by S. Massery
And right now, I’m grateful for it.
I barely slept while in holding. They kept me separated, but it was county jail. All sorts of crazies were brought in. Mr. Black said my uncle called—well, he called the jail, too. Reamed me out and said I was an embarrassment on the family name.
I know it isn’t the charge that rankles—it’s that I got charged at all.
He thinks I did it, but he’s disappointed I got caught.
I don’t respond to Margo, or my uncle, or any of the other messages. I need to see her with my own eyes.
“I should’ve taken off the duct tape.” I don’t realize I’ve said it out loud until Mr. Black has slowed the car and twisted toward me.
“Caleb.” His voice is stern. “You cannot say things like that, especially around the detective. You understand?”
“I found her on the floor.” I meet his gaze. “She was unconscious. I was more worried about getting her to the hospital.”
“All they’ll see is someone who wanted to keep her in check. Under their thumb.”
I bristle. “That’s not it.”
“I know that’s not it. I know you. But that’s what they’ll say, and that argument is what they’ll build a case on, if Detective Masters decides to charge you.”
“She said it wasn’t me.”
Eli’s dad tsks. “She was drugged. She could’ve been confused.”
“I found her!”
“How? How did you know exactly where to go? Why didn’t you call the police?”
“Fuck!” I’m tempted to jump out of the car.
“Son, I’m just trying to get you to see how the prosecutor would—”
“Yeah, I get it. Can we just…” I wave toward the road. We’re close to Margo’s house. I take a minute to be thankful that I didn’t even have to ask.
He steps on the gas, silent for a moment. Then he says, “I suppose it’s a good thing we’re going to see her now. Saves you a midnight trip.”
Ah, shit. “You know?”
“Just because you think you’re quiet doesn’t mean I don’t know everything that happens in that house.” He smiles, acting okay with it. Yeah, right. It’s just because I’m me. If it was Eli sneaking out… I see how he gets along with criminals. Gets on their side, earning trust.
“Your runs don’t usually end with you coming home in a reasonable time. And sometimes they involve your car.”
I chuckle. “Yeah, that may be true.”
We pull into Margo’s driveway, and he stops me from getting out with a hand on my shoulder.
“Seriously. We had the sex talk when you were fourteen. I don’t need to tell you to be safe, right? You’re smart enough to already—”
“Yeah, we’re good.”
He drops his hand, and I get out. Lenora’s car is in the driveway. Robert’s is probably at the junk yard… or in police custody. I didn’t see it, but I have enough mental imagery to last a lifetime.
Margo’s case worker arrives as we head up the walkway. Eli’s dad stops to talk to her, and I go to the door.
Lenora yanks it open before I have a chance to knock. “Caleb.”
She’s decidedly unfriendly.
I narrow my eyes. “Mrs. Jenkins.”
“Angela told me…” Her attention slides past me, to where Angela and Mr. Black are conversing on the sidewalk. “The charges were dropped?”
“I didn’t do it.” I stare at her, willing her eyes to come back to me. “I would never.”
She scoffs. “You seem to be the cause of a lot of heartache.”
“I can’t really do much about that unless you let me in to fix it,” I say quietly.
She only steps aside once Mr. Black and Angela are behind me.
The living room is empty. I glance into the kitchen, find that empty, and head up the stairs. My imagination runs wild. I walk down the hall to her room, and it stretches out in front of me.
Her door is cracked open, and it doesn’t make a noise when I nudge it open farther.
She’s… cleaning.
Shoving papers into drawers, straightening her books. Her small trashcan is in her hand, and she periodically shoves random things—a bauble, a paper, something that appears to be a seasonal decoration—into it. Her sheets are off the mattress, balled up in the center of the room. Comforter thrown on the floor. All her clothes are stacked in a pile on top of her nightstand.
Maybe cleaning was the wrong word. She’s doing more harm than good.
And she’s sniffling.
