Luminosity (Gravity Series #3) (The Gravity Series) (3 page)

“What did jerkface want?” Theo asked, fiddling with Alex’s radio as usual.

“He was reminding me about a game tournament this weekend. I gotta bring both of my headsets.”

Theo scoffed, leaning back in her seat and shaking her head. “Children. Both of you.”

Alex scowled at her, forgoing his seat belt. “When did you suddenly get so mature? It was getting rid of the glasses, wasn’t it? They were keeping you young. Now you’re gonna get all wrinkly and eat prunes.”

He tried to play it off as a joke, poking her shoulder, but I sensed some hidden tension between them. Theo’s smile seemed forced and instead of replying, she busied herself digging through her bag. I wondered if they’d had an argument, or if Theo’s cold reaction was just because Alex and Henry were spending time together.

I wished we could be the four musketeers again. I wished Henry and I didn’t have to hide, and that the tension disrupting our friendships would go away.

As the Creep pulled away, I gazed out of my window. Behind the wheel of his car, Henry looked up and stared at me. Our eyes met, and the longing I felt was reflected in his gaze.

###

The stink of old cigarette smoke permeated the air as Theo and I took a seat on her father’s living room couch. My eyes watered but I tried to act polite. Not as easy as I had expected.

“Not a people person” wasn’t the half of it when it came to Richard Weaver.

“You girls haven’t been getting into trouble, have you?” he asked gruffly, sitting across from us in a wife beater and boxer shorts. His fingernails were caked with dirt and putty and a five o’clock shadow darkened his already haggard face.

“No, Dad,” Theo said. Her voice had gone shy and meek, like a wounded bird chirping for help. She sat with her knees together and her hands clasped demurely.

“Good. I know teenagers can get into all kinds of ruckus when they’re not kept occupied. Your mother was always too busy with her teaching to pay attention.”

I wanted to make a smart-mouthed comment, but didn’t want to disrespect Theo.

“It’s good to have an opportunity to meet you, Mr. Weaver,” I said, trying to lay on the honey instead of the vinegar.

He sniffed loudly, taking another puff of his cigarette like he hadn’t heard me speak. I could see why I hadn’t met him before. I bit my tongue hard so I didn’t say anything else.

“You still trying to sell those scribbles?” Richard asked his daughter.

His dismissive tone heated the marrow in my bones, and my untamed words rush out of my lips. “They’re hardly scribbles. Theo is insanely talented. My dad has featured her at his gallery several times.”

Richard raised his eyebrows and sneered at me. “Sure, sure. I just wish you girls were more like those Thornhill people’s kids. They’re doing something real with their lives, working towards their future. Not relying on art projects. What kind of a future is that?”

I was so indignant I could only open and close my mouth. Theo looked down at the knees of her jeans, scratching the fabric with her nail.

“Yeah, I get what you’re saying,” she said.

“I don’t get what you’re saying,” I countered firmly.

Richard leaned back and lit another cigarette. He blew the smoke cloud in our direction. I tried to restrain my cough without much success, and he squinted at me in irritation.

“You allergic?” he questioned with a raised eyebrow.

“To something in this room.”

“Isn’t that a shame?” He blew another puff of smoke at me.

“You know what, I forgot that we needed to be going,” I said. The openly nasty look he shot me indicated that he didn’t give a hoot about my opinion. I couldn’t believe that Theo’s kind mother, Lucy, was still married to this psycho. The wood-paneled walls of the house had dirt in the cracks, and there were ripped posters of Miller Light babes stapled crookedly on top.

Theo made no move to get up, remaining in her semi-fetal position on the couch, trying to escape into her knees. “You said you wanted to give me something, isn’t that why you asked me over? What was it?”

He arose and lumbered out of the room to go get whatever it was.

“I’m so, so sorry, Ariel,” Theo said immediately, turning towards me. “I didn’t know he was going to be like this. I never would have asked you to come. He’s just having a bad spell right now.”

She looked embarrassed. I felt a fresh wave of protectiveness for her.

“Please don’t apologize. It’s not you’re fault,” I said, gently taking Theo’s hands and trying to get her to stand up. “Let’s leave, quick, before he comes back. He’s not socially awkward; he’s a full-on jerk.”

“Ari, I’m used to it. It doesn’t bug me anymore,” Theo said. She was watching the floor, still using that soft, little voice. Finally, she stood and started picking up the overflowing glass ashtrays in the room—there was one on each table—and dumping them into a little wicker garbage can.

“He wasn’t always this bad; he’s just been under a lot of stress these past few years. His business is rough, money is tight. He doesn’t get out much anymore, and he injured his back so he can’t take care of the house.”

“That’s got to be a world record for number of excuses crammed into a sentence,” I told her as gently as I could.

She tapped out another ashtray, hitting it gently against the can. “He told me he was going to quit the cigarettes, though. He keeps promising me every year. When I was five, he promised me he was positively going to quit on October 32. Imagine my naive surprise when Halloween passed and I realized he’d been tricking me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“He’s been in a good mood recently. I don’t know what set him off this time.”

Richard came back into the room and Theo clammed back up, setting the garbage can down. He handed her an old shoebox with a grease stain on the bottom.

“What’s in here?” Theo asked, perplexed, as she fiddled with the lid.

“Those drawings you wanted me to find. They were in the garage, beneath my fishing lures. I think I spilled antifreeze or something on the box, though.”

Theo pressed her lips together so tightly that they disappeared. Her hands settled protectively on the shoebox. “Thanks, Dad.”

We only stayed for five more uncomfortable minutes, but it felt like forever. I still had to tug Theo out as Richard gave her a laundry list of chores for the next week that he needed help with. As soon as we were walking down the street, I started quizzing her.

“What was that? Seriously Theo, I don’t think that you should go back over there. I had no idea your dad was so harsh.”

