by Rachael Craw
“Just remember,” Leonard says, “Charles doesn’t want to press charges. He wants to intimidate you and make his point. Getting us to drive out here to his office instead of coming in to meet at school, making the appointment at a ridiculous hour – it’s all to remind you that everything is at his convenience. But you, my girl, need not be intimidated. You’re not here to see a governor. You’re here to see an unpleasant boy’s father who’s upset about losing face.”
“That bit still sounds scary.”
Leonard grins and brings me into his arms, like a dad would. It feels weird and kind of wonderful. “I’m here for you, Evie. We all are.” I catch Jamie’s eye over Leonard’s shoulder. He averts his gaze, frowning instead towards the office.
“You’ll be fine,” Kitty chimes in, making a play at cheerfulness for my sake. “Just think, if the governor pushes you too far, you can always break his nose.” It isn’t well received by the others. “Joking.” She hunches her shoulders. “Obviously.”
We follow Leonard to the entrance. Jamie walks by his dad, and I have a moment of weakness, wishing he was beside me. We enter the foyer, dark, conservative and plush. Leonard announces my arrival to the receptionist. She pushes buttons on her keyboard and nods us towards the elevator. “He’s expecting you.” Her eyes sparkle at Leonard and widen when she sees Jamie. Neither father nor son notice.
None of us speak in the elevator and when the door chimes it seems to open with dreamlike slowness. Jamie holds the door, letting us file out. As I pass, he presses his lips together, not quite a smile.
The moment I step into the reception hall, my senses ignite. An unpleasant chemical odour reminds me of the Stray and Richard’s bad breath. Adrenaline charges and my muscles cramp. Unthinking, I grip Jamie’s arm and turn to find his frown.
“You feel something?” he whispers.
I let him go. “I can’t tell.”
Now is not the time for an episode.
I can’t feel my legs as we make our way up the wide hall.
I focus on the tether.
She’s safe. You’re with her. It’s okay.
I try to feel for danger, alert for any shadow in my mind, but I can’t tell if I’m reacting to my own stress or signals in the bandwidth. I note exits and windows with latches, and objects that could be used as defensive weapons: a heavy lamp stand, an expensive-looking vase. I scan for potential assailants. I recognise Aiden, standing behind a desk. Another young man leans towards him, flapping his hands at Aiden’s legs. A guard stands by the large double doors that must be the governor’s office.
He’ll have a gun. I could get that gun.
Rein it in.
We stop at the desk. Aiden turns, his face strained.
“Sorry, Aiden,” the hand-flapping aide says and straightens up. “I’ll get you a cloth.” He makes to go but stops and stares at me, his lips parting, eyes gormlessly blank.
Aiden clears his throat. “David? I’d appreciate that cloth.” I can smell the spilled coffee and see where it has drenched the hem of Aiden’s blazer and soaked through the thigh of his pants.
“Of course, sorry. I’m on it.” David gives us a sheepish smile and darts away.
“Mr Gallagher.” Red-faced, Aiden comes out from the desk to greet Leonard with his coffee wet hands still dripping. “Please excuse the state of me. Third degree burns. I promise it’s not a habit.”
Leonard nods, his laugh generous. “Aiden, good to see you.”
Obviously, they share some sort of private joke, but now that I have Kitty beside me and Aiden before me, I have both ears on the bandwidth. The static rings loud and my anxiety stays sky-high. He looks handsome and aside from the stain, well put together in his suit. But he also looks agitated, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket to mop his hands.
Kitty’s smile reminds me of the receptionist downstairs. She views him as a hero after what he did for Kaylee. It spins me out to imagine what she would say if she knew Aiden rode high on my list.
Miriam’s voice cuts in. “I – I think I need to use the bathroom.”
“It’s just back beside the elevator.” Aiden points down the hall.
“Are you all right, Miriam?” Kitty asks.
“I’m fine.” She doesn’t look fine. She squeezes my hand. “Sorry, kid. I’ll be back in a minute.” Shoulders stiff, she walks away.
Aiden says something I miss.
