by Rebecca Sky
‘It’s not what you think,’ I manage, between laboured breaths.
‘It looks like what I think.’
I pull Marissa’s fingers, trying to loosen them from my ponytail. ‘It’s not over you … she can … just have you.’
‘What’s going on in here?’ says Ma, bursting into the room, her going-out gloves gripped in one hand. From the tone of her voice she doesn’t sound impressed.
Marissa drops my hair and scrambles to her feet. I spring up beside her, taking in the room, which looks like a laundry war-zone.
Marissa scowls. ‘I’m leaving.’
‘Maybe I should call and check in with Ammon,’ Ben says, looking awkward.
‘No one’s going anywhere.’
‘What?’ Marissa’s hands rest on her hips and her eyes widen. ‘Why? This is so unfair.’
‘I don’t care if it’s unfair. I’m the adult and you’re all under my roof. Until I know more, you’re staying with me. We already have enough to worry about. I just got off the phone with Cassandra Turner, Paisley’s mother. The mothers are gathering to try to fix the mess you girls made.’
‘Ma!’ I motion to Ben. She shouldn’t be talking like this in front of him.
‘It’s fine, I’ll deal with him if I have to. This thing is bigger than him,’ she says.
Ben takes a step back. He’s starting to look really worried now.
‘All the mothers?’ Marissa asks, shifting her stance and glancing at me.
Ma’s face softens. ‘I’m sorry, Marissa, they couldn’t get in contact with your mother. I’m sure she would come if she knew.’
Marissa slumps into the couch.
‘We don’t have time to sulk. We need to get going. A plane with St Valentine’s girls has already left.’
‘Left for where?’ asks Marissa.
‘The school’s closed. Your training is being transferred.’
‘What?’ Marissa says.
‘But we’re not going, right?’ I say.
Ma puts a hand on my shoulder; there’s something more, something scared in her eyes.
‘What is it, Ma?’
‘The Committee,’ she says. ‘They said they’re coming back for you two.’
While Ma goes off to wipe down the taxi we stole and find another car for us to use, I pack myself a carry bag. Now we know the Committee is coming for us, we need to get going sooner – as in, as soon as Ma gets back – otherwise we won’t have any chance at a normal life. I return to Ben and Marissa on the couch, my overstuffed bag resting beside me. Marissa scrolls through her phone, showing me every photo she finds of our classmates en route to Athens. Even though they’re posted on our school’s private platform, Quiver, and not something like Facebook, it still makes me nervous. We don’t know who’s watching us right now, and we can’t be too careful.
Ben’s next to her on the couch, flipping through my magazine – I know he’s not reading it, because half the time it’s upside down and his eyes are everywhere but the page.
‘It’s getting kinda late,’ Ben says anxiously. ‘Ammon must’ve forgotten about me.’
Ma comes in with an armload of bags in her gloved hands. ‘Nonsense, he’s probably just held up.’
‘Maybe I should call.’ Ben stands and tugs his jacket.
Marissa and I share a look as Ma glances over. ‘Do you have somewhere to be? Family that will worry if you’re late?’
‘No,’ he chokes. ‘No one. I—’
Just then there’s a knock at the door.
I look at Ma, who seems just as confused as me.
‘Finally, Ammon.’ Ben stands, kicking out his leg like it’s fallen asleep.
‘Actually, it’s my pizza,’ Marissa says, hopping up.
‘What?’ I practically shout.
‘Are you dense?’ says Ma.
She frowns. ‘No one knows this address, right? The P.O. box upstate and all that. I didn’t think it would be such a problem.’
‘Exactly,’ says Ma, whipping around in a wild fury. ‘You didn’t think.’
Marissa cuts in front of Ben and swings open the door. There’s an elderly gentleman there, dressed in a red pizza vest and visor. He smiles and holds out the box. ‘Pizza delivery?’
‘Yes, come in,’ she says, opening the door, and shoving Ben back as he stands on his toes and looks over her, still hoping to see Ammon. ‘Let me get my credit card.’
Ma stiffens, tension pulling at the small lines of her face. She smooths out her saree, her eyes never leaving the delivery man.
