The Companion

by Katie Alender

  She wanted to. I saw her draw in a breath, as if she was going to just spit out the word. But then, halfway through her exhalation, her attention wandered. She drifted away.

  CHAPTER

  22

  FOR A LITTLE while, I was so distracted by Agatha’s scribblings that I didn’t pause to dwell on any of the things Laura had said to me about Barrett. But during dinner, I felt plainly that something had changed between us. It wasn’t anything I could put into words, only a feeling of unmistakable discomfort. And most of it was coming from me.

  Barrett seemed to get the message and stayed silent for the meal, except for a few single-word answers to some of Laura’s questions about how his summer reading was going, whether he’d gotten his room assignment yet, and whether he needed to order new uniforms for next year. (Good, no, and probably.)

  Now I had the time to really wallow in the things Laura had said earlier. And, of course, the things she hadn’t quite said—how I failed, in every way, to measure up to the dozens of girls Barrett crossed paths with at his fancy school. How she and John thought I was a treasure, but to Barrett I was probably just . . .

  Trash? Impossible. But Laura had basically come out and said it. Would she lie? She was trying to protect my feelings, that was all. And despite the old-school boys will be boys tone of the conversation, I sensed that she really thought she was doing me a favor.

  What use was my judgment these days, anyway? It was better to think I was just . . . tired and confused. I’d lost my head because Barrett, who was good-looking and smart and rich and important, had parked his stupid body near my stupid body and touched my lips with his stupid lips.

  After dinner, I showered and changed into my pajamas, then sat down in bed and tried to read. I’d decided I would finish the gardening book. Until school started, I would focus on working outside. Fresh air and a lack of (Barrett) distractions would do me good. I could still improve my relationship with Laura and show the family my gratitude by helping out as much as possible. I could start cooking, too. And cleaning. I would just immerse myself in being a penniless orphan, collecting the checkmarks.

  As usual, the gardening book got the better of me within about three pages. As I was setting it on my nightstand, Laura came to the door, teacups in hand, and sat on the edge of my bed.

  “How are you?” she asked softly. “I noticed you were quiet at dinner.”

  “I’m fine,” I said. “A little sleepy.”

  She handed me my teacup. I inhaled the soft, spicy aroma and then took a sip. “Sleepy? Do you think you’re coming down with something?”

  Great, I was making it worse. “No, no,” I said, rubbing the skin just above my eyebrows as if there was an ache behind them. “It’s just . . . my sinuses, I think. Allergies.”

  She visibly relaxed. “I wanted to tell you that Barrett is leaving.”

  I almost dropped my teacup.

  She was very careful not to look at me. “He’s going to stay with a friend until the new school year starts. It’s so hard for him to be here. Our pace of life is too slow for a dynamic teenage boy.”

  Oh, but it was fine for me? Was I not dynamic?

  After moving past the perceived insult (aided in part by admitting to myself that I was not, in fact, dynamic), I had time to think about what she was actually saying. Barrett would be gone. I felt a sudden stab of loss—not just because of the kissing, but because when we weren’t kissing, he was a nice person to talk to. The only person, in fact, for me to talk to in any real way.

  For a moment, I wondered—was she doing this because she knew he liked me? Was that why she had said the things she’d said? That seemed like it was assuming too much—making myself too important. I was nothing, remember? An amusement?

  “John will drive him over to Glencoe tomorrow,” she said.

  Tomorrow?

  I made an attempt to hide my surprise and drink my tea as if nothing was wrong. But I inhaled some and ended up coughing and sputtering while Laura took my teacup and held it.

  “Goodness,” she said. “Coughing like that, you should stay in bed tomorrow.”

  “No,” I said. “I just got some tea down the wrong pipe.”

  She looked at me doubtfully.

  I was trying to be cool, but I was still inwardly freaking out. Barrett couldn’t leave tomorrow. That wasn’t enough time to say goodbye.

  “All the same,” she said, “why don’t you stay in bed and rest in the morning? I’ll bring you breakfast, and you can come down in the afternoon with plenty of time to see Barrett off.”

  I didn’t answer. I wasn’t committing to her plan because I thought it was a dumb plan. Much better just to get up and get out of bed the next day like normal, and if she asked, tell her I felt perfectly fine.

  “Sound good?” she asked, handing the teacup back.

  “Mm,” I said, looking away.

  “Good girl, Margot,” she said, patting my leg. “Finish your tea and get some rest.”

  * * *

  I’D CURSED MYSELF. The next morning, my body and brain felt vaguely fuzzy. My vision blurred around the edges, making windows and light bulbs look like they were surrounded by pale auras. My mouth felt like I’d been chewing cotton balls all night. And my hands and feet were clumsy and tingly, as if my fingers were wrapped in gauze.

  So when Laura showed up with a trayful of food, I was grateful. I sat up and ate the toast, the bowl of yogurt with berries in it, the little wedges of fancy cheese, and I felt less hostile toward her than I had the previous night. I went along with her plan, staying in bed and dozing all morning, and then before lunchtime I got up and dressed.