“… but you’ll be fine,” he says. I hear effort behind his casual tone, feel his awkward pause, note his rapid blinking. He lands on a thought. “Angelo’s T-shirts. Got one today. That’s about as much subversion as I can get away with.”
I can’t speak.
Kitty fills the void. “Fight the power.” She smiles, tilting her head on her vulnerable neck. Is she flirting?
He nods at his shoes.
Jamie stares, his face inscrutable.
Aiden gestures to the sitting area. “I’ll let the governor know you’ve arrived then I better go clean up.” David returns and waits behind the desk with some handtowels. Aiden rolls his eyes.
My thrashing pulse makes it hard to breathe and my joints feel stiff. Kitty leads me to a couch and makes me sit. Leonard and Jamie take the single chairs.
“What T-shirts?” Leonard asks. Kitty explains the Not without a mint phenomenon. Leonard’s eyebrows rise. “Charles will love that.”
I don’t think it will be long before the shirts are outlawed, especially now Richard is back at school. He’ll probably have Angelo sued.
Jamie watches me, questions in his eyes, but I can’t read the bandwidth through the panic storm. Nothing comes into focus. I don’t feel good. I watch Kitty watching Aiden as he takes off his blazer. She plays with her hair, leg crossed, foot bobbing until Aiden disappears into an adjoining room, probably to change his clothes, and she sighs. I cover my watch.
“Do you think Miriam’s okay?” Leonard peers down the corridor.
“I can go check?” Kitty says.
“No.” I stand up. “You stay here.” I flick a look at Jamie to keep an eye out and manage to coordinate my legs to the restroom. I hate not being able to trust my senses with everything fuzzed by white noise. When I push the door open, I find Miriam leaning over a porcelain sink, her reflection in the mirror red-eyed. I let the door swing closed behind me. “What’s wrong?”
She sniffs and shakes her head. “Nothing’s wrong. I’m an idiot. I don’t know what’s gotten into me.”
“You’re freaking me out.”
She dries her trembling hands on a paper towel, taking her time and not looking at me. “I’ve made a mess of everything.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You wouldn’t be in this position if I had taken better care of you.”
“What?” I gawp at her. “That-is-completely-not-true.”
She screws the paper towel up and throws it in the bin. “I’m getting it all wrong. If your mom were here …”
“What? If Mom were here, I wouldn’t have broken Richard’s nose?” I need to reel things in and try to sound brisk and matter of fact. “That’s ridiculous. If Mom were still alive … for crying out loud, can you even imagine how hideous it would’ve been for me to transition in Pennsylvania without you to guide me through it? Miriam, I’d have lost it by now if it weren’t for you.”
Miriam softens her mouth but something behind her eyes tells me I can’t talk her out of it. Exasperated, I wrap my arms around her. “Trust me, in the parenting stakes you’re doing all right given what you’re stuck with.”
We make our way back to the others, Miriam pale and drawn, me irritated and confused. The last thing I need is her falling apart.
By the doors to the governor’s office, David waits to let us in. Unlike Aiden, his suit makes him look like a boy playing dress-ups. “Just through here,” he says. I can’t return his smile, my mind on Kitty where she waits with Jamie and on the unknown across the threshold.
We step into a large room. If L
eonard’s take on the governor’s motives are right, then Charles Dean has gotten his way – I am officially intimidated. The room is grand and almost aggressively masculine. A stag head looms above an ornate fireplace, its antlers thrusting wide and high; a musket gleams beneath it on the mantelpiece. An antique map eclipses one wall: New Hampshire’s borders, mountains, rivers, lakes. The state flag covers the other. There are plaques, photographs and bookcases stacked with leatherbound tomes and heavy velvet drapes cover ceiling-height windows.
Richard stands with his back to us, looking out to the street through a gap in the curtains. He turns, providing a profile of his plastered nose. The governor writes at his desk, his shirtsleeves rolled part way up, a vivid blue tie loosened at the neck, all giving the impression that it has been a long day at the office, with a governor’s work never done and so on. He signs off with an impatient flick of his wrist, dropping the pen on his jotter, and leans back in his throne-sized chair. “Ah, the volleyball girl.” Then he frowns. “Leonard?”
