A scary good actress. A fake.
She touched me, and I hated how good it felt.
She doesn’t mean it. She doesn’t mean it. She doesn’t mean it.
“Haven’t we been plotting our revenge against Brad?” she asked softly.
“Yeah. We’re all supposed to do it together, on a regular night—”
“We’ll all be together at the prom. And he already thinks I’m his date—”
“Secret date.” Keegan snorted.
Anger flared inside of me. “Don’t you guys get it? She’s going to get herself really hurt.”
“I sincerely doubt that,” Lora said.
“What if we get separated? What if he leads you away, and we can’t get to you in time … ”
“I will be fine.”
It killed me, how nonchalant she was being. Did I really mean so little to her?
Does she really mean so little to herself?
“You’re not invincible,” I said.
“No. But I’m much more creative than Mr. Dickson.”
“There are certain circumstances where that’s not going to save you.” And who is going to save her, then? Is it, by any chance, you? a taunting little voice said. “What exactly are you planning?” I asked.
Lora didn’t answer right away. It looked like she was pondering the question. But after that little show she’d put on for Brad, I figured she was playing me.
“We could strip him down and take his picture,” she said finally.
Keegan rubbed his hands together. “Let’s take his picture in a prom dress.”
“Hold on,” I said. “Doesn’t that perpetuate the idea that it’s wrong for a guy to wear a dress?”
All eyes turned on me.
“What? I listen.”
“Apparently,” said Keegan. “But we’re not making a political statement. We just want to humiliate him. You know, an eye for an eye.”
“I don’t know.” Kylie chewed her lip. “I think Taylor’s right.”
“I think Taylor’s skirting the issue,” said Lora with a sly smile. She was trying to win me over, but I wasn’t falling for it. I knew those eyes didn’t sparkle just for me.
Possessive much?
I took a deep breath, trying to center myself. It didn’t work. “Why don’t you put him in a baby’s bonnet while you’re at it?” I said sarcastically.
Kylie giggled into her hand. “Wouldn’t that be the greatest? Mister Big Man as a baby?”
“We’d never pull it off,” I said quickly. The last thing I wanted was to get Kylie on board.
“Maybe we wouldn’t have to dress him up. Maybe we’d just have to create the illusion that he was dressed up,” said Lora. “They’d only have to see a hint of fabric to believe something was amiss.”
“Let me guess,” I said. “You’ll get the fabric?”
“I can get the fabric,” offered Kylie.
“See? Everything’s falling into place.” Lora grinned. “Besides, if all goes well, we won’t have to sink to his level and use drugs. From what I hear, Brad drinks himself into a stupor at every social event. So when he passes out—”
“We slip into his hotel room,” said Keegan.
“Hotel room?” I repeated.
“Everyone’s renting one,” Lora said.
“We’ll take a few pictures,” Keegan went on, but my mind had taken a trip to other places.
Hotel room.
“We wouldn’t even have to undress him,” Kylie added.
Are we renting a hotel room?
“We’d hardly have to touch him,” Lora said. “With all the rumors going around, we’d just have to show a bit of something—”
“And people would believe it!” Kylie clapped her hands. “But is this okay? Is this right?”
“It’s just a little prank,” Keegan said. “If Brad passes out on his own, there’s virtually no danger. And we won’t separate under any circumstances.”
He looked at me. In fact, everyone was looking at me, and all I could do was tear out clumps of grass. “Sounds like you guys have made up your minds,” I said.
“So you’ll help?” Kylie asked. She looked so hopeful I didn’t know what to say.
So I shrugged. “If that’ll make you happy,” I said finally. But I wasn’t talking to her and we all knew it.
–––––
When the school day ended, I couldn’t wait to get out of there. The thought of sitting next to Lora was almost too much to bear. I felt so betrayed by her. Betrayed and hurt and angry. But I waited for her outside of class like a gentleman, and I offered to give her a ride, because I still cared.
I cared way too much.
Big surprise, she declined. I peeled out of the parking lot in a pathetic display of frustration. But as I raced down the streets, just fast enough to piss off the cops that really needed to meet their quotas, it occurred to me that it wasn’t even Lora I was mad at. I knew she didn’t like Brad. I knew it, in that deep part of me beneath the sinew and marrow. I knew it in my soul, if I had a soul.
She makes me feel like I have a soul.
I was mad at Brad and I was mad at my father. Most of all I was mad at myself for letting the people I cared about get into situations where others could take advantage of them. What kind of a man was I if I couldn’t defend the people I loved? Was I really that much better than the assholes of the world?
I’d had enough.
Pulling up to my parents’ house, I slammed my car door hard enough to rattle the hinges. On one side of the lawn, like a beacon of light, stood the door to the garage and my sanctuary. On the other side, my parents’ house rose up before me, tall and foreboding. Possibly surrounded in flames. I knew where I had to go if I wanted to be able to look myself in the face for the rest of my life. I knew, too, what it was going to cost me.
I plodded toward it. Across the swamps of soggy grass, and up the steps that multiplied as I walked. My heart felt heavy—my entire body felt heavy—but I couldn’t let it hold me back. What else could I do? Lie down in the grass and wait for death to take me? I had no choice but to start living.
