by C. L. Stone
Marie never faced the music alone. We went together, usually so she could point a finger of blame at me.
I was used to it.
I could leave when I wanted. Kota was so close. He’d agree I could.
If I really needed him to, he’d help me escape.
Those thoughts gave me the courage to follow Marie inside.
I was her shadow now. She was a little taller than me, and I could almost hide behind her.
Once we were around the door and could shut it, I stopped, staring around Marie’s arm in disbelief.
A woman with fluffy curls of auburn hair held a vacuum in her hand. She ran it over and over along the carpet, making perfect W shapes as she went along, but then did it again in the same spot, as if she couldn’t get the carpet clean enough. Our orange couch was gone, replaced by a red one, or so I thought until I realized it was the same shape and it might have a cover.
She continued to vacuum with us standing behind her. I was too afraid to speak to let her know we were here, and Marie didn’t say anything.
Studying the woman, it was clear her hair was dyed, too vibrant and unusual to be a real color. It was layered, with some curls along the edges, and brushed straight at her crown. It was old-fashioned—like I’d seen in pictures of girls from the sixties. She was stout, with wide shoulders. Her legs and arms seemed lean; it was her torso that was her weight. She wore floral-printed pants, and her silky black shirt billowed around her, hanging down to midthigh.
I folded my arms over my stomach, nervously rubbing my fingers together, feeling the sweatshirt between my fingers as I clutched the material. I felt oddly underdressed.
The woman turned, caught sight of us and shut off the vacuum with a quick snap of the button. She examined us head to toe, looking quickly at Marie and then taking a deeper, more quizzical look at me.
She released the vacuum to take a few steps toward us. “Is this her?” she asked Marie.
Marie nodded and motioned to me with a wave. “This is Sang.”
I bit my lip and hid my hands behind my back. “H...hello?” I said, questions zipping through my brain, fizzling before I could find the nerve to speak.
She narrowed her eyes as she studied me. “You’re a mess,” she said. “You were at camp?”
A mess? I glanced down, wondering if she meant the shorts. I’d taken a bath at Victor’s house. Was my hair looking awful? “Yes, camp,” I mumbled softly and then hesitated before giving any more information. I wasn’t a great liar, so I wanted to be cautious about saying any more than necessary.
“Where are your things?” she asked quickly.
“Still at camp,” I said. With the phone tucked into the shorts behind my back, I wondered if they could hear this. “I came as quickly as I could. My stuff will be brought back for me later.”
She turned the full force of her eyes, accusing, in my direction. “And how in the world did you get permission to go on this trip? Your father didn’t know about it.”
I dropped my gaze from her face to her black shirt. My cheeks burned. “I didn’t...it was hard to contact him.” Who was she? And why did she care?
“That doesn’t give you permission to go. And what’s this news I heard from your school counselor about skipping classes?” she asked.
My throat closed in as I stared at her. School counselor? Mrs. Wright? This made me think she was from social services, but why vacuum the floor? “I think there was a mistake—”
I stopped when my father stepped in from the kitchen. His hair seemed grayer to me, starting from the temples and threading back into the dark. His skin was a deep tan color, his eyes dark, like Marie’s. He was in what Marie and I knew to be his weekend wear: a pair of old brown slacks too worn for work and a gray sweatshirt, dingy at the elbows and tattered at the sleeves.
The woman turned to him and looked over his attire. Wrinkles formed at her lips as she frowned. “I think you can afford more suitable casual clothes, dear.”
Dear? My jaw fell open and I looked at Marie.
Marie’s eyebrows were up, her eyes wide. I told you.
Was this... this was...
“Sang,” my father said, his voice gruffer than I remembered. “This is Carol. She...” He paused.
“I’m his new wife,” she said and straightened her stance, rolling her shoulders back. “Unofficial yet, but it’s close enough for me. We’ve been meaning to contact a lawyer to go after those very complicated divorce papers, since she’s been in the hospital.” She shot a look at my father. “Right?”
His eyes dropped. “Yeah,” he said. “I’ll figure it out.”
I knew my father well enough to know that “I’ll figure it out” usually meant he didn’t know and he’d wait until people forgot and never do it. He avoided looking at any of us, one of the hallmarks of our family: never look anyone in the eyes.
Marie’s eyes were wide, and wild, but her lips stayed firmly closed. I kept my questions to myself, afraid to speak. Did it matter what I said? The guys, if they could see and hear all this, were probably already working out what to do.
I couldn’t have pictured this.
I wasn’t prepared for this. Not right now.
A divorce. If a lawyer was brought in, he would ask who I was. My ghost status would be over for the Academy before I’d even had a chance to consider what being a ghost meant.
My record would be looked at carefully. Why was my birth certificate forged? Where did they get my Social Security number? They were questions I didn’t know the answer to. Whatever lies he’d told this woman, he must have gotten in too deep. Or did she know, and this was her way of “fixing” the situation?
It was a risky move, because it might reveal the secret my father carried. My mother had been underaged when she had given birth to me, and there was still a hanging question as to whether it had been consensual or not.
