Payback, page 26
Visit your mother, Dr. O told me earlier today, after I finished my last test. I’ll see you after Christmas.
He isn’t afraid I’ll run, and it’s not like I have anywhere else to be.
Caleb and the others didn’t try to leave without me, and since Caleb and I talked, they’ve kept even more distance. Without regular classes, I barely see them at all.
I’ve become invisible.
My arm is heavy as I lift my fist to knock.
“Door’s open, sweetheart!” Mom calls from inside. Irritation scalds my numb heart as I turn the knob and am greeted by a blast of heat. I drop my bag on the floor beside my shoes, then hang my coat on the rack next to hers.
“Mom, you have to lock the door.”
She’s in the kitchen making bacon from the smell of it. When I called to say I was on my way over, she shouted, “Breakfast for dinner!” told me she had to go wrap my presents, and hung up.
“Why? This isn’t Devon Park,” she calls back over the sound of Pop Store, her favorite celebrity gossip show, blaring on the television. “Besides, who’s going to mess with me?”
She leans around the kitchen partition, a knife raised in one fist. She’s trying to look tough, but her teeth are bared only for a second. In the next, her too-long bangs fall over her eyes, and she blows them aside.
“You’re right,” I say flatly, as some of the tension releases from my shoulders. “You’re terrifying.”
“Told you.” With a happy squeal, she sets down the knife and runs around the corner, wrapping me up in a giant hug. I slouch into her, trying to push down the sharp bite of pain before it takes over again.
“I’m so glad you’re here. I wasn’t sure if you’d be able to come home.” She pulls back, and her smile falls a little. “You’re looking rough, sweetheart. Were finals that bad?”
“Brutal,” I lie.
I crane my head down the short hallway to glance into her messy bedroom. It’s empty, as is the bathroom beside it. The living room/kitchen combo stretches before me, small but new, and nice. She’s put up some art on the walls since the last time I was here. A framed poster from an Aerosmith concert she went to when I was a baby. A picture of me and her at the lake when I was about ten. I’m holding a blue balloon and have a stupid look on my face. I don’t know why she likes that picture so much.
She hurries back into the kitchen as the smell of burning pancakes fills the air.
“Need help?”
“Nope.” Waving a towel, she dispels the smoke as I take a seat at one of the stools at the counter. “Talk to me. How’s life? How’s Charlotte and Henry and that cute Grayson Sterling?”
I swallow. “Fine.” I don’t want to get into it, otherwise I’ll fall apart. “What about you? How’s Geri’s dad?” My stomach clenches.
“Frank?” she asks, with a small smirk. “Fine, I guess. Kind of boring. We were supposed to go to dinner tonight, but he cancelled right before you called. I’m not brokenhearted, in case you’re wondering.”
I’m sickened by the fact that Dr. O arranged another date with Frank Allen, only to have it cancelled when he gave me the night off. Was that a threat? Did Dr. O know that Mom would tell me this?
The urge rises in me to tell her to run—a thought I banished a hundred times on the drive over. Dr. O knows I’m here. If she runs, he will find a way to punish me.
“You should break up with him,” I say, arms wrapped around my waist. “I hear he’s a jerk.”
She glances up, brows quirked. She and I look alike, especially when she makes the sassy, is-that-so? face.
“I think after twenty-nine years I can fend for myself, don’t you think?”
Which is why she was with Pete-the-drug-dealer for so many years, I’m sure.
A tense sigh slips out of my lips. I can’t force the issue without risking her saying something to Geri’s dad, or something to someone who might be listening at her job at Wednesday, and it getting back to Dr. O.
“Twenty-nine came and went a few years ago,” I mumble.
She gasps, and takes a plate of bacon off the stove. “Guess that school didn’t teach you manners.”
I try to smile, but it deflates.
“You know what you need?” She points a spatula at me. “Presents!”
