by Nora Flite
Steadying myself, I push into the room. I nudge the door shut behind me. Only then do I notice that this place is quiet, a room where no sound can escape. Once, when Kara and I went exploring, I fell into a hole. The dirt pressing around my ears was just like this.
The man who opened the door is standing in front of a desk. It's shaped like a crescent, with him inside the curve. The edges are uneven—it's been carved from a giant tree trunk. “So,” he says, gazing down on me. “You're Joseph Greene's kid.”
His eyes aren't like Dominic's. They're not even like Annie's. The puffy edges look wrong with how sunken in his sockets are. His dark hair is thinning around his temples, the rest cut clean to his scalp. He's trying to smile, but it's all wrong.
I'm frozen.
I don't know why I'm scared. He's just an old man in a room full of papers and books. Is he that old? I wonder, squinting at his lined skin. He could be close to Dad's age. But where my father normally radiates energy, this man is sucking it from everything around him.
“Well?” he asks, leaning against the desk. “Answer me. Are you Joseph Green's daughter?”
Swallowing, I shake my head patiently. “No. I'm Joseph Laurel's daughter.”
His angular brows fly upwards. He's gripping the wood behind him violently. The veins on the backs of his hands flex; he inhales, laughing so sharply it makes me flinch. The sound turns into a wet hack. He grabs at his chest, there's a little triangle of maroon in his jacket's breast pocket. Like him, his outfit is all severe angles and lines. He yanks out the fabric, coughing into it for a long minute.
It sounds awful. I wonder if he's dying.
Tucking the handkerchief away, he nods at me. “Laiken, correct?”
“Yes.” Speaking to him is easier now that I've done it once.
His lids become hooded. “You look like him around your cheekbones. Tell me, are you anything at all like your coward of a father?”
Stunned by his insult, I ball my hands. “He's not a coward!”
“How loyal of you.” A thin sheet covers the window behind him. It lets only a fractional amount of sun into the room, leaving him more shadow than anything else. Pushing off the desk, he makes his way to me. His approach calls forth all the terrible monsters from my nightmares. Except when I blink, I don't wake up.
The top of my head reaches his ribs. His scent is crisp like parchment—like his son’s—but it covers a sickly sweetness that roils my breakfast. I know he's my enemy the way a newborn bird knows to stay silent in its nest when a hawk is near.
I think about elbowing him.
I think about biting his thigh.
I think and think... and I do none of it.
Never have I stood in the presence of someone so paralyzing. I don't even know his name. But I'm unable to move my tongue from the roof of my mouth. When he bends in half, gripping my chin, I feel tears slide from my eyes.
He sighs heavily. His breath is sour. “Don't cry, girl. I'm not going to hurt you. Think about it. Your father won't do as I say if I do anything too terrible, hmm?”
There's a whining in my ears that grows the longer he stares at me. I nod stiffly.
His fingers fall away as he remains where he is. “Annie told me that you weren't interested in hearing your father's history with us. You don't have to know, if you don't want. But living here will bring whispers to your ears. You won't be able to block out what others say when they think you aren't listening. Wouldn't you rather the truth, than fragments that could be lies?”
He's oddly persuasive. “Yes,” I say softly.
“Good.” His thin lips spread benevolently. “Then I'll tell you the important parts.” Standing to his full height, he moves to sit in the wing-backed chair behind his desk. The wall is covered with shiny plaques and medals with different colored cloth; far enough away I can't tell what the words on them say. Did he earn all of them?
I draw closer. There's an engraved, gold nameplate in the center of the desk. Silas Bradley. It must be his name. A small, stump-shaped chair waits in the deepest curve of the desk. I settle on the lacquered surface.
His fingers come together like two crashing waves. He stares at me over the top of them. “Years ago, long before you were born, your father and I worked together. He was brilliant at his job.” He hesitates. “Hopefully he still is.”
I'm hunching close, with my breath boiling in my lungs. “What was his job?”
