“We’re so proud of you, Kit.” Mom kisses my cheek. “And we’re sorry we didn’t believe you.”
I shrug. “No more therapist?”
They laugh, Dad hugging Mom around the shoulders. “No more therapist.”
Clare grins at me. “We thought you might need backup,” she says. “But it looks like you’re doing fine without us after all.”
I hug her hard. “Thanks to you,” I whisper. “And Grace Grant. Ask me about it later. I have a lot to tell you.”
She lets me go with tears sparkling in her eyes. I don’t know how much I’ll actually share, but Clare deserves to know without her, I don’t think this would have ended the way it did.
“We should have known better.” Calvin rumples my hair before picking me up and swinging me around. “After all, you’re our sister. And that makes you incredible.”
I stay for dinner, but slip out while the four of them argue over what board game they want to play. It’s an old argument. Clare and Mom will win, and the rounds of trivia will take hours. I still have that job to do.
I’ve never been to Jimmy’s house, never even came near the side of town where he lives. Not for any particular reason except I never had the chance or opportunity. He’s at the first of the route our school bus takes, and I’m at the end. Weird how two worlds can be so far apart and yet bring us so close together every day.
The city bus drops me off on a corner where an old man sleeps under a large chunk of cardboard, his beard filthy and snores jerking. I walk past him, down the block, around the corner, following the directions I took from the computer. It was easy enough to get his address from Mrs. Cradle, though I’m sure it was against the rules.
She must understand I have to do this.
His house is small, smaller than Tom’s, the front porch sagging on one side, the steps with a giant hole in the center. The front lawn’s grass died a long time ago, patches of dark soil tinted with oil oozing from two rusted out cars parked in the space. The empty windows give me the creeps in the dark, but I walk past them with my head up, hands clenching the small package in my grasp.
The stairs creak under my feet, forcing me to keep to the side. I make it to the porch safe and sound while the overhead light flickers at me. I knock when I can’t find a doorbell, the screen wobbling as I pull it open to rap on the warped wood. Its hinges complain when I let it go.
He pulls the door open, looking at me from the other side of the screen. Light reflects against his back, shadowing him from detail, but it doesn’t matter. I catch a glimpse of a woman on a couch in the background, a bottle overturned beside her. She’s snoring while a baby cries at her side.
“I just wanted you to know it wasn’t me.” I hold out the iPod to his shadow. It’s mine, loaded with some songs I love, but with more than enough space for him to load up his thrash metal. It’s a small thing for me, but he must be missing the one he destroyed. “I don’t know if you heard, but we brought Tom down today. It’s over.”
Jimmy doesn’t move or speak, just looms there in silence. For the first time since I’ve known him, I feel uncomfortable. I can’t muster any optimism, but I have to try.
“You might not feel the same way,” I say, “but you’ve been my friend for as long as I can remember. So, I just wanted you to know I’d never betray you.” I set the box with the iPod on the porch and back away. “I’ll see you at school, okay?”
He still doesn’t respond. Well, I tried. I did the very best I could. With heavy feet but a lighter heart for the attempt, I turn and walk down the steps, the peeling paint of the rickety hand rail digging into my palm. I’m almost to the end of the walk when I hear the screen door squeal. I look back to see Jimmy straightening, the box in his hand. He disappears inside, closes his door. The light goes out and I’m in the dark, alone.
I have to take it as a good sign. I refuse to think otherwise.
And here I am, with my optimism in full force all over again. I think I’ll keep it. It suits me. But no more pretending. Well, at least on the outside.
By the time I reach the bus stop, I’m whistling.
***
I can feel his panic, the rising fear as I slip under his guard and into the small, ratty apartment where he’s taken shelter these last few days. With Tatiana’s help, exposing his lies and deceits to the bosses seemed far too simple, but I’ll take the easy victory.
I’m just grateful they’re letting me bring him in personally.
I have to admit, it’s kind of nice to have a partner at my side. I like to work alone, it’s true. I've only paired well with others on a temporary basis. But this partnership feels like a good fit for the first time, so I’m willing to see where it goes.
T.B. knows I’m coming, but I’m all right with that. In fact, as I enter his ramshackle hideaway with its peeling wallpaper and filthy floor covered in cockroaches and garbage, I open up completely to him. Let him know I allowed him to feel me coming.
He laughs hysterically as his tall, lean body, still dressed in that stupid black turtleneck and jeans that make him look like a bad Hollywood villain. “Fool! You’ve given me what I need to defeat you.” He sends his mind into mine, tapping into my fear of abandonment, my terror of being a small child again who has lost everyone and everything she’s ever loved.
And meets with contempt. “You really think that will work on me twice?” The girl I was doesn’t exist anymore. I have more than friends, I have family. And, her loyalty and trust a rock next to me, I have Tatiana. His attempt to use fear against me is a waste of power.
I counted on that. He’s thrown so much effort into trying to terrify me it leaves him gaping and open to my attack. A simple and sharp blow to the back of his mind drives him down into unconsciousness.
