upstairs.

  Now we’re crowded into the bedroom, with me sitting next to Wyatt on one bed, the Madsen twins crowded onto the second one with Beckett, and Savanna and Jett perched on the third. Mr. and Mrs. Madsen are downstairs, assuming we’re just hanging out, doing things teenagers do.

  “What are we going to do?” Savanna asks.

  “We can’t do anything until he texts you,” Jett says. “We have time to figure this out.”

  Apparently, their night out had been interrupted by a call from Savanna’s dad. Only, it wasn’t her dad after all. Brother Earl took her parents, and he used Mr. James’s phone to call Savanna and extort her into helping with whatever he has planned. She just has to wait for a text from him to find out what that is.

  “What if he hurts my parents?” she asks.

  “He won’t,” I say.

  “How do you know?” Her voice is harsh, and she shoots me an apologetic look, which I shrug off.

  “He needs them. If he hurts them, he’ll lose his leverage,” I say with confidence.

  “But he’s certifiable,” Wyatt adds. “Crazy people are, by definition, irrational.”

  I lift a hand and whack him across the back of the head, a reflexive action that shocks even myself. I must be getting more comfortable around them.

  “Not. Helping,” I say.

  “No, he’s right,” Savanna says, her voice cracking with anxiety. “Dr. Patton is crazy. There’s no telling what he’ll do to them.”

  “Savanna, listen to me,” I say, making my voice assertive and leaning forward so that my face is right in front of hers. “Brother Earl has a plan. I don’t know what it is, but I do know that when he has a plan, he sticks to it, to the letter. I’ve been a part of enough of his grand schemes to know that. He’s not going to go off the rails and hurt them. Trust me.”

  She nods, the motion quick and jerky as her breathing slows.

 
; “Thanks,” she says, offering me a small smile. Gazing around the room, she adds, “I have to go alone.”

  You’d think she just said she was jumping straight into the fiery pits of hell with the way the boys react. All five of them protest at once, with Wyatt and Slade jumping to their feet. Savanna cups her hands over her ears while I shush the boys.

  “The parentals are going to hear this ruckus and come demand to know what’s going on, if you boys don’t shut up,” I hiss. They all quiet down.

  “You are not doing this alone,” Jett pronounces, his tone final.

  “He’ll kill them, Jett,” Savanna says.

  “No, he won’t.”

  “I can’t take that chance,” she responds.

  “Savanna,” Beckett cajoles, trying to be the voice of reason, “you can’t expect us to just sit back and let you go right into the lion’s den without us. What if you need us and we’re not there?”

  “We’d never forgive ourselves,” Wyatt adds in a low voice.

  “You’re not going by yourself,” Jett reiterates. “We’ll come up with a plan. One that involves all of us.”

  “Okay,” Savanna says, nodding in agreement. “We’ll do it, together.”

  The boys are satisfied and the conversation turns to other things, but I keep my eyes on Savanna. If I know anything, I know this. That girl is lying through her teeth.

  It’s noon and fifteen hours have passed since Brother Earl’s call. He still hasn’t sent word on what he wants.

  Jett, Beckett, Wyatt and I are doing our best to distract Savanna, playing the question game Slade and Silas taught me, watching corny movies on T.V., and offering Savanna food every half an hour. She hasn’t eaten and has been pretty zoned out all morning. I wish Silas and Slade were here to help us keep her mind off things, but they had to go to school. I ask Savanna if she knows when they’ll be home.

  “Savanna, did you hear me?” I ask when she doesn’t answer.

  “Wh-what?”

  “I asked if you know what time Slade and Silas will be home today.”

  “They have baseball practice after school today,” Beckett reveals as he walks into the room with a bag of chips. “They said they’d be home around five-thirty.”