by S. Massery
I groan and fist his shirt in my grip.
“Margo, you have visitors!” Lenora calls from downstairs. “I’ll send them up.”
We break apart, and he grins at me.
It’s a little devious—a hint of the old him.
I shake my head, straightening my clothes. Caleb just leans back, doing nothing to fix his shirt or the way his hair sticks up in every which way. Did I do that?
My door flies open, and Hanna bursts inside. She takes a minute to gape at the room, then shoots into my arms.
“Ah, hi, Hanna,” I laugh, hugging her to me.
She squeezes tight enough to steal my breath away.
Claire follows, but she doesn’t come all the way into the room. Her attention goes to Caleb. “Sorry, are we interrupting something?”
I glance at him, but he says nothing.
“No,” I manage. “No, it’s great to see you.”
Hanna releases me. “Claire drove us! Our foster parents finally said she was good enough to drive me.”
Caleb squints. “Did they, now?”
“She drives fast,” Hanna tells him. “But she lets me sit in the front seat, and I like to ride with my hand out the window.”
Maybe he’s remembering that I don’t know how to drive, because he says nothing. He barely even looks at Claire, and her stare is hot enough to melt plastic.
“So, to what do we owe this visit?” I ask her, slightly moving so I break her line of sight.
She’s always been boy obsessed, but she can’t be obsessed with this one.
She blinks, like she was dozing, and grins at me. “Well, we were out for ice cream and decided to check in on you. Hanna got an A on her final project in math.” She makes a show of looking around the room. “I’d say I like what you’ve done with the place, but…”
“It was time for a change,” I lie. “This is just the beginning stages of me making this place feel like home.”
“Oh?” She ventures farther in, touching a little clay pot Hanna had made me last year. It holds a few beads, an earring—lost things.
Forgotten things.
So they wouldn’t be misplaced anymore.
I almost cried when she gave it to me, because I know she meant me. I was the lost and forgotten thing. And so was she. And so was Claire.
We’re not lost anymore, I almost say. It’s on the tip of my tongue.
“I’m thinking of painting it blue.”
She picks up the canvas. “You’ve been working on this forever. Are you going to finish it?”
“You should paint it orange!” Hanna says, throwing herself onto the bed next to Caleb. She scoots all the way back, until she can lean against the wall. “Orange is my favorite color.”
“Silly girl,” Claire murmurs. “An orange room would practically glow when the sun rose.”
“Exactly.”
“Is your room decorated in orange?” I ask Hanna.
“Yeah, orange and pink. The best combination!” She bites her lip. “It’s nice when the rest of the house is creepy.”
“It’s not creepy,” Claire says. “It’s just old and big.”
I ruffle Hanna’s hair. “I’m sure it’ll feel like home soon enough.”
“Do you go back to school before the holiday?” Claire asks me. “If I were you, I’d push for all the time off I could.”
Caleb tilts his head. “Because of the accident?”
She ignores him. “Did you know we found out about your kidnapping on the news? The freaking news, Margo!”
I wince. “I’m sorry. It was…”
“Traumatic,” Caleb finishes. “And she shouldn’t have to tell everyone about it.”
She flinches, then rushes to my side. “I’m sorry.” She picks up my hands, squeezing. “God, I didn’t mean it like that. It was just surprise… and worry.”
“You could’ve called,” Caleb said. “Instead of…” Barging in here and interrupting our kiss? That’s where it sounds like he’s taking this conversation.
I shake my head. “I should’ve reached out.”
Claire pats my cheek. “I forgive you.”
Caleb stands and moves toward us. His gait is slow, lazy almost. It’s just a few feet to cross the room. But somehow, he makes it feel predatory.
His gaze locks on Claire. He circles around her, then stops beside me.
“Let me get this straight. You forgive Margo, who was in a car accident and then abducted, and in the hospital for three days, for not calling you?”
Claire’s face turns red. She presses her lips together, staring up at him.
“He’s right,” Hanna pipes up from the bed. “A bit rude.”
I snicker. Leave it to the twelve-year-old to call it how things are.
“You’re right,” Claire says, barely able to look at Caleb. Her whole body trembles. “I’m sorry, Margo. That was insensitive. I was worried, and it came out wrong.”
She throws her arms around me, burying her face in my neck.
I pat her back awkwardly.
Hanna jumps off the bed and throws her arms around both of us.
“Together again!” she yells into my arm.
Claire and Hanna leave soon after that. It would appear that they just wanted to check on me. Caleb and I eat dinner with Robert and Lenora, and then he, too, leaves.
The three of us settle on the couch. I go back to school tomorrow, so we’re soaking up the last night of no homework. Robert puts on a movie, and Lenora makes popcorn in the kitchen. I drag a blanket over my lap in the armchair, bringing my knees up to my chest.
When Lenora comes with two bowls of popcorn—one for me and one for them—Robert pauses the preview.
“We want to talk to you now that your friends are gone,” Robert says.
Worry immediately knots my stomach. A talk is never a good thing.
“You look panicked.” Lenora reaches out and offers her hand.