  Agatha was nowhere to be found—she must have been downstairs—and I was combing my hair when there was a loud knock at the door.

  I pulled it open and found Barrett, looking somewhat frantic.

  He slipped inside and took my hands.

  “I’m leaving,” he said.

  “I know.” I was proud of myself for not betraying any emotion. You show him, Margot.

  But my cool delivery clearly pained him. “What did she say to you about me?”

  I bit my lip.

  “Please, Margot,” he said. “Whatever she said, don’t believe her. She doesn’t understand me at all.”

  “She’s right, though,” I said. “You wouldn’t look twice at me if we weren’t stuck here together. When you’re back at school, you’ll forget I exist.”

  “You think that?” he asked. The disbelief in his voice made my heart hiccup. “Really? Seriously? I get that my mom might think that way, but . . . it doesn’t seem like you’d believe her.”

  I shrugged, a little embarrassed. “Look at you,” I said. “Look at your life. And then look at me.”

  “I see you,” he said. “And I don’t know anyone else like you.”

  “But that’s part of it,” I said. “I’m a curiosity. I’m something to think about while you’re bored and stuck here.”

  He shook his head. “You think I’m ‘stuck’ here? I was only planning to be home for four days. But after I met you, I canceled my trip to California. Even when you hated me—I didn’t want to leave.”

  I stared up at him. “Are you serious?”

  “I don’t lie to you,” he said.

  “Who do you lie to?” I asked with a small half laugh.

  “Basically everyone,” he said. “If lying means not showing people what you’re really thinking. What you really care about.”

  I sighed.

  “Do you believe me?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “But why would your mother tell me those things? It was horrible.”

  “Mom thinks she can will things into existence.” He seemed troubled. He stared at the floor. “But really, it’s because she can’t control us, and she knows it. And she can’t stand not controlling what happens
here.”

  “That’s kind of messed up,” I said softly.

  “I’m going to talk to my father,” he said. “I’m worried about you. You need to be around people.”

  “It’s okay,” I said. “Once school starts—”

  “That’s more than a month from now.”

  “It’ll go fast.” Suddenly it hit me. He was really leaving. My voice was hollow. “When will you be back?”

  “Fall break.” His eyes met mine. “Middle of October.”

  I nodded. And nodded and nodded. Okay, Margot, okay. You knew he was going away at some point. You knew it wasn’t going to be like some fairy tale where you’re the princess in the tower and the prince comes and kisses you and suddenly everything is great.

  It was more like he came to the castle, found me in the tower, kissed me and woke me up, and then left without slaying the dragon.

  The dragon . . . Why did I think there was a dragon?

  He leaned down and kissed me softly. “You know I don’t want to go, right?” he asked. “She’s sending me away.”

  “Because of us?” I asked. “Does she know about us?”

  He shook his head. “Maybe. Maybe not. She’s just really angry with me in general. She says she can’t trust me.”

  “Because you took your sister out for a walk?” I asked. “That’s ridiculous.”

  “No, it’s more than that. She found out about lacrosse.”

  “That’s sports,” I said. “She’s mad about sports?”

  “She thinks I messed up the tryouts on purpose. She knows I’ve never really liked playing.”

  “If you don’t like playing, why play? Why does she care?”

  He shrugged. “Obedience performed against the will is the ultimate test of rectitude.”

  I stared at him. “What’s that from?”

  “It’s a thing Mom always said.” He rolled his eyes. “Some old family saying.”

  “From Loretta?”

  He looked confused. “You know about Loretta?”

  “As much as I want to know. I found the book in the library. You know about Loretta?”

  “That book was the bane of my childhood. We used to have to copy passages from it when we got in trouble.” He tried to smile reassuringly, but the misery shone in his eyes like dying embers. “Don’t worry, she’ll never do it to you. You’re not duty bound to the family like I am.”

  But Laura wanted me to be.

  Barrett glanced back out at the hall. “I’m supposed to be packing. I don’t want her to find me in here.”

  It felt like there was a hole in my heart that went all the way to another dimension. “I hate this,” I said.

  “Me too.”

  His fingers wrapped around mine. His skin was warm and a little rough, and it took all my strength not to yank him toward me and smother him with sympathetic kisses—and be smothered by them, myself. Moment by moment, it was sinking in that he would be gone soon. He was being punished, but his punishment was as bad for me as it was for him.

  Or worse. Because he would be free of this place—and I was stuck here.

  We were both at lunch, but neither of us spoke. There was nothing I wanted to say to him that I was willing to say in front of Laura. Instead, they made small talk about what he would do when he got to his friend’s house.

  At one point, Laura made some comment about a girl—somebody’s sister. Judging by her tone and the things she said about her (“I’ve heard she’s destined for Ivy League”), I guessed that this was a person Laura considered to be an appropriate match for Barrett.

  But his answers were clipped, almost rude.

  So Laura turned her attention to me, fussing at me for being out of bed and suggesting that I go back and rest so I had enough energy to come out and say goodbye to Barrett.