I know that look, that’s the something bad is going to happen look.
Before I can stop her, she walks past the driver, pulls off her glove and slides her hand across the bare flesh of his neck. His eyes roll back and he starts to convulse.
‘What the …’ says Ben. He jumps forward and catches the man, lowering his shaking body to the ground.
‘Grab some pillows!’ Ben shouts at us, clearing the area around the man. ‘He’s having a seizure!’
But Marissa and I don’t move. We’re frozen, shocked, staring – not at the driver, but at my ma.
‘Pass me those cushions,’ Ben repeats, with force. When we don’t respond he rips off his jacket and places it under the man’s head, then drags my pile of clothes over. ‘At least call an ambulance.’ This time when we don’t move he follows our gaze to my mother, and a sweatshirt slips from his fingers to the floor. ‘What did you do?’
She lifts her chin, staring him down. ‘What was necessary.’
‘Necessary?’ He stands firm, his fists clenched at his side.
I can only imagine what he thinks after witnessing a Hedoness turning. It worries me that he looks ready to fight. I like this Ben, the stubborn, challenging Ben. I’m not ready to see him return to the snivelling shell of a man he was under Marissa’s control.
‘Ma, please can we—’
She holds up her bare hand and jerks her hardened eyes to me. ‘Marissa needed a reminder of who’s in charge, and we needed a car. I did what was necessary.’ She attempts to step around Ben, but he holds his ground, blocking her from the man. ‘Stop acting like a child and watch what it is we do.’
‘Ma?’ I reach for her but she pulls back. ‘We aren’t supposed to show anyone.’
‘He’s just a boy. If he acts up, I’ll deal with him.’
Ben’s face turns an ashen hue and he hesitates to step out of Ma’s path.
‘I don’t need you to move,’ she says, glaring past Ben to the man convulsing on our rug. ‘Stop shaking and get up.’
‘Ma!’ I gasp. ‘You’re crossing so many lines.’
Instantly he stops and rises to his feet. ‘My love, what is it you want of me?’
‘First off, I want you to have a seat on that box over there.’ She points to her antique dowry chest.
‘Yes, my love.’ The man hobbles over and sits. It’s apparent by his limp that he was injured in the fall, the bent pizza box still in his grasp.
Ben’s jaw drops, and his eyes turn a frosty blue as memories flicker and spark behind them. Finally, he looks at me and says, ‘Ammon isn’t coming, is he?’
Ma steps between Ben and the door. ‘We don’t mean you any harm but you got caught up in this and you’re here now. We can’t let you go.’
‘I won’t become … whatever you did to that man,’ Ben says, nodding to the delivery driver, reseated on the trunk, waving at Ma.
Ma pats down her saree and steps closer, bare hand raised.
‘Stop.’ I step between them. ‘You’re not doing this. It isn’t right.’
‘Either he stays on his own, or I have to force him. I’m sorry, there is no other way. I must keep you safe.’
‘I’ll keep you safe, my love,’ the driver says.
‘If anyone is turning him it should be me,’ says Marissa.
‘No one is turning him,’ I say.
Ben glances around the room, his eyes alight with whatever he’s processing. By the way his legs loc
k, ready to run, and his hands clench, I know he isn’t about to go down without a fight.
‘Please,’ I say, gently touching his sleeve. He tenses beneath my hand. I don’t blame him so I pull away. ‘I’m so sorry you’re wrapped up in this. But my ma’s right. We don’t want to hurt you, we never did. Right now, we’re just trying to get someplace safe, then we’ll let you go. I promise. My family, we’re different; we can do things other people can’t. But we’re not bad people. Please, work with us here and I promise neither of them will do to you what they did to that man.’
His eyes wander to the driver and something in him shifts. ‘What she did to him … that was done to me, right?’
‘Yes,’ I say, ignoring the sharp inhale from my mother. ‘He isn’t permanently hurt, just confused. It won’t last long.’ I don’t go into more detail and I can tell this bothers Ben. He wants to know. Needs to know. His shoulders stay tense but his fists uncurl and something shifts in his eyes. He nods once and steps back from the door, picks up my magazine and sits rigidly on his claimed corner of the couch.
