Текст книги "The Unbecoming of Mara Dyer"

Автор книги: Michelle Hodkin

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Текущая страница: 9 (всего у книги 21 страниц)

24

AFTER SCHOOL, I FOUND DANIEL WAITING for me at the back gate. He shifted his overloaded backpack to his other shoulder.

“Well, well. If it isn’t the talk of the town.” “News travels fast ‘round these parts?” I asked, but as I did, I noticed quite a bit of staring from other Croyden students as we made our way to his car.

“On the contrary, dear sister. I didn’t hear about the showdown at Tiki Corral until a half an hour after it ended,” he said as we reached the car. “Are we going to talk about it?”

I barked out a laugh as I pulled my car door open and ducked inside. “No.”

Daniel followed in less than a second. “Noah Shaw, huh?”

“I said no.”

“When did that happen?”

“No means no.”

“You don’t actually think you’re going to be allowed out of the house with this guy without my help, do you?”

“Still no.”

Daniel pulled out of the parking lot. “Something tells me you’ll come around,” he said, and smiled at the road in front of us the whole way home. So annoying. When he pulled into the driveway, I shot out of the passenger seat, almost missing the fact that our younger brother was crouched over the bushes that separated our house from the neighboring property. Daniel was already inside.

I made my way over to Joseph. As of yesterday, he’d seemed fine. Like the hospital never happened. I wanted to make sure it stayed that way.

“Hey,” I said as I walked up to him. “What’s—”

A black cat he’d been petting slit its yellow eyes and hissed at me. I took a step back.

Joseph withdrew his hand and turned, still crouched. “You’re scaring her.”

I raised my hands defensively. “Sorry. You coming inside?”

The cat issued a low meow and then darted away. My brother stood and wiped his hands on his shirt.

“I am now.”

Once in the house, I dropped my bag by the front table, ignoring the crunch of some unidentifiable object inside the canvas, and strolled into the kitchen. The phone rang. Joseph darted to pick it up.

“Dyer residence,” he answered formally.

“Hold please,” he said as he covered the mouthpiece. He really was hilarious. “It’s for you, Mara,” he said. “And it’s a booooy,” he sing-songed.

I rolled my eyes but wondered who it could be. “I’m taking it in my room,” I said as Joseph erupted in giggles. Horrible.

Out of his field of vision, I jogged the rest of the way and lifted my phone. “Hello?”

“Hello,” Noah answered, mimicking my American accent. But I’d know that voice anywhere.

“How did you get my phone number?” I blurted, before I could stop myself.

“It’s called research.” I could hear him smirking over the phone.

“Or stalking.”

Noah chuckled. “You’re adorable when you’re bitchy.”

“You’re not,” I said, but smiled despite myself.

“What time shall I pick you up on Sunday? And where exactly do you live?”

Noah meeting my family could not happen. I would never hear the end of it. “You don’t have to pick me up,” I said in a rush.

“Considering you have no idea where we’re going and I have no intention of telling you, I’m quite sure that I do.”

“I can meet you somewhere centrally located.”

Noah sounded amused. “I promise to press my trousers before meeting your family. I’ll even bring flowers for the occasion.”

“Oh, God. Please don’t,” I said. Maybe honesty would be the best policy. “My family is going to screw with my life if you come over.” I knew them far too well.

“Congratulations—you just made the prospect all the more enticing. What’s your address?”

“I hate you more than you can know.”

“Give it up, Mara. You know I’ll find it anyway.”

I sighed, defeated, and gave it to him.

“I’ll be there at ten.”

“Oh,” I said, surprised. “For some reason I thought this was a day thing.”

“Hilarious. Ten in the morning, darling.”

“Can’t a girl sleep in on the weekend?”

“You don’t sleep. See you Sunday, and don’t wear stupid shoes.” Noah said, and hung up before I could reply.

I stood, staring at the phone. He was so aggravating. But a nervous thrill traveled through my stomach. Me and Noah. Sunday. Just us.

My mother poked her head into my room and spoke, startling me. “Dad’s going to be home for dinner tonight. Can you help set the table? Or does your arm hurt too much?”