He rises, eyes narrowed, and crosses around his desk to shake Leonard’s hand. “You’re here with the girl?” Leonard nods and the governor turns to Miriam. “Miriam Everton?” He shakes her hand. “I thought you were the girl’s guardian?”
“I’m out of town a lot for work.” Miriam coughs to clear the constriction from her voice. “It’s easier for Evangeline to stay with the Gallaghers on weekdays.”
“I see.” He turns sharp eyes on me and extends his hand. “Evangeline, I’m Governor Charles Dean.”
The roar of adrenaline makes it difficult to engage. I take too long to reach for his hand, grasp too tight when I do and release too suddenly when I realise. I stare at the empty space our hands left behind. He frowns, flexes his fingers and gestures to the polished couches. Leonard takes me by the elbow to get me moving.
“Richard.” The governor clicks his fingers. Richard scowls, but comes and sits beside his father, resetting his expression so his advantage as the complainant shows in the set of his mouth.
“Any progress with your daughter’s case?” the governor asks.
“There seems to be a hold-up on the DNA results.”
“Would you like me to see if I can hurry them along? Apply a little pressure from above?”
“Don’t trouble yourself, Charles,” Leonard says. “The results will come. As will an arrest.” His restraint impresses me. I’ve heard his tirades about Charles Dean’s interference.
The governor nods, his expression complacent, then he turns his eyes to me.
I stare back at him, lost in the static in my head.
Leonard clears his throat.
“Right,” I croak.
“Just tell them what’s on your mind.” Leonard touches my arm, and I nearly jerk in my seat.
“Okay, then.”
Say sorry.
“Um. Richard.” Saying his name requires looking at him. I hold his gaze. “Sorry I broke your nose.”
Richard turns to his father. “That’s it?”
The governor steeples his fingers, then fans them towards me. “You must have more to say for yourself.”
“I’m … very sorry?”
His smile only makes his face harder. “Try again.”
Leonard shifts next to me. “What more would you like, Charles?”
“An explanation. Some remorse?” He relaxes back into his seat. “It doesn’t seem much to ask given the pain and humiliation inflicted on my son.” He reaches for a paper folded next to him and flips it over. It’s this week’s edition of the school’s newspaper, The Collegiate Times. A comic strip called “Angel Avenger” heads the page. She wears short shorts and a skin-tight shirt, her dark hair flying behind her, a volleyball under one arm. Her nemesis, an old-school moustache-twirling villain called DD. The governor traces the print and lets the weight of offence settle. “I understand there are T-shirts as well.”
My stomach ties in double knots. “I’ve never seen that.”
“Evangeline is not responsible for the actions of her classmates,” Leonard says. “She had nothing to do with either the newspaper or the T-shirts. It was an accident in gym class, Charles. These things happen.”
“It was an assault,” the governor says, cool and categorical. “There are witnesses to corroborate that she was antagonising my son and deliberately spiked the ball in his face.” He opens his hands. “I want to understand. Is it a medication issue?”
Miriam breaks from her trance. “What?”
Leonard’s control is as impressive as the governor’s. “I beg your pardon?”
The governor raises his palms. “I’m not unsympathetic, given the circumstances. Her mother recently passed, relocating to a new town, difficult times for any family, but no excuse for lashing out.”
I sit paralysed. He knows about my mother and he thinks I’m medicated.
The governor exchanges a look with his son. “I understand Evangeline’s behaviour at school is quite erratic. Trauma often results in chemical inbalances.”
“How dare you?” Miriam’s voice trembles. “You have no idea.”
“I think I have enough of an idea to realise that things are not what they should be,” he says. “Who has control of this girl? You, Ms Everton, or her boyfriend’s father? This living situation is very unorthodox. It goes some way to clarifying things but an explanation from the girl is required.”
My tongue thickens and dries in my mouth.
“Charles Dean.” Leonard sits forwards and cocks his head. “Are you being deliberately offensive, or have you lost all sense?”