I grin as she races out of the kitchen to her bedroom. From inside comes the sound of crinkling paper, and I make my way to my messenger bag to pull out the small, unwrapped velvet box from the pocket. There are other gifts inside too, that I’d hidden in my room, and somehow couldn’t leave behind at school. Stupid things I’ve collected over the past few months. A baby shirt that says My Aunt Is My Favorite for Charlotte, along with a bag of M&M’s. A silly friendship bracelet for Henry with blue and silver stripes, the colors of his favorite hockey team. I even have our small, Australian flag for Sam to commemorate his hard work in Model UN. My fingers close around the slim side of a notepad, and my heart lurches.
Don’t feel, don’t fail.
I take the jewelry box and close the bag. By the time I’m back at the stool, Mom’s carrying two small wrapped gifts my way.
“You first,” she says, setting them on the counter. “And just so you know, I’m also taking you shopping. I’ve got a big, important job now.”
My gut sinks. I wish she’d never taken that job with Wednesday Pharmaceuticals.
“Okay.” I reach for the first gift, a rectangle wrapped in shiny red paper. The corner of a black frame reveals itself, and then an old photo comes into view. A man sits in a green vinyl chair holding a swaddled baby, not more than a few hours old, with blotchy pink cheeks and half-opened eyes. His smile is a sickle moon, and his eyes gleam like stars.
My throat locks up.
It’s my dad and me.
“I found it when I moved,” she says. “It was in a box in the attic with some of your baby stuff. Little onesies and Bunny Boo, that stuffy Ms. Malcom down the street got you. You remember Bunny Boo?”
I don’t, nor do I remember my father’s smile—it’s faded in my memory, and most of the pictures disappeared when Pete came to live with us.
“I thought he had a beard,” I manage. In the photos I did see, he always had one.
“Oh.” She laughs. “He grew that when you were about two, I think.” She pauses, her eyes growing worried. “You like it?”
I nod. She puts her arm around my shoulders.
“He loved you so much,” she says. “When we brought you home, he sat outside on the front steps with you every day so the neighbors would see you as they walked by. My girl’s here! he would shout. It was so embarrassing.” She smiles and wipes a tear from her eye. “He used to speak only Spanish to you when you were a baby. He was convinced he’d take you to Colombia. His mom wanted to meet you. Meet both of us, I guess.”
“What about his dad?” My grandfather? It’s strange to think of family when my mom’s estranged from her own parents.
“Died of cancer before you were born,” she says. “And his mom went shortly after your dad did—some complication of the flu, I think. Your dad’s sister still lives there, I think. I don’t really know. I never met her.”
A door I never knew was shut cracks open. I want to go to Colombia. I want to see where my dad grew up.
I want Caleb to come with me. To geek out over all the different buildings. To hold my hand when I meet my aunt.
My heart clenches.
How will we do any of that after what I told him I’d do if he ran?
“Did you love my dad?” I ask.
“More than applesauce.” She sighs.
“Did you love Pete?”
Her brows draw together. She pushes her bangs aside. “In the good times I loved him a lot. In the rest … I was waiting for the next good time to show up.”
I remember the fear in her voice when the tension filled his. She was waiting a lot when it came to Pete, and the payoff wasn’t always worth it.
Maybe that’s what happens when the wrong person unlocks the best and the worst in you.
My thoughts drift to Moore, and the last words I said to him. I hope he’s still protecting the others, even if he can’t protect me. Still doing what Susan asked all those years ago.
“Here,” Mom says, pushing Moore from my mind and the other package my way. It’s the size of a fist, and when I unwrap the small box, my brows lift in surprise. “It’s a rock.”
She grins. “Really a top-notch education you’re getting at Vale Hall, isn’t it?”
I lift the small gray stone out of the box. It’s no bigger than the tip of my thumb, and looks like any other piece of gravel you’d find on the street.
“Thanks so much,” I say.
She laughs. “It’s from the house. The spot out front, remember? Next to the stairs, where the weeds always grew.”
I remember the patch of rocks. “Again, thanks?”
Her hand reaches around mine, and closes my fist. “It’s a piece of our home, Brynn. Take it with you. You’ve got big things on the horizon, but you can’t forget where you came from. That’s the place that made you.”