My arm. My mother. Would she still let me go?

“Be right there,” I said, putting down the phone. Seems I’d need Daniel’s help after all.

I walked down the hallway and slipped into his room. He was on his bed, reading a book.

“Hi,” I said.

“Hi.” He didn’t look up.

“So, I need your help.”

“With what, pray tell?”

He was going to make this as difficult as possible. Awesome. “I’m supposed to go out with Noah on Sunday.”

He laughed.

“Glad I amuse you.”

“I’m sorry, I’m just—I’m impressed.”

“God, Daniel, am I really that hideous?”

“Oh, come on. That’s not what I meant. I’m impressed that you actually agreed to go out. That’s all.”

I sulked, and raised my arm. “I don’t think Mom is ever going to let me out of her sight again.”

At this, Daniel finally looked at me and raised an eyebrow. “She was supremely pissed Wednesday night, but now that you’re, you know, talking to someone, I could work some magic, I think.” His grin spread. “If you spilled the proverbial beans, that is.”

If anyone could work our mother, it was Daniel. “Fine. What?”

“Did you know it was coming?”

“My sketchbook went missing on Wednesday.”

“Nice try. How about the part where Shaw declared to practically the entire school that you’d been using him to practice your nudes?”

I sighed. “Complete surprise.”

“That’s what I thought when I heard it. I mean, really. You’ve barely left the house….” He trailed off, but I heard the things he didn’t say—you’ve barely left the house except to run away from a party, to visit the emergency room, to visit a psychiatrist.

I interrupted the awkward silence. “So are you going to help me or not?”

Daniel tilted his head sideways and smiled. “You like him?”

This was unbearable. “You know what, forget it.” I turned to leave.

Daniel sat up. “All right, all right. I’ll help you. But only out of guilt.” He made his way over to me. “I should have told you about Dad’s case.”

“Well, consider us even, then,” I said, then smiled. “If you help me set the table.”

“So what’s the special occasion?” I asked my father at dinner that night. He gave me a questioning look. “It’s, like, the third time you’ve been home this early since we moved.”

“Ah,” he said, and smiled. “Well, it was a good day at the office.” He took a bite of curried chicken, then swallowed. “Turns out my client’s the real deal. The so-called eyewitness is a hundred years old. She is not going to hold up on cross.”

My mother stood to retrieve more food from the kitchen. “That’s lovely, Marcus,” she said, watching me. I kept my face carefully composed.

“Well, what do you want me to say? Lassiter has an alibi. He has roots in the community. He’s one of the most well-respected land developers in south Florida, he’s given hundreds of thousands of dollars to conservancy groups—”

“Isn’t that, like, oxymoronic?” Joseph chimed in.

Daniel grinned at our little brother, and then piped up. “I think Joseph’s right. Maybe that’s all just a pretense. I mean, he’s a developer and he’s donating to the groups who hate him? It’s obviously just for show—probably bought him good will at his bail hearing.”

I decided to join in, to keep up appearances. “I agree. Sounds like he has something to hide.” I sounded suitably jovial. My mother even gave me a thumbs-up from the kitchen. Mission accomplished.

“All right,” my father said, “I know when I’m being ganged up on. But it’s not very funny, guys. The man’s on trial for murder, and the evidence doesn’t add up.”

“But Dad, isn’t it your job to say that?”

“Knock it off, Joseph. You tell him, Dad,” Daniel said to our father. When my dad’s back was turned, Daniel winked at our little brother.

“What I’d like to know,” my mother said as my father opened his mouth to retort, “is where my eldest son will be attending college next year.”

And then Daniel was in the spotlight. He reported on the college acceptances he expected, and I tuned him out while shoveling some basmati rice onto my plate. I’d already taken a bite when I noticed something fall through the prongs of my fork. Something small. Something pale.

Something moving.

I froze mid-chew as my gaze slid over my plate. White maggots writhed on the porcelain, half-drowned in curry. I covered my mouth.

“You okay?” Daniel asked, then ate a forkful of rice.

I looked at him wide-eyed with my mouth still full, and then back down at my food. No maggots. Just rice. But I couldn’t bring myself to swallow.

