Текст книги "The Evolution of Mara Dyer"

Автор книги: Michelle Hodkin

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Текущая страница: 12 (всего у книги 23 страниц)

33

JUDE, MY MIND WHISPERED, AS MY VEINS COURSED with fear.

I whipped around; my eyes searched for him of their own volition.

He wasn’t here.

He couldn’t be. And he couldn’t have been in my house last night—not with John watching it.

Then I remembered my first day at Horizons. Phoebe stealing the picture from my bag. Blacking out my eyes.

She’d sat next to me in Group today.

Jude didn’t write the note. It was her.

But why?

Scratch that. She was insane. That’s why.

I took the note and shoved it angrily in my back pocket, and waited for Group Part II to resume, leaning back in my chair and pressing the heels of my palms into my eyes. My life was screwed up enough without adding Phoebe’s bullshit to the pile. Wayne came around with meds for some of us—myself included—and I downed them in the little paper shot glass. The aftertaste was bitter but I didn’t bother washing it away. I just watched the clock and counted down the seconds until I’d get the chance to confront her.

Brooke breezed back in with a mug full of what was probably organic, fair trade coffee and a stack of worksheets. She began handing them out as we all found our chairs, Phoebe included. She eyed the room and pointedly sat as far away from me as she could.

I took the paper from Brooke just a tad too fiercely. It had rows of ridiculous cartoon faces on them, contorted into various exaggerated expressions and, I supposed, their corresponding “feelings.” A squinty kid sticking his tongue out of one corner of his mouth as he smirked, with an unruly spike of hair to connote “sneaky”; a placid-faced, blond-pig-tailed girl with closed eyes and folded arms above the word “safe.” There was a preponderance of stuck-out tongues and googly eyes. Brooke began handing out markers.

“I want you all to circle the face and feeling that best describes your mood today.” She looked at me. “It’s called a feelings check-in. We do this twice a week.”

I whipped the cap off of the marker and started circling: mad, suspicious, furious, enraged. I handed her back the sheet.

My feelings must have been evident on my face because I was the focus of over a dozen stares. Not Phoebe’s, though. She was staring at the ceiling.

“It seems like you have a lot of interesting feelings right now, Mara,” Brooke said encouragingly. “Do you want to share first?”

“I’d love to.” I lifted my hips and pulled the note out of my back pocket. I handed it to Brooke. “Someone put this in my bag this morning,” I said, speaking to Brooke but staring Phoebe down.

Brooke opened the note and read it. She maintained her calm demeanor. “How do you feel about this?”

I narrowed my eyes. “Wasn’t that the point of the feelings check-in? Why don’t you tell me what you think about it?”

“Well, Mara, I think it’s something that has clearly upset you.”

I laughed without humor. “Yes, clearly.”

Adam raised his hand. Brooke turned to him. “Yes, Adam?”

“What’s it say?”

“I see you,” I said. “It says ‘I see you.’”

“And what do you think about that, Mara?” Brooke asked.

If Phoebe wasn’t going to admit to it, I would call her out and let the chips fall as they may. “I think Phoebe wrote it and put in my bag.”

“Why would you think that?”

“Perhaps because she is batshit crazy, Brooke.”

Jamie slow-clapped.

“Jamie,” Brooke said calmly. “I’m not sure that’s productive.”

“I was applauding Mara for her extraordinarily appropriate use of the term ‘batshit crazy.’”

Brooke grew annoyed. “Do you have anything you’d like to share, Jamie?”

“No, that pretty much covers it.”

“My elbow hurts,” Adam chimed in.

“Why’d you write it, Phoebe?” I asked.

She looked as squirrely as ever. “I didn’t write it.”

“I don’t believe you,” I said.

“I didn’t write it!” she shouted. Then she dropped to the floor and began rocking back and forth.

Fantastic. I rubbed my hand over my face as Brooke moved over to the wall and pressed a button I’d never noticed before. Phoebe was still rocking on the floor, but when Brooke’s back was turned, she glared at me.

Then smiled.

“You little shit,” I whispered under my breath.

Brooke turned. “Did you say something, Mara?”

I narrowed my eyes at Phoebe, who had covered her ears now. Ponytail Patrick had appeared and was trying to coax Phoebe up off of the carpet.

“She’s faking it,” I said, still staring at her.

Brooke glanced down at Phoebe, but I could tell she didn’t believe me. She looked up at the clock. “Well, we don’t have much time left anyway. Patrick,” she asked him, “will you take Phoebe back to Dr. Kells?” And then in a lowered voice, added, “I can page Wayne if you think she needs to relax.”

