by Stacey Jay
Melanie’s face crumples, every soft line around her eyes and mouth cloning itself until her expression is wrinkled with misery. “I … I’m sorry.” Her lips curl away from her teeth as she begins to sob—silently at first and then in low, choked bellows that make my throat hurt just to hear them.
She is sorry. She really is. And I am too.
I reach for her, putting my arm around her back, my forehead on her thin shoulder. “I’m sorry. I just don’t want it to be like this anymore. I want to be different. I want us to be different.”
Melanie’s hand lands lightly on my arm. “I love you. You know that, right?” She pulls away, her tear-streaked face stark, earnest. “I have always loved you. Even when I wished I had more time or more money or more help … I never regretted my decision.” She sucks in a breath and reaches for a crumpled napkin sitting in the cup holder between us. “But you’re right … I have regretted other things. Too much, maybe. I just … I always thought …”
“Thought what?”
Her red eyes fill with tears again. “I always thought you hated me. For all the pain I’d caused you. When you were little you’d scream and reach for me in the hospital, but I couldn’t take you out of the bed. I couldn’t hold you, and I thought … I swear I saw you decide to hate me right there.”
“Mom, no. Of course I didn’t. I don’t.” God, I never would have thought …
I suddenly feel like a fool, a cruel fool who only sees the world from her own point of view. Just like Gemma. It makes me wonder what else I’ve seen through warped glass. What if I had tried to talk to my own mother all those years ago instead of lashing out and running away? Could things have been better? Might we have discovered we weren’t so different or distant as we thought?
For the first time since I was a girl, I long for the chance to see my mother’s face, to look into her eyes and see if it was hate or fear or regret that made them so cold. I’ll never know if I could have reached Lady Capulet, but I can reach Melanie. Right here. Right now.
“It wasn’t your fault,” I say, willing her to believe me. “It was an accident.”
“No, it wasn’t.” She sniffs, swiping at her nose with the tight ball the napkin has become. “I mean, it was, but I’d had three glasses of wine on an empty stomach. I wasn’t drunk, but …” She sniffs again and her next breath catches in her throat. “But if I hadn’t had that last glass, maybe I wouldn’t have lost my grip. Maybe I wouldn’t have spilled it. Maybe I wouldn’t have carried the stupid pot to the sink in the first—”
“Mom. Stop.” I reach for her hand, but she waves me away.
“But it’s true.” She curls her spine, hiding her face. “You should know the truth. You—”
“Mom. I don’t care.” I lean down to catch her eyes, to make certain she knows Ariel doesn’t harbor the slightest resentment. At least, not about the accident. “And you can’t do this to yourself. All those maybes aren’t going to change anything. You’ve made mistakes; I’ve made mistakes. The important thing is we don’t have to keep making them. We can stop worrying about who hates who and just try to love each other.”
She looks up, eyebrows arching. “You really don’t … you don’t think I’m awful?”
I meet her gaze—so vulnerable and hopeful—and know that I don’t. And Ariel won’t either. She never has. All she has ever wanted is her mother’s love, her approval. “No. I don’t.”
Melanie sobs softly, and fresh tears fill her eyes. “I … That’s good to hear.” She sniffs, then laughs at the sound. “When did you get so smart?”
“I’ve been studying. I hear you have to be smart to make it as a nurse slash artist.”
She smiles. “I do love you, Ariel.”
“I love you too, Mom.”
“But I don’t want you to get pregnant,” she says, the abrupt change in direction making me blink. “Not until you’re married and you really feel you’re ready.”
“Okay,” I say, embarrassed by the conversation.
“I’m serious.” She takes my hand, squeezes it too tight. “We can go to the clinic now. I know they’d fit you in and you can get a prescription for birth control pills. Or they have IUDs if you want something more long term that you don’t have to think about every day. They’re perfectly safe. But either way, you need to use a condom too to protect against disease because—”
“Mom, please. I’m not in any danger. I promise. Ben and I aren’t even …” What are Ben and I? I don’t know, and that’s a subject I know is better left alone. “We’re friends.”