I got up from the table and walked slowly to the hallway. Once I turned the corner, I raced to the guest bathroom, and spit out the food. My knees trembled and my body felt clammy. I splashed cold water over my pale, sweaty face and looked in the mirror out of habit.

Jude stood behind me, wearing the same clothes he had on the night I last saw him and a smile that was completely devoid of warmth. I couldn’t breathe.

“You need to take your mind off this place,” he said, before I turned to the toilet and threw up.

25

MY ALARM SHOCKED ME AWAKE SUNDAY morning. I hadn’t remembered falling asleep at all. I was still in the clothes I was wearing the day before.

I was just tired. And maybe a little nervous about meeting Noah today. Maybe. A little. I focused on my closet and surveyed my options.

Skirt, no. Dress, definitely not. Jeans it would be, then. I pulled on a destroyed pair and snatched a favorite T-shirt from my dresser drawer, yanking it over my head.

My heart beat wildly in sharp contrast to the sluggish movement of every other body part as I made my way to the kitchen that morning, as if everything was normal. Because it was.

My mother was putting slices of bread in the toaster when I walked in.

“Morning, Mom.” My voice was so even. I gave myself an internal round of applause.

“Good morning, honey.” She smiled, and pulled out a filter for the coffeepot. “You’re up early.” She tucked a strand of her short hair behind her ear.

“Yes.” I was. And she didn’t know why. Since Wednesday, I’d been trying to think of some way to mention today’s nonplans to her, but my mind kept blanking. And now he was almost here.

“Got any plans today?”

Go time. “Yeah, actually.” Keep it casual. No big deal.

“What are you up to?” She rummaged through the cabinets and I couldn’t see her face.

“I don’t really know.” It was true; I didn’t, though that is generally not what parents like to hear. Particularly not my parents. Particularly not my mother.

“Well, who are you going with?” she asked. If she wasn’t suspicious yet, she would be soon.

“A boy from school …” I said, my voice trailing off as I braced myself for the third degree.

“Do you want to take my car?”

What?

“Mara?”

I blinked. “Sorry … I thought I said ‘what?’ What?”

“I asked if you wanted to take the Acura. I don’t need it today, and you’re off the codeine.”

Daniel must have held up his side of the bargain. I’d have to ask how he finagled it later.

I declined to correct my mother and tell her I’d been off the codeine for days. The burn still hurt, but since Friday, it had subsided quite a bit. And under the dressings, it didn’t look nearly as bad as I’d expected. The ER doctor told me I would probably scar, but my blisters already seemed to be healing. So far, so good.

“Thanks Mom, but he’s actually picking me up. He’ll be here in—” I checked the clock. Damn. “Five minutes.”

My mother turned to look at me, surprised. “I wish you’d given me a bit more notice,” she said, as she checked her reflection in the microwave’s glass surface.

“You look great, Mom. He’ll probably just honk or something anyway.” I was tempted to sneak a quick glance at myself in the microwave too, but wasn’t willing to chance who might be staring back. I poured myself a glass of orange juice and sat down at the kitchen table instead. “Is Dad here?”

“Nope, he left for the office. Why?”

Because that would leave one less person around to witness my coming humiliation. But before I could translate my thought into acceptable speech, Daniel sauntered in. He stretched, glancing his fingertips against the ceiling.

“Mother,” he said, kissing Mom on the cheek, as he made his way to the refrigerator. “Any plans today, Mara?” he asked, his head buried in the contents of the fridge.

“Shut up,” I said, but my heart wasn’t in it.

“Don’t tease her, Daniel,” my mother said.

Three knocks at the front door announced Noah’s arrival.

Daniel and I looked at each other for a half a second. Then I shot up from the kitchen table and he slammed the refrigerator door. We both bolted for the foyer. Daniel got there first. Bastard. My mother was right behind me, rubbernecking.

Daniel opened the front door wide. Noah was a standing ovation in dark jeans and a white T-shirt, exuding his scruffy charm.

And he was carrying flowers. My face didn’t know whether to blanch or blush.