I take it and suck in a deep breath. “Maybe a bit.”
“Lenora and I have been discussing adoption.” Robert smiles at me. “Our main concern is whether you’d be open to such a thing.”
“We want you to be part of our family permanently,” Lenora adds, squeezing my hand.
My mouth drops open. Yes, they’d said as much before the accident, but…
My heart tears itself in half.
It happens between beats. One minute it’s whole, and the next, it’s broken and I’m being pulled in two different directions.
Dad is innocent, and we just need to prove it to get him out.
And Robert and Lenora… they want to make things official. A home with two stable parents who love each other, who don’t fight. Who would’ve thought they’d pick me?
I don’t know how to stitch myself back together again. How to make my heart halves beat in sync.
My eyes burn, but I don’t cry. There’s a weight on my shoulders; it lands heavier than I would’ve thought I could handle.
“Thank you,” I say over the lump in my throat.
Any minute, I’m going to lose it.
“It’s a lot to process,” Lenora says. “And this is your decision.”
I push the blanket off and stand, wrapping my arms around Lenora. She gives much better hugs than my mother ever did.
An image of Mom standing in the diner flashes through my mind, but I shove it away. She left me alone, to fend for myself. And when I did see her? It was only about money to feed her habit.
Lenora rubs my back. “You’re shaking.”
“Just trying to forget about my mother.” I lean back and wipe at my face.
All I’ve done lately is cry. I hope I run out of tears soon.
“Should we watch the movie?” Robert asks.
I smile. “Yeah.”
As good a distraction as any.
My chest hurts. I wrap the blanket around me, sinking into the armchair. It’s nice to zone out at the screen for a while.
Adoption means my dad would have to
give up his rights. I’d have a family, but I would lose him.
How the hell am I supposed to choose?
32
Caleb
“Why aren’t we going inside?” Eli asks me.
“You can go,” I say. “I’m waiting for Margo.”
He glares at me. “Margo, who’s arriving with Riley.”
They haven’t talked. Still. And while I’m curious, there have been other pressing concerns stealing my attention.
I exhale, watching my breath make little clouds.
“Okay, fine,” he snaps. “I’m going in.”
I flip him off.
He salutes me with his middle finger back, then saunters toward the building.
No sooner is he gone than Robert’s car arrives, and Margo climbs out. She grins when she sees me, and I pull her in for a kiss. Foster dad be damned.
She smiles when I linger.
“Let’s go in,” she says. “It’s freezing.”
“I thought you were getting a ride in with Riley?”
She shrugs. “She said she was running late. Not sure what she has planned.”
I roll my eyes. “Did she say she was planning something?”
“No, but she’s never late—”
“Ms. Wolfe,” the guidance counselor calls. “Could you join me?”
I reluctantly release her. “I’ll see you in homeroom.”
She gives me a brave smile, then disappears into the office.
Savannah walks past, her fur coat held tightly closed in her hand. She has such a thick layer of makeup caked on her face, it’s like she’s wearing a mask.
She doesn’t acknowledge my presence, and my eyebrow jumps.
“Hey, man,” Liam calls.
We slap hands, and he yanks off his hat. His blond hair goes everywhere. He runs a hand through it, messing it up further, and I shake my head. Girls love that untamed look.
“Margo’s back?” he asks.
“They called her in.” I hook my thumb toward the office.
He grimaces. “She’s an old coot. You’re waiting?”
“Figured I would.”
He nods, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Kid gloves.”
I narrow my eyes. “What?”
“You’re treating her with kid gloves.” He shrugs, smiling innocently. “It’s okay. I’m sure Margo appreciates you not leaving her alone…”
I shake my head. “You’re just…”
Jealous?
No.
If anything, Liam’s attitude is more of a brotherly nature—to me and Margo. I try not to think about the time I walked in on them at the party. She was across the room from him, but still.
“It’s going to be a long week,” I say.
He laughs. “Yeah. See you in homeroom.”
Margo appears just as the bell rings. She sticks out her tongue. “So much for meeting you there, huh?”
I put my arm around her shoulders. As we walk, people part for us. They do it more for me than her, but judging from the glances she gets, I would say they’re curious about her. Word must’ve traveled quick.
“You know what’s interesting?” she asks under her breath. Without waiting for my answer, she continues, “Since you found me, I haven’t heard from our mystery stalker. Besides the writing on the walls—literally.”
I sigh. “Unknown called me right before the police came. Everything they’re doing is escalating.”
She shivers. “What’s next?”
More dead birds in her room?
My mood plummets. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”
That’s a fucking promise.
The rest of the day passes quietly and quickly. Between the four of us, we keep tabs on Margo. Riley showed up after second period, looking a bit worse for the wear, and she silently joins the team.
It isn’t like I think something is going to happen to her. I don’t. I just… am worried that I might be wrong.
I come up behind Margo and loop my arms around her waist, pulling her back against my front. She gasps, stiffening for a moment. Once she realizes it’s me, she relaxes.
My lips touch the tip of her ear. “Did I startle you?”