“On paper he was a programmer, a systems analyst. In reality he was a devious hacker.” I don't know what any of that means—he spots my crinkled brow. “He worked with computers. My god, you don't know even know what those are, do you? Of course not. Joseph would have kept away from any technology that could be traced back to him.”
It's like my brain is swelling, unable to fit in my skull. “I don't understand.”
Silas leans back in his chair. His mouth is drawn tight. “When I said I'd tell you, I assumed you'd grasp the basics. Your father has done you a disservice by letting you grow up stupid.”
“I'm not stupid,” I say seriously.
He glances down his nose at me. “You are.” Putting his fingers to his temples, he takes a moment to think. I know I'm frustrating him, but I'm just as irritated. “Do you know what money is?”
“Of course I do.”
He purses his lips doubtfully. “My family's business was built on protecting people's money. Your father helped me build it into something even bigger. An empire.” Drumming his fingers on the desk, he stares out the window. I don't know why; he can't see anything because of the blinds. “Joseph was my confidant. We did much good together. We also did some things in the name of the greater good, only.”
My muscles hurt from perching on the stump without budging. He said he'd tell me the truth, but none of this makes sense.
He can tell he's lost me again. “Your dad was in charge of stealing secrets and keeping them. He was supposed to zip his damn mouth. Then when things got too hot for him, he vanished, nearly ruining everything I'd suffered for!” His fist slams down on the desk; I startle. In a blink he goes from languid to wild, his lips pulling back over his teeth. “As I said, he's a coward.”
Blood is swishing through my pulse at rapid speed. I can't look away. I worry if I do that he'll strike the way a feral dog would.
Silas puts his palms together at his chest. He starts breathing in a deliberate pattern until he's calm. “You're my anchor, you know? You’re the thing that will keep Joseph from ever, ever thinking of betraying me again. As long as you're in here he won't run. And as long as he doesn't run...” He gives me a smile that's the closest to genuine I've seen from him yet. “You'll be perfectly safe.”
There it is. The last bit that I need to know.
My fate is wrapped up in my dad's. Once, he'd escaped whatever work he was doing with Silas. Thanks to me, he can't do it a second time. Or he could, but—No, I tell myself firmly. He won't do anything that could put me in danger. I have to believe it or I'll fall to pieces.
“Any questions?” he asks. Of course I have plenty. I'm more eager to get away from him, so I shake my head. “Then leave, and tell Dominic I'm ready for him.”
Sweat sticks to my throat. I want to run, but I'm nervous my legs will give out, so I walk to the door instead. When I open it, air and life and every day sounds become music to my ears.
Dominic is waiting for me against the wall. He scans my face, then my trembling hands.
His smile is tragic. “If it's any consolation, it'll be worse for me.”
- Chapter 6 -
Laiken
I count all the red flowers in the wallpaper before the door swings open again, releasing Dominic into the hall. His eyes are beyond tired. I imagine his father draining his life as a giant mosquito would.
He spots me and jumps. “You're still here?”
“I waited for you.” Standing, I stare at the door behind him. He shuts it solidly, motioning for me to follow him. I go eagerly. I'm ready to get as
far away from that room as possible.
We walk until we're in an unfamiliar area of the house. It's quieter here, the noise fading as we approach a wide set of glass doors. “What did he say?” I ask, unable to resist any longer.
Dominic opens the doors, revealing a gigantic room with floor to ceiling shelves stuffed with books. My parents had books, but not such a limitless amount. This is a library.
“Why are we here?” I pry, trying to get him to look at me.
He shakes his head, half-jogging down the shelves. There's no one else here that I can see.
His singular focus bothers me. “Dominic, what's wrong?” Still he ignores me, serious in his mission. Together we weave through the aisles, me on his heels.
Grabbing a stack of thick books, he sets them on a circular table. Dust flits up; I sneeze without covering my mouth. “Here.” He taps the tomes. “These are where we'll start.”
