by P. J. Hoover
I shake my head because her answer’s just so frustrating. “No, really. Who am I? There has to be something else.”
My mom comes over and pats my shoulder. “Piper, you’re beautiful and you’re smart and to me, you’re the most perfect thing this world has ever created. But that’s it. That’s all you are.”
“No,” I say. “There has to be something else. Something special.”
She looks at me like she feels sorry for me. “There’s nothing else, Piper. There’s nothing special about you at all.”
Her words sting. I feel them like worms digging into my heart. If she notices she’s hurt me, she doesn’t show it.
“We need to move. To go away,” she says.
“No.” I don’t raise my voice or argue or even try to make it sound like a compromise. I’m not moving. Not again. If I move anywhere, it’s going to be away from my mom—alone.
“Yes,” she says. “Your father will find you otherwise.”
“The dome shattered,” I say because I don’t want to talk about moving.
My mom stares at me a second, and I finally let my eyes meet hers. And then she pulls me into a hug. I don’t break away, but I don’t hug her back.
“I was so worried about you, Piper.” She puts a hand on my cheek, and the tears in her eyes tell me how much she loves me.
“I was fine,” I say.
“You were out there in the storm. Councilman Rendon called a council meeting to tell us about his plans. He’d gone ahead and activated one of the domes. He said there was a hurricane approaching Austin.” She shudders like even the memory is too hard to live with.
“I went to Chloe’s.”
“The council had a virtual meeting; he said he was going to activate all the domes.”
“The glass shattered,” I say. “It was everywhere.”
Anger flashes into my mom’s eyes. “It didn’t have time to regenerate. How does he think the glass will sustain a hurricane when the growth proteins haven’t had time to bond?”
I don’t answer because there’s nothing I can really say.
“He’s killing the city,” my mom says. “He’s killing the world. He’s pulling it apart with everything he tries.”
I know it’s true, but it seems a little unfair. “It’s not like he started the Global Heating Crisis.”
My mom’s nostrils flare. “No, he didn’t. It doesn’t matter at this point how it started, just how we get past it.”
I’m not sure I agree, but my mom doesn’t leave it open for debate. We head upstairs and flip on the tube. Reports of damage from the hurricane are still coming in. I try to zone out because most of the images they’re showing are horrific. People are dead everywhere. The shattered glass from the dome Chloe lives in caused so much destruction, they estimate it will take weeks to clean up. Councilman Rendon is scheduled to give a speech in a half hour to talk about the tragedy. I text Chloe to make sure she’s okay, but she doesn’t answer, so I call her mom who tells me they’re all fine, that aside from some missing roof tiles and the broken window, they got off lucky. I assure her I got home safely and am with my mom.
I attempt to go about my normal routine until the news conference starts. Changing my clothes. Brushing my teeth. It’s only when I pick up a comb and begin to yank it through the blond snarls that my mom comes over. She takes the comb from me and sits me down, pulling each and every tangle out one by one until they’re all gone.
“Maybe I should get a tattoo, also.”
Her words catch me halfway into a trance state. I’m sure I’ve heard wrong. “What?”
“A tattoo.” She touches it. “We could both have one.”
I laugh at the absurdity of my mother getting a tattoo. I wonder how overprotective would be spelled in ancient Greek anyway. But maybe the time away from my mom was a good thing. Maybe she’s starting to relax. To be less protective.
“Maybe we could get matching ones. Mother and daughter. Together forever.”
All hopes of my mom relaxing disappear. “That sounds more like something saved for couples,” I say. “Not mother and daughter.”
She holds the comb steady, feeling each tine with her fingers. “We’re an exception, Piper. You’ll always be my little girl.”
“I’m eighteen now, Mom.”
She moves the comb to her own head and runs it through her hair. Even when it catches on a tangle, she keeps her eyes on me. “Eighteen is only the beginning, Piper. We have our whole lives to be together.”