“No,” she lies.
I let her get away with it.
“It’s Robert’s first day back,” she says. “I wonder how he’s doing.”
“Well, we won’t have long to wait.” I close her locker, and together we walk to the art wing. Everyone has been more subdued, and I’m blaming it on my friends. God only knows who they threatened to make the entire school act… normal.
We slip into Robert’s classroom, and he shoots us a smile.
“Hey, guys,” he says. His desk is a wreck. Papers everywhere, folders, various tubes of paint and brushes. “How’s your day?”
“Peachy,” Margo answers. “You okay?”
“Oh, the substitute teacher probably wishes she had another week to get things more organized.” He rolls his shoulders back. “I’m just still trying to get everything sorted. Plus it’s the end of the year, and final projects are due. God, every year I think I should stagger the classes—”
“Mr. Jenkins!” one of his students squeals, coming in with a few others. “You’re back!”
“Yes, hello.” He motions for them to take their seats. “You, too, please.”
I take Margo’s hand and pull her toward the back of the room.
“He seems frazzled,” Margo whispers.
“I would be, too, if my desk looked like that.”
She hides her laugh behind her hand.
“We’re getting to the end of the semester.” Robert closes the door. “And I would like to take this opportunity to remind you that your final project, the portraits, are due at the beginning of next week. Can I see a show of hands to who’s already completed theirs?”
Half the hands in the room go up, including mine.
I was done a while ago. And in fact, Robert already graded it.
I didn’t breathe a word of that to Margo. I was already mostly done by the time I tried to hurt her relationship with the Jenkinses. It was only after, when she started standing up to me, that I revisited it. I changed a few things—the feeling behind it, but not necessarily anything physical.
For my first oil painting, I was impressed with myself. And I got an A on it, of course.
Margo frowns at my raised hand.
“What?” I mouth, holding back a smile.
I saw my eyeless self immortalized on the canvas yesterday, and I can imagine how conflicted she is. To paint me with a scowl? A dead look in my eye? It’s how most of the world sees me nowadays. But she’s always been able to see deeper.
And that’s where her struggle comes in.
Robert gives us an assignment, a bowl of fruit set up on a table in the center of our circle, and goes back to his desk.
It occurs to me that the end of the semester brings something else besides holidays and a weeklong break: college application deadlines.
I lean over to her as she’s putting paint on her palette. “Did you apply yet?”
“Did I apply for what?” She glances at me and pushes hair out of her face.
“School.”
“When would I have had time to do that?”
I roll my eyes. “You were out for over a week.”
“Because I had a head injury.” She readjusts her stool. “Seriously.”
“Don’t you want to go to NYU? There are other schools if you didn’t like that one—”
“I liked it just fine.” She shakes her head. “Haven’t we been over this? I can’t afford it, and I can’t ask the Jenkinses—”
“Because they’d give it to you,” I say under my breath.
I mirror her earlier movements, putting little dabs of paint on my palette. It’s rough wood on the underside, old dried paint smoothing the top. A lot of other students took the plastic ones, but I prefer this. It doesn’t let me forget I’m holding it as it scrapes ag
ainst my hand.
“I’d give it to you, too,” I add.
“You would not.”
I watch her until she spins her entire body toward me. She’s rigid, and her eyes are wide.
She’s cute when she’s alarmed.
“Caleb. You can’t waste money like that.”
“Do you know how much I’m inheriting?”
She pauses. “Why would I know that?”
“I’ll be a multimillionaire at eighteen, and I didn’t earn a penny of it. So if I want to pay for your education so you don’t have to graduate with debt, I’m going to.” I set my jaw.
She stares at me, and I realize… maybe she didn’t have any idea what I’m going to be receiving on my eighteenth birthday.
Four months to go, a voice in the back of my head whispers.
“Did I just scare you?” I ask.
She forces a laugh. “Me? No. No, I totally… expected it. You know, with the crazy uncle controlling your money and the house left empty and your mom not getting a penny. That makes perfect sense.”
“Mom did something,” I say. “Something that made Dad hold a grudge.”
“And I doubt she’d actually tell you, right?”
“Right.”
She shakes her head and turns back to the canvas. “If we both don’t even get our brushes dirty, Robert will ground me and send you…”
“To detention?” I smirk.
She grins. “Maybe.”
We lapse into silence, and I put my best effort into the bowl of apples and oranges. It passes the time quickly, and it feels like minutes later Robert is clapping, giving us the five-minute warning.
We pack away our things.
“Are you bringing me home?” she asks.
“We’re back to conditioning for lacrosse,” I say. “A five-mile run is in my future.”
She nods.
I snag her hand. “Maybe today would be a good day to go over my uncle’s house?”
Her eyes widen. “Really.”
“They’re out of town.” I grab my phone and pull up a photo my aunt posted on Facebook. The picture is of her and Uncle David on a beach somewhere. He’s moody—a remnant of his drowning modeling career—and she’s beaming.
“How can she look so… happy with him?”
I shrug. “I’m pretty sure she’s acting.”