The Evolution of Mara Dyer

by Michelle Hodkin

  I was very glad to be in the other half.

  Phoebe kept her distance from me that day, and Jamie made me laugh the way he always did. The hours passed unremarkably but I found myself sneaking glances outside at every opportunity, waiting for the white truck to appear in the parking lot.

  It never did.

  When my father and I pulled up to the house that afternoon, Mom’s car was already in the driveway. More importantly, so was Noah’s.

  I felt a burst of relief. I needed to tell him about the doll in my room this morning, about Jude in my room last night while we slept. I nearly dove out of the car while it was still moving.

  “Tell your mom I’m off to work on her list,” Dad said, rolling his eyes. “I’ll be back soon.”

  I nodded and shut the door. He didn’t drive away until I was inside the house.

  Machine gun fire erupted from our family room, and I entered it to find Noah and Joseph slouched on the floor with controllers in their hands, their eyes glued to the TV.

  Our conversation would have to wait.

  “How was fishing?” I asked, in a casual voice that did not suit my mood. I walked through the archway into the kitchen and opened the fridge. I was hungry, but nothing looked good.

  “We did not, in fact, go fishing,” Noah answered, still squinting at the screen.

  “What? Why?”

  Joseph rocked forward, gripping his controller fiercely. He didn’t speak.

  “Joseph didn’t want to kill any fish, though he seems to have no problem killing—you bastard.”

  Something exploded loudly and my brother dropped the controller, raising both hands in the air. “The champion is undefeated.” He flashed an obnoxious smirk at Noah.

  “Good for you,” I said.

  Noah shot me a look. “Where’s the loyalty?”

  “I meant about the fish, but for the game, too.” I high-fived my brother and then I flashed an obnoxious smirk of my own. “Blood over boys.”

  “You’re both evil.”

  “I’m going to be a vegetarian,” Joseph told me.

  “Mom will think I put you up to it.” I hadn’t eaten meat since the Santeria birthday show; every time I looked at it, I tasted blood in my mouth.

  I dropped onto the couch. “So what did you guys do if you didn’t fish?”

  “We went out on the boat and watched for dolphins,” Joseph said.

  “Jealous. Did you see any?”

  Noah nodded. “A small pod. We had to go out pretty far.”

  “The boat was so cool,” Joseph said. “You can come with us next time.”

  I grinned. “That’s very generous of you.”

  “Well,” Noah said, standing up and stretching. His fingers touched the ceiling. “I don’t know about you, but after letting your brother win, I’m quite famished.”

  Joseph slit his eyes at Noah. “Liar.”

  “Prove it,” Noah shot back.

  “I can prove it.”

  “All right,” I said, “this rivalry is getting a little intense. Yes, Noah, I’m hungry.”

  “Then if you’ll pardon me, nemesis,” he said to Joseph. “We will rematch another day.”

  “You’ll still lose.”

  The corner of Noah’s mouth lifted as he walked to the kitchen. I joined him and watched him rummage in the refrigerator.

  “Fancy a . . . cucumber?” he said, holding one up.

  “You’re not very good at this.”

  “Right, then. Takeout it is.”

  I looked behind us, toward the hallway. “Where’s my mother?”

  Noah shook his head. “One of her friends picked her up for coffee, I think?”

  “Daniel?”

  “Out with Sophie. I’m responsible for everyone’s welfare until she returns.”

  “God help us,” I said with a grin, but I was glad. I lowered my voice. “So last night—”

  “Pizza!” Joseph called out.

  “Must we?” Noah yelled back. He turned to face me. “What do you want?”

  “Not pizza,” I agreed. “I feel kind of gross.”

  “Gross. Indeed. Can you think of any food item in particular that would make you feel less gross?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know—soup?”

  “Pea soup, perhaps?”

  “I hate you.”

  “But you make it so easy. Chinese?”

  I shook my head and glanced out the window. I didn’t really care. I just wanted to talk.

