I blink. “Um, a dance?”
“That’s what a ball is, Margo.”
“I don’t dance.”
His eyes glitter, and he leans closer. His lips are right above mine.
Not fair, I want to complain. He knows how to make my body react. Always has.
“Come with me.”
“Okay.” I lean in slightly.
His lips brush mine, but then he’s gone. Straightening and stepping back.
“That was easy.” His grin is devious.
“Caleb—”
He strides away, into the kitchen. He mentions the ball to Robert, confirming that I’m going with him.
“That’s great, Margo,” Robert says when I walk in. “It’s hard to go to the dances alone, but from my time as a chaperone, the kids always have a lot of fun.”
“Are you chaperoning this year?” Please say no, please say no.
He shakes his head. “I didn’t volunteer this year. Lenora gets a little pissy if I’m out partying with the high schoolers past our bedtime. Besides, she doesn’t like to give candy out alone.”
Caleb laughs. “I’m sure you’re a reckless partier, Mr. Jenkins.”
“That I am, my boy.”
My boy. Jesus.
“Wait, when is the dance?”
Caleb eyes me. “In two weeks. Don’t worry, you have time to find a dress.”
Bastard. “Yeah…”
“Lenora would love to help,” Robert says. “We never got to go dress shopping with…”
I look at my shoes.
Robert clears his throat. “I don’t mean to bring up the past.”
Caleb goes over and pats his shoulder. “It’s okay, Mr. Jenkins. I understand.”
My foster dad nods at Caleb slowly. “I know you do. But anyway, I’m sure you two have better things to do today? It’s Margo’s first day of freedom, after all.”
“It’s only been a week of being grounded,” I say pointedly. “It isn’t really freedom.”
“Just go with it,” Caleb murmurs. “I was actually going to go run an errand in the city.”
New York City is only about an hour and a half away. By a stroke of pure luck, I didn’t end up in the NYC foster system. That would’ve been hopeless.
Because I lived in Rose Hill, which is part of Hillshire County, I got looped into that particular foster system. There are enough homes and group housing around here to keep me within an hour radius.
And that meant I avoided New York City.
“What errand?” I ask, perking up. “I haven’t been—”
“Since you were a kid?”
Robert tuts. “We could plan a day trip, Margo. I didn’t realize it was something you might want to do.”
I shrug. “I used to watch all the holiday events on TV. The tree lighting and the parades…”
“I was hoping you would come with me,” Caleb says. “It’s still too early for the Christmas vibe, but…”
“Can I go?” I ask Robert.
“After that spiel? How can I say no?”
I run upstairs, changing into nicer clothes. We’re going to the city. It’s luxurious and daunting all at once. I’ve heard horror stories about people getting mugged, pickpockets, insane taxis. But over all of that is the shiny appeal of Times Square. Central Park. Horse-drawn carriages and big floppy slices of pizza.
Caleb comes upstairs before I can start putting makeup on.
He intercepts me on the way to the bathroom, taking my makeup bag out of my hand. “You don’t need this. Not today.”
I scowl. “I want to feel pretty.”
“You can feel pretty without it.”
I try to snatch it back, but he raises it over his head.
“Caleb,” I snap.
“Stop.”
I jump for it.
“Goddamn it, Margo,” he snarls, shoving me back against the wall. “Just—stop.”
His hand stays on my chest. His fingers are dangerously close to my throat, splayed over my collarbone, and his thumb brushes my nipple.
I suck in a breath. I’m an idiot. My face gets hot.
“In the car,” he orders. He puts my small makeup case in his jacket pocket and strides away.
I wave goodbye to Robert and Lenora, who has returned home just in time to see us leave.
Robert stops me, handing me a few folded bills. “Have fun.”
“Thank you!” I wasn’t planning on spending more than I could afford—which wouldn’t have been much at all. I tuck the money in my wallet and race after Caleb.
I climb into the car, and we’re on the road in a flash. There’s a mischievous look in his eye that I can’t place. I bite my lip instead of asking about it, and soon enough we’re on the highway.
Up, up, and away.
“Why is makeup so important to you?” he asks. “You don’t think you’re pretty?”
“It’s hard to have self-confidence when everyone is trying to bring you down.” I rub my hands together. Halloween is approaching.
I stop. “Is the masquerade ball on Halloween?”
“Of course.”
“Of course,” I repeat. “Great.”
He shoots me a glance. “What’s wrong with that?”
I refuse to meet his eyes. “Bad things happen on Halloween.” I can’t believe I’ve been back at Emery-Rose for less than two months.
“Like what?”
There are skyscrapers in the distance.
“Getting chased by a foster brother with a machete. He threatened to cut off my hair.” I grimace. “Being locked in a closet for trying to take a piece of candy meant for the other kids.”
He keeps glancing at me.
“Having my costume ripped the morning of Halloween by a foster family’s kid. She didn’t like that I got to be a unicorn.”
“How old were you?” His voice is dark.
“Something happened almost every year.”
“And the last two? With your supposed good family?”
I shrug. “Hanna ate a Snickers, and her throat swelled shut. We spent the night in the ER. And then the next year, our foster mom let us all go, but she took our candy when we came back. Said she didn’t trust us not to eat it all in one night.”
“I thought you liked her.”
“They were strict.” I shrug. “Everyone is strict at first. Except—”
“The Jenkinses,” he guesses. “You like them.”
I hope they keep me.
I almost say it out loud.
But wishes and hopes are dangerous. They inflate us, make us buoyant. And in the end, it just makes a harder fall.
I know better.
“We can find complementary masks,” he says. “Something fit for…”