I breathe a sigh of relief.
‘What now?’ Marissa asks, picking her nails and kicking her leg at the air.
Ma adjusts her pallu and slips her glove back on. ‘Now we pack the car, and then we go.’
The driver stands and salutes Ma. ‘I can pack for you, my love.’
‘Why is he calling you “my love”?’
Ma whips around, her hand fluttering to her chest. We were so focused on Ben we didn’t hear Dad enter.
‘It’s nothing, dear, go back into the kitchen.’
‘It’s not nothing. I love you,’ the pizza delivery man says.
‘No, I love her.’ Dad takes a slow step back.
The driver puffs his chest and steps in front of Ma.
My father takes another step back, tears forming in his eyes as he looks around the room before coming to rest on Ma. Always Ma. ‘I’m going to the kitchen as you ask.’ His bottom lip quivers. ‘Please don’t replace me. I’ll try harder to make you happy.’
Despite the bitterness I feel towards my dad, even I can’t stand to see him like this. And after everything with Ben, I snap. ‘Enough of this, Ma, let one of them go.’
Ben’s eyes shoot to mine, so full of curiosity, worry and something I don’t recognize. It only makes this worse.
‘It’s not so simple.’ Ma keeps her eyes on Dad, who as slowly as possible slinks away. ‘Not for your father, anyway.’
I don’t like this new version of Ma. Especially since I know it isn’t new – it’s just new to me. I cross my arms. ‘Can’t you just tell him to—’
‘Rachel!’ Ma warns. ‘One day you’ll understand.’ Her voice drops and for a brief moment a deep sadness fills her eyes. Then she squares her shoulders and says, ‘Now is not the time to explain.’ She marches over to the pizza man and holds out her hand. ‘I need your keys.’ The man stands immediately and sets to fishing them out of his pocket. Ma turns back to us. ‘You girls have everything you need?’
I grit my teeth and nod, holding up my backpack. Marissa hugs her purse and mumbles, ‘No.’
Ben watches everything.
‘All right, let’s grab the last of the groceries and supplies, and load them into the car.’
We file into the kitchen, fill our arms, and file out to the dusk-lit street in front of the brownstone. Ma carries only one bag and wears only one glove. Her bare hand follows inches behind Ben at all times.
Dad leads us up the street a block to a vintage two-door Civic hatchback with a handicapped decal hanging off the rear-view mirror and a Tupperware box tied to the pizza light-mount on the roof. It’s not adorable vintage, either; it’s amazing that it’s still running vintage. The entire trunk is stuffed full. Dad peels open the door, ignoring the scream of bending metal, and waves us in.
Marissa doesn’t even try to hide her scowl. ‘There’s no way we’re all fitting in that.’
‘We don’t have a choice,’ Ma says.
Ben hands over his armful of packaged dinners and absent-mindedly rubs his arms.
‘Cold?’ I ask.
‘I’ll be all right.’ He tucks his hands in his pockets, wary at the way we watch him. ‘I must’ve forgotten my jacket.’
Ma reaches into the car and pulls out a blue sweatshirt with a picture of a smiling pizza. ‘Here, wear this. We don’t have time to go back for it.’
He slips it on without argument and slides in the back. Marissa turns up her nose at the shirt before following him, and I shove in last. Ma struggles with the passenger seat, trying to get it to click into place so she can sit. Metal groans as it finally pops back. She stops, surveys the area, then steps away, closing the door and trapping the three of us in.
‘Ma?’ I say, panicked.
She doesn’t answer; instead she circles the car to my dad. ‘Take the kids and continue with the plan.’ She puts the keys in his hand and shoves him towards the driver’s door. ‘I’ll make sure they don’t follow you.’
‘I’m not leaving you, my love.’
‘Show me you love me by protecting Rachel with your life. Follow the plan. Now go.’
‘Ma, no!’ I try desperately to find the chair lever so I can get out of the damn car.
‘It’s OK, Rachel. I’ll catch up with you.’ She puts her glove back on and starts down the street towards the house, turning back to add, ‘I love you.’