And look at that. Phoebe was off the floor. Magic.

“Everyone else, grab your journals and take a few minutes to write about your feelings. We’re going to talk more about what happened today later, all right? And don’t forget—tomorrow’s family day. You should all be working on your list of ten things your family doesn’t know about you but you wish they did.”

And with that, everyone stood and retrieved their journals to write. I only pretended to. I was still furious. Phoebe could fool Brooke and Dr. Kells and the rest of them—I knew from experience it wasn’t that hard—but she could not fool me. She wrote the note, and I would make her admit it.

And just before the end of the day, I got my chance.

I found her in a small lounge area, writing something in her journal with robotic, bloodless focus.

I looked around. There was no one in the hall, but I didn’t want to be too loud. I kept my voice low. “Why’d you do it?” I asked her.

She looked up at me, all innocence. “Do what?”

“You wrote the note, Phoebe.”

“I didn’t.”

“Really,” I said, my temper flaring. “You’re really not going to cop to this? I don’t even care—God knows you have enough problems—I just want to hear you say it.”

“I didn’t write it,” she said robotically.

I grabbed the door frame with one hand and squeezed it. I had to go or I’d lose it.

“I didn’t write it,” Phoebe said again. But her tone had changed; it made me face her. She was staring directly at me, now, her eyes focused and clear.

“I heard you.”

Phoebe dropped her eyes back to her journal. A smile inched across her lips. “But I did put it there.”

34

MY BLOOD RAN COLD. “ WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY?”

Phoebe began to hum.

I walked right up next to her and crouched so that I could look her in the eye. “Tell me what you said. Right now. Or I’m going to tell Dr. Kells. Right. Now.”

“My boyfriend gave it to me,” she said in a singsong voice.

“Who’s your boyfriend, Phoebe?”

“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy, when skies are gray,” she sang, and then reverted back to her humming.

I wanted to smack her head off of her spine. My hands curled into fists. It took everything I had right then not to hit her.

I almost, almost wanted to kill her.

I closed my eyes. After a minute of paralysis, I turned around and walked away. Let’s call it progress.

I was very ready for the pointless day to be over. When I got home, I wanted to try and decipher New Theories in Genetics, and also see if Noah had any luck scouring Calle Ocho on his own. But Joseph roped me into a video game war before I made it to my room, and when I called Noah after I lost thrice, he sounded strange.

He asked if I was all right. I said yes, and then immediately attacked him with questions. But he cut me off quickly, saying we’d talk tomorrow.

I hung up feeling a bit uneasy and I hated myself for it, for feeling insecure. We’d been spending nearly every moment together and I was even the one who suggested he spend more time at his house, more time apart. But his voice sounded so off and we were dealing with so much—I was dealing with so much—that part of me couldn’t help but wonder if my baggage might be getting too heavy for him to want to carry anymore.

When the last day of my first week at Horizons arrived, I found myself about to unpack some of said baggage in front of my older brother. It was Family Therapy Day and I was completely unenthused about having Daniel bear witness to the whole psycho-sister scenario in full color. We were greeted by Counselor Wayne, who led us to the common area where we were divided into mini-groups. Most people brought parents, but a select few, like me, brought older or younger siblings. And when they sorted us into smaller rooms, and Jamie walked in followed closely by an older, freckled, very chill-looking girl I didn’t recognize, my mouth fell open when I realized Jamie was one of them.

The girl behind him must be the infamous sister. The one Jamie said Noah defiled in some kind of twisted revenge game.

This could be interesting.

Jamie sat down in a plastic chair, his newly long legs stretched out in front of him. His sister sat beside him with an identical posture. I smiled even though Jamie kept glancing at the door.

Because of the way they split us up, there was a chance we’d end up with Wayne or someone else to “facilitate” today, and I hoped we did. Brooke was ditzy but relentless.

“Hi, everyone!” Brooke waltzed in.

Alas, no luck.

“Horizons students—what a wonderful morning! Family members, thanks so much for being here. Let’s all go around in a circle and introduce ourselves—sound good? Because we’re all family here.”

I glanced over at Daniel. He seemed to be giving Brooke the side-eye. I loved him so much.

She pointed at Jamie first. “Why don’t you start us off?”

“Hi, I’m Jamie!” he said, mocking her enthusiasm.

“Hi, Jamie!” Brooke said, not realizing it.

His sister—if that’s indeed who she was—sucked in her lips in what I assumed was an attempt not to laugh.