  Initially I resisted, but she wore me down. She made me a cup of tea and I went upstairs, preparing myself for a dull afternoon in bed.

  * * *

  PATTER PATTER PATTER PATTER.

  I opened my eyes and squinted.

  The room was dark, and the shock of the darkness and the confusion of not knowing what time it was propelled me up to a seated position.

  The sound came from thick raindrops splatting against the window. The darkness, I thought, must have come from the storm.

  Or was it nighttime?

  I yipped like a hurt dog and raced out to the hallway. The house was quiet. I hurried down the stairs and toward the only room lit up in the darkness—Laura’s office.

  She sat at her desk, and Agatha sat nearby in a tufted chair.

  “Goodness, Margot,” Laura said. “Are you all right?”

  “Are they gone?” I asked.

  She blinked. “I’m sorry—do you mean John and Barrett?”

  No, I mean Mickey Mouse and Wonder Woman.

  I nodded.

  “Yes, of course. They left after dinner.”

  “But I didn’t get to say goodbye!” I was too distraught to keep my voice low. “Why didn’t someone wake me up?”

  She glanced at me with reproach in her eyes, on the verge of reprimanding me. “I tried, Margot,” she said. “You said that I should tell them goodbye for you.”

  I wavered. I didn’t want to believe her, but I couldn’t even remember falling asleep.

  “You don’t remember?” she asked, sounding worried.

  I didn’t answer.

  Laura frowned.

  Forget it. I needed to be alone. I needed to go back to my room and cry my eyes out over the fact that not only had I missed a chance to see Barrett one last time, but that he thought I’d chosen a nap over being there when they left.

  “Are you hungry?” Laura said. “I saved some dinner for you.”

  “No, thank you,” I choked out.

  Her lips flattened, but she nodded. “I’m very sorry. I know you and Barrett were friendly.”

  By the time I reached the stairs, I was crying so hard I couldn’t see.

  I went back to my room, changed into my pajamas, and climbed under the covers. I didn’t even wash my face or brush my teeth. I just wanted to fall asleep and forget about everything.

  * * *

  MY DREAM WAS simple: Barrett and I were sitting on the bench, looking out over the grounds. It was lovely to be so near him, to be holding his hand.

  “Look,” he said. “Here they come.”

  I looked around, suddenly uneasy. Who was coming? For some reason, I expected to see my family—in their usual deadness, slack-muscled and vacant-eyed.

  But for once it wasn’t them.

  And then I saw what he meant—all over the ground around us, and as far as the eye could see, tiny green shoots were poking through the grass. They grew as thickly as a plague of locusts, and I pulled my legs up onto the bench to keep them from touching my legs.

  “I don’t like this,” I said. “Your mother doesn’t like the lilies.”

  “It’s not about what she likes,” Barrett said. “She hates everything.”

  I watched the green stalks climb into the air as if they were the product of magic beans, and my chest began to feel tight. I gripped Barrett’s hand harder, but he pulled free and stood up. “I have to go now,” he said. “See you in October.”

  “But what if I need your help?” I asked.

  He was already walking away. The lilies were gigantic around him, like stalks of corn, and just before he vanished into the thick forest of them, he said, “I’m not the one who stands up to her.”

  I wanted to ask what he meant, but then he was gone.

  I turned to look for an escape route, but the bench was surrounded. I started to worry about being late for dinner. Laura would be angry. And where was Agatha? Oh, God, we’d lost Agatha! The last time I’d seen her, she’d been in her wheelchair
. And now she’d been swallowed by the lilies.

  Then, suddenly, there was movement to my left.

  Agatha came out of the flowers.

  She stared down at me impassively.

  “Go back to the green wing,” she said.

  My eyes popped open.

  I was alone in my dark little room. It was nearly midnight.

  Go back to the green wing.

  The words had sounded too real in the dream, like they’d crossed over into my sleep from the real, waking world. But of course I was alone, so that was impossible.

  I crept across the nursery to the door and went to turn the knob—

  But it was locked.

  I stared at it, trying to figure out if I was right or wrong and if I was right, why? Why had Laura locked us in?

  Barrett was gone. Her son was safe from my peasant wiles.

  What trouble could I possibly get into now?

  CHAPTER

  23

  “I’VE BEEN THINKING that what we need is a change,” Laura said. “Would you like more eggs?”

  She held the platter out to me in midair, so I had no choice but to take some more eggs, although I’d already eaten a full serving.

  “Agatha has her doctor’s appointment today,” she said. “But after that, let’s do something fun. We could have a dance party. Or play cards.”

  This was the part where a bad orphan would answer sullenly, distracted from her duties by her brooding sadness. Or demand to know why the bedroom door had been locked—if it even had been locked. It opened easily enough that morning.

  But me? I’m a good orphan. “Yeah,” I said. “Sounds fun.”

  Laura beamed at me. “It’s such a gift to have you here with us. You’re really just like family, you know.”

  “I was actually wondering if we could figure out some things today,” I said. “Maybe my school enrollment. I might need a physical—although that would be ridiculous, considering how much time I’ve spent in hospitals this year.”