My fingers wrap around something sharp at the base of the chair, and I pull. It pops forward. I stretch through the narrow gap, reaching for the door handle, but Marissa tugs me back. Dad’s already in the driver’s seat, the key in the ignition, engine running. He starts off down the street.
‘We can’t leave her!’ I twist to watch out the window.
‘If anyone can find us, it’s your mom,’ Marissa says.
And that’s when we hear the sirens.
Three squad cars whip past us with lights flashing. Two others drive up the street from the opposite direction and come to a screeching stop before our house. Ma’s trapped.
I try again for the door, managing to get a good grip of the handle, but it won’t open.
‘Are you kidding me right now?’ Marissa grabs my shirt and yanks me back, the flimsy plastic handle breaking off. I toss it on the floor and spin around, watching between stacks of food and bags as the cops surround my mother, guns drawn. I hold my breath as she turns to face us. She puts her gloved hands up, drops to her knees, her saree billowing out. It seems like the whole world is shaking as the glass vibrates from the rattling engine. An officer pulls my mother with force, handcuffs her, drags her to her feet. Another group cautiously approaches our house, guns drawn and ready.
I glance at Ben, hands clenched – no doubt wanting to smack the window and scream for help but he doesn’t. Why isn’t he?
I’m not as strong.
My fists make first contact. ‘Ma!’ I yell, eyes pooling with tears as I pound the glass. ‘I’ll get you out of this.’
The rickety old car screams around the corner, my mother disappearing out of view.
Even though she’s gone, I keep watch out the back, one hand pressed to the glass. I can’t find the energy to turn away.
Hours pass like this, the car engine filling the silence and the world blurring by in tear-streaked colours. I don’t know how far we’ve driven, but the sun’s setting, and the wide-open spaces tell me we’re no longer in New York. The shock of Ma’s arrest still consumes me, and the back seat becomes more suffocating the further away from her we get.
When I can’t take any more, I crawl over Marissa, ignoring her protests, and flop into the empty chair beside Dad. After a few calming breaths I turn to him. ‘We have to go back.’
‘We’re sticking to the plan.’ He doesn’t take his eyes off the road.
‘And what about Ma?’ I choke out.
‘Follow the plan, go to Nashville, keep Rachel safe. I’m doing what makes your ma happy,’ he says.
I don’t want to argue with Dad, especially in front of Marissa. Besides he’s right, we do need to get to a safe place. Then I can figure out a way to help Ma. So instead I ask, ‘Why Nashville?’
‘My sister-in-law’s.’
‘What?’ Ma never mentioned other family. This is a sucky way to find out. ‘I have an aunt?’
Dad nods. ‘Joyce, she married my brother.’
‘Your brother?’
Dad’s eyes stay on the road, his grip rigid on the wheel. ‘He died before you were born.’
There’s a dozen new questions springing to mind, but one screams louder than the others. ‘How will we save Ma from Nashville?’
He hesitates. ‘We’re sticking to the plan.’
I’m getting nowhere with him, so I turn to the back seat. ‘Can you pass me up my bag? I want to call Paisley, see if her ma’s heard anything that can help us.’
Marissa begrudgingly hands me my backpack. ‘Use Quiver. We can’t be too safe.’
‘I was planning on it.’
This grabs Ben’s attention enough for him to tear his eyes from the window he’s been glowering out since we left my block.
I hold up my phone. ‘We have a special site for communicating with others like us. An untraceable place online where we can talk freely.’
‘It’s supposed to be secret,’ Marissa says.
‘Yeah, well, Ben knows a lot of things that are supposed to be secret.’
He holds my gaze for a beat, those blue eyes trying to read my soul, then turns back to the window.
I log in to find Paisley’s online, and call her immediately.
‘Rachel? Oh my god, are you OK? Where are you?’
‘Hey, yeah, we’re OK—’
‘Oh good. Listen, my mom’s here and she wants to talk to you about her A.P.’
‘I hoped she would.’
There’s shuffling, then Mrs Turner comes on. ‘Rachel?’ Her voice is full of worry. ‘I heard about your mother. Don’t worry. I’ve made some calls, asked around. So far nothing, but I’ll keep trying until we have something to report.’