LEMNISCATE (12 page)

“Screw it,” I said out loud and started the car. “Sorry Mom, but Brynn can fend for herself.” For all I knew, she was sitting in her car a few rows back laughing her butt off.

Just as I was about to back up, I looked up and my breath caught in my throat. Garreth was standing in front of my car, staring at me. I turned the key, killing the engine, and slowly stepped out of the car. For some reason, I felt if I moved too quickly he would turn and leave.

He didn’t appear angry, on the surface at least, but I couldn’t tell. An entire week without him had made him feel like a stranger.

“Hey,” I said apprehensively.

“Hi, Teagan,” he said back and my heart leaped wildly at the sound of his voice. I missed him so much, but something told me not to let it show.

I walked toward the hood of the car, then stopped and leaned against it. I couldn’t help remembering the other night in the bathtub, when I had seen a ghastly vision of Garreth in pain. He looked perfectly fine now—well not completely. His eyes didn’t sparkle like they used to. He wasn’t looking at me like he used to—but it was better that he wasn’t in any physical sort of pain.

“Garreth, what happened?”

He looked away for a moment.

“I’m not talking about the drinking or the suspension. I’m talking about . . . you.”

Warily, he met my eyes. “Everything happened.”

“I don’t understand.” Was he blaming me for his own actions?

“I never expected to feel like
this
. I can’t keep up with it all.”

“Maybe it just takes time?”

“Watching the human race as an outsider is completely different from experiencing it firsthand. It’s thrilling and everything I do makes me crave this unexplainable rush.” Garreth had been toying with the zipper-pull on his black jacket, but now he was clenching his fists, grinding one hand into the other.

“Did you ever realize that it was also making you act like a jerk?”

As soon as I said that, he looked up, confused.

“I thought you wanted this for me?”

“I did. I didn’t know it would
change
you so much.”

Silence fell between us.

“So you brought Hadrian back?”

My eyes narrowed, feeling a defensive edginess creep over me. I already made my mind up that Garreth was just going to have to accept and deal with the fact that I had two angels.

“Seems that way,” I said back, trying to sound indifferent.

“And you trust him? After everything he’s done?” It was his turn to give me a hard look.

I looked him straight on and felt the tension between us rise again. I was riding on instinct here and was beginning to pick up vibes telling me to be on guard, but not about Hadrian. How could I admit an unexplainable trust was building between Hadrian and I? I centered myself and drew in a deep breath.

“I guess I do.”

A shadow passed over his blue eyes and then something caught his attention across the lot.

I followed his gaze and saw Brynn slowly making her way over.

“Your hands are full,” he muttered.

With a strong shrug, I squared my shoulders and replied, “I can handle her.”

“I wasn’t just talking about Brynn.”

My mouth hung open as he ended the conversation by walking away toward his Jeep.

I looked over to see Brynn three feet away from me, leaning against a neighboring car and I quickly closed my mouth. Her one eyebrow and the left corner of her mouth were turned up, as if my very presence revolted her. There was something about the sight of her, combined with Garreth’s new attitude, that made me straighten up and realize life wasn’t going to magically readjust itself. That I needed to intervene and take charge.

“I just came to tell you that plans have changed. I have better things to do than hang out with you just because my dad asked me to.”

Brynn’s chocolate brown eyes tore away from mine and shot over to her friends. In the afternoon sun, Sage’s caramel skin glistened exotically. She was chattering away with Lauren and Emily, who was impatiently looking over in Brynn’s direction.

“Yes, I see your adoring fans are waiting for you. I wouldn’t put much stock into how tight you are with them anymore. They seem to have loose lips lately.”

“You have no right to talk about my friends, let alone think about them. Besides, my friends are nothing without me,” she smiled smugly.

I could see them over Brynn’s shoulder. Lauren was playing with her car keys, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. She mouthed something to Sage, who nodded in exaggerated agreement.

By the time Brynn glanced back they were gone. Three car doors shut a few parking spaces away and I caught a glimpse of three heads laughing inside the warm, leather interior of Lauren’s Celica as they slowly began to drive away.