“I just want you to be careful.” Her forehead wrinkles. “Especially with this boy. He sounds rough.”
“He’s not rough.” I sigh, wishing we’d stopped while we were ahead.
“I mean, I know Dylan’s no angel, but he’s never been arrested. Mrs. Felix said Ben has a police record, Ariel,” Melanie says, stuffing her used napkin in her purse. “The only reason they let him enroll in SHS was because his brother and a couple of other people from the sheriff’s office vouched for him.”
“But I know why he was arrested,” I say, struggling to be patient with her concerns. “He had this neighbor whose boyfriend was beating her up. He called the police, but he was afraid they wouldn’t get there in time. And the police dropped the battery charge, so—”
“Oh, well, great.” Melanie rolls her eyes.
“He was only protecting her.”
“Like he was protecting you today?”
“Ye-es.” Something in her voice makes me certain my answer won’t satisfy her.
“Ariel … violent people usually have a good excuse for why they’re violent. But even a good excuse is just an excuse.”
The argument I’ve been composing dies on my lips. Even a good excuse is just an excuse. Is she right? I have every reason to kill Romeo, but can any reason excuse murder? Or is my love for Ben, my fear for his safety, simply a lie dressed up as justification, violence disguised as justice?
“You might want to step away and think about that before you and Ben take your friendship any further,” Melanie says.
“Ben’s a good person.”
I, on the other hand …
“I’m not saying he’s not.” She sighs and reaches for her door. “But when we go for that meeting tomorrow, you need to think about your future.”
“I don’t understand.” I follow her. The second I leave the car, my skin breaks out in goose bumps. I’m still soaking wet. I need a warm shower, not another lecture.
“I’m saying you need to make sure Mrs. Felix and Mr. Neville know Ben and Dylan aren’t the kind of people you usually hang around with.” She wrenches open the screen door and slides her key into the lock. “Ben may be a criminal, but you’re not.”
“He’s not a—”
“You’re a good kid who—”
“So what are you saying?” I interrupt, pausing on the steps instead of following her into the kitchen when she opens the door. “I should blame him? Throw him to the wolves?”
“No.” Melanie turns back to me with a frustrated sigh. “But Dylan is saying that you two planned this attack.”
“Like I said before, he’s lying.”
“Well, he’s apparently got a witness who heard you saying that you and Ben were planning to corner him in the theater today before school.”
“What?” A witness? I’m guessing that’s Jason Kim, the only person in school as full of lies as Romeo. “That’s impossible. Dylan’s just convinced one of his friends to say that so he won’t get in trouble. He’s a horrible person, Mom.”
Melanie waves her hand. “Will you come inside? You’re making me cold just looking at you.”
“You believe me, don’t you?” I ask, hesitating on the last stair.
“I believe you,” Melanie says, making me sag with relief and take the last few steps into the house. Inside, the kitchen smells as sour as always, but at least it’s warm. And there’s bread and peanut butter in the pantry. No matter how u
pset and confused I am, I have to keep eating. I have to keep my strength up.
I head toward the cabinets, hoping Melanie will get the hint that we should end this conversation if I start making a sandwich.
“But Ariel …” She drops her purse on the counter and crosses her arms.
“But what?” I ask, fetching a plate and a knife.
“I’m not sure what everyone else is going to think. You and Gemma have been friends for almost your entire lives.”
“Gemma?”
She bites her lip, obviously not wanting to tell me what she knows.
“Please, Mom, I don’t—”
“Gemma’s the one who said she heard you planning to hurt Dylan. She says you said something to her this morning at the bakery.”
“Gemma,” I repeat dumbly. Why would she lie for Romeo? Because she’s mad at me, or is it something more?
She lied about her true opinion of Dylan from day one, and welcomed him into the barn yesterday. Who knows how close she’s grown to Romeo? She’s been listening to his lies for at least a day, maybe longer. For all I know she could be getting ready to drive a knife into Ben’s heart at this very second, while I’m wasting time making a peanut butter sandwich.
