Because It Is My Blood (2 page)

“I wish I could help, but—”

She put her hand over my mouth and handed me yet another prewritten note. Apparently, my responses were just that predictable.

DON’T SAY NO! You can. You’re very powerful. I’ve thought a lot about this, Anya. I want to be a chocolate dealer.

I laughed because I couldn’t imagine that she was in earnest. The girl was five feet tall in socks and completely mute! I turned to look at her, and her expression told me that she hadn’t been kidding. At that moment, the match burned out, and she lit another one.

“Mouse,” I whispered. “I’m not involved in Balanchine Chocolate that way, and even if I was, I don’t know why you’d want that kind of a job.”

I’m seventeen. Mute. Criminal. I have no people, no $, no real education.

I could see her point. I nodded, and she passed me one last note.

You are the only friend I’ve made here. I know I’m small, weak, & mousy, but I am not a coward and I can do hard things. If you let me work with you, I will be loyal to you for life. I would die for you, Anya.

I told her that I didn’t want anyone to die for me, and I blew out the match.

I climbed out of Mouse’s bunk and went up to my own, where I quickly fell asleep.

In the morning when she wrote and I said goodbye, she didn’t mention that she had asked me to help her become a chocolate dealer. The last thing she wrote before the guards came for me was
See you around, A. My real name is Kate, by the way.

“Kate,” I said. “It’s nice to meet you.”

At eleven a.m., I was taken to change out of the Liberty jumpsuit and back into my street clothes. Despite the fact that I had been booted from the school, I had worn my Trinity uniform the day I had surrendered myself. I was so used to wearing the thing. Even three months later, as I was pulling the skirt over my hips, I could feel my body wanting to go back to school, and specifically to Trinity, where classes had started without me the previous week.

After I’d changed, I was brought to the discharge room. A lifetime ago, I had met Charles Delacroix in this same room, but today, Simon Green and Mr. Kipling, my lawyers, waited for me instead.

“Do I look like a person who has done hard time?” I asked them.

Mr. Kipling considered me before he answered. “No,” he said finally. “Though you do look very fit.”

I stepped out into the muggy mid-September air and tried not to feel the loss of that summer too much. There would be other summers. There would be other boys, too.

I breathed in, trying to get all that good exterior air into my lungs. I could smell hay, and in the distance, something rotten, sulfurous, maybe even burning. “Freedom smells different than I remember,” I commented to my lawyers.

“No, Anya, that’s just the Hudson River. It’s on fire again,” Mr. Kipling said with a yawn.

“What is it this time?” I asked.

“The usual,” Mr. Kipling replied. “Something to do with low water levels and chemical contamination.”

“Fear not, Anya,” Simon Green added. “The city’s nearly as run-down as you left it.”

*   *   *

When we arrived back at my apartment, the elevator wasn’t working, so I told Mr. Kipling and Simon Green that they needn’t see me to the door. Our apartment was on the penthouse level—the thirteenth floor, which the building elevator superstitiously referred to as the fourteenth floor. Thirteenth or fourteenth, it was a long trek up, and Mr. Kipling’s heart was still weak. My heart, however, was in terrific shape as I’d spent the summer doing Liberty’s strenuous athletic drills three, sometimes four times a day. I was lean and strong and I was able to race up the stairs.
(Aside: Is it too much to add that, while my heart the muscle was in terrific shape, my heart the heart had certainly been better? Oh, probably, but there it is. Don’t judge me too harshly.)

Having left my keys (and other valuables) at home, I was forced to ring the doorbell.

Imogen, who I had left in charge of my sister, answered it. “Anya, we didn’t hear you come up!” She poked her head into the foyer. “Where are Misters Kipling and Green?”

I reported the condition of the elevator.

“Oh dear. That must have just happened. Maybe it’ll fix itself?” she said brightly.

What, in my life, had ever fixed itself?

Imogen told me that Scarlet was waiting for me in the living room.

“And Natty?” I asked. She should have been home from genius camp four weeks ago.

“Natty’s…” Imogen hesitated.

“Is something wrong with Natty?” I could feel the
thrum
of my heart.

“No. She’s fine. She’s spending the night at a friend’s.” Imogen shook her head. “A project for school she needs to work on.”

I tried very hard not to let my hurt feelings show. “Is she angry with me?”