“Who have you brought with you today, Jamie?”

The girl answered and lifted her hand in a wave. “Stephanie Roth. I’m Jamie’s very lucky sister.”

“Hi, Stephanie,” we all said.

And so it went until we all introduced ourselves and our people. Brooke had us each read from our lists of things we wished our present family members knew about us but didn’t. Mine was pretty much crap, which is why I was so surprised when Daniel began to read his. Apparently, our family people had been tasked without our knowledge with creating an identical list.

“I wish Mara knew that I’m jealous of her.”

I whipped around to face him. “You can’t be serious.”

Brooke shook her finger. “No interruptions, Mara.”

My brother cleared his throat. “I wish she knew that I think she’s the most hilarious person on Earth. And that whenever she’s not home, I feel like I’m missing my partner in crime.”

My throat tightened. Do not cry. Do not cry.

“I wish she knew that she’s really Mom’s favorite—”

I shook my head here.

“—the princess she always wanted. That Mom used to dress her up like a little doll and parade her around like Mara was her greatest achievement. I wish Mara knew that I never minded, because she’s my favorite too.”

A chin quiver. Damn.

“I wish she knew that I’ve always had acquaintances instead of friends because I’ve spent every second I’m not in school studying or practicing piano. I wish she knew that she is literally as smart as I am—her IQ is ONE POINT lower,” he said, raising his eyes to meet mine. “Mom had us tested. And that she could get the same grades if she weren’t so lazy.”

I slouched in my seat, and may or may not have crossed my arms over my chest defensively.

“I wish she knew that I am really proud of her, and that I always will be, no matter what.”

“Tissues?” Brooke handed me a box.

Nooooooo. I furiously blinked back the tears that blurred my vision and shook my head. “I’m fine,” I said hoarsely.

Oh, yeah. Just fine.

“That was wonderful, Daniel,” Brooke said. “Why don’t we all clap for Mara and Daniel?”

Insert scattered applause here.

“And we can take a short break to give us a sec to catch up with our feelings.”

SO AWFUL. I bolted for the bathroom. I splashed some water on my face and when I dried it, Stephanie Roth was leaning against the counter.

She smiled. “Hey,” she said. “I’m—”

“I know who you are,” I said. My voice was still hoarse. I cleared my throat. “I know.”

“Right, the intros.”

Not exactly. “I’ve heard a lot about you,” I said instead, realizing after the fact that a) it wasn’t true and b) what I had heard wasn’t necessarily flattering.

“And I you, Mara Dyer,” she said, flashing a cryptic smile. “Jamie told me you’re Noah Shaw’s girlfriend.”

I raised my eyebrows. “He said that?”

“Actually, his exact words were ‘Noah’s new piece.’”

I grinned and threw the paper towel away. “Sounds more like him.”

“Good for you.”

Uh-oh. “Um . . .”

“I mean, about Noah.”

I narrowed my eyes at her. “Is that sarcasm I detect?”

She shook her head. Her expression was serious. “No.”

“Because Jamie, like, hates him.”

She tied her blond hair back into a ponytail. “I know.”

I wondered how far I could push this, because I sure as hell was curious. “He hates him because of what Noah . . . did to you,” I finally said.

And then her expression changed. Stephanie looked wary, all of a sudden. Her posture straightened and she said, “Did Noah tell you what happened?”

“Jamie did.”

“But not Noah?”

“I asked him if I should believe Jamie, and he said yes.”

Stephanie gave me a slow, lingering look. “But you didn’t.” Stephanie crossed her athletic arms as she considered me. I was completely unsure of what to say next.

So I tried to flee. “See you in there, I guess,” I said as I headed for the door.

But Stephanie held out her arm to stop me. “I had an abortion.”

“Um.” I was positive I was giving off that deer-in-headlights look. I glanced desperately at the door. “I’m not really qualified to—”

“Noah came with me.”

I froze. “Was he—”

Stephanie shook her head vehemently. “No. It wasn’t him. But that’s kind of . . .” She paused, glancing up at the ceiling. “That’s kind of what started it.”

I said nothing. I mean, what can you say?

“Noah asked me out,” she started. “He was only fifteen, even though he didn’t look it, and I thought it was kind of hilarious, so I went even though I’d been dating this other guy at another school for a while. Once we were together, Noah totally admitted that he asked me because he thought Jamie was messing with his sister. You screw with my family, I screw with yours; that kind of thing.”

I nodded cautiously. That fit with what I knew.