I had a feeling she didn’t know. That he’d lied about who we were and what was going on here.
I could tell in the way his shoulders slouched. In the way that he seemed defeated.
How he usually looked when his wife overruled him in any decision, which was often.
Now he was letting this lady tell him what to do?
As much as I didn’t want to feel sorry for him, I was affected by this too, and if he’d lied, I’d have to find out what he’d told her. If this woman exposed him, she’d expose me, too. I’d be given a real birth certificate, given a record.
If my father got into trouble over what had happened in the past, he’d go to jail. What would happen to me then?
What happened when I was no longer a ghost bird? I’d asked the Academy council to release the boys of their debt that involved me if I’d become what they wanted. Yet if I wasn’t a ghost bird, what could I offer them then?
I clenched my teeth, wishing I could say something, or walk out. It would be easier, but it wouldn’t help me, and it could make things worse for the guys with the Academy.
Carol zeroed in on my face, undeterred, and focused on my eyes, making it hard to avoid looking at her. “Maybe it’s for the best we got here so soon. Your grades are tolerable, but we can’t have anyone in this house skipping school. I wish this wasn’t the first impression you got of me, but your father told me your mother was the disciplinarian of the house, so I’m taking it upon myself to take charge.” She pointed to Marie and me. “As of this moment, you’re both to help me clean this house from top to bottom until it is finished. You’re to remain in this house and are not permitted to leave until school is back in session.”
“I didn’t skip school,” Marie said. “Why do I have to clean? Everything’s already done.”
“Everyone helps,” Carol said. “And there’s a lot to do. There’s enough dust in this house for us all.”
Marie pointed at me. “She skipped. She wasn’t even here. Make her do it. I’ve been on my own for the last—”
“Enough!” Carol snapped.
Marie’s lips
closed and her head jerked back, eyes widening with a silent anger.
“I don’t argue with children,” Carol said. “I’ll let the back talk go this time. I know this is a shock.”
Marie twitched her lips, but she only glared at Carol. Before I’d left for camp, she was cleaning the house up. I wonder if she had known Carol was coming at all. And if she’d known Dad was returning, why hadn’t she said anything? I wondered if it was to get me into trouble.
Carol continued. “We’ll have a proper discussion this evening once you’ve both cleaned your rooms, and have had time to soak in the new situation. We’re going to have to learn to work together. Marie, once you’re done cleaning your room, I want you to focus on studying. Your grades aren’t exactly where I’d like them to be. I’ve never let any of my children settle for less than an A, and I don’t plan on letting either of you slip.”
Her children?
We were hers now? Maybe I’d gotten the wrong impression from that, but she was ordering us around like...we were her kids.
I looked at the floor, my heart racing, and tried so hard to stop myself from visibly shaking. Could she just walk in here and tell us what to do like that? That wasn’t the most important question on my mind, though. “I...um...” I said quietly, finding my voice weak. I didn’t want to be rude to Carol, since I had no idea what was going on and didn’t want her to think I was more of a problem child than she probably already thought, if she were to believe my father or Marie.
“Yes, Sang?” Carol asked. While still a sharply asked question, there was a smidgen of curiosity. “Was something I said unclear?”
“I...” I didn’t even want to ask, but I had to know. “I just...”
“You should look at the person you’re talking to in the eyes,” she said.
I gazed at her face, but found I avoided looking at her eyes directly by staring at her cheeks or chin. Suddenly I’d become my old self, unable to look anyone in the eyes for fear of them seeing the real me.
The real me was crying inside, afraid of this change. “How...how long will you be...”
“You want to know how long I’m staying?” she asked and smirked. “Dear, we’ve sold my house. This is our new home. For now, at least. Once the divorce is over, we’ll sell this one, too. We’ve been talking about moving to Savannah. I love that city. I think it will make a great new start for all of us.”
Savannah! Another state away, where the guys might not be able to get to. Most of them had family ties and jobs here, including the Academy.
I closed my mouth, swallowing. In a few moments, my entire life had been flipped upside down, again. A new stepmother. Divorce. Exposure. Moving to a new town.
The boys.
The Academy.
Could it all be over?
My brain quit on me, all questions paused. It was all I could do to keep standing where I was and not break down in front of everyone.
“Where are we supposed to go if you sell the house?” Marie asked.
Carol interlaced her fingers and covered her midsection in a relaxed pose. “I know you girls just moved here, but your father has been promoted. He’ll have to travel more for work, but it means we can move wherever we want. I picked a lovely city with a lot of culture. If you help me make this work, we can get a bigger house with room for everyone.” She gazed with a smile to my father. “Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”
My father nodded, with a small but tense smile in return. “Of course,” he said.
My face fell, shocked at the banter of what seemed like flirting from her, and his almost-masked terrified look. My skin rippled with goose bumps. How soon would a divorce be over? How soon could this house sell that we’d be gone?
Could it be a couple of weeks? Everything inside of me electrified with fear, and a tight ball formed in my stomach.
Could I stop this?
“Now, up to your rooms,” she said quickly and gave us a dismissive wave. “And, Sang, I’m sorry, but your room was bigger and had all that extra space in the attic for storage. You’ll have to make do with a roommate until we move. You can move your things in with Marie, or sort it out with my son. Split the room in half, maybe.”