Imogen pursed her lips. “Yes, a bit, I imagine. She was upset when she found out you’d lied about going to Liberty.” Imogen shook her head. “You know teenagers.”

“But Natty’s not—” I had been about to say that Natty wasn’t a teenager, but then I remembered that she was. She had turned thirteen in July. Yet another thing I had missed thanks to my incarceration.

A familiar voice came from down the hallway. “Is that the world famous Anya Balanchine I hear?” Scarlet ran up and threw her arms around me. “Anya, where did your boobs go?”

I pulled away from her. “Must have been that really nourishing Liberty food.”

“When I saw you at Liberty, you were always in the navy jumpsuit, but in your old Trinity uniform, it’s more obvious to me that you look…”

“Awful,” I filled in.

“No!” Imogen and Scarlet said in unison.

“It’s not like the last time you went to Liberty,” Scarlet continued. “You don’t look sick. You just look…” Scarlet’s eyes drifted to the ceiling. I remembered from my first year of Forensic Science that when a witness looked up that way, it meant that she was in the process of inventing. My very best friend was about to lie. “You look changed,” she said gently. Scarlet took me by the arm. “Let’s go into the living room. I have to catch you up on everything that’s been happening. Also, I hope you don’t mind, but Gable’s here. He really wanted to see you and he is my boyfriend, Anya.”

I did kind of mind, but Scarlet was my best friend, so what could I do.

We went into the living room, where Gable stood by the window. He was leaning on crutches, and there was no wheelchair in sight. In other respects, he was also much improved. His complexion was beyond pale, nearly white, but there was no obvious scarring where the skin grafts had been. Black leather gloves covered his hands so I couldn’t see what had become of his mangled fingers.

“Arsley, you’re walking again!” I congratulated him.

Scarlet applauded. “I know,” she said. “Isn’t it great? I’m so proud of him!”

With some difficulty, Gable maneuvered himself toward me. “Yes, isn’t it wonderful? After months of physical therapy and countless painful surgeries, I can now accomplish what most two-year-olds manage much better. Aren’t I a miracle of modern medicine?”

Scarlet kissed him on the cheek. “Don’t go into that dark place, Gable. Stay in the light with Anya and me!”

Gable laughed at Scarlet’s joke, and then he kissed her, and then she whispered something in his ear, and he smiled, and she helped him over to the love seat where they both sat down
. OMG
, as Nana would have said, Scarlet and Gable might actually be in love! For a moment, I almost felt jealous of them. I didn’t want to be with Gable again—certainly not! After everything Scarlet had done for my family, I could not begrudge her a boyfriend. The plain truth was, I missed being in a couple.

I curled into the familiar burgundy chair.

“Seriously, Gable,” I said. “You look amazingly good.”

“You look awful,” Gable replied.

“Gable,” Scarlet admonished him.

“What? She looks like a little boy or a long-distance runner. Didn’t they feed you anything in there?” Gable continued. “And your hair is scary.”

My hair was indeed tangled and frizzy. There hadn’t been conditioner or gel or even a proper hairbrush at Liberty. As soon as Gable and Scarlet left, I would begin addressing the situation.

“How’s Trinity?” I asked by way of changing the subject. Gable was repeating his senior year because of how much of the previous one he’d missed.

“Boring now that you’re not there,” Gable said with a shrug. “No one’s been shot or poisoned for months.”

One of Gable’s qualities was his sense of humor.

“Gable Arsley,” Scarlet said with a furrowed brow, “you are being awful and you are making me regret having brought you today.”

“Apologies, Anya, if I caused offense.”

I told him that he hadn’t, that I was pretty hard to offend these days.

Scarlet stood up. “We should go. Imogen made us promise that we wouldn’t stay long.” She gave Gable her hand, and he rose somewhat awkwardly to his feet. That was when I remembered the elevator. Gable had trouble walking across the room. He was never going to be able to make it down thirteen flights on crutches.

Upon consulting with Imogen, who then consulted with the building superintendent, it was determined that the elevator wouldn’t be repaired until the next morning. Gable would have to spend the night, a scheme that did not thrill me. If Gable was staying, Scarlet’s parents wouldn’t allow her to, and the last time Gable Arsley had almost spent the night in this apartment, it had not gone well.