“And, I don’t know, I thought Jamie shouldn’t really be making out publicly with an eighth grader—they were the same age, but still. So I went along with the game, which didn’t actually involve anything but pretending to fawn over Noah to Jamie over dinner and stuff. But I was with this other guy. Let’s call him Kyle,” she said, and her voice turned sharp. “We’d been dating for, like, six months in total secret. My parents would’ve hated him,” she said, almost under her breath. “And we were having sex. Which my parents also would’ve hated.” She glanced at the bathroom door. “Long story short, at some point I probably missed a pill, then I was late, then boom, two pink lines. I told Kyle, who said it wasn’t his problem—I was easy, and must have been ‘sleeping around.’” She rolled her eyes. “A winner, clearly.”

“Sounds like it,” I said quietly.

She half-smiled. “I knew I wasn’t ready for a baby and that adoption wasn’t for me; I knew what I wanted, I was sure, but I just felt—alone.” She leaned back against the wall and stared at me. “I didn’t trust my friends to keep the secret, my parents would have lost it if they found out, and the idea of going to Planned Parenthood by myself was excruciating. Holding it all in just made me feel—I felt screwed up.” Her eyes hardened and she looked at the floor. “Noah saw me crying by the vending machines at school—I was such a mess that I just blurted everything out to the poor kid.” She smiled at the memory. “But he was really great. He used his connections and had an appointment made with a private ob-gyn and he went with me. Anyway, I cried a lot after—I hated feeling like it was this ugly secret even though it was what I wanted and I was relieved.” Her lips thinned into a hard line. “Noah saw me on the way to lunch a few days later and asked how I was and I just burst into tears. Jamie walked by, Noah walked away, Jamie drew his own conclusions and thought Noah dumped me, and I was too upset to correct him.”

I couldn’t stay quiet anymore. “So you just let everyone think he screwed you over? After he helped you?”

Stephanie shook her head. “I called Noah as soon as I got home that night, telling him I’d tell Jamie something else, make up a different lie, but he said he didn’t care and the way he said it? I believed him. It’s funny,” she said, though she didn’t smile. “I think part of him actually wants to be hated. He only ever shows you what he wants you to see. He’s so closed off—it made me feel like he’d never tell.”

“He never did tell,” I said slowly. “But why are you telling me?” Not that I didn’t appreciate it, because I did.

Her Mona Lisa smile appeared again. “Sometimes the biggest secrets you can only tell a stranger.” She leaned against the painted gray wall and tilted her head. Considered me. “I don’t care what you think of me—I made the right choice for my life and I don’t regret it. If you think I’m a horrible person and a murderer and that I’m going to hell, we never have to see each other again. But it would hurt my parents if they knew, and Jamie—he’s awesome, and the most loyal person I’ve ever known. But he’s a little . . .” She scratched her nose, “He’s judgmental. Self-righteous. I love him to death, but he has this black-and-white worldview. Like, he likes you a lot, but he was ragging on you earlier for being with Noah even knowing you’re going to have your heart broken—he holds onto stuff forever. Noah definitely has his assaholic moments, and there’s a lot of darkness there; I’ve heard he’s done some seriously fucked-up shit. Maybe he will break your heart, I’m no oracle.” She shrugged. “But in the fallacious case of Noah Shaw vs. Stephanie Roth? He’s not guilty,” she said, heading for the door. She put her hand on the handle. “I just—watching you out there, with your brother—” she started. Dropped a shrug. “I just wanted you to know.”

“Wait,” I said, and her hand fell to her side. “Why don’t you just tell Jamie now? It’s been years.”

“He’s got other crap to deal with, and he’s taking this whole Horizons thing pretty hard. Or rather, he’s taking the fact that our parents don’t believe a word he says pretty hard.”

I knew what that was like.

“Plus, he’s adopted, and I think it might bother him.”

I shook my head. “I don’t think so. I think he’d want to know the truth.”

“There is no truth,” Stephanie said mysteriously. “Only perspectives. Philosophy 101,” she said with a wink.

But despite her light tone, I could see that she was biting the insides of her cheek.

“I don’t want him to know, okay?” she said after a pause. She looked me in the eye. “So don’t tell him.” And then Stephanie walked out the door.

I stared after her. Jamie thought he was being loyal by hating Noah, who had actually only helped. And Stephanie wasn’t upset about her choice; she was just afraid of what her brother would think of her for making it.

Was I so different?

I used to think there was nothing I could do to change the way my family saw me. There was nothing I couldn’t say.