The look of utter shock seeped into Brynn’s expression, but she quickly recovered.

“I’m meeting them later,” she said indignantly, as if their taking off without her was a simple thing, and she began to fumble through her purse for her car keys. Giving up with a sigh, Brynn zippered her Juicy bag and gave me an unrecognizable look.

“Something wrong?”

As if admitting the truth behind her strained appearance was beneath her, she rolled her eyes and looked toward the school. “My keys are in Lauren’s locker.”

“Your keys?”

Brynn sighed with exasperation, “I stashed my stuff in her locker after lunch because it was closer to my AP French class, alright?”

I had to admit, seeing her squirm like this was highly entertaining, but it didn’t erase the fact that Brynn no longer had a way home, at least not with someone she wanted to go with.

Visions of my mother and Nate in his sleek little Infiniti, driving along, talking about how his demon-daughter and I would bond over the next two days surfaced.

I didn’t want to do it, but . . .

“I can give you a ride.”

Brynn looked at me for a very long seven seconds, and sighed. “Whatever.” With a hurried glance around us, she opened the passenger side door and slid inside. As soon as she closed the door, a thought came to me. Did Brynn feel any remorse or guilt for her part in Claire’s death? Did it bother her to be in this car? Claire’s car? I looked over at her but she just looked like she always did. Annoyed.

T
he ten minute ride to Brynn’s house was worse than getting my wisdom teeth removed in ninth grade. I thought the silence after my mother and I argued was excruciating.

I tried to break the ice shortly after leaving the school parking lot, only to ask if she didn’t have her keys then how would she get into her house? I was dreading the possibility of having to spend the next few days with her, ordering Chinese and having to loan her my clothes. Fortunately, Brynn responded that she could get in through the back, and images of Ryan and me sneaking into her home on Friday night assaulted me.

I turned onto Whitman Street, heading towards the far end, where the road curved into the wide arc of a cul-de-sac. In the daylight, the gray dry-stacked home at 19 Whitman Street was breathtaking. A black iron fence ran the length of the front yard, breaking for the narrow flagstone walk, which led to an oversized arched doorway. It had black shutters that looked restored from an early nineteenth-century country home and a pristine yard full of butterfly bushes and wisteria that bloomed up until early fall.

Slowly, I steered my car up the long narrow drive that widened behind the house. Seeing the kitchen door made my palms sweat as I pictured the long hallway waiting behind it, the one that led to Dr. Dean’s personal office and the tiny closet Ryan and I huddled in for what seemed like a chilly eternity. I expected Brynn to slam the door in my face and bound away, but instead she shocked me and offered the opposite.

“You can come in if you want,” mumbling the invite over her shoulder as she headed for the door. I sat still, not quite sure I had heard her correctly. She stopped and turned towards me, the door swinging open to reveal the warmth of a French country kitchen inside. I suppose one doesn’t take in too much detail when they’re fleeing in terror.

“Well? Are you coming in or not?”

Part of me wondered if she had harmful intentions. Was a big kitchen knife waiting on the counter? Was this a trap to get me to admit I had broken in here Friday? My brain was one big sweaty mess, but still, I turned the key and the car’s engine came to a peaceful rest.

I stepped into the kitchen, the pleasant scent of cinnamon greeted me. Brynn had already shed her jacket and was in the process of pulling her brown hair into a messy ponytail. I had never seen her with her hair up before. I had always assumed she was too snobby to look so casual.

Unsure of what to say, I stated the predictable. “Your house is beautiful.”

“You’ve been here before.”

Oh my god. She knows.

“The picnic in August? When my dad invited your mom and she made you come along?”

“Oh, yeah.” I let the topic drop. It was a wonder she and I were even attempting to carry a conversation with each other.

“If you’re wondering why the heck I asked you in, it’s so you can tell your mother that we spent some time together, and you won’t have to make something up.”

Wow, I never thought Brynn would be into honesty.

She headed down the hall and I reluctantly followed. I’m sure it was my imagination, but as we ventured further into the heart of the house, the air felt colder. Brynn stopped for a second and looked at the closed study door with dark eyes, then proceeded to climb the thickly carpeted steps to the second floor, motioning that I should follow.