Her son? My room?
I looked to Marie, who scowled, silent. This wasn’t a surprise to her.
Carol waved us off again with a harsher stare. She was displeased we weren’t obeying her instantly.
Our father disappeared into the kitchen, his footsteps fading as he went back toward his bedroom. Carol went back to vacuuming.
Marie and I slowly made our way from the family room into the living room.
There were noises above me. Footsteps.
Her son was upstairs.
In my room.
Jimmy
Walking was almost painful with the ball of tightness in my stomach. My body wanted to fall to the floor, just to stretch out and absorb what happened.
I wasn’t hurt. It wasn’t a good situation, but I wasn’t hurt. Should I leave and talk to Kota? It seemed that might make some trouble with Carol and my father right off if I just disappeared again. Since I wasn’t in immediate danger, I felt I should get to know the situation fully.
If the guys felt I needed to leave right now, they’d come get me. I had to trust in that.
In my heart, I wished they would come to get me. I didn’t like this. I did my best to hide my shaking, to keep myself from just running out the door, finding one of them and hiding in their arms.
Moving to Savannah. A divorce. Exposure was inevitable.
We’d move, and they would be too far away to help me anymore.
Marie and I paused at the bottom of the front staircase. For a minute, I listened to Carol vacuuming, feeling very awkward that a stranger was cleaning my house, on top of everything else. What about her stuff outside?
Was the house not clean enough for her to bring her stuff inside?
Marie whispered to me. “She wanted to put us together in a room, and then he said he didn’t mind sharing.”
I wasn’t sure it mattered.
Or maybe it did. Did I need to find out more information? Did I need to stay close to him to learn what I could?
However, this caused a problem for the immediate future at least. There wasn’t a place for the guys to sneak in if her son was in my room. And Marie might tattle if there were boys going in and out of her room every night.
She’d already tried ratting me out for her own benefit. She’d do it again. “She doesn’t care if her son and I sleep in the same room?”
“Someone may need to. Dad somehow got it in her head that once Mom gets back, they’re going to put her in there with me. She says they want her out of the hospital so she’s not driving up any more bills before a divorce. If she comes here...” Marie frowned at me, with a steady gaze.
I pressed my palms to my thighs, fingers itching to shake but not showing how frightening the thought was. Her mother hated me. Sleeping in the same room would be a nightmare. I wasn’t totally sure my stepmother would even allow it. I’d be forced to sleep in the other room anyway.
It hadn’t even occurred to me to think of what might happen if her mother, my stepmother, returned. I wanted to laugh, in an awkward way. Did our father really think she’d just live with Carol?
This was a disaster. I tried to be calm despite how much things had changed in a few minutes, but this was like another dimension, a wicked nightmare that I’d stepped into.
Footsteps continued upstairs, inside my room.
“He’s nosy,” she said as she took a few steps up the stairs. “I had to kick him out of my room twice already. They’ve only been here since this morning.”
Nosy.
My room.
The attic! There were pictures of all the guys up there, and a secret wardrobe and other stuff. Had he seen it? Had he shown Carol?
I followed Marie upstairs, dreading discovering what he knew. I didn’t know him, and his loyalty was not to me, but to his moth
er. He had to have seen the attic by now. Would he tell her about the things inside? Had I left anything behind that would let him know about the Academy or about my past? Or my relationship with the boys? What if the boys had left some clothing item in there?
We stood together silently in the second-floor hallway and listened. My door was closed. My muscles tightened, my body stiffening. I expected someone as abrasive as his mother and I didn’t feel prepared for it.
Rock music played quietly. Footsteps shuffled across the carpet. Back and forth.
Marie was the first to reach for the door handle, and she opened it before I was ready.
Would I have ever been ready for this?
Inside, my bed had been pulled from the wall it had sat up against and repositioned to the middle of the room. The bookshelf was against the far wall. On top were two stereos, one newer, more modern, and that one was playing the music.
A boy stood inside. He had tight curls of hair against his head, although his hair was very short, almost buzzed to his scalp. He wasn’t broad. We were actually close in height, but he had bulky arm muscles. He wore a sport tank shirt in dark blue, and sport shorts and sneakers.
He turned, meeting my face. He had lean cheeks and a square jaw with dark eyes and a broad nose. He smiled at me, his bright eyes widening.
He looked me up and down curiously and then looked again at my face. “How old are you?” he asked.
I harrumphed quickly. “Old enough,” I said. I didn’t mean to be rude, but it felt like something rude to ask without asking my name first, or even saying hello.
I shocked myself by saying it out loud. Snapping back...that wasn’t like me.
His face fell for a second, confusion settling in. He scratched at his stomach through his shirt. “I...uh...”
Marie pointed to the bed awkwardly positioned dead center in the room. “Why’d you move the bed?”
He shrugged. “I wanted to vacuum under there once Mom was done downstairs. It’s dusty.”
“You keep saying that about everything. Dust. She’s vacuumed the living room three times.”