“Start what? Dominic, what did your dad tell you?” I clench my hands, thinking all kinds of terrible things. “That guy is really creepy. I can't believe he's your dad, but whatever he did or said about you, it's probably all lies, and—”
The sound of another book slapping down cuts me off. “Stop.” His eyes flash at me. “Don't insult him so loudly. He's still my father, okay?”
I falter. “Sorry.”
He stares me down, the tension erasing from his features bit by bit. “I'm sorry, too. It's not like he makes it easy for me to defend him. He said some awful things about you when I was in there.”
Prickles run up my spine; I laugh out of surprise. “Like what?”
“He called you an idiot.”
I crinkle my nose. “Well, I'm not.”
“I know that.” Dominic taps the top book. “But you're not familiar with modern things. Your world and mine are completely different. People who work with my family expect a certain level of intelligence. As you are, no one will take you seriously.”
That gets my hackles up. “So you think you're better than me.”
“Laiken—”
“Maybe you know lots about cell-phones,” I wrack my brain, “And computer things. So what? You know who knew all of that stuff? My dad.” Heat blooms behind my eyeballs. I'm ranting and I can't stop. “You think that helped him at all when it came down to it? Huh? It didn't. Because if it had, I wouldn't be trapped here!”
Dominic braces himself against the table, staring at me. I'm humiliated by my outburst. Before I can run, he reaches across and grabs my hands. His touch is warm. It makes me jump. “You're right,” he whispers. “Knowing about technology can't fix everything. I just want to help prepare you for life here, Laiken. That's all. I swear.”
Inhaling until my chest burns, I let the air out loudly. My fingers squeeze his—Kara enters my mind. She'd adapt. She'd excel just to show she could. “I'm happy to learn. Half of what your dad said sounded like made up stuff.”
He smiles with one side of his mouth. “I'll teach you whatever I can before I leave.”
My joy dissipates. “What?”
Palming his neck, he sits at the table. “That's what my father wanted to talk to me about. He's enrolled me in a military boarding school. I start next month.”
My bones aren't doing their job. I crumple into the other chair, staring at him. “But we only just met.”
Propping his chin on a fist, he goes quiet. “Are you that attached already?”
Fire swims up my throat. I avoid his eyes. “You're the only one I've met so far that seems trustworthy.”
“Then we should take advantage of these coming weeks. I'll show you around, get you settled, and teach you what I can. And no more fighting. We don't have the time to waste. Deal?”
I don't want to make any more deals. I'm so tired of them. But I meet his kind stare, the warmth of it lighting up my heart. Thanks to it, I can breathe a little easier. “Deal.”
DOMINIC WAS SERIOUS when he said he'd keep the maids away from my hair. They never flashed a pair of scissors in my line of sight again. Instead, they leave me brushes with silky bristles, bottles of shampoos, conditioners, and countless oils. Everything is presented in tissue paper stuffed baskets. The wrapped gifts accumulate in the small room that's supposedly mine.
It isn't mine. I know where my real bedroom is.
I spend my days reading books, exploring the estate, and waiting for news about my family. It's a painful process made somewhat tolerable thanks to Dominic.
“You really have to go?” I ask, lying beside him. We're both stretched out on the manicured backyard, posing the way you'd make snow angels if it weren't September, the lingering summer fighting off any hint of fall.
He stares at the blue sky. “Father wants it, so that's that. I don't get any say.”
“Well, it's stupid,” I grumble. He chuckles, which makes me smile. And it makes me loath that he's leaving even more. “Do you even want to be a soldier?”
“They teach lots of other things there. I'm hoping to learn programming. I could even join the air force, become a pilot.”
“I like that idea. You could fly me around the world in a plane!”
“Definitely. I'd love to do that with you.” He plucks a blade of grass, blowing it against his lips so it whistles. “Dad spent a lot of time picking the right school. He thinks the discipline they provide will be good for me. He was in the army, did you know? Grandfather was too. It's important to remember the past.”