The whole room feels different. Like I left her one way, and now I’m coming back to someone new.
“Margo.”
She drops the trash and spins toward me.
Ah, my heart gives a nasty thump.
Her face is bruised. A few butterfly bandages are taped over stitches across her forehead—that gash was the source of a lot of blood. She probably has more injuries, but those are the only visible ones.
That, and the expression on her face.
I step toward her, and she steps back.
That’s not how this normally goes.
“You don’t think I had anything to do with this, did you?”
Her eyes widen, then skip to the window. I can’t help but notice it’s locked. A message if I ever saw one. I want to howl. Instead, I keep approaching. Her back bumps against the bookshelf—the very same one I found the spying figure on—and she freezes.
I relish the heat of her body, but I don’t touch her. I stop just a hair’s breadth away and meet her dark eyes. There are hours unaccounted for after the accident, and I would kill to give them back to her.
I force myself not to trace her jaw. To inhale the scent of her shampoo—because even that is off, tainted by the antiseptic smell of the hospital.
She’s breathing heavy, like me being in her room has stolen her oxygen.
This isn’t you, I almost say. This girl is scared—but she doesn’t need to be scared of me.
“Are you angry?” she blurts out.
Am I angry? “Furious.”
Now, I do give in to temptation. I drag my finger across her lip. It’s split, a little swollen, but she doesn’t move when I press on her lower lip, parting her pretty mouth.
Her tongue darts out, touching my thumb, and I grin. I’m getting harder by the second, but I think Margo knows what she does to me.
I lean down.
“I thought you might be happy to see me,” I whisper.
She shakes her head. “Caleb…”
“Matt told me where to find you. He’s a computer whiz—I know, he doesn’t seem like it—but he…”
Her whole face has drained of blood. I’ve never seen her so pale.
“Matt Bonner told you where to find me?”
I squint at her. “Yeah. He’s actually been helping me try to figure out who was behind the mermaid…”
She grabs my hands. “Caleb, stop.” She takes a deep breath, like she’s afraid to say this out loud. “Matt was the one who took me.”
My stomach bottoms out.
“What?” I misheard her.
She’s trembling, a leaf in the wind, and the way she’s looking at me makes me think… I’m the storm.
“Someone was with him. Someone he knew, but I can’t—”
“And you think it was me.” That stings.
“No, Caleb, I don’t.” Sadness.
Why is she sad?
“My memories came back.”
Oh fuck.
Margo
Past
Caleb and I were playing hide and seek, which required me to be extra quiet. I tiptoed through the house, planning on balling up under the sink in the kitchen. It would take him forever to find me, and I’d be victorious.
We weren’t supposed to be here, though. Lydia—Mrs. Asher—had taken us to the park, but she dropped us off about an hour ago and told us to play in Caleb’s room until she got back. There were only so many things we could do in his room, and he was sick of me to
uching his Legos. The puzzles were built. I wasn’t allowed to play video games, so that was out.
We were used to being let loose, and eventually, Caleb caved.
He still liked to listen to his mom, especially since we could hear his dad walking around downstairs. His dad got home shortly after us.
My dad was working. Mom was out.
Caleb and I had experienced an odd thrill of imminent capture when his dad got home. His dad wouldn’t just yell at us—he’d probably scream his voice hoarse at Caleb’s mom, too. But hide and seek was an excellent game. It was meant for devious kids like us.
And yeah, it may have been my idea.
There was an odd thumping noise coming from the kitchen.
Lowering myself down into a crouch, I kept close to the wall.
Upstairs, Caleb was probably counting as quietly as possible. I counted in my head, keeping track of my time. That’s how you were supposed to do it when being stealthy.
“Fuck, Amber,” a voice growled.
My whole body got icy.
I stopped just before the doorway and poked my head into the kitchen.
My mother… her bare legs were wrapped around Caleb’s dad’s hips. She sat on the counter—the same one she cooked on—like she was in pain. Her mouth was open. Eyes closed.