I decide not to respond. There’s nothing I can say to agree with her. I want my own life, but the impasse is she wants it, too. My silence prompts her to kiss me on the forehead and turn back to the tube. The news conference will start in minutes. But there’s something I need to ask my mom.
“Mom, do you know what a phoenix is?”
She freezes, and I see she’s stopped breathing. She knows. As surely as I know Randy Conner’s death is my fault, she knows what a phoenix is.
“It’s a bird.” She makes it sound casual like everyone in the world should know.
“What kind of bird?”
“A bird that only exists in legends, Piper.”
I don’t get a chance to say anything else, because, at that moment, the news conference starts. My teeth grit when Councilman Rendon comes on, standing at a makeshift podium there in Chloe’s dome. He’s supposed to give some speech about how the domes were activated by accident which I know is a lie. If there was any devastation behind him, it’s gone now. The area is lit up like midday, and new trees are planted in the ground. He gives his signature smile and motions with his hand for the crowd to be quiet. He announces he’s going to be speaking and won’t be taking any questions. Of course, questions come anyway.
“Councilman, how could the domes be accidentally activated?”
“Is it true growth materials were refilled today?”
I think of the sand I saw being poured into the metal struts.
“What’s being done to remove the glass from the domes that didn’t shatter?”
The news reports showed these domes. Chloe’s was the only one to crack and fall, but the other operational domes only grew about one-third of the way closed. If I lived under that glass, I’d be freaked out, too. One gust of wind, and the glass could all come crashing down.
My mom’s staring intently at the tube next to me. Her lips are pressed thin, and I think she hates this man.
He starts a prepared speech, but when the questions don’t stop, he gives up and starts with the answers.
“The accidental activation occurred due to a programming error,” he says. “I can assure you it won’t happen again.”
My mom stiffens next to me. “Lies,” she says. “Flat out lies.”
He goes on to deny growth materials being refilled today even though I myself saw the work crews dumping the sand. But his last lie is the worst.
“I can assure the city of Austin with all faith that there is no risk of glass shards continuing to rain down on the city. Sealant has been sprayed from above.” He gives a small laugh like he’s trying to win over the crowd. “The real question will be: how do we get the glass down now that it’s up?”
“Lies,” my mom says again.
The questions from the crowd start fresh, but they’re halted at the sound of metal groaning on metal. I recognize the sound the second I hear it, and I know what will happen even before it does. The groan waxes, and then there’s a cracking sound. And we watch as a single shard of glass comes careening down from above and strikes Councilman Rendon directly through the head.
Chapter 29
Dinner
The day after Councilman Rendon’s death on national news, school is canceled. Crews have been cleaning up the city nonstop, but for the day, there is not supposed to be any travel to or from Chloe’s dome. We text back and forth a couple times, and it’s weird because she doesn’t even remember the hurricane. She just claims she’s tired, that she’ll see me tomorro
w at school. She acts like she didn’t ask me to leave.
When I look outside the Botanical Haven, the Global Heating Crisis is back in full force. Temperatures are over one hundred and eight, and my mom’s been called in for an emergency city council meeting.
“Don’t let them elect you to be head of the council,” I say because I’m trying to gauge her reaction. Is she still convinced we’ll be moving? Since the hurricane and Councilman Rendon dying, she hasn’t mentioned my father.
“That is one thing you’ll never have to worry about.” Which I know is true. The head of the council gets far too much publicity.
My mom gives me a kiss on the forehead and makes me promise to lock the door behind her. She leaves, and I lock the door. I text Chloe again, but she sends me a text that stops me short.
“have a date. tell u about it l8r. ttyl”
A date? She can’t be with Reese. My fingers hover over the keypad, but I can’t bring myself to respond. Has Chloe been seeing Reese, and I’ve been too caught up in my own world to notice? I start and stop typing five times, and then give up entirely. Chloe and I need to have a long conversation. But I can’t do it if she’s with Reese. So I grab my tablet and pretend to read for the rest of the day even though my mind doesn’t focus on a single word. Chloe and Reese. I try to put it out of my mind.