The knife in my hand clatters to the counter.
“I have to go back to school,” I say, heading for the door. Melanie stops me with a hand on my arm.
“Ariel, you can’t.”
“I have to. I have to see Gemma and find out why she’s lying.”
“Honey, I’m so sorry she—”
“It’s fine. I don’t care, we just …” I take a breath, trying to keep the hysteria from my voice. “Gemma and I have to talk.” About how she’s never going to lay a hand on Ben, how I’ll kill her if she even thinks about making that kind of bargain. Gemma will never become a Mercenary. I’ll make sure of it—one way or another.
“Please, Mom.” I shrug her off and reach for one of the coats hanging on the pegs by the door. If I can’t be dry, I can at least be warmer. “Can you just take me back to school? Or let me borrow the car for a few hours?”
“Ariel, you’re not allowed back onto school grounds until the meeting tomorrow.”
“But I have to go.” I have to go back. I have to get to Gemma before Romeo sways her completely to his side. She’s already telling outrageous lies for him; how much further is she willing to go?
“We can’t,” Melanie says, her voice admirably patient. “Why don’t you go take a shower and warm up? I’ll make you a peanut butter and banana sandwich, and while you’re eating you can tell me exactly what happened. All about Ben and Dylan and Gemma and the rest of it. People telling that many lies always have holes in their stories. We’ll find them and be ready to point them out in the meeting tomorrow and everything will be fine.”
I shake my head, struggling to think straight, wishing a talk could solve this problem.
Melanie wraps her arm around me, pulling me close. “Come on, you’ll feel better after you’re clean and dry. And I bet between the two of us we can think of lots of ways to make Gemma suffer for being such a complete b-word.” My head snaps in her direction. She smiles at the surprise on my face, trouble sparking in her usually tired eyes. “What? You know I never really liked her. Her mother is a snob, and I honestly think Gemma is suffering from a nasty case of borderline personality disorder. And she treats you like a puppy. One she likes to kick.”
“She does,” I say, not caring anymore that Ariel is so attached to Gemma. She’ll just have to get unattached. Gemma isn’t best friend material. And despite that red glow, she isn’t soul mate material either.
My decision is made. The Ambassadors can take her glowing aura and shove it. I’m not going to do anything to help Gemma get closer to Ben. I don’t care what they do to me. They can come for me, strip me of my power, and send me to the mist, but I’m going to take care of Gemma before they do. Maybe I’ll lock her and Dylan away in some dark, cramped cellar—someplace similar to the tomb where I spent my last days—and let them fester there together until I make sure Ben is far away from both of them.
“But from the look on your face, I’m guessing the puppy has learned to bite.” Melanie gives me another hug. “Go on, shower.”
I hesitate, clenching the jacket in my hand. I still feel driven to find Gemma, but if what Melanie’s saying is true—if I’m not going to be allowed back on campus until tomorrow’s meeting—chances are that Ben won’t be allowed back on campus either. That means he’s probably safe at home, secure under the watchful eye of his would-be-dictator brother. A phone call will confirm it.
Maybe his brother will even let me talk to him, let me tell him I was wrong, that maybe he and I … he and Ariel …
Bliss and misery, expectation and despair—this situation is all that, wrapped up in an impossible package. Still, the thought of talking to Ben lifts my spirits, makes me feel there’s something in the world worth looking forward to, worth fighting for. But this time I’ll be fighting to extinguish his glow, just as many a Mercenary has done before me. If I haven’t switched sides, I’m definitely dancing on the line.
One, two, three, one, two, three—careful, or I’ll stumble into the dark.
“Okay.” A little drunk on my decision, I hang up my coat and head out of the kitchen, spinning back around at the last moment. Melanie is watching me leave, a relaxed look on her face that makes me smile. I’ve failed in many ways, but I haven’t failed completely. Ariel and her mom are going to have a different life now, a better life. I’m sure of it. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. And in case you were wondering, you’re not grounded.”