“Morning,” Noah said, flashing a brilliant smile at the three of us. “I’m Noah Shaw,” he said, looking over my shoulder. He extended the bouquet of lilies to my mother, who reached past me to take it. It was stunning. Noah had good taste. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Dyer.”

“Come on in, Noah,” she gushed. “And you can call me Indi.”

I was dying. Daniel’s shoulders shook with silent laughter.

Noah stepped inside and grinned at my brother. “You must be Daniel?”

“Indeed. Pleased to make your acquaintance,” my brother said.

It was a slow, painful death.

“Please sit, Noah.” My mother gestured at the sofas in the living room. “I’m going to put these in some water.”

I saw a window of opportunity and latched on to it. “Actually, I think we have to—”

“I’d love to, thanks,” Noah said quickly. He was trying to hide a smile and failing, while Daniel looked like a canaryeating feline. They both walked into the living room. Daniel sat in an overstuffed armchair as Noah settled himself into one of the sofas. I stood.

“So, what are you doing with my little sister today?” Daniel asked. I closed my eyes in defeat.

“I’m afraid I can’t ruin the surprise,” Noah said. “But I promise I’ll return her intact.”

He did not just say that. Daniel cackled, and the two of them somehow segued into a conversation. About music, I think, but I wasn’t sure. I was too busy drowning in my embarrassment to pay much attention until my mother returned from the kitchen and breezed past me to sit directly across from Noah.

“So Noah, where in London are you from?” she asked.

This morning was full of surprises. How did she know where in England he was from? I looked at my mother and stared.

“Soho,” Noah replied. “Have you been there?”

My mother nodded, as Joseph wandered into the living room in his pajamas. “My mother lived in London before she moved to the U.S.,” she said. “We used to go every year when I was little.” She pulled Joseph onto the sofa next to her. “This is my baby, by the way,” she said, grinning.

Noah smiled at my younger brother. “Noah,” he said, introducing himself.

“Joseph,” my brother replied, and held out his hand.

My mother and Noah proceeded to chat like old mates about Mother England while I shifted from foot to foot, waiting for them to wrap it up.

My mother stood first. “It was so nice to meet you, Noah. Really. You’ll have to come over for dinner sometime,” she said, before I could stop her.

“I’d love to, if Mara will have me.”

Four pairs of eyebrows arched in expectation, waiting for my answer.

“Sure. Sometime,” I said, and pushed open the door.

Noah grinned unevenly. “Can’t wait,” he said. “It was an absolute pleasure, Indi. Daniel, we must talk. And Joseph, it was wonderful to meet you.”

“Wait!” My little brother shot up from the coach and ran to his room. He returned with his cell phone. “What’s your number?” he asked Noah.

Noah looked surprised, but he gave it to him anyway.

“What are you doing, Joseph?” I asked.

“Networking,” my brother said, still concentrating on his phone. Then he looked up, and a smile brightened his face. “Okay, got it.”

My mother smiled at Noah as he followed me out of the house. “Have a good time!” she called after us.

“Bye, Mom, we’ll be back … later.”

“Wait, Mara,” my mother said as she took a few steps out the door. Noah’s eyes lifted to us, but when my mother pulled me aside, he kept walking to his car, leaving us alone.

Mom held out her hand. A little round white pill was inside it.

“Mom,” I whispered through gritted teeth.

“I’d feel better if you took it.”

“Dr. Maillard said I didn’t have to,” I said, glancing over at Noah. He stood next to his car and looked away.

“I know honey, but—”

“Fine, fine,” I whispered, and took it from her. Noah was waiting, and I did not want him to see. This was blackmail of the worst kind.

“Take it now, please?”

I tossed the pill in my mouth and held it under my tongue as I pretended to swallow. I opened my mouth.

“Thank you,” she said, a sad smile on her face. I didn’t respond, and walked away. When I heard the front door close, I extracted the pill from my mouth and threw it on the ground. I hadn’t decided not to take the drugs, but I didn’t want to be forced.

“Pre-date pep talk?” Noah asked as he sauntered over to open the passenger door for me. I wondered if he’d seen the pill exchange. If he did, he didn’t act like it.