I decided that Gable should sleep on the couch. I didn’t want him in Leo’s old room.

After these arrangements were made, I was finally able to slip away to my bedroom. I had been meaning to clean myself up, but instead I fell asleep on my bed. When I awoke, it was two in the morning, and the apartment was silent. I slipped out of my room and went down the hall to the shower.

I didn’t care how much water cost these days. I figured I was owed three or four showers. Of course, I lavished extra attention on my hair. O conditioner—an ugly word for such a beautiful thing!

After my shower, I detangled my hair and gave it some proper product and when I looked in the mirror, I thought I looked almost normal again. I wrapped my flowered bath towel around myself and went back to my bedroom.

The light was on. I wondered if I had forgotten to turn it off.

When I opened the door, Gable was sitting in the chair by my bed. He was dressed in a pair of Leo’s pajamas that Imogen must have lent him, and his crutches were propped by the dresser.

“Arsley,” I said, checking that my bath towel was secured under my arms. “You shouldn’t be in here.”

“Oh, Anya, don’t be so paranoid,” Gable said. “I heard you were awake, and I was awake, too, so I thought I’d keep you company.”

“I don’t want company after I get out of the shower, Arsley.”

“I … I won’t try to do anything to you, Anya, I swear. Just don’t make me get up yet. My leg swells at night. Let me sit here a bit. I promise I’ll keep my eyes closed while you change.”

“I’ve been in prison, Arsley, and if you try anything, so help me…” I opened my closet door so that I could discreetly put on my pajamas from behind it, and then I sat cross-legged on my bed. “So,” I said.

“I was thinking of the last time we were alone together in this room,” Gable said. “I know you think I behaved badly and I’m sorry for that. I did want to sleep with you that night, but I never would have forced you.”

I shook my head. “Is this you apologizing?”

“Yes, I guess it is. I’m almost glad the elevator broke because otherwise I never would have gotten you by yourself and I’ve wanted to say that to you for such a long time. It’s sweltering in here by the way.” Gable took off his leather gloves and I could see that he had three silver fingertips in place of his amputations. He looked like a robot.

“Arsley, your fingers!”

Gable laughed at me. “You’re supposed to pretend not to notice them.”

“But they’re kind of amazing.”

He waved them. “Would you like to touch them, Anya?”

I kind of did, but I didn’t think it was a good idea for me to touch any parts of Gable, even his bionic ones.

“Come on, Anya. Shake my hand. Friends can shake hands, can’t they?”

We were not friends.

“Don’t be boring, Anya,” Gable said. “Do you know what school you’re going to yet?”

“Wherever will have me, I suppose.”

“It’s stupid them not letting you come back,” Gable said. “You saved Win Delacroix’s life.”

It had not escaped my notice that Scarlet had stealthily avoided the subject of Win the entire afternoon. I did not want to hear news of Win from Gable Arsley of all people. Still, I would take what I could get. “Is Win”—I tried to make my voice casual—“back at Trinity this year?”

Gable rolled his eyes. “Oh, I can see exactly how much you don’t care about him. You’ve always been the world’s worst liar, Anya. Aren’t you talking to him anymore?”

“We aren’t allowed.”

“That wouldn’t stop me.” Gable ran his metal fingers through his hair. “He doesn’t eat lunch with Scarlet and me this year, which is fine. I always found him annoyingly earnest. How you could go for him after me, I’ll never understand.”

I wanted to ask more, but I didn’t want to have to ask, if you know what I mean. Luckily, Gable was delighted to volunteer information. “Listen, Scarlet said we shouldn’t tell you this yet, but you’ll find out soon enough anyway. Win’s with Alison Wheeler.”

I inhaled and tried not to feel anything. “I know who she is.” Win had taken her to the Fall Formal last year. He’d said he was just friends with her, but that didn’t seem likely now. No wonder I hadn’t seen him in so long.

“What do you mean ‘I know who she is’?” Gable demanded. “Of course you know who she is. We’ve been going to school with her for years.”

I had been trying to avoid saying something more revealing about the matter. “How did it happen?” I asked.

“Boy meets girl. She was helping out on his dad’s campaign, I guess. Something like that. She’s not bad-looking though. I’d do her.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “You mean if you weren’t with Scarlet.”

“That is presumed, Anya.”