She carried the shoebox full of pictures under her arm. “I don’t have any choice. I’m the only one who will put up with his crap. If I don’t take care of him, his house will fall apart and so will he and I can’t live with that kind of guilt.”

“That shouldn’t be your responsibility; you’re seventeen. What about your mom?” I couldn’t think that Lucy would be happy with this, even if the two were still married.

“My mom doesn’t know how bad it gets,” Theo said softly. She stared down at her sneakers as they hit the sidewalk. “She hasn’t gone over there much, considering he’s half the reason we moved back to Hell.”

“Is that why you’re so hard on yourself all the time?” I asked gently. “Because of him?”

Theo worried her bottom lip. “Probably. I think that’s why I have such a perfectionist streak. He’s right to be cautious, though; he didn’t get to follow his dreams of being in a band because he messed up his voice smoking. I understand where he’s coming from. It’s his weird way of loving me.”

I didn’t understand it, at all. And I didn’t like how quickly she rushed to his defense, even if he was her dad. I couldn’t believe anyone wouldn’t see how brilliant she was.

Being around Theo’s father had exhausted and enraged me. Combined with my poor sleep from the night before, I was ready to crash when I parted with Theo and went back to my house.

I stomped around the edge of the garden, still muttering to myself about what a jerk Richard was, and stopped. Raised voices were coming from inside my house.

I slid open the back door and took two steps inside. My parents were tensely positioned on opposite sides of the living room. The furniture stood in between them like a blockade.

“You don’t get to veto the decisions I make,” Claire yelled, punctuating her words by chopping one hand.

“I do when it’s a matter that would affect the entire family,” Hugh shot back.

“It’s not going to affect anything, other than making us a little less like underdogs,” Claire insisted defiantly. “It’s just an offer, not a promise. I can at least see what they have to say.”

“Stop making it sound like they’re innocent. There’s nothing innocent about Thornhill,” Hugh pleaded. Neither of them had noticed me step into the room, and I watched them, spellbound. “You keep saying they’ve changed—”

“The prayer group was a long time ago. They aren’t the same people anymore.”

“A girl almost
died
, Claire—not to mention what happened recently.”

“They’re not connected to those little girls,” Claire said with obvious stubbornness. “I don’t care what faulty lines you draw between them.”

The floorboards creaked as I shifted my weight, and I groaned as my feuding parents turned towards me. I wanted to hear more of their argument.

“Ariel! How was school?” Claire asked with false cheer. Her attempt at making things better only doused me with discomfort. The smile on her thin face was a lie.

“What’s going on?” I asked warily, stepping farther into the living room so I didn’t have to raise my voice. “What were you guys arguing about?”

“Your mother has decided she’s going to try to join the Thornhill Society,” Hugh said, his voice edged with bitterness. His boyish face was red from exertion.

“What?” I asked, turning back to Claire. “Why? How?”

Claire looked me up and down. “Deana Ford and Mary Slaughter invited me personally to go to their next meeting, that’s all. I’ve been thinking about it for a long time. I know you two don’t approve, but I think it would be a good fit. I could make a name for myself again. There is a lot of success and accolades to be had with Thornhill.”

“But you’d have to sell your soul to get them,” Hugh said. “Isn’t that a high price to pay?”

I could tell Claire was bristling and on edge by the set of her shoulders. She looked back and forth between Hugh and me.

“I don’t have to explain myself to anyone, let alone my husband and daughter,” she said. “I’m an adult; I’ll do as I see fit. If that means joining Thornhill, then that’s what will happen. I’m sorry if you don’t like it, but it has nothing to do with either of you.”

Claire rushed out of the room, like an irate teenager herself, and disappeared up the stairs. I turned back to Hugh, who was gripping the back of the recliner and staring off. I could almost see the gears in his head grinding.

“Why would Thornhill even consider her, anyway?” I asked. Most of their members were wealthy and influential, neither of which described our little family. “We’re not lifestyles of the rich and famous.”

“Claire knows a lot of important people.”

“How so?”

“They went to school together. We all did, back at the old Hawthorne. Picture it, if you will. Late seventies, bell bottoms were just going out of style. She was friends with many of the women who now hold high ranks in Thornhill—Deana Ford in particular.”

“She was friends with Lainey’s
mom
? I never knew any of that.” I had to admit I felt a little sickened, imagining Claire sniping at other girls and strutting around like our school’s resident bitch queen, Lainey.

“You probably just never thought about it,” Hugh said. “You know we’ve all lived here since we were born. There were a lot of social cliques back then, and they carried over into adulthood. People don’t change as much as they want you to believe. Claire was in all kinds of clubs, invited to parties as their guest of honor. I was on the chess team, before it became ironic.”

I could tell he was approaching the cut-off line of not wanting to talk about it anymore, but I wanted to squeeze as much information out of him as I could.

“Why now?” I asked.

“The meeting that Deana invited Claire to is apparently the start of some kind of vetting process. Thornhill approached a few women. She’s just trying to fill her time. She’s mad at me for working at the gallery so much, but I have no choice now that Gwen is pregnant.” Gwen was his assistant, who usually ran the show at Erasmus. Hugh ran his hand through his messy hair. “Let’s just drop it. I don’t think it’s something we’ll have to worry about. She’ll go to the meeting, get irritated by everyone talking over each other with their high and mighty opinions, and forget all about it.”

“But if they approached her…?”

“I think they only did it because of past loyalties,” Hugh said. “She’ll come to her senses, hon. She has to.”

He distracted me by involving me in dinner preparation, but I didn’t stop thinking about the words they’d hurled. We set out vegetables and several chicken breasts on the counter for chicken noodle soup. While Hugh busied himself cutting up celery and carrots, I felt safe in bringing up the subject.