The stone grows warm in my hand. I try to think of something snarky to say. The house on Midgard was a heap—a dilapidated pile of bricks with weak plumbing and no central air, across from an abandoned factory where people went to do drugs.
But it was my home.
It was where Mom and I would make cupcakes on my birthday, and watch Pop Store, and eat wings late at night from Gridiron Sports Bar. Where my dad sat on the front steps and called out to the neighbors, My girl’s here!
It makes me think of something Marcus said in Baltimore. Devon Park’s a place. You give it hate, you give it power.
I gave it hate, but it made me who I am.
A cheat. A liar.
Unbreakable, even now.
I feel the tears well up in my eyes, but I bite the inside of my cheek until they subside. I can’t fall apart now. I need to be strong, the way Devon Park made me. The way Mom taught me.
She squeezes me close, and my head rests on her shoulder.
“I love you more than chocolate fudge,” she says.
“I love you more than anything,” I reply.
She sniffles.
“Stop it,” I tell her, shoving the rock into my pocket. “Your turn. Sorry I didn’t wrap it. I’ve been a little busy.”
Guilt swamps through me as I shove the jewelry box her way. I should have gotten her something thoughtful. Nothing is as good as what she gave me.
She waves a hand, and pulls back the lid of the box. Then screams like I’ve given her the keys to a new car.
She holds up the gold dangly earrings with the small red stones from the outlet mall in Mason. “I love them!”
Maybe Henry knows what he’s doing after all.
I wish I knew what he was up to right now. What all of them were doing. They don’t generally go home for breaks—Vale Hall, each other, it’s all most of us have.
Dr. O chose us for that reason. Less chance for others to find out what we’re really doing to earn our keep.
It’s probably better I’m not at school with them.
“Good,” I tell her.
A hard knock comes from the door, and immediately, I brace for a fight.
“Who is that?” I ask harshly. “Geri’s dad?” Belk? Dr. O?
My heart is racing as she scowls and makes her way to the door. “I don’t know. I didn’t think anyone else was coming.”
“Mom, wait…” I cut in front of her as she reaches the entryway.
“Brynn!”
Was this Dr. O’s plan? Get me away from school? Get us together, then finish us off? I am sick with myself. I shouldn’t have fallen for this. There’s not even another way out—we’re on the second floor, and if we try to go out her bedroom window, it’s a hard landing on the parking lot below.
Mouth dry, I peek through the peephole and see two shadowed figures standing on the front mat.
One steps closer as he knocks, and I can make out his blond hair shaved up sharply on one side and the collar of a worn, brown leather coat.
I rip back the door before his fist strikes the wood.
“Henry?”
He lowers his fist, a nervous half smile on his lips, tired bruises beneath his eyes. Beside him stands Grayson, looking as serious and severe as ever.
“Can we come in?” Grayson asks.
I don’t know what to say. I glance behind him, but no one is there.
“What are you … what’s going on? Why aren’t you at school? Did something happen? Are you okay?” My pulse rages in my ears. “Is it Charlotte?” Please don’t let Charlotte be hurt. My hand covers my mouth. “Is it Caleb?”
A knowing pity fills Henry’s eyes.
“You really are a train wreck,” says Grayson, his annoyance providing only minimal relief. Why are they here? How are they here? They’re being watched.
They step inside.
“Grayson!” My mom rushes forward to hug him, and with only a second delay, he hugs her back.
“Merry Christmas, Ms. Hilder.” He might as well be offering condolences at a funeral.
I shouldn’t have left. They needed me there to stand between them and Dr. O.
Mom pulls in Henry next, clearly immune to their somber attitudes. “Brynn didn’t tell me she invited her friends over. This is perfect! I made so much bacon!”
With that, she rushes toward the kitchen, leaving the three of us unsteady in the entryway. I still don’t know why they’re here, and my resolve to stay strong is holding on by a thread. I’m so scared, and I don’t know how to keep this act up anymore.