The governor’s face hardens. “She’s in your care Leonard? I’m beginning to question if you have a handle on things. I would have thought the kind of rumours circulating about your son and this girl would be a matter of concern, given she’s living under your roof.”
“What are you talking about?” Miriam’s voice cracks like a whip and I officially leave my body. Richard seems to enter a state of rapture.
“Apparently they’re both covered in bruises.”
Score for the locker room grapevine.
“I would have thought,” Leonard cuts in before Miriam explodes, “that a man who’s invested so much money and energy squashing rumours about his own son’s behaviour would know the danger of baseless allegations.”
Silence opens like a chasm.
The governor grows rigid.
Richard scowls behind his medical tape.
I throw myself into the unbearable gap.
“You’re right. I let my – my frustration get the better of me. Things have been …” I look at the carpet, heat flooding my face, “… stressful, lately. The details, you seem to be–” I press my fingernails into the couch. “New home, new school. That sort of thing.” I glance up briefly, catching the governor’s narrow look. “I realise I was oversensitive and took some of the things Richard said the wrong way. I lost my cool and flipped out. I was wrong.” I get to my feet. “I’m very sorry.” Looking Richard dead on, I extend my hand. “I am sorry, Richard.”
I see the conflict in his eyes, the tension in his throat as he stands and takes my hand. I go deep, locking his bright blue gaze, reaching into the bandwidth. The Kinetic Memory Harvest is immediate, vivid and unmistakable. The struggle of flesh, shadows shifting over trees and shrubs. Damp grass soaks through the knees of my trousers, black satin bunches in my hand – Richard’s hand. Her brown eyes roll back. Her long dark hair, tousled in my fist. I clamp her red mouth and feel the thrill in my skin.
PROOF
The sun has gone by the time we step out into the night air. I give silent thanks for shadows to hide my face.
“Well?” Kitty finally bursts out, sick of biting her tongue. “What did he say?”
“It doesn’t bear repeating, but he’s got a bloody nerve.” Leonard curls and uncurls his fists.
Jamie bends close. “Were you picking up signals in there or what?”
“I–”
“Evie.”
Miriam catches my hand. She looks worse than me. “Sweetheart, I’m so sorry. I should have marched you out of there. He’s a–” She shakes her head, lacking the words.
“What did that bastard say to you?” Jamie says.
What can I tell him in front of Kitty? I don’t want to frighten her. I hold his gaze and push the borrowed memory into the bandwidth, willing him to see what I harvested from Richard.
Jamie’s eyes glaze then clear. He swallows, looks at Kitty, me then back at the building. I’m suddenly afraid he might storm the governor’s office and break Richard’s neck. Resolve hardens in his eyes and he takes me off guard, scooping my hand into his, sending a tingling current up my arm. “Kit, you mind riding with Dad? I need a little time alone with Evie.”
The others look at us in varying degrees of surprise.
“We’ll stay right behind you,” he says.
“Um … sure,” she says, her eyes round.
“Miriam can you stay with her?” Jamie turns me towards his car and opens the door. I stall, torn between addressing Richard as a current threat and the possible danger in leaving Kitty’s side.
“Dad’ll keep me on the road, Evs.” Kitty’s mouth curls in the corner. “Try to be nice. Genetically speaking, he was made for you.”
Leonard purses his lips and opens the passenger door of the Mercedes. Kitty looks at Jamie like she wishes him luck and slides into her seat. But I can’t let go until Miriam gives the nod, her eyes so tortured they hollow me out.
I sit forwards in Jamie’s car, pressure in my chest, chaos in my head.
Jamie drops into the driver’s seat. “That was Kaylee, right? Richard’s memory? Tell me that was Kaylee.”
“It was Kaylee.”
“What does it mean?”
“I don’t know!” I grab my head. “It doesn’t make sense. It’s not supposed to work on civs. I just thought, if I tried and got anything then it would be some kind of proof that he was, you know, like us. But is it proof? What the hell am I supposed to do, go back and confront him?”