“Where are you?” I called, trailing mud through the hallway. I’d clean it up later, for Mom’s sake. For now I needed the fire and the fury. I knew Mom was in her usual afternoon spot, grading finger-paintings or whatever the kids had done that day.
It struck me, like a blade in the heart, how devastating it must’ve been for her to work with kids so close to Aaron’s age. To see them, so full of life, crawling into their parents’ arms at the end of the day. What greater torture could there be for her? Why did she stay?
They need the money.
I never should have let them stay in this house. I should have been giving her money, any money I could make, but it was too late now to let the guilt crush me. I had to move forward, to focus on the things I could change. As the family room moved toward me, or I toward it, my legs picked up speed, and I pushed into the room without time to think.
“Of course,” I said. “What was I thinking? You’re right where you always are, glued to the couch.”
My father turned around, aghast at my intrusion. He didn’t know the half of it. I could’ve said much worse things. Deep inside, all the pain he’d caused me was bubbling up, but I wouldn’t use it against him.
We were different in that way.
He recovered, emotions shifting before his face returned to neutral. “Well, well. It’s the prodigal son,” he said. “To what do I owe this performance?”
“You’ve been watching too much TV.” My gaze flicked to the black, soul-sucking box. The faces of missing teens were flashing across the screen. Black-haired, red-haired, brown-haired, blond. So many faces. I started to feel dizzy.
“I need to talk to you,” I said. “Man to man.”
&
nbsp; He turned back to the TV. “Hope you brought a friend.”
“What is your deal? Why do you fucking—” I stopped, reined myself in. But it was too late to take back the cardinal sin. I’d shown my emotions. Now he could gut me and not feel bad about it.
“Very nice,” Dad said, not bothering to look at me. “A real man wouldn’t lose control like that.”
“A real man takes care of his family.” I walked around to the side of the couch. Even with his eyes glued to the TV, he’d have to glimpse me in the periphery. “A real man doesn’t treat his wife like she’s an insect buzzing around his arm.” That got his attention. “And a real man looks out for his kids instead of throwing them to the wolves to die!”
I didn’t mean it like that. Really, I was going for a metaphor. But the words had already left my mouth, and now I couldn’t stop. I’d wanted to say these things for years. I’d only needed Lora to validate them so I knew I wasn’t completely insane.
“You are the parent.” I stepped forward, boxing him in. “You are the adult. You put it on me, but it wasn’t my responsibility to raise your son, and it wasn’t my responsibility to save your house! You needed to make those decisions. You and Mom both. How could you put that on me? How could you let me move into the garage and hate myself and think the whole thing was my fault? You made me wish I was the one who was dead.”
God, it felt good to say it. Relief rushed through me. I knew my words would hurt him, but I had to say them, this one time. I had to let him know what he’d put on me and how it had hurt. I had to be free of it. Because even if Mom insisted they bring me along to their new home, I wasn’t going to come.
I didn’t belong with them anymore.
My eyes flickered to the screen as my dad stood up, preparing to tell me what a worthless piece of shit I was. A picture of a sullen-eyed blonde was replaced with that of a pretty brunette. I tore my gaze away from the screen, understanding in that moment how mesmerizing these shows could be. Who wouldn’t want to find that missing child and bring her home to her parents? Who wouldn’t want to find all of them?
I started to have a fantasy—a coping mechanism, probably—about finding the little brown-haired girl and bringing her to the doorstep of her family. I felt my eyes glaze over a little, like they do when I’m daydreaming. I think a part of me was expecting my father to hit me. But he didn’t lash out in any way. His hand was cradling his face. He wasn’t angry.
He was crying.
“Dad.”
He stepped back as I moved closer, shaking his head. The girl on the screen was replaced with a dark-haired boy with the largest eyes I’d ever seen.
“Dad, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
He mumbled something, the words garbled with mucous and pain.
I stepped closer, but again, he evaded me.
He sputtered, “I’ve been horrible—” The words dissolved into a sob.
I had no idea what to do. Even after Aaron’s accident, I hadn’t seen him cry like this.
“You haven’t been horrible,” I lied.
“You kidding me?” He lowered his hand just a bit and I could see the redness in his eyes. “I never knew how to be with you boys. I never knew how to do this.”
I never wanted to be a father.
Those words floated, unspoken, between us. I’d known them for a long time. Mom had me when she was nineteen. All their plans for the future had disappeared because of me.
“I’m sorry,” I said, though I knew it wasn’t my doing. They hadn’t asked for me, but I hadn’t asked to be born. It was nobody’s fault, really. It was just life.
As much as we tried to control it, it got the best of us.
Still, it was almost too ridiculous to watch a thirty-six-year-old man lament his stolen youth. He had to know he’d done the same thing to me.
I took his childhood, so he’d taken mine.
“I know things didn’t go the way you planned,” I said stupidly. Of course they didn’t go the way he’d planned. His youngest was buried in the dirt. But that wasn’t what I meant, and I think he knew that.