  “Never mind, you’re making this quite difficult. Joseph!” Noah called out.

  “What!”

  “Where are Daniel and Sophie?”

  “Avigdor’s!” my brother shouted.

  Noah looked at me with raised eyebrows.

  “Fine with me,” I said.

  “What kind of food is it?” Noah asked.

  “Israeli!”

  “Do they have soup?”

  “Sushi too!” Joseph yelled.

  “Enough with the yelling!” I shouted, then sank into a kitchen chair. I put my head in my hands while Noah ordered and texted Daniel to bring the food home with him. Eventually, Joseph abandoned the video game and went to his room.

  Leaving us alone. I opened my mouth to speak but Noah interrupted me before I could.

  “What did you do at your place today?”

  “We shared our fears. Listen, last night—”

  “That sounds appropriately hellish.”

  “I didn’t have to go, they split the group in half. It’s my turn tomorrow—”

  “Daniel’s anxious to see it,” Noah said, interrupting me again. “He said he’s going to a family therapy thing in a few days? Should be delightful.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “I mean, no. Noah—are you staying tonight?”

  “Actually, I’ve arranged for us to meet with your new guardian. Why?”

  “I was going to suggest you sleep in my room, this time.”

  Noah gave me a sly look. “Not that I’m necessarily opposed, but why?”

  The words Jude was in my room congealed on my tongue. When I finally spoke them, my voice sounded different. Terrified. I hated it.

  I hated that I was afraid of him. And I hated the way Noah tensed when he saw it.

  So I swallowed hard. Then lightened my voice. “He left me a little present in my underwear drawer,” I said casually, working hard to fake it.

  Noah’s eyes never left mine, but his frame relaxed just slightly. “Dare I ask?”

  “The doll,” I explained. “He must have seen me throw it out.”

  “Mara—”

  I shook my head. “He was probably watching creepily from some bushes or something.”

  “Mara,” Noah said louder.

  “The neighbor’s hedge is really tall,” I went on. “What is wrong with him?”

  “Mara.”

  “What?”

  “It wasn’t Jude,” Noah said quietly.

  “What wasn’t Jude?”

  “The doll in your bedroom. He didn’t put it there.”

  I blinked, not getting it. “Then who did?”

  It felt like forever before Noah finally spoke.

  “You.”

  27

  WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?” MY VOICE was quiet. Shaky. “I threw it away.”

  Noah nodded. “And then later you woke up and got out of bed. You didn’t say anything, so I assumed you left to get a drink or something, but given recent events, when you didn’t come back, I followed you. You left through the back door.”

  Invisible fingers tightened around my throat. “Why didn’t you wake me up?”

  “I thought you were awake,” Noah said, his voice measured and even. “I asked what you were doing and you said you made a mistake—that you threw away something you wanted to keep. You seemed completely with it; you walked outside and I watched you take the doll from the waste bin and bring it back inside. You went to your room and then nearly came back to bed when I suggested you wash your hand
s first. You laughed, you did, and then you came back to bed and promptly fell asleep. You don’t remember any of this?”

  I shook my head because I wasn’t sure I could speak. Nothing like this had ever happened before; I had nightmares, sure, and I blacked out before, yes. But this was new.

  Different.

  Like my reflection in the mirror.

  I swallowed hard. “Do I look different to you?”

  Noah’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

  “This morning, after—after I found the doll in my drawer,” I said. After I put it there, I didn’t say. “I looked in the mirror and I feel like—like I look different.” I glanced up at Noah, wondering if he saw it, but he only shook his head. “Look again.”

  Noah took my face in his hands then and drew me close. So close I could see flecks of navy and green and gold in his eyes as he studied mine. His stare was incisive. Piercing.

  “Right?” I asked under my breath.

  Noah said nothing.

  Because I was right. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

  His eyes narrowed until all I could see were slits of blue. “You don’t look different,” Noah said. “Just . . .”