“This isn’t a date,” I said. “But that was quite a performance in there. She didn’t even ask what time I’d be coming home.”

Noah grinned. “Glad you enjoyed it.” He glanced down at my clothes and nodded once. “You’ll do.”

“You’re so fucking patronizing.”

“You have such a filthy mouth.”

“Does it bother you?” I smiled, pleased by the thought.

Noah grinned and shut the door behind me. “Not in the least.”

26

I WAITED FOR NOAH TO LIGHT A CIGARETTE ONCE he started to drive. Instead, he handed me a plastic cup filled with iced coffee.

“Thanks,” I said a little surprised. It looked like it had just the right amount of milk. I took a sip. And sugar. “So how long of a drive is it? To get wherever?”

Noah lifted his own cup and extracted the straw from it with his mouth. The muscles in his jaw worked as he chewed. I couldn’t tear my eyes away. “We’re stopping to see a friend, first,” he said.

A friend. It didn’t sound ominous, and truly, I tried not to be paranoid. But a part of me wondered if I was being set up for something. Something bigger than what Anna had planned. I swallowed hard.

Noah clicked on his iPod with one hand while he kept the other on the wheel.

“Hallelujah,” I said, smiling.

“What?”

“The song. I love this cover.”

“Really?” Noah looked obnoxiously surprised. “Doesn’t seem like your thing.”

“Oh? What’s my thing?”

“I had you pegged for a closeted pop fan.”

“Bite me.”

“If I must.”

The song ended and something classical came on. I reached for the iPod. “May I?” Noah shook his head in exaggerated disappointment, but waved me on anyway. “Calm yourself. I wasn’t going to change it, I just wanted to see.” I scrolled through his music; Noah had excellent but consistent taste. I was much more diverse. I smiled with satisfaction.

Noah arched an eyebrow. “What are you smirking about, over there?”

“I’m more well-rounded than you.”

“Not possible. You’re American,” he said. “And if it is true, it’s only because you like crap.”

“How is it that you have friends, Noah?”

“I ask myself that daily.” He chomped down on the plastic straw.

“Seriously. Inquiring minds want to know.”

Noah’s brow creased, but he stared straight ahead. “I guess I don’t.”

“Could have fooled me.”

“That wouldn’t be difficult.”

That stung. “Go to hell,” I said quietly.

“Already there,” Noah said calmly, pulling out the straw from his mouth and chucking it on the floor.

“So why are you doing this?” I asked, careful to keep my voice even, but an unpleasant image of myself at a prom night soiree covered in pig’s blood crept into my mind.

“I want to show you something.”

I turned away and looked out the window. I never knew which Noah to expect from day to day. Or hell, minute to minute.

Tangled overpasses wove around and above us, the hulking concrete monstrosities the only scenery on this part of I-95. We were heading south, and Noah and I didn’t speak most of the way.

At some point, the urban landscape gave way to ocean on both sides of the highway. It narrowed from four lanes to two and a steep, high bridge loomed in front of us.

Very steep. Very high.

We climbed behind the swarm of brake lights that crawled up the overpass in front of us. My throat closed. I gripped the center console with my bandaged hand, the pain screaming under my skin as I tried not to look straight ahead or to either side, where the turquoise water and the Miami skyline receded into smallness.

Noah placed his hand on mine. Just slightly. Barely touching.

But I felt it.

I tilted my head to look at his face, and he half-smiled while staring straight ahead. It was contagious. I smiled back. In response, Noah laced his fingers in between my bandaged ones, still resting on the plastic. I was too preoccupied by his hand on mine to feel any pain.

“Are you afraid of anything?” I asked.

His smile evaporated. He nodded his head once.

“Well?” I prodded. “I showed you mine …”

“I’m afraid of forgeries.”

I turned away. He couldn’t even reciprocate. Neither of us spoke for about a minute. But then.

“I’m afraid of being fake. Empty,” Noah said tonelessly. He released my fingers and the palm of his hand rested on the back of mine for a moment. My entire hand would fit almost completely into his. I flipped mine over and laced our fingers together before I realized what I was doing.

