The lines in Lauren’s forehead deepened. “What’s wrong?”
“The thing is—” I watched her expression carefully. “—we’re moving.”
Lauren shook her head. “You can’t.”
“We’re helping Charles’ family with renovations.”
Lauren didn’t look at me—just pressed her hands hard against the whitewashed planks of her porch steps. “I thought they lived in Japan?”
“You can visit anytime,” I said, as though a Band-Aid would be enough. “We’ll cover the airfare. Maybe visit your relatives while you’re there?”
“Sounds great,” Lauren said, but her voice said it wasn’t. Then, after a long moment, she lifted her gaze to mine, giving me a dark, silent glare. “To be honest, Sophia, this sucks.”
You have no idea.
Maybe I was imagining the sudden silence. The abrupt cessation of night birds singing, wind rustling in the trees, and small animals scampering about.
Lauren tucked up one knee and started peeling the aglet off one of her shoelaces. “When are you leaving?”
I lowered my voice, as if she might not hear me and we could somehow skip this part of the conversation. “Tomorrow morning.”
“Tomorrow? Damn it, Sophia. This is almost as bad as what Ivory did.” She sighed heavily, flicking away the torn piece of aglet from her shoe. “What’s wrong with Charles’ parents again?”
“They’re putting a new addition on their house. Charles offered to help.” Not the best lie, but I needed to tell her something. “Earthquake damage, or something, I think.”
“So you’ll only be gone for a little while.”
“It’s a big addition.”
“You aren’t telling me something.”
I frowned, thinking she might believe me if I looked hurt by her assumption. It was low, but I didn’t know what else to do. I couldn’t tell her the truth. “Why would I keep anything from you?”
“It’s fine. Go. Have a good time.”
“Lauren?”
Her eyes were getting puffy, and she dabbed them with the inside wrist of her shirtsleeve. It only made her eyes redder.
“I’m going to visit,” she said. “I’m just upset, okay?”
She smiled through her tears, and that was what killed me: It was her usual smile, one I’d always thought of as real, and now I wondered how much hurt might have always been hiding beneath it.
Lauren insisted on coming back to Charles’ house to help clear out the things we couldn’t bring with us or leave behind. She even agreed to watch after Red.
Around eleven o’clock, we said our goodbyes. I took a mental snapshot of her standing beneath the porch light outside my front door: Lauren in a tweed, knee-length coat. Lauren in dark blue jeans. Lauren in black rain boots with white polka dots, her skin splotchy and her make-up running.
She turned, cage in hand, and walked away.
***
ADRIAN WAS ALREADY GONE, probably out tying up his own loose ends. Charles looked up at me from the couch.
“Are you all right?” he asked softly.
“No.” I hung my scarf and jacket on the coat rack, kicked my boots in the corner by the door, and stalked into our room.
Charles followed. I could hear him standing behind me in the doorway, feel the sympathy radiating from his body. I stared out the window. The first drops of rain splattered against the windowpanes and beaded together to trail like small veins over the glass.
Charles walked over and placed his hand on my shoulder. Immediately, I caved, turning toward him, and he folded me into his arms.
I buried my face against his chest. I’d lost a lot of people in my life, but this was my first time saying goodbye. My emotions crashed through me. I’d never gotten to say goodbye to my mom, to my dad.
Charles breathed into my hair, and I sighed heavily. I needed to let go of my past. Really let go.
“I’m terrified of what’s going to happen tomorrow.”
Charles nodded. “You don’t have to do this.”
Didn’t I, though? I needed to set aside my need for acceptance from others and worry about accepting myself, my damned ‘gift’ included. And the only way to do that was to use my abilities for something meaningful. Like standing up to the Maltorim and their prejudices against dual-breeds.
I looked up into Charles’ piercing gaze. “I do have to do this,” I said. “I absolutely do.”
I stepped away from him, determined to focus on something else. I still needed to work on my gift. The stronger I was, the better our chances of rescuing his parents. I sat on the edge of the bed, peeled off my socks, and grounded my feet on the carpet. I centered my energy on a small book resting on the birdcage table near the bedroom door. It thudded immediately to the floor, creating a tent of crushed pages.
I growled under my breath. How was I supposed to be strong enough in time to face the Maltorim if I couldn’t move a stupid book?