His hand was tangled in her hair, keeping her head back.
I knew about sex. We’d learned about it in health class.
But I didn’t think it would be like this. Caleb’s dad was still wearing his pants, and all I saw was his back. But the words coming out of his mouth were vicious.
Mom was cheating on Dad.
I knew what that was, too. We had learned about it from Amelie, whose dad had a shiny new girlfriend who sometimes picked Amelie up from school. She said her dad liked to say the girlfriend was the newer model—whatever that meant.
But after the initial shock of it passed, horror sunk in.
Dad would… Dad would be heartbroken.
A hand wrapped around my mouth, dragging me backward. I kicked, then realized it was Caleb. He pushed me into the pantry, closing the door behind him.
“What are you doing?” I needed to scrub my eyes out with soap.
“You can’t tell,” Caleb said.
I blinked. It wasn’t what I expected.
“Please, Margo, you can’t tell them.” He was desperate. Reeked of it. He came at me and grabbed my wrists. His thumb caressed my bracelet. “That won’t be us. Okay? But it’s them, and doing whatever you’re about to do will just make everything worse.”
“Caleb, Mom is cheating on my dad—” I took a step back, shaking him loose. “You knew?”
Slowly, he nodded.
“Cheating is wrong,” I said. Decisive.
Dad always talked about morals. Morality. It was such a hard thing to wrap my brain around, but he made it easy. Right and wrong. Stick up for the truth.
This… this was a lie. Plain and simple.
I shoved past Caleb and into the hall, where Mom was standing. Her hands were on her hair, pulling it up, but they slowly dropped when she saw me.
I swallowed.
Her pants were still unbuttoned.
“Margo!”
I turned and fled. Up the stairs, down the hall to Caleb’s room. Caleb chased after me, and once we were inside he slammed the door, flipping the lock.
The doorknob rattled, then Mom pounded on the door. “Margo Wolfe, open up right now.”
Caleb stared at me. “You’re not going to tell, right?”
The door flew open. Caleb’s dad straightened, triumphant, but my mom shoved past him.
She grabbed my shoulders, shaking me slightly. “You don’t know what you saw, Margo. It was nothing.”
Her voice was angrier than I’d ever heard it.
I shook my head. “But, Mom—”
“No buts. Please, Margo.” She dipped her head toward me. “If he found out, it would ruin everything. And nothing even happened. It just looked bad.”
It looked like sex, but who was I to know?
Her fingers dug into my shoulders. Caleb’s dad stared at me. Caleb was breathing heavily behind me, the entire room waiting on my answer.
“I won’t tell,” I promised.
I promised.
Present
“All of your memories?” Caleb asks.
I shift. “I remember catching them. Running to your room. We were playing hide and seek.”
It hurts to see him, because all I want to do is throw myself into his arms. He found me. Took me to the hospital. Detective Masters arrested him. But it wasn’t Caleb. I know that deep in my bones.
And yet…
“Your mom said it was nothing,” he says.
“She was trying to minimize it. I know that now. And you—” I break off.
What did he say the first time we went into his house?
One day I’m going to fuck you on this counter. And then he did.
He did, and he didn’t have any regrets, even knowing—
“I never claimed to be the nice guy.” He comes closer and reaches for me. “If you’re remembering that day in the kitchen…”
“I hate you for that.” The image is burned behind my eyelids—my mom and his dad. “For putting me in that position.”
“Literally,” he adds, smirking. “But, Margo, there are dark memories all over that house. How are we ever going to move on if we don’t erase them?”
I push at his chest.
I’ve been so stupid. I thought the truth was going to release me. But it turns out, it’s just another shackle.
He tugs on my wrists. I fall into him, unable to stop myself.
“You forget, love. I wasn’t the one to block away my memories. I’ve been living with the truth for years.”