  “Just different.” I pulled away. I was frustrated. Anxious. I glanced in the direction of my bedroom, in the direction of the doll. “Something’s happening to me, Noah.”

  He was distressingly silent.

  Noah knew I looked different. He just refused to say it. I didn’t know why and at that moment, I didn’t even care. There was one thing on my mind and one thing only. I stood up. “Where are your keys?”

  “Why?” he asked, drawing out the word.

  “Because I want to burn that doll.”

  My parents would be disconcerted if they saw me light a fire in our backyard and burn a doll I’ve had since I was a baby, so we needed somewhere else to do it.

  “You have a fireplace, right?” I asked him as I headed toward the front door.

  “Several, but we can’t leave.”

  I closed my eyes. “Joseph.” Damn.

  “And you. If we’re not here when your parents get back—I’m sure I needn’t remind you of your recent psych ward stint.”

  As if I could forget.

  Noah ran a hand over his jaw. “They trust me here, with Joseph, for an hour, maybe. But I can’t take you out alone.”

  “So I’m trapped here indefinitely.”

  “Unless . . .”

  “Unless what?”

  “Unless we bring them along.”

  I stared at Noah, waiting for the punch line.

  That was it, apparently. “You can’t be serious.”

  “Why not? An invitation to the Shaw abode would go a long way with your mother. She’s desperate to meet my family—Ruth can distract her while we light fires and chant.”

  “Not funny.”

  A half-smile appeared on Noah’s lips. “Yes it is,” he said. “A little,” he added as my eyes narrowed to slits. “But if you’d rather they didn’t meet, I could burn the doll for you—”

  “No.” I shook my head. Noah didn’t get it, and it didn’t even matter to him. He was game for anything, as always. But I needed to see with my own eyes that it was gone. “I want to be there.”

  “Then it’s the only way,” Noah said with a shrug.

  “You’re not worried about losing the sympathy card?”

  “Pardon?”

  “If your parents charm my parents, you might not be allowed here as much.”

  An unreadable expression crossed Noah’s face. “Your mother’s clever,” he said, his voice low. “She’ll see things for what they are.” He stood and withdrew his cell from the back pocket of his jeans. “I’ll have Ruth invite her over tomorrow. For a ladies’ tea.”

  “Your dad won’t be there?”

  Noah arched an eyebrow. “Highly doubtful. And if he is, I’ll make sure we reschedule.”

  “But I want to meet him.”

  “I wish you didn’t,” he said as he scrolled through his iPhone.

  “Why? Are you embarrassed?”

  There was a bitter twist to Noah’s smile, and he answered without looking up at me. “Absolutely.”

  I started to feel a bit uneasy. “By me?”

  “By him.”

  “That bad?”

  “You have no idea.”

  When my mother came home, Noah instructed me to ask her if I could go for a walk with him. I shifted my weight under her stare as she considered me.

  “Be back in half an hour,” she said finally.

  I grinned, surprised. “Okay.”

  “And don’t leave the block.”

  “Okay.”

  My mother handed me her cell. “I’m trusting you,” she said quietly.

  I nodded, and then Noah and I left. He loped gracefully ahead; his stride was so long, I almost had to jog to keep up.

  “So where are we really going?”

  “For a walk,” he insisted, staring ahead.

  “Yeah, I caught that. Where?”

  Noah pointed down the street at a black car parked under an enormous live oak tree. “There’s someone I want you to meet.”

  As we approached, an average-looking man exited the driver’s seat of the car. He flashed a bland smile at us.

  “John,” Noah said with a nod, “I’d like to introduce you to your assignment.”

  John held out his hand. “Mara Dyer,” he said to me as I shook it, “glad to meet you.”

  Noah faced me. “John’s been working with a security firm so secure that it doesn’t have a name for—how long, again, John?”

  “Since before you were a concept,” the man said, still smiling.

  His answer surprised me—he didn’t look that old. And he wasn’t tall or broad or bodyguard-ish in any way. Everything about him was unremarkable, from his forgettable clothes to his forgettable face.