My mom finally gets home close to five.
“They’re taking down the domes,” she says.
“Taking them down?”
“Deconstruction will start this weekend.” She walks upstairs and I follow her.
“Why?” I ask.
My mother almost smiles when she answers. “Some underground terrorist group delivered a threat. Said if the council didn’t stop destroying the atmosphere, they’d blow up the dome structure.”
I put this together in my mind. “So instead of waiting for the domes to be blown up, the city’s taking them apart first.”
My mom nods.
“What about the missiles?” I ask. If a terrorist group is against the domes, then they’re certainly against the missiles.
My mom grabs her hairbrush and starts pulling it through her dark hair. She brushes it first behind both ears, then only behind one.
“The missiles will still be on standby,” she says.
My mom fiddles with her hair some more and then moves to her jewelry box and pulls out a necklace I’ve never seen her wear.
“Are you going somewhere, Mom?”
She clasps the necklace and turns to face me. “How does it look?”
It’s a leaf with glittering green gems sparkling against her skin. “Gorgeous,” I say.
She gives herself one more look in the mirror and then turns to me. “Get ready.”
“Where are we going?”
“We’re going out for barbeque, Piper.”
My mom hates barbeque. She doesn’t eat meat. And we almost never go out. I tilt my head, trying to read her expression.
“Mom?”
Her eyes look past me. “What?”
“You hate barbeque.”
Her face is a mask, but there’s a certain light in it I never see. “So tonight I’ve changed my mind.”
I bite my lip while looking for more in her face. But there’s nothing there. Nothing she is willing to let me see. “Okay. Barbeque. Who with?”
My mom arranges the jewelry and bottles on her counter and then finally looks at me. “Your father, Piper. He can’t wait to meet you.”
Everything my mom’s ever told me about my dad starts spiraling around in my head. Because if he’s such a bad person, why is she bringing me to meet him now?
When we walk into Pok-E-Jo’s barbeque, the overwhelming aroma of smoked meat hits me; I focus on it to keep my mind off how nervous I am. I’m going to finally meet my father—something I’ve dreamed of since I was a little girl. And now it’s really going to happen. I close my eyes and suck in the smell, picking out the sausage, the brisket, and even the macaroni and cheese from the air.
I look over at my mom and see her nose is wrinkled up.
“Don’t you even like the smell, Mom?” I ask because I need to say something. My stomach is a ball of lead inside me.
“I had a bad experience with meat once,” she says. And I wonder if she’s as nervous as I am.
It’s dark already, and every single booth is taken. My heart skips a few beats as I scan the room, wondering if I can pick out my dad. My eyes settle on a man with a receding hairline and a pair of bright blue eyes staring at me. His hair is spiked and blond and looks like he should wear a hat to keep his scalp from burning. Even with his retreating hairline, he hardly looks thirty.
I turn to my mom and see she’s gazing at him, also. The ball in my stomach turns into an iron fist which begins to tighten. My father. The man sitting in the booth is my father. The lines of his face are familiar because they match my own. I open my mouth to say something, but my throat constricts.
My mom puts up her hand. “Let’s just get our food and sit down. The sooner we get this over with the better.”
I nod, not that I want to get the meal over with. After eighteen years of not even knowing who my dad is, I don’t want to rush the meal. I have a father, and he’s sitting in a booth waiting for me. He doesn’t look like a terrorist or a criminal. And he doesn’t look like a kidnapper either.
I manage to walk through the line, ordering my food without even thinking. My mom orders only a salad, holding my arm at the elbow the whole time. Like she’s afraid my dad’s going to snatch me away or something. It makes me feel like I’m five years old all over again.