“You look like you’re going to cry,” Henry says to me.
And I sort of hate him right then, because he’s exactly right.
CHAPTER 25
I hold it together until Henry hugs me, and then it’s all over.
I cry. Not just a few tears, but silent, racking sobs, and when I grip his leather jacket in my fists, he pulls me closer, until I’m sure I’m soaking the collar of his shirt.
“Dinner’s read—oh.” Mom’s voice is close again; she must have come out of the kitchen. Her hand rests between my shoulder blades, but Henry doesn’t let go, and I don’t either. “Why don’t you help yourselves to some food?” she says quietly. “I need to wrap some more presents in my bedroom.”
She pats my back, and the next sound I hear is the door to her room scuffing closed over the carpet floor.
“The earrings look great on her,” Henry whispers.
I hiccup a sob. “Thanks for that.”
He shrugs, and I pull back a little to find Grayson glaring at me over Henry’s shoulder.
Wiping my face on the back of the sleeve of my sweatshirt, I stand straighter. “So, what’s going on?”
“You tell us.” Grayson crosses his arms over his chest.
I cross mine too, mirroring his posture.
“There’s nothing to tell.”
“Don’t do that,” Grayson says. “I wrote that game. I patented it. If you want to play cold and indifferent, you owe me twenty percent royalties.”
My mouth quirks.
His glare hardens.
“Can I eat bacon while you argue?” asks Henry. His fingers thread through mine, and he pulls me toward the kitchen. Grayson follows reluctantly.
“Did you know I started at Vale Hall my sophomore year?” Henry says, using the tongs on the batter-splattered counter to load two half-burned pancakes and bacon onto a plate. “My mom had an episode and got in some trouble, and Dr. O showed up in court to vouch for her and agreed to take me to school while she got her meds figured out.” He searches through the drawers until he finds the forks, then places one on the plate and passes it my way.
I glance at Grayson, but he’s worrying the corner of his lip between his teeth, his focus on Henry.
“Things were great at first. Kind of overwhelming, but Caleb was … you know. Caleb. So things were good. I didn’t have a big assignment like everyone else. I had tasks—scavenger hunts, Dr. O called them. I had to get someone’s phone from a locker room, or plant a receipt in someone’s wallet. It wasn’t bad. Not like some of the rest of you. I didn’t even know what he did with any of it.” Without looking up at either of us, Henry fills another plate and passes it to Grayson. “Then he asked me to take this guy’s credit card at some big fancy dinner in Uptown. He even got me a tux for it.”
Henry pauses before filling another plate, and judging from the drumming of Grayson’s fingers on the counter, I’m not the only one who’s noticed the queasy look on his face.
“I got his wallet, and the card, and then I took it to this hotel outside the city. A … bed-and-breakfast.”
Grayson’s fingers stop drumming. Henry’s face twists into the same pained expression he had at the cabin when Grayson said he’d been able to prove his dad’s affair.
My heart aches for them both as another domino slides into place.
“I had to pay for a hotel room with it, and fake a signature, then get back before the party was over.” Henry faces us, back straight as if braced for judgment. “The room was registered to someone with the initials S.G.”
“Susan Griffin,” says Grayson bitterly.
“I didn’t know it was her, or who she was at the time. I just knew the setup was supposed to make them look like they were having an affair. I didn’t know why until you told that story at the cabin.” The shame bows Henry’s shoulders as he faces Grayson. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t think about things before. I was just happy … to be able to help someone. I could never help my mom. I tried, but … I wasn’t enough.”
“You were doing your job,” I say, when Grayson stays quiet.
“That doesn’t make it okay.” Henry rakes his hands through his hair, messing it all up. “If I hadn’t taken your dad’s credit card that night, you wouldn’t have believed Dr. O when he said your dad was having an affair. You wouldn’t have called him that night, and he wouldn’t have crashed into Susan, and you’d still be home with your family.”
Another slice of truth punctures the images I have in my mind of the night of Susan’s supposed death. We’re all connected in this web of lies.