But now I knew that wasn’t true. I’ll walk forever with stories inside me that the people I love the most can never hear.

35

I SURVIVED MY FIRST WEEK AT HORIZONS WITHOUT killing anyone or getting killed myself, and by the time Friday afternoon arrived, I was relatively thrilled. Noah called and asked if I wanted him to spend the weekend, which, obviously, I answered in the affirmative despite the fact that he still sounded a bit off. So he convinced Ruth to go out of town and had her call my mother to ask if she would host him. Mom said yes without hesitation—I was surprised, but gift horses and mouths. You know.

Half the family was in and half was out when Daniel and I got home from our sibling session at Horizons, and since nothing much was planned and I had nothing to do, I picked up New Theories in Genetics, which was conveniently sitting on my desk, and took it to the family room to read.

“Mara?”

Daniel’s voice. Daniel’s hand on my shoulder. I opened my eyes to find that my cheek was smushed against the sixth page.

I fell asleep. Fantastic.

I wiped my mouth in case I’d been drooling. “What time is it?”

“Not even five. Interesting choice of pillow. Title?”

I handed Daniel the book. He squinted at it. Then at me.

“What?”

“Nothing. Just seems like an unusual selection.”

“For me, you mean.”

“I didn’t know you were interested in genetics, that’s all.”

I sat up and folded my legs beneath me. “What happened to the ‘I wish Mara knew she was just as smart as me’ business?”

“Nothing. Still true. But what sparked the sudden interest?”

“Noah said something about genetic memory and it made me curious. He said he read about it in there.” I tipped my head toward the book. “But the only things I picked up in the introduction were references to Euhemerism and Jungian archetypes—”

“Euhemerus, wow. Way to trigger an eighth-grade honors English flashback.”

“Seriously—”

“You had O’Hara too, right? Did she make you guys do that project where you had to choose a myth and invent a ‘historical’ interpretation?”

“Yeah—”

“I think I ended up doing something about Aphrodite and heteronormativity—I don’t really remember much except that it was brilliant, even for me,” he said with a smile. “Why are you reading this again?”

“To achieve enlightenment about genetic memory. I have only six hundred plus pages to go.”

Daniel made a face, and scratched his nose.

“What?”

“Not to, like, discourage you or anything, but genetic memory is science fiction, not science fact.”

I shot him a weary look.

“Sorry, but it is. It can’t be peer reviewed or tested—”

“That doesn’t mean it’s impossible.”

“It means it’s unprovable.”

I thought of everything I had been through and all the things I was still going through, none of which I could prove. “Just because you can’t prove something doesn’t mean it isn’t real.” I reached for the book.

Daniel dodged out of arm’s length and flipped it open to the first page. “Maybe I’ll give it a read anyway.”

I reached for it again, flexing my fingers. “You can borrow it after me.”

“But you’re not reading it. You’re sleeping on it. I’ll put it in my room—you can get it whenever you want. Oh, and ask Mom about Jung, she’ll like that.”

“Daniel—”

“THERE IS AN ALLIGATOR IN MAX’S POOL!” Joseph shouted from the foyer. He came running into the living room, his face lit with excitement.

“How big?” Daniel asked, and shifted the giant book behind his back.

“Big,” Joseph said, eyes wide. “Really big.”

My turn. “Did you see it?”

Joseph shook his head. “He e-mailed. They’re calling that guy to come over and get it out.”

“What guy?” Daniel asked.

“Wait, that guy from Animal Planet?” I asked.

Joseph nodded furiously. “He invited me over to watch. His mom is freaking out because they have an outdoor cat and they haven’t found her yet.”

Ice slid through my veins as I remembered—

The still body of a gray cat lay inches from where I’d been standing, its flesh torn open, its fur streaked with red.

My mother appeared in the kitchen. “Max’s cat is missing too?”

Daniel arched an eyebrow. “Too?”

I had to stay calm. Had to keep up the show.

“The Delaneys just asked me if any of us have seen their cat.” Their house bordered ours in the back. “She’s been missing since Sunday.”

Since I came home.

Joseph’s eyebrows lowered. “That’s when Jenny’s dog ran away.”

Who’s Jenny? I mouthed to Daniel.

“Angelo,” Daniel said. “Across the street and to the left.”

Joseph looked back at Mom. “Mom, will you take me to Max’s?”

“I’m kind of tired, honey.”

Joseph looked at Daniel and then at me. We simultaneously said, “Not it.”

Joseph clasped his hands together in mock prayer. “PLEASE take me! I will never ever ask for anything ever again, I swear.”