  “He’s going to be trading shifts with his partner. Between them, they’ve protected four presidents, seven members of the Royal Family, and nine Saudi princes.”

  “And now you,” John said.

  Noah slid one hand around my waist and lifted the other to my neck, my cheek, tipping up my chin with his thumb. His voice was soft when he spoke. “They won’t let anything happen to you,” he said.

  I won’t let anything happen to you, he meant.

  And he might have been right, if Jude were all I had to worry about. But no one could protect me from myself.

  28

  NOAH OFFERED TO FIND AN EXCUSE TO STAY over that night but I was wary of abusing my parents’ benevolence. He couldn’t stay over every night, obviously, but more importantly, I needed to know that I would be okay on my own.

  And that night, I was. I slipped into bed and stayed there until morning. Nothing was out of place when I woke up. The ordinariness lifted my mood; Noah had taken my grandmother’s doll with him before he left and later today it would be gone forever. John was watching my house. Noah trusted John and I trusted Noah, and even though I hated to admit it, that morning was the first time without him that I actually felt safe.

  I checked for Jude only once on the way to Horizons, and I was uncharacteristically cheerful as the counselors put me through my paces. The day rushed by in a blur of blissful near-mundanity, considering my situation wasn’t remotely mundane, and I was actually able to worry about something relatively normal for once. Namely: my mother and Noah’s stepmother having tea.

  He’d been right about the invitation; Mom really couldn’t wait to meet Ruth. On the way to Noah’s house that afternoon, his parents were all she could talk about. It did not escape my notice that she was more pressed and polished than usual. It almost made me feel guilty for using her as a diversion.

  Almost.

  My mother went quiet just as I had that thought. I turned to see what warranted the silence, and was unsurprised to find that we had entered Noah’s neighborhood.

  My mother’s eyes roamed over each mansion we pa
ssed, one completely distinct from the next. When we reached the scrolled iron gate that heralded the entrance to Noah’s house, I told her to drive up. A small camera swiveled in our direction.

  My mother shot me a look. “This is Noah’s house?” It wasn’t quite visible behind the trees, not until the tall gate swung open and we drove through.

  “Wow,” she breathed. It was the right word. The lush lawn was bordered by white statues and anchored by a huge fountain in the center: a Greek god clasping a girl who seemed to become a tree. Tiny, low hedges sprouted off into paths, forming intricate designs against the grass.

  And then there was the house. Large and imposing, architecturally beautiful and grand. My mother was rapt, but I didn’t quite see it the way she did, not now that I knew how much Noah couldn’t stand it.

  We pulled up to the landing where Albert, the Shaw butler or valet or whatever he was called, greeted us with a prim smile to match his prim suit. I half-expected Noah to be waiting by the door for us but lo, it was Ruth herself.

  “Dr. Shaw,” my mother said, smiling widely.

  Noah’s stepmother shook her head. “Please, call me Ruth. It’s such a pleasure to meet you,” she gushed. Ruth smoothed the linen dress that covered her petite frame and ushered us inside as my mother assured her that no, the pleasure was all hers.

  No further formalities were exchanged, however, because the second my sneakered feet touched the patterned marble floor, I was charged by Ruby, the vicious Shaw pug. Who was apparently vicious only to me. The snarling fur-covered sausage ignored my mother completely, but even after Noah swooped in and scooped her up in his arms, she continued to growl at me.

  “Bad girl,” Noah said affectionately. He kissed her on the head as she bared her tiny, crooked teeth.

  I stood a healthy distance away. “Where’s Mabel?” I asked. It would be nice to see her again, all happy and healthy and safe.

  “Occupied,” he said lightly.

  Hiding, he meant. Hiding from me.

  My mother didn’t appear to notice anything amiss, however, not even as the dog strained for my jugular; Noah’s stepmother and his house had her full and undivided attention. “I’ve heard so much about you,” she said to Ruth as we passed beneath a giant chandelier dripping with crystals.