“Oh … good.” I didn’t consider the possibility of being grounded. Ariel’s never done anything worthy of a grounding before.
She shrugs and smiles. “We’ve made it eighteen years. I don’t see any reason to start with the grounding now. And you’re right, it’s time I start trusting you more.” She points a warning finger at my chest. “As long as trusting you doesn’t involve any more calls from the principal, or running off into the woods and making me worry that you’re dead. Or hitchhiking. Especially hitchhiking. That’s a good way to get killed by a sex pervert.”
I could hitchhike from here to New York City and probably not encounter anyone as evil as the boy we’ll be sitting with in the principal’s office tomorrow, but still … I appreciate the fact that someone cares enough to worry. Even if it isn’t really about me.
“No more. I promise,” I say, hoping Romeo will allow me to keep that promise.
I hurry down the hall, darting into the bathroom to start the water before heading to my room to fire up the computer. I open the Internet browser and type in Luna, Solvang, sagging with relief when I see that Ben’s brother is listed. I’ve never gotten Ben’s cell number. Professions of love, a kiss I’ll never forget—but no phone number. We’re going at this backward, but it feels so right; it has since the first day. It doesn’t matter that his aura is glowing for another girl. He and Ariel can be happy together. I know it.
And in the meantime, maybe it’s okay to let myself love him. Even if it isn’t forever. I pluck the phone from its cradle and dial.
“Hello?” A woman’s voice answers on the second ring. Ben’s sister-in-law, I’m guessing.
“Hello. Hi, this is Ariel Dragland.” I clear my throat. “I was wondering if I could speak with Ben?”
“Of course! Ben has said so many nice things about you,” she says. “Let me get him.” The sound on the other end is muffled as she calls Ben’s name. When she comes back on the line, her voice is a hushed whisper. “Don’t give up on him, okay? He’s talking to Gemma right now, but I think he’ll be grateful for the interruption.”
Oh no. Gemma. Why isn’t she at school? “Gemma’s there?”
“Yes, but Ben’s making it very clear he’s not interested in being friends anymore. In a nice way, but still, very clear,” she says. “I’ve been eavesdropping while the ba
by’s sleeping. I just couldn’t help myself. He’s such a good kid, and I really want him to find someone who—”
She breaks off with a worried humh. “Hold on a second, Ariel.” She puts the phone down with a soft thunk. I listen to her footsteps fade away and hear her calling for Ben again at a distance. Once, twice, three times, her cries getting higher and more panicked with every shout. I know something’s wrong even before she comes back on the line.
“I’m sorry, Ariel,” she says. “I’ve got to go. Ben’s left the house.”
Left the house. With Gemma. Oh god, oh no.
“I’m going to have to call his brother.” She sighs. “I’m sorry. But call back later. Don’t give up on Ben. He’s got such a good heart.”
“I know,” I whisper. “I won’t give up.” Not ever, I add silently. I’ll find him. I’ll keep Gemma from hurting him, and do whatever it takes to keep him safe.
I hang up and run for Ariel’s window but freeze with my fingers on the pane. I can’t do this. I can’t sneak out of the house. It would destroy the fragile new beginning between Melanie and Ariel, betray the trust Melanie has obviously worked hard to give me. To give her daughter, the one who’ll be reclaiming this body—maybe very, very soon if Gemma is intending to sacrifice Ben today.
Sacrifice. Ben. There’s no time to waste caring about Ariel Dragland.
Still, for some reason my feet carry me away from the window, back down the hall into the kitchen, where Melanie is putting away the bread. She turns to smile at me, but the smile fades when she sees my face. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
“Ben needs me. I have to go to him, Mom.”
Melanie shakes her head. “Ariel, I don’t think that’s a good idea. You two have already had a traumatic day. I think you should give him some time and—”
“There isn’t any time. I have to see him. Please, Mom,” I beg. “Let me take the car. Please.”
She hesitates only a second. “No, Ariel. You need to stay home. You’re stressed and exhausted and—”