To the left of the Cinderella staircase we had just ascended, she flung a set of white double doors wide open, like a dignitary about to greet the press. Beyond was a stark room, polished and pristine in shades of white and little girl pink.

I gingerly eased myself down onto the white eyelet comforter of Brynn’s king-sized bed. Brynn on the other hand showed no respect at all. She flopped down hard, pulled her knees up to her chest and sucked in a large breath.

“Nice room,” I couldn’t help feeling the uncontrollable urge to compliment. I never imagined I would be sitting on Brynn Hanson’s bed after school. What would it look like to someone else? Like we were friends now?

I sighed.

Hardly.

It was too perfect to take in all at once, the lushness, the expense of it all. Obviously her room had been professionally decorated, unlike mine, and I made a mental note to myself
never to let Brynn see my room.
Unless of course, I wanted photos of my personal space plastered all over YouTube so the student body at Carver High could laugh. No thank you.

For as beautiful as her room was, it had a sterile quality to it, sort of a “borrowed” feel. I couldn’t explain it. It just seemed the opposite of Brynn’s personality. I really half-expected to walk in to find four black walls with skull posters, because that’s what emanated from her on a daily basis. Not that she was a goth girl. Far from it. She was hateful and prissy and above everyone else.

I let my eyes roam over to the small white table next to her bed. A pretty seashell frame held the picture of a beautiful woman. She was strikingly familiar, and then for lack of a better conversation I asked the inevitable.

“Oh, is this your mother?” I wanted to reach for the frame, to touch it, as if my fingers yearned to hold it in my hands. There was something so warm and inviting about her smile. She projected an inner glow that was the entire opposite of Brynn, although they did resemble each other enough.

“Her name was Mary,” Brynn’s voice was flat.

In the photo, Mary was leaning against an iron railing, her timeless white pant suit accentuating her lithe frame. Birds hovered in the background, suspended in flight as if the camera’s shutter had agitated the entire flock, making a stunning portrait.

“When was this taken?” I asked, looking for a conversation starter.

Brynn didn’t raise her head. Instead she picked at a loose thread on her comforter, pulling and pulling without care, as if she meant to unravel the entire spread.

“She was on her honeymoon, in Italy.”

“So your dad took the picture.” I couldn’t help staring at the beautiful woman that was the mother of such a piece of work.

“No, he was dead.”

“I beg your pardon?” I was pulled out of the happy place the photo had transported me into.

“Nate took the picture.”

“Nate?”

“Yes, I think you’ve met him. He’s a doctor my mother married after the death of my father.”

The facetious tone in her voice startled me, reminding me of where I was, and who I was with. Beneath the sleeves of my shirt my arms prickled and I felt the mark in my hand ripple, rising to the surface of my skin. For a moment, I had actually forgotten that we were enemies, that she was the girl responsible for many years of ridicule and grade-school torture. I could hear Ryan’s voice echoing in my head that something strange was in this house, and here I was sitting on its bed.

Instantly, I felt self-conscious and very alone. My mother was out of town and no one knew where I was. Only Ryan knew of my mother’s hope that Brynn and I would learn to get along, and I could only pray he would piece two and two together if I would end up missing.

“My mom died giving birth to Dr. Dread’s stillborn spawn,” Brynn hissed through clenched teeth. She switched her attention to a blue box she was now lifting out of the night-table drawer.

So that was it. The cat was out of the bag. Her resentment stirred the air, creating a thick soup of tension that pressed down on me. I understood now that Brynn felt abandoned, left behind to live with a busy stepfather who was devoted to his profession more than the girl he was supposed to take care of, leaving Brynn to be reminded of her loss each and every day.

I crossed my arms tightly in front of my chest, suddenly feeling tiny and cold and very out of place in Brynn’s room.

“I’m sorry about your mom,” I whispered, trying to sound gentle even though I was uncomfortable. I wanted to tell her I had lost a parent too, but I doubted she would care. This moment, like any other, was all about her.