23
TELL ME YOU’RE KIDDING,” JAMIE said.
“Tell me that was rhetorical?” Stella met my gaze. “I asked Joseph to give me a tour of the house, and he started with his bedroom, naturally, and then moved on to Daniel’s. I looked on his bookshelves, everywhere I could think of. It isn’t there.”
I didn’t quite trust her—she didn’t know Daniel and had never been in his room before, so I went to check myself. They both tagged along after me. I looked everywhere I could think of but in the end could come to only one conclusion.
“Fuck,” I said.
Jamie, looking through one of his drawers, added, “Your brother does have quite the porn collection, though.”
“Gross,” I said. “Also, false.”
Jamie fake laughed. “Just kidding. I’m a kidder.”
I walked up to him and punched his arm.
“Ow.”
“Just kidding. I’m a kidder.”
“Not the same,” Jamie said, rubbing it.
“Hate to break this up,” Stella said, “but if the book isn’t here, and Daniel isn’t here, my brilliant guess is that he has it with him.”
Only my brother would bring six hundred pages of nonfiction with him on a trip. Classic Daniel.
“And why would he do this?” Jamie asked me. “He doesn’t know about you, does he?”
I shook my head. “And he thinks the premise of the book is crap.”
“The premise being . . . ”
“I was reading it—or trying to—to find out what the author said about genetic memory, because of my dreams or memories or whatever about that doll, and India. Daniel said genetic memory isn’t a real thing.” I paused. “Noah did too. But—”
“The name of the author turned up on that list Kells had at Horizons, and what she was doing to us was real enough.” Stella said what I was thinking. “So your brother was wrong about the book.”
“He might be wrong about it,” Jamie said. “We haven’t read it. We won’t know until we have.”
“You’re not seriously saying that you think it’s a coincidence?” Stella asked.
“I’m just saying—You know what? Google will resolve this,” Jamie said. “Mara, computer?”
“Ask my mom for her laptop. I’m going to pack.” I didn’t have the energy to fight about the book now. I was too anxious—about it, about Daniel, about Noah, about everything. I needed to get out of there. Get moving.
I left Stella and Jamie to argue about the book, and went to my room to retrieve the items I might need for our quest. Jamie and Stella had packed stuff too, but stupidly I hadn’t asked what they’d brought or how long they thought we’d be gone. I looked around my room, trying to figure out where to start.
My room. I wondered when I’d started thinking of it that way. We’d moved to Miami only months ago; in December I’d been in Laurelton. Rachel had been alive. Jude had been my boyfriend. God, it didn’t seem possible.
I picked out enough underwear and clothes to last a couple of weeks and packed them into a gray duffel my mom had lent me once, for a school trip. She’d let me keep it even after I’d gotten home because I liked it so much. My throat tightened. I tried to tell myself that this wasn’t permanent—that we would find answers, and a cure, and Noah, too, and I would come home and things would go back to normal, but I couldn’t quite believe it. I couldn’t even remember what normal was.
I walked down the long hallway, taking what felt like a last look at the pictures of my family that hung on the wall. I didn’t linger on my grandmother’s portrait. I’d seen enough of her.
Instead I tried to act casual as I hugged my father and mother and little brother before walking out the door. I could lie to them, but I couldn’t lie to myself. It felt like good-bye.
It was Stella’s turn to drive, but she didn’t start the car right away. “We can’t find the book online,” she said.
“Which means it’s probably out of print,” Jamie said. “But there’s this bookstore in Coral Gables—they have everything, and if they don’t have it, they can get it for us.”
“So we’re going there,” Stella said, and paused. “Mara? What’s wrong?”
I didn’t want to talk about it. “Just drive.”
“Mara—”
“Drive.”
She drove. After almost an hour in traffic, we parked across the street from the bookstore and walked into the courtyard. Jamie ordered a lemonade from the outdoor café before we went inside.
If I’d been in a better mood, I would have thought I was in heaven. It was beautiful, with gleaming wood floors and rooms of books neatly stacked from floor to ceiling.
“How have I not been here before?” I asked.
“Right?” Jamie said. “It’s the best.”
“Is there something I can help you with?” A woman stood behind us; the sleeves of her Books & Books T-shirt were rolled up, exposing colorful tattoos of illustrations from children’s books on her arms. Her dark hair was knotted up in a high, loose bun.
“Why, yes,” Jamie said, and sucked loudly on his straw. “Yes, you can.”
He told her what we were looking for, and she ducked behind the desk to try to help us.
“What did the book look like?” Jamie asked me.
I closed my eyes and pictured it. “Black cover,” I said. “Clothbound. The title was in gold.”
The woman typed some things into the computer. “Author’s name was Lenaurd?”
“Yup,” Stella said. She was practically bouncing on her heels.
“Hmm,” the woman said. She bit her thumb. “Let me try something else.”
She typed and searched and typed and searched, but eventually she let out a frustrated sigh. “That’s so weird,” she said.
“What?” Jamie asked.
“There’s literally nothing in any of the databases. I even searched for articles, thinking maybe it was published in an academic journal and then bound later, but nothing’s coming up. Not for that title or for that author. I can try calling some of the rare-book dealers we know and get back to you?”
Stella visibly deflated. Jamie thanked the woman, and the three of us walked out. Jamie ordered three sandwiches to go. I left mine untouched.
“So.” He put his hands on his hips. “Off to New York we go, yes?”
Yes.