Sure, I could have dug out his own fear and turned it against him. But I’m done with games. The job is done and I’m ready to move on.
They’re waiting for us outside the apartment building, the long, black limo humming behind them. My bosses at the CIA smile, offering congratulations as agents load the unconscious T.B. into the trunk.
“Well done, Kitalia,” M. says, appearing slightly embarrassed as she clears her throat. “You know we trusted you all along?”
“Of course we did.” D. offers a handshake while J.J. grins at me like this is all a big joke and I should just laugh along.
C1 and C2 are the first to notice, and they laugh together. “She’s not coming back.”
I nod. “You two were always smarter than you looked.”
M. gapes, D. shocked. “What do you mean, not coming back?” M.’s lips flap a moment. “Name your price, Kitalia. And your position. It’s yours. You’ve saved the CIA and, possibly, the world from T.B.’s diabolical mind. We want you with us.”
D. steps forward. “We’re your family.”
“You are.” I turn away, happy when Tatiana joins me at the passenger door of my black Cobra. “But it’s time I flew on my own. Kitalia Ore is a free agent now. You need anything, just ask. But I’m done being controlled.”
J.J. rushes to my side, grasps my upper arms. His lips are so soft on mine, the rough edge of his stubble making my cheeks tingle as he kisses me. “Don’t forget me, Kitalia.”
“Never.” I step back. “I’ll be seeing you.”
The engine rumbles to life under my hands as Tatiana settles next to me and smiles.
“Where to?”
I shrug and laugh, pulling away as the life I once knew fades away in the rear view mirror.
I’ll figure it out. There’s lots of time. And I just want to bask in this for a bit.
Turns out I’m a sucker for happy endings.
###
My dear reader:
We can’t all be Kit MacLean, can we? As much as we wish we could… Bullying is a real and terrible problem faced by countless youth every day. The creation of social media and the ease of communication via electronic devices like smartphones and tablets has opened up a whole new wor
ld of opportunity, but also brand new venues where bullying can have a devastating effect on victims.
As such a victim in my youth, I feel strongly about offering somewhere safe to turn to in times of darkness. Organizations like the following are excellent resources. While I’d rather we lived in a world where bullying wasn’t an issue, knowing there are places to turn, where help can be found, is the next best thing.
If you—or someone you know—are being bullied, please, reach out and tell someone. Your parents, your friends, your teachers, your aunts or uncles or grandparents… anyone in your life who you know will listen. Bullies only have control if you remain silent. And while speaking up isn’t the final step, it is the first.
Even better, if you’re watching someone you know being bullied—step up. Stand out. And make sure the bullies know you see them.
Take that step. Be incredible.
Love and hugs—you’re not alone.
Patti
These amazing organizations are here for you:
Kids Help Phone:
If you are a young person who needs support, you can reach out to Kids Help Phone’s professional counsellors any time of day or night - please call 1-800-668-6868 or visit www.kidshelpphone.ca. It’s totally free, anonymous, and confidential.
Stop A Bully:
Stop A Bully is a registered Canadian charity offering a free and confidential online service for reporting bullying among students to the school administration. For more information, visit www.stopabully.ca.
***
Like what you read?
Find more about Patti Larsen at
www.pattilarsen.com
and her books at
www.purelyparanormalpress.com
Sign up for new releases
www.bit.ly/pattilarsenemail
***
Look for the latest from Patti Larsen
Sci-Fi meets the Wild West in
Didi and the Gunslinger
When an Underlord kidnaps her father, Didi’s plan to resurrect a retired cyborg gunslinger and rescue her dad leads her into more danger than she bargained for…
Coming March 16th, 2015!
***
About the Author
Everything you need to know about me is in this one statement: I’ve wanted to be a writer since I was a little girl, and now I’m doing it. How cool is that, being able to follow your dream and make it reality? I’ve tried everything from university to college, graduating the second with a journalism diploma (I sucked at telling real stories), was in an all-girl improv troupe for five glorious years (if you’ve never tried it, I highly recommend making things up as you go along as often as possible). I’ve even been in a Celtic girl band (some of our stuff is on YouTube!) and was an independent film maker. My life has been one creative thing after another—all leading me here, to writing books for a living.
Now with multiple series in happy publication, I live on beautiful and magical Prince Edward Island (I know you’ve heard of Anne of Green Gables) with my very patient husband and six massive cats.
I love-love-love hearing from you! You can reach me (and I promise I’ll message back) at [email protected]. And if you’re eager for your next dose of Patti Larsen books (usually about one release a month) come join my mailing list! All the best up and coming, giveaways, contests and, of course, my observations on the world (aren’t you just dying to know what I think about everything?) all in one place: www.bit.ly/pattilarsenemail.
Last—but not least!—I hope you enjoyed what you read! Your happiness is my happiness. And I’d love to hear just what you thought. A review where you found this book would mean the world to me—reviews feed writers more than you will ever know. So, loved it (or not so much), your honest review would make my day. Thank you!
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