“I never meant to … take it out on you,” Dad said, wiping at his face. “I thought that if I kept my distance, I could protect you from it.”
“From what?”
“From me.”
“I didn’t want to be protected from you. I wanted you to be my dad. Why did you—” But I couldn’t ask the question. I couldn’t bring Aaron into things. The longer I stood here, the more obvious it became that he blamed himself for Aaron’s accident as much as he blamed me. How would it feel to lose the child you knew you never wanted? How could you not take on most of the blame?
It must’ve been easier to push it onto me. That was the only way to keep from believing he’d caused it to happen.
Suddenly I wanted to hug him, to tell him it was okay. Already I’d reverted to being the adult in the family. But I couldn’t get near him, and not only because he wouldn’t let me. I couldn’t cross that bridge to make contact. Hell, Lora had been living in my room for almost three weeks and I hadn’t even gathered the courage to kiss her, let alone any of the other things I’d have done if she wanted me to.
I’d never learned how to make contact.
Just as I thought of Lora, her face flickered across the TV screen. My heart almost leapt out of my chest. I looked again, hoping I was delirious, but there she was, plain as day.
Laura Belfry—her name splayed beneath her face.
Missing person.
I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. No, scratch that. I was thinking too much, too fast. All along, I’d known Lora was a runaway. I’d known she had parents. A family. But seeing her there, listed as a missing person, forced my heart into my knees.
“Taylor?”
Oh no. I’d stared at the TV for too long. If Dad followed my eyes to the screen, he’d recognize Lora, and then it was only a matter of time before he’d check my room. I’d lose her.
I’d lose everything.
I threw my arms around him. I gripped him tight, keeping my head between the TV and his line of vision. I might’ve felt bad about the manipulation if I hadn’t already wanted to hug him so badly. Looking back on my life, I don’t think he’d ever hugged me. Not even when I was a baby.
“It’s okay, Dad, I’m not mad. I love you and Mom, I really do.” The number to call with information about Laura flashed across the screen. “I just need to feel like you’re my parents for a while. That’s not a bad thing.” The low volume on the TV taunted me. On the one hand, it kept Dad from hearing about the girl I’d been hiding, illegally, in my bedroom. On the other hand, it kept me from learning everything I wanted to know about her.
Dad tried to pull away. Clearly, this kind of contact made him uncomfortable, no matter how much we needed it.
Real men don’t do these things, blah, blah, blah.
I stepped between him and the TV.
“I won’t hold it against you if you move on without me,” I said, though my brain was screaming: Don’t say it! I swallowed, stopping up the tears before they spilled out of me. “You can ask me to come if you want,” I added, “But it’s your decision to make.”
Dad was pulling himself together. Except for his red-rimmed eyes, there was no hint he’d cried. He straightened out his sweater-vest and looked at me. “I respect your coming to me, son.”
I nodded. I hadn’t expected him to tell me he loved me or thank me for setting him straight. But I also hadn’t expected him to turn back to the TV like none of this had happened.
“Dad!”
“I can’t believe it,” he said. I followed his gaze. A picture of a four-year-old stared back at me, a little boy. A stranger. I picked up the remote.
“So young,” he murmured. “How can they—”
“Come on, Dad.” I turned off the TV.
“Why don’t you go for a walk? I’ll even go with you if you want.”
Oh sure. That wouldn’t be the most awkward silence of my life.
But I had to offer. Anything to get him away from the TV’s evil spell.
He nodded, looking at me like we’d just met. He was halfway to the door when he turned back, shaking his head. “Looks like rain.”
19
ElorA
I cut my arm on a branch of Unity’s tallest pine. That’s what I got for being out of practice. I held my sleeve over the cut as I watched students walk from the box of the school to the boxes of their cars, from which they’d drive to the boxes of their homes or the box of the mall. Caged little animals. Today, I couldn’t do it. I needed open space and rain on my face. I needed the cool breath of twilight as it descended over the park.
I needed to feel.
For a moment I allowed myself to miss the comforts of home. Over the past few weeks I’d thought of them little, afraid the memories would distract me from my goal. Now they flooded over me, cool, dark, and sweet.
Just as I felt myself surrounded by cold, whispering stones, and stars one can never see in the city, something happened that yanked me out of the Dark Court and back to reality.
My phone was buzzing.
Digging into my pocket, I stilled the rain around me and waited for the caller to speak.
“Tell me you’ve left the wasteland.” The little voice, strained with fear, sent chills through parts of me untouched by the rain.
“Illya? What has happened?”
“Please, Lady. Tell me you’re on your way.”
“Soon, my friend. But what ails you?”
“He is coming for you.”
“Naeve?”
There came no response.
“Illya, tell me what’s happened. Surely, he can’t—”
“I didn’t mean to tell him!”
Oh, Darkness.
“What did you do?” I asked, lungs struggling for a satisfying breath.
“Oh, Lady. Forgive me.”
“Illya. What did you do? Did you tell him where I am?”
“I told him the opposite of that! I meant to defend you. It was a mistake.”
The Last Changeling Page 16