“Mara has to stay and help me with dinner,” my mom said.

My turn to make a face, even though I was spectacularly relieved. “I do?”

“Daniel, take him please?” she asked. Daniel was already reaching for her keys.

“Thanks.”

Joseph fist-pumped, but turned to me before he left. “You’re coming to the carnival tonight, right?”

I raised an eyebrow. “What carnival?”

“There’s a fair out in Davie,” Mom said. “I thought it would be fun if we all went.”

“Be back soon,” Daniel said as he left the kitchen and left New Theories on the counter. Then popped his head back in for one final you owe me look.

I did owe him. Remembering the cat unsettled me, even though I knew John was outside, watching our house. Jude hadn’t appeared since John had been here and the missing animals could be a coincidence, but they made me nervous and—

And my mother was looking at me.

I smiled at her. Widely. “What can I do?” I asked, all enthusiasm and cheer.

“Would you mind setting the table?”

“Sure!” I began unloading the dishwasher while my mother started rummaging in the pantry.

“How’s everything going at Horizons?” she asked.

So this is why I was granted a reprieve. “It’s great!”

“What kinds of things are you doing there?”

Aside from making new enemies? “Um, in drama therapy yesterday we chose monologues from old books and then performed them.”

“Did you like it?”

I nodded seriously. “I did.”

“Really?”

“It’s fun pretending to be someone else.”

“What book did you pick?”

“Um, Jekyll and Hyde.”

“What part did you play?”

Hyde. “Jekyll.”

She put something in the oven, hiding her face. “How are things with Noah?”

Ah. That was what she really wanted to talk about. “They’re good.” I think. “The same, you know?”

“What do you guys do together?”

Aside from evading my stalker and burning dolls? “We talk.”

“About what?”

Genetic memory. “Books.” Possession. “Movies.” Jude. “People we don’t like.”

“Do you talk about what’s going on with you?”

I tried to remember the conversation I overheard between my parents, right after my psych ward stint. Mom said it was good for me to have someone who listened—

“He’s a good listener,” I said.

“Do you talk about what’s going on with him?”

What? “What do you mean?”

She turned to face me, her features neutral and her stare direct. She searched for something in my eyes, but whatever it was, she didn’t find it because she went on. “Noah’s parents are going out of town this weekend and they sent his sister to a friend’s house, so I said he could stay here.”

I nodded. “I know. . . .” I waited for the other shoe.

“I just want to make sure I don’t have to worry about you two.”

I shook my head emphatically. “Nope. No worries.”

She mixed something together in a bowl and then set it down on the counter. “How serious are you?”

“Not serious enough for you to worry,” I said with a light smile, scrambling for a way to distract her before the conversation got seriously awkward. “Hey, Mom,” I started, remembering my conversation with Daniel. “What do you know about Jungian archetypes?” Best segue ever.

She looked appropriately surprised. “Wow, I haven’t thought about that since college. . . . I could tell you more about Jacques Lacan than Carl Jung—he was more my speed, but let’s see,” she said, drawing out the word as her eyes flicked to the ceiling. “There’s the Self, I remember, and the Shadow,” she ticked them off on her fingers, “the Persona . . . I’m blanking on the other two main ones . . . There are other archetypal figures, though—the Great Mother, the Devil, the Hero . . .” Her voice trailed off for a second before her face lit up. “Oh! And the Sage and the Trickster, too—and I’m remembering something about Oedipus, but he could be creeping in from Freud? And Apollo, maybe—” she said before being interrupted by a knock on the door.

I was already on my way out of the kitchen when she asked me to see who it was.

I opened the door to find Noah standing there in a long-sleeve plaid shirt and dark jeans, with sunglasses on that masked his eyes. He looked perfectly disheveled and perfectly blank.

He only ever shows you what he wants you to see.

“Where is everyone?” he asked evenly.

I pushed Stephanie’s words away. “Mom’s in the kitchen,” I said. “And Daniel and Joseph went to go watch someone remove an alligator from a pool.”

Noah’s brows rose above the dark lenses.

“I know.”

He sighed. “I suppose I’m going to have to wait.”

“For?”

Noah glanced at the kitchen. Not a peep from my mother. He shook his head. “Fuck it.” He reached into his back pocket and handed me a piece of paper.

No. Not a piece of paper. A picture. A faded color photograph of two girls; one blond and vibrant, wearing Noah’s half-smile, and the other—

“Holy shit,” I whispered.

The other was my grandmother.