I remember the past every single day. Thinking about my family makes me queasy. “Won't you be lonely there?”
“My cousin Bernard will be joining at the same time. We get along really well, he's kind of like the brother I never had.”
I miss the brother I DO have. I rush to change the direction of the conversation. “When will you come back?”
He flicks the grass away. It twirls on the breeze, vanishing. “I'll get some holiday breaks. The first one is this December, that's only three months away.”
I nod sagely, frowning. “Too bad. I bet I won't see you.”
“Why?”
“I'll be back home by then,” I respond, like it's as obvious as water being wet.
He turns away, saying nothing as he studies the cloudless sky. There are lines in his young face that remind me of how my father looked when I hid beside the logs with Kara weeks ago. It cools my mood. Makes me wonder what he knows that I don't.
“Maybe,” I say slowly, following his example and eyeing the sky, “We'll be able to meet outside of here someday.”
The grass crunches lightly under his head. “I'd like that.” I know he's watching me, I feel the warmth of his eyes. He's the first boy I've gotten to know. Our friendship came easy. It's what's forming beneath—this fluffy, inexperienced thing—that haunts me and makes my heart thrum. That leaves me awake in the late hours. His smile imprinted behind my eyelids. I don't want to name it yet. I don't think I can.
But I do know one thing: Dominic and I are destined to remain friends.
I'm sure of it.
- Chapter 7 -
Laiken
Dominic manages to teach me plenty before he leaves. I learn what a bank is, and that the Bradleys own one of the most influential banking companies in the country. I learn what computers are, too, though his attempts to explain the Internet goes nowhere. He tries to show me directly, until Emma catches us with a laptop under his blanket in his bedroom. I don't know what she thinks we were doing, but she's furious.
The staff watches us closely after that,
not that it matters.
The morning before he turns thirteen, his bags are stacked by the front door. I know it's time for him to go. I've been counting the minutes, but it's surreal anyway. Men pack his suitcases into a black car waiting outside.
Annie observes from a distance, one arm over her stomach, the other perched on the frames of her sunglasses. She looks like a giant fly with those shiny things on her face, a big, scowling bug.
I'm pressed against the white sidi
ng, unsure what to do. I think Annie's staring at me. I really can't tell. Where is he? The sound of heavy footsteps catches my attention. Dominic rushes out the front door, staring around frantically. His eyes find me. Only then does his panic fade. “I thought you wouldn't say goodbye,” he says, coming closer.
I'm stiff all over from trying not to cry. “How could I not? I was waiting inside, but I didn't see you.”
“I was talking with my dad.” He's right in front of me now. Over his shoulder, men keep loading bags. Annie's jaw turns imperceptibly. Yes, she's definitely watching us.
We stand there, two awkward people, both unable to explain how much this hurts. I didn't know it was possible to grow so close to someone so fast. But I have. The way my heart chokes is living proof.
He breaks first, grabbing me in a hug. My arms circle him, squeezing, and I have a childish idea that we're locked together. No one can pull us apart no matter how hard they try. I love that thought.
“Dominic,” Annie calls. Her voice is clean. Saying goodbye to her son isn't painful for her, not like it is for me.
Reluctantly, he pulls away. His hands squeeze my upper arms, holding me a foot away from him. It's like he's doing me a favor. He has to know I wasn't going to let him go, this is all on him. “Goodbye,” he whispers, his voice thick.
My mouth trembles. “Goodbye, Dominic. I'll see you again someday.”
Hope and guilt and fear ripple in his chocolate eyes. He spins away, moving without grace, as if his limbs are made from cement. He goes to stand in front of his mother. I think about how I clung to my parents when I left my home. How they crushed me in return.
Annie gives his shoulder a single pat. “Good luck,” she says.
His head bobs down, and it stays there. A man opens the rear door of the car and Dominic climbs in. I stay there by the house, watching as the boy I adore winds his way from my life.
The gigantic gates spread open as his car approaches.