He’s totally right. I had forgotten—both that he knew and that he refused to tell me. How foolish. My emotions are on a pendulum swing.
His eyes see too much. I slip away from him and go to the window. My room is a wreck—the first thing I did when I got home was yank it apart, and now I feel like I’m bleeding from every seam.
“Matt?” he asks.
I jerk. “He kept apologizing. I finally opened my eyes when he picked me up—it sounded like he wanted to take me to the hospital.”
“He didn’t.”
He exhales noisily behind me. My bed creaks as Caleb sits. “He didn’t take you to the hospital. I found—”
I don’t hear him get up, but suddenly he’s behind me. His hand lands on mine, stopping my fingers. I had been scratching at my wrist again.
His lips press into the top of my head. Two points of contact.
“You’re going to haunt my memories.”
I close my eyes. He’s haunting mine, too.
“And I’m sorry, but I need you to touch me.”
I turn slowly. Touch him?
I don’t deserve that.
“It feels like you’re not really here,” he whispers. “I’m going to wake up in bed and you’ll still be missing.”
My chest aches.
I raise my hand. One touch won’t kill us.
“Caleb!” someone calls from downstairs.
I’m about to drop my hand when Caleb snags it, holding it to his cheek. We both exhale.
“Margo? Come down, please.”
I tilt my head. “Angela is here?”
“Is that your case worker?” Caleb lifts an eyebrow, then nods. “She got here when I did. Eli’s dad drove us.”
“That explains the many cars in the driveway, I guess.” I pull away and grab a sweatshirt, carefully zipping it up and heading downstairs.
Before we left the hospital, I got to see Robert. He was intubated and sedated in ICU, and I couldn’t get close, but seeing him through a window was enough. He was in good hands.
Me, on the other hand? Lenora kept worrying the entire way back. She asked me how I was feeling, if I needed anything special at the house, what happened.
I already told the detective, and I didn’t have the energy to go through it again. I could sleep for a week.
Three days in the hospital. The detective visited me twice, asking much the same questions. But apparently, they can’t just take witness testimony as fact. There has to be evidence. And so far… nothing.
Plus, Matt Bonner has an alibi.
I didn’t tell Caleb that—mainly because the detective is eager for me to admit it was actually Caleb who took me. It’s odd that the detective has such disdain for him… and such bias.
But who am I to know?
Lenora, Angela, and Eli’s dad—who I’ve managed to only meet once—sit at the kitchen table when Caleb and I come down.
Angela stands, coming over to me. She puts her finger under my chin, lifting my head and inspecting the bandage. “How do you feel?”
“Like…” I shrug. “I don’t know. Fine.”
“Let’s sit,” she suggests.
I wonder if this is the part where they tell me the accident was too much—that I can’t stay. I’ll get a few minutes to pack my bag. At least Caleb will be here to say goodbye.
“Originally, Riley and her mom were going to stay here,” Lenora says. Her eyes are puffy from crying. She stretches her arm across the table, taking my hand. “But… they’re not approved by the county for any sort of fostering. Including respite.”
Respite—temporary housing. A foster’s nightmare. It’s a house you don’t know, with rules you’re unaware, or unfamiliar with, and strangers trying to boss you around.
Angela takes over. “So that wasn’t a possibility, unfortunately. However, the Blacks have actually been approved to take in fosters.”
My gaze shoots over to Eli’s dad.
“You can stay with us,” he says. “Until Robert is out of the hospital. And that leaves Lenora free to stay at the hospital with him.”
Lenora squeezes my hand. “Does that make me a bad mother? Wanting to stay with him?”
Ignoring her responsibilities to stay by his side? Admirable—but maybe, yes, it does shine a certain light on her choices.
I stay silent.
“Is that allowed?” Caleb asks. “The detective—”
“That’s why we wanted to sit down and discuss it,” Angela says. “Yes, you’re a person of interest in the case, but everyone here believes that you didn’t have a hand in it.”