Then I realized what I was doing. My heart skipped a beat. I watched Noah’s face for something. A sign, maybe. I honestly didn’t quite know what.

But there was nothing there. His expresion was smooth, his forehead uncreased. Blank. And our fingers were still entwined. I didn’t know if mine were holding his in place by force and if his were just resting or—

“There’s nothing I want. There’s nothing I can’t do. I don’t care about anything. No matter what, I’m an impostor. An actor in my own life.”

His sudden candor floored me. I had no idea what to say, so I said nothing.

He extracted his hand from mine and pointed to an enormous gold dome across the water. “That’s the Miami Seaquarium.”

Still nothing.

Noah’s free hand searched in his pocket. He tapped out a cigarette and lit it, exhaling the smoke through his nose. “We ought to go.”

He wanted to take me back home. And to my surprise, I didn’t want that. “Noah, I—”

“To the Seaquarium. They have a killer whale there.”

“Okay …”

“Her name’s Lolita.”

“That’s …”

“Twisted?”

“Yeah.”

“I know.”

And let the awkward silence ensue. We turned off the highway, in an opposite direction from the Seaquarium, and the street curved into a busy neighborhood filled with peach, yellow, orange, and pink stucco boxes—houses—with bars on the windows. Everything was in Spanish; every sign, every storefront. But even as I looked, I felt Noah sitting next to me, inches away, waiting for me to say something. So I did.

“So, uh, have you seen—Lolita?” I asked. I wanted to punch myself in the face.

“God, no.”

“Then how’d you hear about her?”

He ran his fingers through his hair and a few strands fell into his eyes, catching the mid-morning sunlight. “My mother’s somewhat of an animal rights activist.”

“Right, the vet thing.”

“No, from before that. She became a vet because of the animal business. And it’s more than that, anyway.”

I knit my eyebrows together. “I don’t think it’s possible to be any more vague.”

“Well, I don’t know how to describe it, honestly.”

“Like animal rescue and stuff?” I wondered if Noah’s mother had pulled any dog theft capers like mine with Mabel.

“Kind of, but not what you’re thinking.”

Ha. “So, what then?”

“Ever hear of the Animal Liberation Front?”

“Aren’t they the ones that let all of those lab monkeys out of their cages and they spread this virus that turns people into zombies …?”

“I think that’s a movie.”

“Right.”

“But that’s the general idea.”

I conjured an image of Dr. Shaw in a ski mask freeing lab animals. “I like your mom.”

Noah smiled slightly. “Her primate freedom fighting days ended after she married my father. The in-laws didn’t approve,” he said with mock solemnity. “But she still gives money to those groups. When we moved here, she was all riled up about Lolita and she had a few fundraisers to try and raise enough money to get a bigger tank.”

“What happened?” I asked, as Noah took a long drag on his cigarette.

“The bastards kept raising their price with no guarantee that they’d actually build the thing,” Noah said, exhaling the smoke through his nose. “Anyway, because of my dad, she just gives money now, I think. I’ve seen the return envelopes in the outgoing mail.”

Noah took a sharp right, and I reflexively glanced out the window. I hadn’t been paying attention to the scenery—I was sitting inches away from Noah, after all—but now noticed that somewhere along the way, North Cuba had transformed into East Hampton. Sunlight filtered through the leaves of the enormous trees that lined both sides of the street, dappling our faces and hands through the glass of the windshield and sunroof. The houses here were experiments in excess; each one was more ostentatious and absurd than the next, and there was no uniform look to them whatsoever. The only thing the modern, glass house on one side of the street had in common with its opposite, a stately Victorian, was the scale. They were palaces.

“Noah?” I asked slowly.

“Yes?”

“Where are we going?”

“I’m not telling you.”

“And who is this friend?”

“I’m not telling you.”

Then, after a beat, “Don’t worry, you’ll like her.”

I looked down at the shredded knees of my jeans and my worn sneakers. “I feel ridiculously underdressed for a Sunday brunch scenario. Just saying.”

“She won’t care,” he said as he ran his fingers through his hair. “And you’re perfect.”