I scoot into the booth, across from my father, and my mom slides in next to me. The red vinyl crunches under my legs as I cross them, and already I can feel it sticking to me and sweat forming. If the restaurant has eco A/C, they aren’t using it. Or maybe I’m just nervous. Or both.
My father looks over and cracks a grin which reaches far up his forehead. “You like the heat, Piper?”
It seems a funny question to be the first words spoken between my dad and me—simple chitchat about the weather.
I nod. “Yeah. I do. The hotter the better.” I reach across the table for the barbeque sauce. The sausage here is too dry without it. My hands shake, but I don’t want him to see I’m nervous. I want him to think I’m brave and independent and someone he should be proud of.
My father smiles. “Now that sounds like a daughter of mine.” He grabs a different bottle and passes it over to me. “Here, try this instead. It’s my own special blend.”
Before I can reach for it, my mom’s hand shoots out and grabs the bottle. “No.”
My mouth drops open. It’s barbeque sauce. What’s the big deal?
I watch my parents—my father raises an eyebrow and looks at my mom. She stares back, and it’s like she’s trying to shoot arrows out of her eyes. They stay there, locked in silent combat until finally my mother speaks.
“Piper doesn’t need anything from you,” my mom says.
My father inclines his head. “And what does Piper need from you? Let’s answer that question first.”
My mom’s eyes flash. “I have given Piper everything she’s needed. For eighteen years, I’ve been more than she could ever hope for.”
His eyes shift to me. “And maybe more than she wants. Too much if I could venture a guess.”
It’s like he can pick the memories of my oppressed life right from my mind. But I’m not opening my mouth to agree or disagree.
“Piper loves me.”
A smile breaks onto his face. “And Piper will love me, too.” He places one of his hands on my mom’s. “Piper can try the sauce, darling Lucia.”
And just like that my mom relents.
It’s rare I hear my mom’s real name. I never call her anything other than Mom, and we’re so seldom around people when we’re together. Lucia. It seems way old-fashioned and almost foreign. And I wonder where my parents met.
I take the bottle of sauce
and dump it over the sausage and brisket, letting it spill so some dribbles into the casserole. My stomach is clenched hard again, but the sauce smells like ambrosia laced with pepper. I know I’ll love it because when it comes to sauce, hotter is better.
“Thanks.” I cut a piece of meat and put it to my lips, inhaling the fat and smoke blended together.
“You can’t buy sauce like this anywhere,” my father says. “I make it myself.”
I nod. “It’s really good.” There are at least three kinds of peppers in it. Habañero. Chipotle. And something else I can’t identify.
He leans forward onto his elbows and stares at me. “So this is the daughter who’s been hidden from me her whole life.”
Inadvertently, I lean back.
“What kind of father would you have been anyway?” my mom says. Unlike me, her posture matches his. She leans forward and fixes her eyes on him.
I look at my father. White blond hair gelled upward. Led Zeppelin T-shirt with a splotch of barbeque sauce on it. Three-meat platter in front of him. On first glance, it seems to me he’d be a lot more fun as a parent than my mom.
My father holds my mom with his gaze. “Well, for starters, I would let Piper have her own place in the world.”
Next to me, my mom shudders. “Piper’s place is with me.”
My dad stays forward, holding his pose and my mom’s attention. They battle back and forth with their eyes, and silence is their battleground. I chew slowly, thinking I shouldn’t draw attention to myself even though I am the center of attention. After an eternity, my father sits back and looks to me. “So, Piper, tell me about yourself.”
I force myself to laugh, though my muscles are rigid. I’m clenching my fork, so I set it down and think about the difference two weeks can make. If my father had asked me this question two weeks ago, I’d have given some pretty boring answers. Still, I’m not about to spill on my date with Reese and my journeys to the Underworld.
“Oh, you know,” I say.
His smile encourages me. “No. I don’t. But I’d like to.”
I grab my spoon and scoop up some green bean casserole but don’t eat it yet. “Well, I’m eighteen. I’m a senior. I have a best friend.”
